Funk it up.

During my recent quest for funkiness, I forgot to mention two very important things about my recent Ohio trip.
The first is that the Dranks, Drinky & Red, are doing awesome. I hung out with them and baby Drank (we'll call her "Sip") for the better part of an afternoon. (*The Mister was having the holiest of hangovers and didn't make it out of bed until 3:00 in the afternoon. Then he came over to the Drank's house and as we left, he puked in the street. Although I'm pretty sure the Dranks were spared the visual, now they know how The Mister defiled the street in front of their lovely abode. I have no leeway to say anything though, I puked on the front lawn within a week of their moving in. The Mister and I are great friends to have, I swear.*)
The Dranks are turning out to be great parents and baby Sip is the best baby I've seen yet. Drinky & Red want a dozen or so rugrats, so I'm sure there's an evil baby in their future. It'll be their sixth and they'll name it Damien, I'm sure. Hopefully, they'll get all babies as wonderful as Sip. She's just the cutest, happy-baby ever!

No, no, no... None for me, thanks.

The second thing is I got my hair cut. All funky like, I think. I took some pictures that I will post as soon as blogger gets their shit back together and picture posting is fixed. We shall see, boys & girls... We shall see.

Have we met?

Those who know me are fully aware that I am the biggest weenie in the world.
For my best friend to ask, "Have you seen Lady In the Water yet?" was just dumb.
Anything by M. Night Shamalamadingdong is not something that a) I would ever partake in; b) I *should* ever partake in; or c) The Mister would ever allow me to see based on the fact he would never again get any sleep.
It was just a dumb question.
Truth be told, just attaching this picture gives me the freakin' willies.

Not for the faint...

Not for the faint of fart...
Seriously, don't read this if you get grossed out easily.


I don't know what's going on, but I have spent the past 18 hours sprinting to the toilet. Perhaps this is due to the crazy amounts of tomatoes, cucumber & corn I have eaten over the past four days. My guess is: Most likely.
I swear, I feel weak. And I think I may have lost a lung out my ass.
I'm sure you understand the shortness of my posting.
Gotta dash!

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

I should have stayed in Ohio for the week or the next two... Here's the thing:
The Mister is working mad hours and hardly spending any time -save for Sleepy Time- at home. He's got this big deal project and here I am, trying to keep the homefires doused with kerosene, ready with match in hand in case he might come home and not want to crawl into bed to die.
Soooo... I'm having these, why-didn't-I-just-stay-in-Ohio feelings. The Mister is the only reason I came back, and pfffftt!! POOF! There goes that idea.
I'm thinking I might snag a cheap ticket to Columbus and see if my dad or one of my friends could make the jaunt to pick me up at the airport. Then, in a week or so, The Mister could come rescue me -or I could just return the way I originally got there: by catapult. Best way to travel, my friends. Quick, easy, great to feel the bugs in your teeth and the giant pillow at the end makes it all worth it.
Eh, too much effort, methinks. It never feels right to ask friends for favors *although, I would do it for any of them in a heartbeat.* And maybe, just maybe, The Mister could use a little Super-Support making sure he eats, sleeps and showers. Not that he'd forget to do these things, but just to make it a little bit easier.
At the very least, that's how I'm justifying my presence.
Da Nile ain't just a river in Egypt, ya' know...

Down in the Dumpster Dive.

So I haven't blogged since Friday and I hope you're doing well.
The Mister and I had a big ol' trip to Ohio that left me bottoming out in the depths of despair. That is to say, I got home and found myself down. In. The. Dumps.
Yesterday was spent crying into a salad of homegrown tomatoes and cucumbers brought back from the world of yummy produce.
Today was awesome with an amazing pick-me-up from the newly married Opera. If I haven't mentioned her before, my friend, Opera, is a WONDERFUL woman who recently married The Mister's old friend, Pittsburgh. They are a great duo that puts the Odd Couple to shame.
Needless to say, I'm freakin' homesick. Seeing my Ohio friends -my best friends- always tugs at my heart-strings, but the added carrot dangling in front of me was touring houses on the market. Y'know... When you really want something so badly it makes you ache inside it's never a good idea to put it in your face and YANK! it away.
Yesterday was hard as I downloaded my photographs and stumbled across the images of this turn of the century beauty. The teeth kicker? It was foreclosed upon and is going up for auction at 2/3's the appraised value.
Just check out the view from the front porch! Really, it's a View With A House.
It's quite large inside with all hardwood floors, French doors in every room, and charm out the wazoo. Yes, The Mister, that's where Santa comes out! Hmmm... Maybe Santa can deliver me this lovely abode for Christmas; I'm still backordered a pony and it's time to pay up with interest!

