Farewell Southern Oaks (an ode to apartment living)

Ahhh! I made you look at my blog! You probably clicked on it because you thought it was about a baby or something. Sorry I fooled you.  It's actually just as interesting though, because it's about our apartment.
We close on our house next week so I thought I would write an official goodbye prose to the good times we've had at our temporary, spider-filled housing.

Farewell pretty blue pool,
Your water sparkled in the sun.
reading on your deck was  cool
until Honey Boo-Boo did cannonballs of fun.

Then it was just cold. and wet.
(One Honey Boo-Boo always refused to take off her sandals before getting in as she was afraid without them, her feet would get too cold in the water)

Farewell creepy neighbor with yellow toenails,
your pacing outside and continuous cigarette,
How you can mumble and smoke at the same time
is a feat I have yet to get.

(Everyone I sent his fuzzy picture taken through my hair to in case I was murdered, can delete it next Friday. I survived!)

Goodbye sweet apartment so nice and cozy,
it was fun for us to be so close. 
The only time you seemed too small,
is when the spider family took over, named rabida lycose.

(You can't be the size of a quarter and called a lycosa rabida WITHOUT having me think your are poisonous and squashing you into a piece of tar with my shoe)

And to our upstairs neighbor, 
At 5 AM, no one should shout "oh lordy"
we are glad you found your soulmate
but your bed needs some WD40.

(5 am!?!?!? 5 am!?!?!? Either someone works night shift or these are teenagers who are NOT within the age requirement for renting).


Farewell cool couple in 8013
you had the deck'o' fun.
Dartboards, posters and ski ball
a basement size cooler, 4 beer taps in one.

I walked by longingly everyday,
my condition didn't allow me to partake.
Then once I saw you outside, 
no teeth no bra and leather skin that had baked.

(I no longer felt bad and it made me rethink the ramifications of a deck'o'fun.)


And farewell front desk LaTonya,
you had such amazing concentration.
I could stand in your personal space for whole 8 minutes, 
before you'd look up and say "what" with no elation.

(To get her attention I actually tried to compress my throat and breathe heavy with my mouth gaping wide open....I suppose that makes me as creepy as toenail guy.)

And let's not quit there LaTonya....

It totally makes sense
 you were too busy
to write a receipt 
for my relo company

I sometimes don't have time to open my eyes 
when I want to see
to take the wrapper off my straw 
or wipe when I pee.

(Yes, that is how long it would've taken you).

When I proof read this I had to laugh at the things we talk about that we would've never noticed last time we lived in apartments when we would've come home at 3am to take beers to creepy tonails, before heading to the after party on the deck'o'fun and topping off the night by high fiving the upstairs couple on their 5am job well done were younger.

minnesota and moonshiners

Sorry about the delay in blog posts.  I had the best intentions, but when I became head of the household for a few months while John was looking for a new job, I took my duties far too seriously and had no time for posts.  The power got to me and it went something like this:

Grocery Shopping
Me: John, grab that cheese and put it in the cart please.
John: Rose, it's the exact same cheese as this one only your paying a dollar more for the dancing cow on the wrapper.
Me: GRAB IT....(as I stare at dancing cow in her checkered dress) It's been a good week, Betsy, a good week.


It was bound to end and now that we have switched roles, John told me to take a few weeks off, just relax and enjoy myself....no need to find a job right now.  Well that lasted 2 days and I FOUND a job* (*job does not always equal pay).

Actually first, I found this great park in Raleigh, which is the largest nature preserve in a US metropolitan city. It has miles and miles of hiking trails through beautiful terrain.  As I was coming up the hill, ending my first 3 mile hike, I saw it in the parking lot.  A car with a MINNESOTA TWINS sticker across the front windshield and a Minnesota local car dealership sticker on the back.  I waited and hopped around with excitement for a minute to see if whoever owned this car would appear and we could relive our days from freezing weather to Sweet Martha's Minnesota cookies.  No luck.

I took a picture and sent it to John who proceeded to ignore my picture as his phone screen sucks, he didn't know what it was and figured I would call him if it were something important like I hit this persons vehicle.

The next day, to my surprise  the car was there again!  I parked two stalls over (not to be rude...Minnesota nice also means Minnesota-nice-but-I-need-some-space) and figured that they would leave a note on my car since twice meant this was no chance meeting.

No note was left.  Hmmmm, they ARE from Minnesota; only a Minnesotan would think, "Oh I should leave a note to say hello!.....but I don't want to bother them, or hurt their windshield wiper while placing my note on their glass..."

