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Wednesday
Jul152009

You Say Better Stuff than Me Anyway

As it turns out, crap doesn't magically grow legs and walk its way into boxes just because I will it to do so. It's very disappointing to learn that I don't possess ultimate control over inanimate objects, especially since that means I probably should make like a rat and pack. (Pack? Rat? Pack rat? Get it? HA! I slay me.) Tomorrow we will be loading everything we own into a big ol' truck, with the intention of closing on both houses Friday. Ultimately, we hope to be unloading all our crap Friday afternoon into the Newer! Bigger! House. Between now and then, though, is mucho work to do.

So, posting will be sparse for the next few days. Sparse as in, HELLO GUEST POSTS! And maybe photo posts. We shall see.

In the meantime, how about y'all write a post for me? For real. Could y'all be so kind as to leave a comment or two or ten for Miss Alexis? Tell her something you wish someone had told you before you had to learn it the hard way. Anything.

I'll start, and I'll even list five things I wish I had known sooner in life.

1. "Sleep like a baby" is perhaps the dumbest phrase ever invented. It should be "sleep like a teenager" because babies don't sleep. For what it's worth, neither do some toddlers and preschoolers. *cough*Alexis*cough*

2. Pittsburgh is the greatest city on Earth. There's no point in testing that theory, because that is a lesson I learned the hard way. Forget Minot, Cleveland, Akron, Los Angeles, Chicago, Plattsburgh, Boston, Atlanta, Alicante, London, Orlando, Steubenville, Raleigh, and everywhere in between. Pittsburgh is the place to be.

3. You're never to old to climb atop the highest slide you can find, close your eyes, and fly down that sucker.

4. Happiness is a choice, and you have to make up your mind to lead a life full of it. Nobody else can do that for you.

5. There is no problem that a spork and some duct tape can't fix.

Your turn. If you don't mind, keep it kinda clean because I won't have internet access to police your asses. Annnnnd . . . Go!

Monday
Jul132009

Like I Had a Choice

I'm cute when I think I actually have control over things. Like, when I thought I got to decide if our pond fish were staying or going? So adorable.

We started out taking the fish. That genius idea was followed by the realization that it's a helluva lot of work to move fish who live in a hole in the ground, so we decided to leave them. Then the buyer's inspector told him the pond was ruining the house. So, the buyer decided the fish were going. We had grand plans for a temporary pond situation at the new house. Then we didn't have grand plans. That was followed by not having any clue whatsoever what we were doing. And then a plan was hatched that was pretty doable.

At the very moment that the plan came together, the pond magically sprung a leak. Seriously, the very moment we thought we knew what we were doing, we came home to find the water had gone down four inches. Mr. Husband filled it back up, only to find it drained back down again the next morning. For over a week, we checked the pond several ties a day, desperately trying to make sure enough water stayed in the pond to keep the fish alive.

Our last water bill is going to be SO AWESOME.

At last, Sunday rolled around and we managed to put the plan into play. Mr. Husband scooped the fish out of the pond and crammed them into giant plastic bags. Of course, that was a lot easier to do with Sidney than it was Arnie.

Sidney is small enough to force into doing whatever it is that you want him to do. Arnie? IS NOT. Mr. Husband scooped him into the net and the dang fish started flailing and flipping and jumping. He might have also screamed. I can't be sure because while Mr. Husband yelled for me to help, I ran away, squealing like the wimp girl that I am.


(Mr. Husband is 6' 2". Arnie is as big as his leg.)

Once the really pissed off fish were loaded into bags and tubs, we stuck them in the back of our beat-up pickup truck and drove them to the pond store, where they are being fish-sat until we have a chance to build them a new permanent home. It was a special sort of trashy for the three of us to be piled into an old pickup, windows rolled down because the A/C is broken, and giant fish flopping around in the back. The best part of the 15-mile drive was the part how I kept staring out the back window, watching the fish. Cause, you know, if the covers had blown off the tubs and the fish had jumped out, I totally could have done something about it WITH MY EYES.

Once we made it to the fish store, we did have the pleasure of having the entire staff stop doing anything productive as they all gathered around Arnie to proclaim, "Holy crap, he's huuuuuge!"

Yeah, we know.

Fortunately, Arnie and Sid have a place to hang out for the next month or so, giving us time to build them a new home. It's a really good thing that was what I decided I wanted to do, because luck would have it no other way. Nothing screams YOU'RE FUNNY IF YOU THINK THIS POND IS STAYING like a nice-sized hole magically appearing in the liner.

Sunday
Jul122009

Memories

"Where's Dorfy?" she asked.

"Dorfy?" I replied.

"Yeah, where did Dorfy go?" she repeated.

I thought for a moment, then said, "Do you mean Dorothy?"

"Yeah!" she clarified. "What happened to Dorfy?"

Dorthy died well over a year ago. She was a goldfish who lived in a little tiny Sesame Street aquarium on our kitchen counter. We never mentioned that Dorothy was leaving. She just disappeared one day, aquarium and all.

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We were driving down the road, windows open, when Alexis asked, "Where is Baby Shell's Dora sock?"

I knew right away what she was talking about--the Dora sock she lost out the open car window as we were driving through Columbus several months ago.

"It's in Ohio," I replied.

"Can we go get it?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "It's to far away."

"Oh," she said. "Can we go buy another blue Dora sock?" she continued.

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"I want to wear the gray skirt," she said.

"You don't have a gray skirt," I said.

"Yes, I do! I want to wear the gray skirt with the pink shirt!" she insisted.

"Girl, you don't have a gray skirt that goes with a pink shirt," I replied.

"The pink shirt that sleeves are missing," she clarified, in her broken 3-year old English.

I thought for a moment and then realized the kid was referring to an outfit she outgrew last summer. It's been packed away since fall, if not longer.

**********************************************************************

I know Alexis can remember all this stuff because her brain isn't clogged with things like the periodic table of elements, the PLU for bananas, and the mortgage due date, BUT STILL. Where do I get me some of that magical memory potion, yo?