SUPER STUPOR!

I'm off to the state of love and trust; it's round on both sides and high in the middle - that's right, folks, it's OHIO!
A weekend full of birthdays, music, debauchery and the best tomatoes ever is what I've been looking forward to, and it has finally arrived. We shove off this evening and should return Monday. (Wish The Mister luck in getting Monday off from work.)
I hope to have beans to spill upon my return and wish you a fantastic weekend!!

I've got high hopes... or something.

I've got these two girlfriends, Ms. Doubtfire and Bee, both are hott cuties and way too funny for their own good.
The thing is, we never seem to get ourselves coordinated to be at the same place at the same time, but somehow, we still run into each other for five minutes along the way. It's the strangest thing, like ships passing in the night.
I don't really have any girl friends that I hang out with, but these two ladies are right up my alley. Most guys, I think, shy away from hangin' out with a married lady (me, duh). OO, J and Hunglish are about the only guys worth my hang out time anyhow and that's usually when I would see the ladies anyway.
Ms. Doubtfire & Bee are friends of Mary Jane, funny, enjoy adult beverages and the entertainment factor is 10++. Anybody who accidentally sets their boobs on fire sets the standard for people I want to hang out with. Seriously.
So how come I can't seem to get the train running and hang out with these girls? Tuesday nights would be perfect since The Mister works late on Tuesdays.
Although, now it would seem weird in a stalker-like way since I went and put it out there.
Also, there's the thought that maybe they don't want to hang out with me since it's never happened. Perhaps they've planned it that way! OMFG, they must think I'm some sort of red-shoe-wearing-tard who has no real friends and has latched on for dear life.
I need some water. My mouth has gone dry. Let this be a lesson to us all: no matter how badly your body aches -even if your fuckin teeth hurt- try not to Smoke in the afternoon and then blog; the blog simply becomes an outlet for your crazy paranoia. At least, I've got the violence thing curbed...

Tiger Balm take me away!

Yesterday I worked my body way beyond its meager limit.
Today it hurts to freakin' type; therefore this post will be short.
I want to be put out of my misery.
If I could move my arms I would rub Tiger Balm all over my body (except for the delicate parts, of course -whoooey!).

Excuse me for ducking out; I've got to rest my soul.

**I was hoping for something more with this being post # 69. All I got was the Spell Check trying to correct "freakin'" with "foreskin". Better than nothing, I guess.**

How is this going to blow up in my face?

I just posted that last entry and already am overwhelmed with guilt and fear.
It's not nice and somehow, it's sure to come back and bite me in my jiggly ass.

A year later, revenge tastes like... bitter.

I'm small but I think it's safe to say... I've got a ba-donk-a-donk.
Last year my Mother-In-Law offered (invited herself) to help me shop for my new 'professional' job. Gratefulness outweighed fear and she came along.
Somewhere deep in a hot, stuffy dressing room, she decides it's okay for her to yank back the curtain to check on my progress.
--Dorothy, don't do it! Toto stay back! You don't belong behind the curtain!--
Usually, I'm not the most modest of people, but there is nothing inside me that says it's okay for my Mother-In-Law to see me in my skivvies. Especially after what she did next:
While patting me on the ass she says, "You know, if you walk more you could lose that jiggle!"
MOR-TI-FIED.
Not to mention the restraint it took to keep me from mentioning, "You know, your son loves that jiggle... especially when we have sex!" or "You know, if you washed your own hair, you could lose that mushroom cap!" or "You know, if you ditched that streak, you'd look less like Elvira!"
Instead, my tongue was held and a year later, here is my sweet revenge: a picture of her hair.
Props are deserved here because I'm nice enough to blur her face.

I'm not even going to mention the differences in crime rates.

