Category: Life

Humor, Life, Money

Le Sigh

“I don’t have pet peeves.  I have whole kennels of irritation.”
– Whoopi Goldberg

I have been home and back at work for only two days, but I am already in the tiniest, littlest, most miniscule fight with the cosmos.  It’s a small thing really: just our car needing $600 worth of repairs.  This is the same car that required $1500 this past September.  I’ve retaliated like a grownup – dramatically glaring at my bank account and (continuing to) refuse to unpack my suitcase, but for essentials, until the weekend.

All I can say, darlings, is that it’s a bloody good thing my vacation was so relaxing because if it had not been, Aunty C. might be in a bit of a strop.  And we wouldn’t want that, would we, universe?

Family, Friends, Humor, Husband, Life, London, Weekend

Rest, Recovery, and Salt in the Wound

“Seriously.  I had to schedule a breakdown, and then I had to cut it short!”
– C.

Minions, I have neglected you.  But last Friday the world sort of stopped.  I was stressed, I was tired, I was anxious, I was overwhelmed, and I literally worried myself sick.  I went home early on Friday and spent some time in bed.

Of course, I had only a limited amount of time to recover from the vapors because I had stuff to do.  Saturday I had a wedding (in addition to Venice’s birthday) and errands to run, Sunday was dinner at my godparents’ house (a 4 hour event at least) after which I had to dash home and make appetizers for… Monday after work, Sadie and Pieter had a Honey Do couples shower.  Classic me, I made it all the way to GS’s house before I realized I’d forgotten the food in my fridge.

But health, good-humor, and cheerfulness have begun to return, and so, updates.  Margot landed a full time teaching job (no small prize in this economy), Marie’s husband also got a job back East, Hambone had her baby boy, my sister-in-law had a dry run for her future lung transplant and got an emergency plan in place (still scary, but less so now), Dad, Venice, and J. all got older, and J. is going to Les Miserables tonight, staring Alfie Boe.

You know, the one who managed to stand out among these guys:

Wait.  I’m sad again…

Humor, Life, Weekend, Work

Attempting to Rehabilitate

“Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.”
– Kurt Vonnegut

Possums, I have abandoned you lately and I prostrate myself before you begging forgiveness.

By way of explanation, two weekends ago we went hiking in canyon country and I managed to roll one ankle, strain the opposite calf, and capped off the whole performance by blacking out – which was a peculiar experience.  Angel moved to Hawaii and therefore a last hurrah was in order.  All last week, you may recall, I was swamped with work, and this past weekend was spent with J.’s family as a sister and brother-in-law were in town and nieces and nephews must be played with!

Also, we are officially in crunch time.  J. heads off in three and a half weeks and life just got the tiniest bit hectic.  We had to get him a new suit plus fittings.  We just bought my ticket home (boo!) in addition to tickets to the East Coast (as the original plan was to drive out there, but that was scuppered pretty finally).  We have to register the car for this year (more money), store all of our books and fine china, and try to find J. a place to live in London.

In other words, I’m stressed, tired, not sleeping well, and getting obsessive compulsive about some really ridiculous things.  More on that later.  In the meantime I have a tic in my right eye, an odd twitch in my leg muscle, and apparently I’ve started grinding my teeth in my sleep.  Send something distractive my way, please?  Update me on your life and times!

Life

The Sock Ninja, or A Glimpse Into My Marriage

“I don’t even know how to write about this one.”
“Well when you do, you’d better mention my awesome dexterity.”
– C., J.

No one would know it but my seemingly mild-mannered, mature, stable, pretty impressive husband has this hidden side to him that resembles nothing so much as a mischievous four year old boy who thrills at finding new ways to annoy and/or startle me. Once a year or so I get the fright of my life when he pops out from behind a concealing door – just for kicks. More rarely still he tries to pull bigger pranks on me (such as trying to convince me he’d been in a car wreck). But the things that fill him with glee, that tickle his soul, are when he discovers some new tick or personal quirk of mine on accident.

Well, we can't all be serious.

Mind you I can be pretty ridiculous. I’m aware of it and do my best to accept it graciously as my lot in life – which is hard when you manage to fall down the flat stairs after tripping over your own feet at least once a week. Or when hopping on one foot down the hallway trying to get my leg into my trousers, because I’ve lost my balance and can’t regain it, while J. looks on in glee and has to hold the door frame to keep himself upright for laughing.

