mrtl

Fears About Moving to South Carolina

While trying to be as optimistic as possible about this new and exciting adventure, I find myself Very Concerned on several levels. I'll share them with you.

First of all, there's the humidity. My hair shall be curly again. This wouldn't be so bad but for the fact that I'm currently sporting a flat-iron friendly look; this cut will not curl well. I'm totally screwed here, and it's beginning to affect my psyche. This morning I awoke humming "Journey to the Center of Humidity" and had to ask mister mrtl if he recognized the original tune since I couldn't place it. Ozzy Osbourne's "Journey to the Center of Eternity." See how screwed I am? I've got 80's Ozzy stuck in my brain. You know how that song goes? "There's no present. There's no future. I don't even know about the past. It's all timeless, and neverending. And I think I sing this song too fast." Must I explain? Ok. Bad hair is so menacing that it makes all else stop. You are stuck in time, so everyone will get a chance to see how truly horrid the hair is. And to top it off, you've drunk way too much coffee, so you're talking all fast but can't GO! GO! GO! like you want to on the caffeine rush. This is really bad. ::shudder::

Second, there are the allergies. They shall return. This has been evidenced by the return of Faucetty Nose the second we crossed the border. Faucetty Nose left the building years ago when I first left Maryland. South Carolina is very much like Maryland with its plantlife. I've been using my neti pot regularly to no avail; maybe I need some sort of constant flow through my nostrils... freakin' genius but I think it'd be rather unsightly. I'm so screwed here, moreso than when I lived in Maryland. Why, you ask? OMG let me do the math. 2 children + weakened bladder control + allergies = the need for Depends. If you see a donation PayPal button going up on my site, it's to buy Depends. I'll be needing a lot of them.

Third, it's the South. I hate to generalize, but I've been to the South and have seen the Confederate flags and been asked about my "church home." I know this is not every person in the South; even in small amounts such practices vex me.

I know that these fears are centered around the unfamiliarity, and that they are nothing new for me. I realize it's a way I prepare myself. (To note, I've already located good pie in Columbia.)

As much as Jeff Foxworthy annoys me, I find myself taking on his style in conjuring a list of qualities I do not wish in my search for friends...

You may not be friend material...
... if you display a Confederate flag in any way, shape, or form.
... if you refer to African-Americans using the N word.
... if you want to ask me if I've found my church home.
... if Jesus has called you to save me.
... if you believe that having a cocktail while the kids play is absolutely unacceptable.
... if you won't dance to George Michael with me.
... if your friends must drink sweet tea.
...

I know this list is incomplete. Faucetty Nose has taken a break, which I shall exploit to get to sleep.

That Kind of Day

It's been a rough one in mrtland, yo. Let's recap.

After going to bed late last night (besides still being on Alaska time, Jem refused to sleep and insisted on screaming just before I hit the shower, so she screamed while I took my shower and then settled right down afterwards - WTF?), I woke up early this morning to go into the office.

Tired, I chased my smoothie with three cups of coffee (the first of which with straight sugar before finding the sweetener) and a Boston Cream donut. (Shut up. We don't have Dunkin Donuts in Alaska and I was weak.)

On my first (of several) potty runs, while wrestling Spanxy back up, I realized that I had somehow neglected to change out of my eva-so-unsupportive sports sleep bra. This prompted 1) a constant self-consciousness that the girls were cross-eyed, 2) and staring at the floor , and 3) a fourth cup of coffee.

Work in itself was a study in duplicative effort and and in self control not to bitch slap the first person who tried to cheer me up. Hello? I'm trying hard enough to stay awake and focus on redoing all this work; nothing's going to make me smile, especially with the added distraction of GBT (Granny Bingo Tits). (To whit, duplication was not my error. I'm just saying. Perhaps I'd be more annoyed were it my mistake, but it was a really, moronically, stupendously idiotic mistake.)