This weekend The Mister and I will be traveling to Marietta, Ohio to visit some friends and celebrate Capitall's birthday. (You can read about Capitall, Wino, Drinky and Red here, here, and here.
Marietta is an amazing town where we always have a great time. The Mister and I have dreams of having a house there someday... y'know, like when we're 85 and actually have the money. Well, the truth is, we could afford a house there now, but The Mister's work is not something he can do outside of a big city. It would be wonderful to have a place there now and still have our apartment here, but that is NOWHERE in the budget! We are going to be city dwellers for a long, long time. It's a great thing we both love the city!
What's really funny (not haha, rather eye-roll), is we could buy this house for less than the cheapest condo I could find in our Glover Park neighborhood. This gorgeous Victorian house is... are you ready?... wait for it... $220,000. The aforementioned condo, a one bedroom -the 'cheapest'- is $224,500.
I know, I know. It's all about "Location! Location! Location!" But sometimes, when you love a place as much as I love Marietta, it makes you wonder what makes a Location so great?
Sure, we have great resources; we can walk to the store, use public transportation, and there is no reason anybody should be jobless in this city. (You may not be able to find the job you WANT, but don't tell me you can't find A JOB. Hell, I can't find the job I want, but that doesn't mean I can't trot to Wisconsin Avenue and find another waitress gig. )
In Marietta you can walk most places. However, there is no public transport, which makes a car quite handy especially for haulin' groceries. Jobs are hard to come by and this is the big chink in my chain. Sure, I could probably go teach and I am pretty sure I would a) enjoy it, and b) be good at it. I almost studied Education in college, but in order to fully spite my mother, I chose Radio/Television Production instead. Real smart, I know. The school system in Marietta is fantastic but since The Mister and I are never having children, the reason I care is I think I'd like to teach. I've really considered going back to school to get my teaching certificate, but as long as we are in DC, zippy chance. There isn't enough money in the world to get me into a DC classroom. I'm a wee girl and in no way prepared to deal with city kids. They're tough. I could break a country kid. I've watched my mom do it for 28 years. Mom's a teacher, dad's a principal and they've taught me a shit-ton.
The greatest obstacle is The Mister's career. He is amazing, talented and very good at what he does as an Audio Engineer. However, there is no market for him in Southeastern Ohio.
It's cool, though... we love to visit, make the most of our times there and this coming weekend is going to be a blast! Especially because I've got a couple surprises up my wee little sleeve!

I'm going to hell. Er, maybe the heat is an indicator I'm there!

Before I get started here, it should be noted that even writing about what I'm about to makes me a little nauseous. It makes me feel spoiled and rotten. I am grateful for everything I have and know my life is quite good. It's not taken for granted...and I am also very aware I'm going to hell without passing Go or collecting $200.
This weekend was full of accomplishment. Saturday -the entire day- was spent cleaning out my and The Mister's closet. Although we have a nicely sized apartment with a large bedroom, our closet space is SERIOUSLY lacking. This is a major problem for me because as a neat-clutter-free-freak, I insist of everything being put away out of sight. Our closet, as tiny and strange as it is, had gotten completely out of control. Because it's our only closet, EVERYTHING must go in there, including but not limited to: luggage, clothing, shoes, bedding, kendo gear, and anything else that could possibly fit.
The task was so daunting I didn't have the wherewithal to take a 'before' shot. Our closet, my space in particular, is Super small (and not Super in a good way). My section is barely wider than my shoulders and that is damn small. What's a girl to do?
Work with what you've got and send everything else to Goodwill. Said closet is a bizarre "L" shape that was not designed to optimize space. It also was obviously not designed by a woman. Here I am standing in my ENTIRE space. I can barely fit. Now, I'm no fashionista (see clothes in background), but this really is NOT much space.
The Mister and I packed up 5 -five!- bags of clothing and took it to the local clothing drop. We're downsizing and The Mister is a bit of a packrat. He tries hard but although he's running to catch up to the Minimalist-Wagon to which I've hitched my horse, he hasn't quite jumped on -- yet.
Before we got married, I refused to let my belongings get beyond what I could pack into my car. Some called me Spartan, but I preferred Escape Artist. This weekend, The Mister made great strides in progress, and he even (fuckin' finally!) sent his pleather pants (both pairs! I know!) on their way, but not before he put them on and danced around. No, he didn't put them in the garbage and I didn't have the heart to suggest otherwise.