The next day I parked in the stall next to them.  Still nothing.  The next day I parked in the stall next to them on the DRIVER'S side.  Hard to ignore me now.  The next day closer on the driver's side to where our mirrors looked like they were reaching out for each other, to hold hands.  Still nothing.....not even a friendly dent as they had to squeeze into their driver's side door (skinny, health conscious Minnesotan).

I told John about my disappointment that night (leaving out how close our cars were parked together....he wouldn't have found this helpful). I had failed at my new job of meeting this person. I showed him the pictures from each day that I took with the car of my mysterious friend.

John: Rose, you like your Minnesota friends, so don't you want to make North Carolina friends?

Rose: Well yes, but I was just SO excited to see who else was down here. Who would want to talk about how great the weather is and if they are going back for the fair, and end every question with "ooooh yaaaaa?"

John: I don't think stalking someone and taking pictures with their car every day is going to make you a friend, it's creepy.  In fact,you could end up in jail and those aren't the friends you want to make.

Rose: John, you obviously haven't watched Moonshiners.  Those are the people who end up in the holding cells at the NC pokey.  All from making the delicious sweet sippin' mountain nectar. Maybe those ARE the people I want to know.

So even if my job was a bust, and I get sent to the pokey for stalkerazzi photos, I will be in good company with some sweet drinks while I serve my time.

A Psychic's Horrorscope

In graduate school, three friends and I decided to shake up our normal weekend routine and go to a psychic medium's workshop.  I had seen her before and read her book. Her abilities, along with not taking life too seriously, empowering others to hear their voice, and the fact that we both find fart jokes hilarious, made for an entertaining weekend.  (http://www.moriahthemedium.com/  if you are interested)

At this workshop she wanted to show us we all have some psychic ability.  We were asked to partner up with someone we didn't know, hold an object of theirs and see what came to mind about that person. She explained that pictures are always flashing in your mind if you just notice them, and some may actually pertain to an ability to connect with others. As I rolled my partner's ring around in my hand all I could see were apple trees at the bottom of two tall hills.  And I thought I maybe saw a guy named Michael.

I felt kind of bad as the 3 long minutes dragged on and these were the only two images I could see. Obviously, I had figured I would get her entrie life story or give her important information to save her father from jumping into a cab that was destined to hurl off a cliff.  I tried to make it better by sitting cross legged and rolling my eyes up into the back of my head like Whoopi had done on Ghost.  This would obviously make me more legit.

In the end, it turned out my partner was from a town called Apple Valley, and she had a brother Michael, who died as a young child.  Well, no shit....there was something to this, I thought.

Although I found this whole experience interesting, it didn't feel freaky, or from another world, or even all that special. Infact, I realized I couldn't distinguish the thoughts that I received for that woman from the ones that tell me I'm hungry or that it's okay to pick my nose in public if I just use my thumb because obviously people will think I'm just scratching it.

So being a rush junkie, and that this didn't feel any different than most of life, and also that a lot of my time was taken up by watching The Swan was used for studying, I didn't think about psychic stuff again.
(But I always felt a little proud of what happened that day and was pretty positive I could save someone from getting in a taxi that was bound to plummet over a cliff and then be a local hero).

Until recently.....
After December, I did not want to think I had any ability to see anything or the future any more.

Some girlfriends and I decided to take the night, wear old prom dresses (unzipped of course) drink wine and make vision boards of what we wanted to see come true in the next year.
I wish I could blame this on the fact we only used US Weeklys and Star magazines, but truthfully, even if there were Bloomberg's and Time, I would've probably reached for the same ones anyway.  This is what I envisioned my 2012 to look like:

Did you count that!?!?!?!?  There were more pictures of Russel Brand and Katie Perry on my LOVE vision board than fingers you have on two hands.

My show and tell went something like this: I LOOOOOVE Russel Brand and Katy Perry and for my 2012 I want John and I to be just as awesome and happy as they are.

Only 4 days later, they split. I was saddened for them, and a little freaked out for me.  But being that my boobs haven't grown awesome, I have no Smurfette dresses or blue hair and John doesn't speak in a British accent and hasn't grown a foot, I will say we are still going strong and my vision board does not predict the future....my psychic abilities were left in Moriah's workshop that day.

Thank God.

Next year I'm just bringing Bon Appetit magazines and souffle-ing the shit out of my vision board.  

Graduating seniors: I just may have saved you from being in charge of your work coffee maker. (Sincerely, your friend the liberal arts major )

Girls and Science1

We found a surrogate!

You know the feeling when you squeeze into the hottest pair of jeans you own because you are going to the trendy restaurant to have drinks you can’t pronounce out of a hollowed out pineapple, and you want to look like you’re normally this stylish on a typical Tuesday evening? 