Then at home, once the girls --- my daughters, not my boobs --- were in bed, I was back to my big knitting project...

::tangent to describe big knitting project::
I've been thinking of doing this since May. MAY! The planning that went into making my own pattern, with a splended monogram on the opposite side! This knitted bag was to be felted and gloriously displayed by the recipient FER SURE!
::end tangent to describe big knitting project::

... Yeah, "was." After taking all the time and getting damned near halfway through the project, I realized the monogram was not only backwards, but BACKWARDS. That is, a mirror image of non-palindromic letters, IN THE WRONG ORDER. So what do I do? Frog it? Finish it with the error and tell her to always look at the bag in a mirror? GAH! There is no way this is going to be finished for Christmas because I am SO OVER YOU STUPID FELTED BAG, and now I'll have to go shopping to find something else to give the recipient.

grrrrrr... I am so going to sleep now.

----

Wait a minute. In the spirit of balance -- I am a Libra after all -- I will say that today brought wonderful news as well. For one, I got an unexpected call from mister mrtl. Squeeee! Second, I heard the other night that one of my favorite Marines (the one that intended to be strapped to my back) had perished in Iraq. After hearing conflicting information and not being able to find his name on casualty lists online, I sent some emails today. A colleague iinformed me that he had spoken with the Gunny minutes before and could thus confidently assure me that he was still with us.

Ok. I am so going to sleep better now.

in which i bitch yet more about the heat

Call it practice. We'll be going to Maryland for a chunk of summer, and it's hotter and more humid there. I need to prepare.

Besides, there are bigger things to bitch about, but I won't bitch about them. I am not one whose husband has been deployed for a year, then stretched to 15 months. And I am not the one there.

Today our kitchen floor was massacred, the vinyl removed to be replaced. (There was a leak from the fridge a couple months back, the squishy floor our first sign of trouble.) There will be more carnage tomorrow, during which I will need to keep myself and the girls out of the way. I'm dreading spending more time than is absolutely necessary in The Baking Room.

More time outside. Screw the allergies; I'm getting one of those cheap pools from WalMart and shall loll in it. Where's the cabana boy when you need a margarita?

A Bite in the Butt

All those times I laughed at those who complained about it heat. Derisions including the line, "We don't even have air conditioning in Alaska." I'm smacking myself now.

We're in the middle of a heat wave. Sure, look over at the sidebar, see 73° and call me insane for thinking it's so hot. Something's weird here, where flips and tanktops come out at 50 (40 if you're a local); it feels like it's in the 90's. One day before the solstice, the sun comes over the house in the early afternoon and stays there, roasting our family room till the wee hours of the morning. Bug'll be sleeping in a t-shirt and underwear tonight, and Jem's in a onesie. I'm considering putting icecubes in my armpits.

With the heat comes some craziness. Bug actually played in a sprinkler today and didn't complain that her nose got wet. I've decided that I'd rather have the windows open for some fresh air than worry about my [currently horrendous] allergies.

Melting...

Things That Suck

1. mister mrtl is going there.
2. i am stuck on the wrong side of the bridge because of a horrific accident.
3. i miss my family.

Still, I consider myself on the lucky end of things, and it looks like I'll have a bit of tomorrow off so I can go home and get cleaned up. (The jammie bottoms, t-shirt and green polkadot flipflops I got at KMart are hardly acceptable work attire.)

Are you awake? IM me on gmail.

GET OFF YOUR ASS!

Why am I still sitting here when I have the following To Do list for today?

• Eat
• Eat more
• Experiment with cream cheese, coconut oil and Splenda (does it really taste like cheesecake? what if I add cocoa?) OMG it totally does! weeeee!
• Take toys downstairs
• Clean up the kitchen
• Clean up the bedroom
• Do lots of laundry
• Fold laundry
• Put laundry away
• Pay bills
• Clean up the playroom
• Exercise
• Plug in the battery for my camera
• Knit a bit
• Vacuum the playroom
• Straighten the desk
• Combine other To Do lists to see what I'm forgetting
• Call Florida to thank her
• Email lady doing yoga for kids
• Do survey for Bug's teacher
• Add garage sale stuff to mom's group database
• Get rest of garage stuff to garage and priced

Yes, mister mrtl left today. Why else would I be striving to be more productive?

