Thursday, March 30, 2006
Driving to work, I passed a truck this morning that was carrying crane parts. This must have had 20 giant wheels in order to bear up under the weight of this crane arm I saw on the bed. I was wowed. Heavy machinery is cool.
I've started stretching in the mornings. This morning I ran out of time because the Bank of America website is a heinously designed trap that makes it impossible to do something as simple as make a payment. No, really. Why would I go to Customer Service when the Pay A Bill, Credit Card Payment, Credit Card Access, e-Bill, etc etc etc options SHOULD PROBABLY cover such a desire? Well, no. You need to click on the Customer Service tab. This discovery only came after 40 minutes of searching - I was on a mission! But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yeah...There I am, trying to do stomach crunches and stretch and other bending-at-the-waist type items, but my joints sounded like Rice Krispies(r). It was amusing at first, but then I wondered if some body part would be left on the floor after I got up.
Ah, routine. Renee' and I do a little dance every morning. One day, we will hit the road with our act, a finely tuned routine of scraping past one another, and bouncing off edges of furniture, bumping butts, bonking heads, and pocking the whole thing with "Sorry" "Oops" "Can I get in there?" and "Oh, here, you dropped this." We will be famous. People will come from all around to witness the sight of two women who cohabit the same household.
This morning, however, each of us needed to be in the exact same place at the exact same time. To wit:
Our bathroom is broken up into sections, to reduce the chances of bodily injury. The hair station is the hair dryer, mousse, spray, brush, et. al. The sink is where she puts on her makeup, where tooth care happens, and I put on lotion. The right side is for deodorant, jewelry and watch. The the walk-in closet is off our bathroom, and it's long, not square. (only one exit)
This morning she was doing her hair, as I was going to do hair, so I decided to put on lotion. Then I'm putting on deodorant as she is trying to get by me, which she seems to need to do a dozen times in that short span of time. I think I followed her into the closet, but without real direction, so I was in her way almost immediately, running my hands over blouses I had no intention of wearing.
(Did I happen to mention our apt. is less than a 1000 sq ft? Yeah.)
Then I was putting on pants as she was needing around me to get her whatchamacallit thingy. She was blocking the bathroom door trying to remember something, (in this house, we don't actually pause in the routine or we'll be late. Ask Amanda sometime about how I go ballistic if I see her sitting on the couch without multi-tasking something else) and I wanted to get by to finish my hair. I said, "You're in my way this morning." She said, "No, you're really in MY way."
Each in a state of semi-dress, though I think she's a little farther along than I am since she leaves sooner than Amanda and I do, we continue our Dance, finally having moved away from the bathroom. But then...
I trudge out to the kitchen (by out, I mean 7.5 ft away) to gather the pasta salad I made for her work potluck, and I was turning to get the black spoon from the dishwasher - and she was standing there. Right there. Blocking the dishwasher door because she was fixing a cup of coffee to go. The coffee maker is above the dishwasher. But I swear, she was back in the bedroom the moment before. She's like that angel in "The Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He popped up in all parts of the house randomly. I was convinced she had magical powers of POOF!
As she made her way out the door with salad, coffee, bag and phones, she's frazzled with a headache and not feeling well in general, we kiss goodbye and the door shuts behind her. 30 seconds later she's back in because she forgot her keys. Understandable, considering she had everything else. I believe working parents need a growth hormone for a second set of arms, be twice as strong, have perfect vision and hearing, and the patience of nuns.
Amanda, meanwhile, cruises around her side of the apartment in her own bathroom and bedroom, and comes out clean and ready every morning. If she happens to momentarily pause in the short hallway where the laundry is, her person is promptly run down by the individual(s) hustling back and forth.
That is, unless she needs OUR brush, a shirt out of OUR closet, a pair of jeans, a pair of shoes, lotion...
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Ok so I went into work with two goals: #1 survive the production meeting.....#2 leave at 5.
I am wounded but I did indeed survive the production meeting. However, death might have been easier to swallow. Regardless at 6 minutes til 5 or as some people say 4:56 I closed up shop and walked out the door. Yes, I actually did it. I was quite proud of myself.
It is interesting to me that when Andi and I first had the conversation about making sure we spent more time with Amanda that I thought she would be the one to struggle with actually pulling it off. Of course I should have known better considering how the last 6 months has gone at my job. Of course I am the one who can not seem to pull it off. As a result I went back to work yesterday (Monday just in case you are not keeping up or it is Thursday when you read this) and made it clear that no matter what I would be leaving work at 5.