And you know the feeling when you realize you haven’t put on these jeans in years but you’re putting on pounds by the day.
 And the last set of tapas just made your stomach roll another inch over your constricting waistband .  You become so uncomfortable from the building pressure.

And then you realize how lucky you are long, baggy shirts are in and you can actually unbutton your jeans and no body will notice?  The relief is instantaneous and you can go right back to those crabcakes covered in mayo.  Oh, you don’t do that?  Oh, well… me neither.  But if I did, THAT would be the best analogy to the pressure release I felt the other week from some news we received.

Three years ago, I was sitting at a restaurant with my parents.  On the opposite side of the booth their smiles turned serious and they said “We are tired of waiting for you two to grow up and decide to give us a grandchild.  We have a trip to China in December and we are planning on adopting our own grandchildren which we will give to you.  Merry Christmas and get ready.”  (There was some internet searching of embassy consulates and adoption laws just to verify that this was infact illegal).

The pressure has only escalated since that day. 

It’s not that we haven’t thought of taking the leap into parenthood.  After a few years of settling into our home, building careers, it seems like a natural step.  The comfortable, evening conversation on the couch usually goes something like this: 

Rose: You know, now that its been a few years and we like our job and house we should probably figure out if we are going to have kids.

John: Yeah….you’re probably right…I mean the older we get, the greater chance of a kid coming out with two heads and no arms right?  

Rose: It’s scientifically proven.

John: Oh look Super Troopers is on.

Rose: Oh I love that movie!....

John: Wow, there’s a lot of swearing in here….you probably couldn’t watch this with a kid around.

Rose: Yeah… and you know how we give people bad looks when they bring their kid to Wildfire and  the kid’s cheerio-screaming fit makes our fancy steak taste like a ground chuck?  We’d have to give that look to ourselves…..

John: We wouldn’t be able to sleep until 10 am…..

Rose: Not even on the weekends?

John: I like being able to just take off and go on trips when we want to….

Rose: I sometimes enjoy saying the “s” word!

John: I can’t pretend I don’t eat brownies for breakfast!!!

Rose: I don’t want to wear mom jeans!!!!!

John: I don’t want you to wear mom jeans!!!!

Rose: I can't be a protesting hemp lady who likes to pull her boobs out in front of Macy’s for feeding only to prove a point!

John: I WANT TO BE ABLE TO WATCH SUPERTROOPERS AND NOT HAVE TO PRETEND TO BE DUSGUSTED BY THE CONTENT!!!!

Rose and John: AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

….And we each end up in separate corners of the living room, rocking back and forth in the fetal position. 

Although we like the things above, we are responsible people and it is a statistical fact that watching Teen Mom does more to prevent pregnancies in 30 year olds than in teenagers ages 15-19. 

But recently, this weight has been lifted off of our shoulders.  No, this isn’t our ultrasound.  But my brother and his wife have a little growing baby just like this (ipod included).  And we are SO excited for them. 

But not as excited as the new grandparent. To them, Mark and Jo have become the Sanjaya of Idol Season 6: they are now the most loved and popular of the children, even if they haven’t yet shown any skills in this category.

In one instant, the rose colored glasses came on and everything changed: Nevermind the arrest records for gambling on the  high school roof at midnight….money management will be an important skill to teach this child.   And climbing construction site booms at 2am?  A skill that now can be used to coach junior on the safest way up the jungle gym.  Nevermind forgoing the dentist or flossing for the last 5 years,that does not mean Mark won’t change a baby’s diaper with a little more consistency. 

A mother’s embarrassment and guilt for her son being awarded with “beer pong championships” and “best discreet pee’er in public places” faded as the test strip smiley face darkened.  They had given them the thing they had been wanting for years, a grandchild.

I kid, I kid Mark and Jo, you will be awesome parents and we will be happy to watch your child any time.  And he will always come home with some super sweet quotes from Super Troopers.

Beardcember

The only acceptable form of a beard.  Which you
can purchase from www.snorgtees.com

Many of you felt relief when "Movember" ended and the prickly upper lip hair fell in unison with the fall leaves off the trees.  But some of us are married to Evergreens....where the mustache region not only stayed but the rest of the facial region was also filled in, from season to season (Beardcember).  


If this epidemic has hit your home, I have posted a letter below that has been proven to eradicate this contagious bug that spreads throughout male communities in the winter months*.  


*(Unlike Azithromycin to Staph, this is letter is only 10% effective as beards seem to be more of an MRSA.) 