---

For Bente: Mix equal parts cream cheese, coconut oil (I used Spectrum brand) and cocoa (I used Hershey's), plus one packet of Splenda. Do the mixing on a plate, since you'll want to lick it clean (very hard to do with a bowl... I'm just sayin').

Someone call the WAHmbulance! Or not.

Story Time with mrtl

A couple years after marrying mister mrtl, mrtl realized it may be handy to get herself a military ID card. She was thinking about getting into shape (yes, historical trend here) and wanted to use the free gym on base. One day she went and had the requisite picture taken and obtained her ID. Oh the joy! Not being the most photogenic girl, she was thrilled that the picture was most becoming.

Fast forward several years later, time to get an updated ID card. Mrtl held out as long as she could. She loved her ID card. The picture was so cute! Surely the next picture would be horrid. She grumpily went to get her new card. It was a week before Bug was conceived, before pregnancy and the nasty San Angelo water ravaged her hair and its lovely highlights. Again, surprise and amazement! The picture was wonderful!

Fast forward to this week. The second, lovely ID card was to expire this Sunday, so a new card had to be obtained by today. On Tuesday, mrtl and mister mrtl were about running errands but didn't make it to the personnel office, so Wednesday mrtl got cuted up -- again -- and headed down there. After waiting for more than half and hour (during which time she continued knitting Carrie the Doll -- more on this later), she was told that mister mrtl had to be present in order for her to get a new ID. Blast! So yesterday, mister mrtl headed to the personnel office after pulling a mids to meet mrtl -- cuted up for the third day in a row -- there. The new ID came out. Picture? meh. Mister mrtl questioned the October '07 expiration date (these usually are good for at least four years), so another card had to be made. Another chance! The picture on the second card was worse. Mrtl didn't even show it to mister mrtl.

----

Is Karma looking out for me? Is that why the new ID card disappeared? I know I had it in the truck yesterday when I went to pick up the kids. I was pretty sure I grabbed it to bring it in the house. I've dumped my purse and checked all pockets. We've searched the truck, the driveway, the garage, Jem's car seat and the house. It's gone. I ended up giving the girls breakfast here, then signing in at the gate to get on base. To get a replacement, we'd have to go back today (or wait till he gets back from his trip next week), but mister mrtl was a tired boy and I'm going to dinner for Mom's Night Out tonight so there will be no chance for a nap if I were to drag him over there.

This is a major inconvenience. Each day next week I'll have to sign in at the gate... (or wait... maybe mister mrtl can get me a pass. We'll have to check on that before he leaves.) I won't be able to go to the commissary or BX while he's gone.

Of course I'll find the ID after I go through the trouble of getting a replacement, dragging mister mrtl with me. Of course I'll scan the picture to post here, but only if the new one is super cute.

It's 'What's Worse' Time Again

Continued...

What's worse than schlepping two kids and all the requisite crap home from Maryland on my own? Gee, let's see.