But even those sorts of regular episodes can’t prepare him for the initial shock when, for example, he was being extra sweet one evening and giving me a backrub as we watched PBS. Somehow his fingers found just the right combination on my vertebrae. Suddenly the tension left my entire body, I lost control of it, and my head pitched forward and thumped on the couch armrest. After approximate .0002 seconds of concern, he dissolved into fits as I rounded on him, hand clasped to the bump on my forehead and demanded fiercely, “What did you do?!”
“Vulcan mind trick?” he offered, between gasps and shrieks of laughter.

The jerks of the unmentionables drawer

Or the time when, coming to bed much later than me, he semi-woke me up. I’ve no idea what his intentions were and I’m afraid to ask, all I know is that for some reason he tossed a sock at me which ended up squarely on top of my head. And, still mostly in a dream state, I freaked out.
“Getitoff getitoff getitoff!” I panicked, flailing wildly towards full consciousness.
“What?” he demanded, a little freaked out himself at my outburst.
“Thesockthesockthesock getitoff!”
A moment later I was awake and, pulling the sock off my head rather sheepishly, muttering, “I think I may have overreacted.”
He was silent for a moment before burying himself in his pillow to muffle his snorts.

Of course this means that now, when I’m folding laundry (or really just when I lease expect it) he will randomly place a sock on my head, just to annoy me. It works.

His affinity for pushing my buttons with socks reached a new level last evening however when, teasingly trying to get his attention (and perhaps trying to exact some revenge) I playfully lobbed a sock at him. He was on the computer and only caught a glimpse of the incoming missile in his peripherals, but apparently that was more than enough because in one move he deflected in the advancing footwear and repelled it with a karate chop motion…

Right back clean between my eyes.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes of muffled giggling and apologizing before I could be talked out of my sulk and (mostly hormonally driven) suspicions that he’d done it on purpose. And even then he couldn’t help with the, “But you have to admit, that was pretty funny!”

There are times I suspect he married me simply as a guarantee of being amused for the rest of his life.

Friends, Humor, Life, London, University, Work

Brief Dispatches

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my life story.”
– Elvis Presley

Some of my friends seem to have gone completely round the twist lately, and not one has been able to satisfactorily explain their strange, sad, pathological, or just flat out bizarre behavior.  I’m baffled, kittens.

Dear police officers who have had all year to complete 40 hours worth of training: no sympathy.  I’ve sent you quarterly updates of your training records and multiple emails this month alone reminding you that I’m turning everything in at the end of the week, your sob stories about how you never knew you were 39 hours short will not fly here.

Sweet merciful chocolate, J. starts grad school three months from tomorrow!

Sweet merciful chocolate on a stick, we still have so much to do…

I have stayed up late every night for a week now, in a unprecedented attempt to prove that I am not a dull, matronly, boring old married woman at 25.  The net result is that I’m near psychotic from sleep deprivation and have never used so much  concealer in my life.  I r adult now, k thnx bai.

We are smack in the middle of the busiest work week of the year preceding the busiest work day of the year, the 4th of July (which includes but is not limited to VIP performers, parades, marathons and 5ks, street festivals, massive firework displays, and the gradual wearing down of any and all patriotic feelings on the part of our department staff as we deal with screaming children, patrons livid with the parking situation, traffic accidents, any amount of petty crime, and 48 hour work days).

My birthday just keeps on going!  Celebrating it with various friends and family took up about a week and I milked every day of it (Can’t do the laundry, it’s my birthday!  Can’t save that baby from the pack of roaming wolves terrorizing that burning building that was started by the earthquake, it’s my birthday!).  Last night I got the probable last of my belated birthday present…just in time for my anniversary on Friday!

Seriously…I’m so tired right now…  Ladies from the parish are coming by this evening, I should probably clean the flat and not take a nap.  But…

Visa applications can be submitted starting tomorrow, but they probably won’t be completed seeing as I have to be at work until 9pm prepping for the dratted 4th of July.  Freaking colonists and their freaking independence…

Oh dear, do I have anything for dinner?

We’re really moving in just about 2 months.  Please hand me that paperbag and ignore any sounds of angst that may escape my muffled mouth.

We’re really moving in 2 months.  London!

Humor, Law Enforcement, Life, University, Work

If I Could Get a Word In Edgewise –

More fun with phone calls!

Small Dog tries...