Dear _______,

This is very tough for me to write, but I feel something has been coming between us lately.  It started off slow, but it has grown.  
I don't want this to be a hairy situation, but I think you need to know how I feel.
It's about your friend.  He started off kind of cute.  Even warm and cuddly.  But now, you can be in the same room and you don't even seem to notice how prickly he can be to me.
I know that you two are close, you even say you have roots. But he seems to get between us in every aspect of our relationship. 
He is always in my face. When we talk, he's there. When we go out to eat, he's there. Even when we kiss, he is there.  It makes me uncomfortable you and I never have alone time.
I think he knows it.
When you smile, he smiles- always mocking the fact he's so close to you.
Sure, he's the life of the party and everyone notices him. He tells you hanging out with him makes you look distinguished.
But the truth is, he's a slob. He's messy, always getting food on himself.  
Last night, when I walked in the house, I thought there was a homeless man in our living room.  It turns out it was just him.
I don't like giving ultimatums, but I think you need to cut your friendship short.  
Sometimes using sharp words, that cut like a razor, hurts but it's for the best.  It's for your marriage.
You have to choose: it's either your wife, or the beard.

Love,
______________________

Gluttony and Maury

In life, we are all talented at something.  Some people are good at art, some are good at fixing things.  For the longest time, I figured I ranged from the B to B+ level at most life skills.

I was okay with the mediocrity, it means you don't get noticed.  McDonald's is the A+ in fast food chains and no matter how many salads or yogurts they put on their menu, they will always be condemned as the primary cause of obesity in the US of A, condemned for using chickens who live on top of each other in cages and criticized for each decision they make .  Burger King slides by as the B+ and nobody even notices that their menu contains fewer healthy choices, their chicken isn't even meat, and their mascot king is way creepier than any red headed clown clown.

I am Burger King (minus the creepy king); I was never the best at anything.  In 2nd grade I glued more construction paper leaves onto my hands than onto the paper tree trunk, leaving my teacher to subtly hide my fall art work behind another kids perfectly displayed foliage.  In a 5th grade basketball tournament, the jump ball was tipped and I actually got it. My biking shorts, coke bottle glasses and frizzy perm dribbled down the court to the basket.
I put it up.
It didn't go in.
I grabbed the ball again and threw it up.
Still a miss.
I had time.
In fact, nobody was down on my side of the court guarding me yet.
I aimed the ball at the square on the backboard.
Still, no dice.

Finally, a girl from my team ran down, grabbed the ball, dribbled it to the other side of the court, and continued the game.
Apparently, the baskets switch at half time and I was attempting to score points for the other team.  That was the last game I played.

But, like wine gets better with age, so do I (or maybe I just got better when I started drinking wine).
Last year I found my A+ perfectionism in something I had been training for all my life, without even know it:  Eating Contests.

I went to a radio station's Cinco De Mayo party at a Mexican restaurant to get in line for a free psychic reading.  I was hoping psychic Gary Spivey would see a bright  future for me.  I had recently watched Cirque du Soliel on late night tv and wanted to know if I would be successful, or break my neck, if I tried the trapeze (for the record, he said, not to take it up yet--I guess B+ isn't good enough when you're dangling 50 feet in the air).

During the course of the night, the DJ's held a taco eating contest to give away tickets to Star Party, a concert featuring Train, Jason DeRulo, B.o.B. and the girl who refuses to wear underwear (Ke$ha).  I raised my hand to be in it, because it was getting to be dinner time.  And, unlike every grade school kickball game, I was picked first.

After that, girls who had more girth raised their hands to kick my gastro-intestinal ass.
As six of us lined up on stage they brought out 8 tacos per person and a pitcher of water for each contestant. The weird thing was, I wasn't even nervous...I was thinking, "huh, this must be the appetizer."


That's how you know you've found your passion.

With the start to the whistle we had 3 minutes to finish as many tacos as possible.  And although I'm a good eater, I have to thank my husband for 4 years of being a cheapskate who likes to share meals with me and then inhales with the power of a hoover.

As the finale bell rang, I looked around with the last taco shoved into the side of my cheek.  The closest contestant still had two and a half on her plate.  I felt pride I had never felt before.  The glory of others cheering while I enjoyed the last cheesy beef was amazing.

Knowing that this is probably the only skill that I am an A+, I have learned to use it in areas where I need to improve.  For example, when someone wants to challenge me in basketball, I usually say "Let's have a pancake eating contest to see who gets the ball first."  When they agree, I know it's okay because as they are vomiting pancakes after I win, they really don't feel like shooting hoops anymore.

I guess the moral of the story is, find what you're good at and use it to be good at something else.

And if you don't like stories that have a moral at the end, read this instead: When I went to Star Party, a girl with a prosthetic limb got into a fight with another girl.  As the shouting match escalated to hair pulling, the girl's prosthetic arm fell off. She picked it up off the ground and began hitting the other girl over the head with it.