Aside from the cleaning-out-the-closet madness, what the Hades is up with this heat? I've eaten approximately two 24 packs of Popsicle Pops in 3 days. The Mister had a couple, but did have the smarts to ask first, "Uh, may I have a popsicle or will that result in my losing an arm?" He knows how hot the apartment gets during the day. I've turned into an old lady by putting cold, wet cloths on my neck and running my wrists under the cold faucet.
On a good note, my Nothing-But-Sugar-Free-Popsicle-Pops-Diet (TM) has me down five pounds.
**BTW, Popsicle has one of the BEST websites ever!**

She ain't messin with no broke, broke.

Got plans for the weekend? I, for one, will be donning my yellow rubber gloves (they're super) and scrubbing, dusting, swiffing, mopping, and vaccuuming til my little heart's content. Okay, I'm guilty, this isn't the plan because I really want to.
Mostly our weekend will be filled with things we have neglected with Wedding Madness and Talent's Visit. Well, that and we're broke. Not broke in the traditional sense, but we've just been less frugal than usual. It makes me nervous and a good way to take care of that is to distract with hard-core cleaning. After a day full of scrubbing, I like to round out the domestication by cooking a great meal.
And yet, as a woman, somehow, this all makes me feel weird. As if it's my duty, but damn-it-all, Society, I won't be smilin'! Well, guilty again... I love to cook.
Good lord. What has happened to me? I used to be so cool. It slowly occured to me while Talent was here: I've got to funk things up a bit. I've gone back to wearing what I want instead of "What if I run into MIL?" clothes. And next week, yessiree, I'm chopping off my hair. It's a big deal for me as it took a little over two years to grow it out from the soft spikes that once adorned my head. I'm not going too short, but FUNKY is key. That's my goal. Back to funk. Screw the Mother In Law who shook her head at my orange shoes and told me, "I like you so much better with hair."
I'm going back to my roots. Not literally, I mean, I'll probably color my hair, too. Hopefully it doesn't fall out; my hair has been through allot these past few months. Then, alas, while cleaning... I'd probably look more like this:

Talent's return.

This past weekend The Mister, Talent and I drove to West-by-god-Virginia to make the handoff. Actually, we were returning Talent to our parents, but after an exasperated Talent said, "Please stop talking about me like an object; this whole 'handoff' thing sounds like I'm smuggled goods you're transporting across state lines."
Well... when you think about it...
Anyhoo! We decided to make the switch at my parent's cabin in Summersville, WV. This would allow us to spend a day out on their boat located at Summersville Lake. The Mister and I have been together for five years and oddly, he had never been to my rent's retreat. The weather was freakin' amazing and we got up at the butt-crack of dawn on Saturday to make the drive. We hit the road, Jack, met up with the rents at the cabin, and were out on the boat by 2.
Oh. My. Glorious. Days. Summersville is gorgeous but this day could not have been more perfect.
This picture was taken from the overlook about a minute from the rent's cabin.
Summersville Lake is West Virginia's largest lake with over 2,700 surface acres of water and over 60 miles of pristine shoreline, ranging from quiet coves to vertical cliffs. Skin Diver magazine calls Summersville Lake "The Little Bahamas of the East Coast" for good reason, it's the cleanest, clearest freshwater lake east of the Mississippi. And it's freakin' HUGE. While I was trying to describe it, a friend asked, "Can you see the other side of the lake?". The answer is "No way, Jose'." You can drive around in your boat all day and not make it everywhere. The lake was created in the 1960's when the Army Corps of Engineers dammed up the Gauley River as a means of flood prevention. The Gauley filled in the surrounding mountain valleys thus making Summersville Lake. Originally, the town was called "Gad", but after considering the name "Gad Dam", the name Summersville was chosen. The Gauley River has some of the best white water rafting in the world. Many people wait until the Fall water release of the dam when the rapids are at their peak, however rafting goes on through the Spring and Summer as well.
Also near the rents place -about 15 minutes- is the New River Gorge Bridge. It's the world's longest single span arch bridge (3,030 feet) and highest in the western hemisphere (876 feet). That's about the height of the Washington Monument with two Statue of Liberties stacked on top and room to spare. Here's me and The Mister after trekking to the bridge overlook with the bridge below.
After a day of swimming, boating and sunning, we decided to eat at a wonderful Greek restaurant in town. Dude. Just yummy. The restaurant is owned/operated by a super nice Greek family. Here's the place and if you look closely, you can see the family's Grandma up in the doorway. What cracks me up is the rest of the family lives in a giant, gorgeous house a stone's throw away. These people know what they're doing, though... put the Mother in Law upstairs from the kitchen with dish network.
It was an awesome weekend and spending time with my family was a long time coming. The trip, although brief, gave me my West Virginia fix and will prevent homesickness for quite awhile.
I have to say, though, the best part of the weekend? Being told where they stash the extra key. Oh yeah. I'm sooo going back and maybe I'll take friends!