“University Police, this is C., how can I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to a customer service representative, please.”
“Ma’am-”
“Customer service.”
“Ma’am -”
“Cus-to-mer ser-vice!”
“Ma’am, I’m not a recording.  How can I help you?”
“Oh, hello.  I lost my purse today.  I was coming to campus with my seven grandchildren – Mary, John, Paul, James, Agnes, Peter, and Martha – and we went to the museum, then stopped for lunch and went to the art museum before going to get ice cream.”
“I see.  Well, ma’am, the first -”
“They all wanted strawberry, except for Agnes who hates strawberry and had to have chocolate and Peter because he’s lactose intolerant.  So when I got them all home I got everything out of my car, it’s a 2008 suburban, tan, and I just got it new tires last week, I also had to get the oil changed!”
“Alright, so what you’ll need to do -”
“And frankly I was less than impressed by how difficult it was to get around campus with seven children, I really think you should make more accommodations for large families.  But my purse is a large satchel, canvass, and it has my planner, my medications, and my wallet and I really need it back!  Could you send an officer to go look for it?”
“I can try but I strongly recommend you come in and make a police report with us, and that you also -”
“Oh, surely no one would steal my bag and my bank isn’t very helpful.  I’ve known the manager for years and you think he would be more respectful to an older woman, especially a neighbor like me.  I really think that it’s a shame how people treat ladies my age!  The person who served us our ice cream, except for Peter of course, was also not very helpful.  You’re not being very helpful either.”
“I am trying my best, ma’am.  If you could give me a little more -”
“You’re not listening to me at all.  Please transfer me to someone who could be more useful.”

With pleasure!

Life

Best if Used By (or, C. Philosophizes)

“Being 25 is weird…I’ve gone from Clean and Clear to Biore and Garnier.  And soon it will be L’Oreal…and then Olay!  Followed by decay and death.”
– C.

Full disclosure, I actually use Clinique.  Under this newly minted aging categorizing technique of mine, how old does that make me?

Life

At This Hour, Better Than Infomercials

“One of the best things about marriage is that it gets young people to bed at a decent hour.”
~ M.M. Musselman

I thought I might try to get up and watch Middleton bring it off, but I seriously doubted my ability to haul myself out of bed that early.  Luckily I seem to have developed a slight case of insomnia lately so the point was sort of moot.  By the time 4am rolled around I was dying for something to do anyway.

I’m not a royal watcher, but I think there is a place for the monarchy in the modern world if it can adapt to changing times and modernize when necessary.  And although I’m not sure I’d wish her future life on my worst enemy, I like Kate.  She’s classy and savvy.  Best of luck.  And yes, both your dress and hair were fabulous, dear.

Note: Will and Kate both looked exhausted, frankly I would be too with the sort of scrutiny and To-Do list they must have had.  I hope at some point some nice groveling courtier takes them aside and spirits them to one of the hundreds of room in one of their many palaces, begs them to take their shoes off, and take a nap.

Friends, Humor, Life

A Typical Atypical Thursday Evening
It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
I did a weekend soundoff a while back, but even with my assortment of friends (the lot of which easily form the Who’s Who of intriguing people) this was a bit much for a weeknight.  While on the way to see a friend starring in another play, the following sentence was uttered verbatim:
“So.  Margot.  There you were in a strange city staying with a toxic couple who have gotten drunk and the wife – who is currently having an affair with a French street performer named Andre – is starting to come on to you in a desperate bid to end her marriage…what do you do now?”
Yes, there is a story behind this.  All true.  Sadly, it’s not mine to tell.  Some of my single friends wonder why I like to stay home most weekends these days, I just can’t keep up!
Humor, Life

Cat. Nap.

Sleeping is no mean art:  for its sake one must stay awake all day.  ~Friedrich Nietzsche

I unabashedly spent the three day weekend on the sofa bundled in a blanket, napping cat-like in a sunbeam, and watching PBS documentaries.  I only pried myself up to drive up north with J. to see a visiting dear friend, and yesterday to go get some much needed Indian food.  Then it was straight back to the sofa because I was worn out.  I should have cooked, cleaned, or done laundry, but I didn’t.

There is something about this time of year that makes me tired, not to say exhausted.  I feel sluggish and snappish – though, thank heaven, not depressed.  To boil it down, I feel like I need to hibernate and a nefarious someone or something is stopping me.  Jerk.