• Needing to cancel the once-home plans to order pizza and eat in bed in our pajamas while watching The Little Mermaid because Things Go Wrong. (Read on.)
• Delays, delays, delays... getting to Anchorage two hours later than scheduled.
• The airline checking the stroller -- an absolute necessity for the schlepping -- in Seattle.
• The loaner wheelchair not quite holding everything as necessary.
• Discovering at baggage claim that they've managed to lose a suitcase as well.
• It's the suitcase holding all our coats, hats and gloves.
• Alaska is fucking cold.
• Did I mention Bug's little jacket disappeared on the plane?
• More delays with our ride since he had other people to move. Home four hours later than scheduled.
• The Jem meltdown began when we hit the front door.
• The cat has needs, too.
• Fucker wouldn't use the new litter box with the kitty door.
• He liked our bed more.
• And Bug's playhouse.
• I didn't realize he pissed on the bed till a few hours after the three of us crashed.
• We crashed in The bed.
• Discovering the kitchen sink is still leaking (after emergency service the day before we flew out).
• Still on Maryland time, we were wide awake at 3:30.
• Hearing several messages from the credit card company about the fraudulent charges made... almost forgot I had that on my list of Shit to Deal With Upon Arriving at Home.
• When I call the credit card company, turns out whoever took it was able to call and change the pin to withdraw cash. How the fuck did they know my mother's maiden name? Fishy. Fishy. Fishy.
• There's paperwork I need to obtain for Jem to start daycare. More running around.
• Don't I need to work today?

In the interest of full discosure, or Counting One's Blessings as some may like to call it, or seeing the glass as half full instead of half empty, I'll admit that not all has been a test of the Zoloft. The following has gone well:

• Jem didn't puke on the flight home. (Her carseat was lined warmly, so Bug could use her blanket when we went outside.)
• Both girls handled the flight extremely well under the circumstances.
• Having door-to-door shuttle service meant no schlepping outside with no coats.
• Having to wait for pickup meant time to stop and eat (and drink a huge margarita that incidentally cost more than my burger).
• The plumber will be out today.
• The airlines found the bag with the coats and will be delivering it soon.
• Waking up so early, I had time to put everything together needed to get Jem to daycase today afterall.
• The daycare allowed Jem to hang out with them so I didn't have to schlep her around while gathering the paperwork, and the almond latte picked up on that errand was quite yummy.

The trip home was wonderful, albeit exhausting, and ache-inducing (since Jem wouldn't sleep in the playard, we had her in bed with us and woke up stiff and sore every morning). No pastries up were fucked, although I did get me some pie. (I think it's time for Cat and Kelly to get their asses up to Alaska for our next pastry-eating outing.) Bug got to the Aquarium, the National Zoo and her first movie (the latter with Susie and her Jif, LG and two neices). Hugs delivered.

Now I work. ttfn

Gently, please, with a chainsaw

You know it's going to be a bad day...

...when the list of things to do is too long to fathom completing in one day on my own with the kids

...when these things must be done today because we're flying out at the crack ass of dawn tomorrow

...when I turn on the kitchen faucet to make a bottle and water floods from the cabinet below

...when I discover the cost of having a plumber come out on a Saturday isn't cheap, but hell if I'm coming home to deal with it

...when, after rushing to clear everything out from under the sink and mop up the floor, Bug announces that Jem has just puked

...when, after cleaning up Jem, I realize that there's a puddle in the chair next to her, and it's fallen down a crack onto the chair holding the booster seat, and it's a slimy, nasty mess that makes me want to puke, too

...when I discover that Jem has crapped by the sight of brown on her outfit (this kid never blows out)

...when Jem pukes and blows out one more time each (and I did appreciate that the second puke didn't go through the crack this time), requiring at least one extra load of laundry to be added to the list of things to do

...when Ask-a-Nurse-on-a-High-Horse tells me that flying with a baby with a stomach virus is NOT A GOOD IDEA, as everyone in the family is sure to get it and be miserable and you will make everyone on the plane miserable and you will probably make them ALL sick, too

...when, after all of the above distractions, there's still the damned list of things to do, which has nary been touched all day

...when Bug has her third poop of the day, and -- pardon the bad pun -- shit ain't looking good

...when, after braving a trip to the store for supplies, Jem isn't cooperating and drinking her Pedialyte

...when, instead of working on the list while Jem sleeps, I blog about it all and realize that it's only 4:00

...when I dread the knowledge that this list is sure to be continued.

What's Precious

Hug them tight.

My cousin lost her youngest last night. It's crushing to imagine what they're going through.