So here I go off to pick up the kid and I listen to some riveting talk radio along the way to only realize there was no kid to pick up. Yes, Amanda does exist but she just was not where she was suppose to be. Her grandmother had made other plans for evening and neither of us knew about that little fact. As a result I went home alone.
I was disappointed but I made the best of it. I immediately came home and sat on my booty. No actually I came home and immediately took the dog for a walk. It was a nice little walk around the poo poo spot. I used a bag like a good little renter should and all was well. Well there were a few isolated incidents of stranger danger but good ol' Emma scared them away.
Then I came home and did something I do not believe I have done in about 5 years or actually 5 months, I cooked dinner. It is shocking I know but it is also true. Of course I cleaned the kitchen first. I made ham, potatoes, and baked beans. I cleaned the kitchen up after my cooking adventure. I tried to talk to B on the phone but I ended up dumping all of the ham juices all over the counter and floor and had to go clean that up.
It is a rare thing to be home alone. It is a bit of a lost feeling at the beginning but I quickly found my groove cooking, cleaning and of course listening to the IPOD.
Did I mention the dog is pyscho?
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
I can't tell you which song it was because it's a surprise. I have plans for it, for her, for us. I am overwhelmed with the realization that she and I can do anything together, and that she has not once suppressed my ideas, guffawed at my dreams or held me back in any venture that I thought might be something to try. I'm the only one that has done that, and that my fears held us both back more times than I can count. Her faith in our abilities has run the gamut, from simple and flower-like to grandiose and irridescent.
I'll stretch, I swear to you, I'll get there. I'm ready.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Saturday, March 25, 2006
I have tripped over you so many times that my toe is almost broken!I will threaten to eather sell you, or throw you out.This letter is to insure you about how angry i am with what I got for $399 at walmart.My toe has sufferd too many of your consiquences now it's yoour turn. Your wooden carvings has no importance to me what so ever. At first you where a beutiful peace of wood, now you get on my very last nerve. Hopefully someone else hasthe time and patence for all of this pain that I have sufferd.
buahahahahahahahahahah, buahahahahahahahahah...ha..ha cough.........ahhahahahah.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Based on the perspective of this photo, you'd think I was towering over these three. Well, I am. I live with a houseful of small ladies. You may be aware that both my fiance and my daughter wear the same jeans and shoe size. This has been a big boon for clothes-sharing. Well, usually.
By the way, Emma outgrew her little Christmas sweater and is about 2.5 seconds away from outgrowing her collar.
This picture was taken when her little ears still flopped over. Now she's got big batty ears, which are almost cuter. Plus, we get great reception when we tie her to the TV.
Please note the look of "no stress" on the faces of A and R. That's all changed, and now we need a vacation in the Caribbean. We may go on a "scrapbooking cruise" in September - a cheap fare that Deb B. told us about. Hey, it's possible!
I can feel myself getting addicted to the "posting with photos" thing.
Just so you know, I will be 35 this year. YES. May 7th. I remember being 15 and thinking surely I'd be dead by then, look how much I'll have done. Right on the one count, anyway.
Grinding coffee this morning, I realized something. My coffee beans were coated with a fake pecan flavoring, the creamer was fake milk flavored with fake vanilla, and I would be adding fake sugar. So why drink it if it's all so unreal? I guess the caffeine is real.
I'm starting out my day by shredding some documents. Not in an Enron kind of way, but in a "please stop shopping with my social security number" kind of way. The thing is really loud for being so small, and I heard the click of the bedroom door shutting after it ground through 5 sheets or so. An amazing thing about Renee' is that she doesn't have a fit at me, not outwardly anyway; she just chocks my thoughtlessness and retardation up to my old age and lack of attention sp...ooo! shiny! hey, cmere, woooossshhhhaaaaa, mmmm sleeepy time. Hi! My name is Dory...
Where was I? Right, puppies. We bought Amanda a book called, "How to Live with a Neurotic Dog." I wish Emma could read - she may then understand that it's not proper doggy ettiquette to do a Matrix jaunt around the house when she's chasing after her stuffed kitten. I used to feel bad for her, being in her crate all day, but after she's used my lap as a launchpad, or bitten my hand countless times in her pursuit of The Toy, the scarring reminds me of how she makes me crazy. I haven't begun any training yet, and I know my one sister is going to KILL me for that, but one day, I swear, it will happen. You'd think it wouldn't be so hard to find 15 minutes a day to train your dumb dog...