THUNDERCATS, HOOOO!

THUNDER
THUNDER
THUNDERCATS, HOOOOOO!!!!

The sky has darkened and is growling a low rumble from afar. After our thunderstorms, rain of titanic proportions and regional flooding, I thought perhaps Mother Nature would give us a little respite.
"Think again, Super."
Well, I should probably unplug the computer and go hide in the bathtub with a flashlight and candles... y'know... same as always.

I'm not the only one who blames mom.

While drooling in front of the pastry case at a lovely dining establishment:

Talent: "Do you think breathing this pastry goodness air will make me gain weight?"
Me: "Yes. We should leave right now. I swear, five pounds just attached itself to my left thigh."
Talent: "Run! Run away! Run it off and run away! Mom's thighs are right behind us!"

Sis needs a new name... How 'bout "Talent"?

We returned Talent back to her rightful owners and I'm pretty sure our parents were glad to have her back. It's hard to tell with an almost 16-year-old. The rents haven't seen her in about 10 days, they smile huge, give a big hug then a moment of oh-lordy-she's-back passes across their faces. Fifteen is hard on parents and the fifteen year old.
Obviously, my parents are older. My brother is 30 and I'm 28; then followed Talent 13 years later. Good thing Talent is a good kid, if they had me and my brother at that age while they're this age... let's just say there's strength in numbers and Bub and I were ruthless.
Talent and I had a great time. She's at a very cool age where our relationship is becoming more Friends than Big Sister/Little Sister. We don't see each other very often and this was the first time we actually had grown-up conversations and I felt comfortable taking her to hang out with my friends. Many times I had to remind myself she is only fifteen.
We went to a couple of cookouts where she fit right in. Partly because I have great friends who made her feel comfortable, and partly because she's just cool.
There is also the unsettling fact she does not look fifteen that must be addressed. She has all those things I want: curly hair, height, and big boobs. Frankly, at almost 30, I deserve them more. I just do. I got carded for a bottle of wine; The Mister and Talent did not have to produce such proof. Talent never wanted her own adult beverages, but she did taste a few things with various meals. She's responsible and certainly did not get that from me.
I am just amazed at the woman she's becoming. She's a talented artist and is looking into The Corcoran School of Art as well as a few others. My hope is she will choose the Corcoran, and they will choose her as well. If that happened, The Mister has plans to move to a larger place with an extra bedroom so she could live with us. That's two years away, so we shall see what happens.
For now, I am looking forward to my Alone-Time, but I am really going to miss her.
She's just great. This pic is from us making personlized beach towels for our niece and newphew. We're going to give the towels to them during our beach trip in August and we are very very excited... obviously... only excited, crafty people would make towels, right?

Super Sis!

My apologies for not being a good blogger for the past week. My sister has been visiting and it's been non-stop fun-time. It's been the best visit we've ever had. I think her being almost 16 makes her more of a "real person", rather than somebody I have to entertain. So far it's been a great time and I think we'll come away from this visit more 'friends' than before.
We've eaten mucho foods she can't get in the dubya-vee, gone to multiple BBQ's, shopped at super-cool stores they don't have there (she calls Anthropologie her "special secret not even website shareable") and today we are personalizing beach towels for our August beach trip. There will be six of us (my bro, his 2 kids, my sis, The Mister and me); we're a crafty duo. Today though, we're crafty in a Martha Stewart not Beastie Boys kind of way.
We shall see how that goes...