Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Home is where the heart is
Tomorrow, the truck comes to haul our worldly possessions across the highway to our new abode. Our penultimate day in this old house that I've had my problems with. Too dark, no room for me, not feeling at home.
But when in my life did I ever feel at home? Growing up, home was not homey. Lack of adequate heat, enough water, and other luxuries made things rustic to say the least. When anything broke, it stayed that way. When a part of the house was unsafe, it was to be avoided. Any wonder I hate camping? I learned to walk around things, simultaneously not noticing their existence or absence. Also, the unspoken and spoken rule that I wasn't allowed to invite anyone over or even into the house for a minute, made it hard to have that warm, homey feeling. Growing up that way led to living in my head. A habit I haven't really been able to shake all these years, even in my own apartments and my own home. I would feel equally at home at a friend's house or hotel as I did at my own home. Whereever I was, that was where I lived. I never wanted to particularly get back to my own place. I could say this is all zen-y, groovy detachment, but \I think you need to be able to attach before you detach!
Sharing a home, albeit with a nice guy, drove me under, yet again. At first this house felt like Gameguy's house because it *was* Gameguy's house and he had rules and traditions. Later it felt like a house I had to live in but didn't choose. I never had what it took to stake my claim on this house. To fight it our and have a mauve powder room or whatever the hell people this is crucial to their vision of home. I want the new house to be different. I want to learn what a home is and how to feel at home in it. Today, I could walk away from our old house and everything in it, except the family and my kitchen aid mixer, and never look back. I wonder if it's possible for an old "gypsy" like me to change her tent stripes?
But when in my life did I ever feel at home? Growing up, home was not homey. Lack of adequate heat, enough water, and other luxuries made things rustic to say the least. When anything broke, it stayed that way. When a part of the house was unsafe, it was to be avoided. Any wonder I hate camping? I learned to walk around things, simultaneously not noticing their existence or absence. Also, the unspoken and spoken rule that I wasn't allowed to invite anyone over or even into the house for a minute, made it hard to have that warm, homey feeling. Growing up that way led to living in my head. A habit I haven't really been able to shake all these years, even in my own apartments and my own home. I would feel equally at home at a friend's house or hotel as I did at my own home. Whereever I was, that was where I lived. I never wanted to particularly get back to my own place. I could say this is all zen-y, groovy detachment, but \I think you need to be able to attach before you detach!
Sharing a home, albeit with a nice guy, drove me under, yet again. At first this house felt like Gameguy's house because it *was* Gameguy's house and he had rules and traditions. Later it felt like a house I had to live in but didn't choose. I never had what it took to stake my claim on this house. To fight it our and have a mauve powder room or whatever the hell people this is crucial to their vision of home. I want the new house to be different. I want to learn what a home is and how to feel at home in it. Today, I could walk away from our old house and everything in it, except the family and my kitchen aid mixer, and never look back. I wonder if it's possible for an old "gypsy" like me to change her tent stripes?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Come on-a my house!
We now officially own the house! It was beautiful out there today, all nature-y and not too far from town-y. I left my purse at the new house and had to go back after I picked up Comet at school and we got to hang out with our old friends who are now our new neighbors. Comet had a blast with the two big boys and I enjoyed showing the abode to the grown-ups. The fish were swimming about and I saw a salamander running around on the rocks by the small pond. It will be a good place to live.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
We close tomorrow!
After much waiting and anxiety, we close on out new house tomorrow! Now we just have to get all of our unattractive crap out of our current abode so that the Realtor can make this house look gorgeous with sham decor so that it will sell for a great price, very quickly! Amen!
I'm still both exhilarated and hinky about living out in all that nature (albeit a couple of miles from town). What about snakes? Will I look up in the sky and find that Dolce (cat 2) has "caught" a hawk? We've already had a skunk and a series of raccoons come into our city house via the cat door, so what will await us in the country? Bears? Opossums? Neighbor kids?
Wish us luck!
I'm still both exhilarated and hinky about living out in all that nature (albeit a couple of miles from town). What about snakes? Will I look up in the sky and find that Dolce (cat 2) has "caught" a hawk? We've already had a skunk and a series of raccoons come into our city house via the cat door, so what will await us in the country? Bears? Opossums? Neighbor kids?
Wish us luck!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Our house is a very, very, very fine house!
Unless the inspector tells us something very disturbing and deal killer-ish this afternoon, it's OUR HOUSE and it is lovely! Five bedrooms, zillions of closets, bathrooms with linen closets in them! No more running cold, drippy and naked out into the hallway for a towel! How deluxe!
And the kitchen has a nook! I've never had a nook! And the nook has a bay window looking out on the lurvely deck and backyard. And if you look carefully, you can see the top of a little mountain! And the master bedroom is as big as a basketball court and there's a jacuzzi! A fireplace in the family room! Lazy Susan cabinets in the kitchen! The porch wraps around! There is a little pond with goldfish and frogs in it! And shade, shade, shade all around!
So, let's hope, if there's a hellmouth, it's just a tiny one!
MK
And the kitchen has a nook! I've never had a nook! And the nook has a bay window looking out on the lurvely deck and backyard. And if you look carefully, you can see the top of a little mountain! And the master bedroom is as big as a basketball court and there's a jacuzzi! A fireplace in the family room! Lazy Susan cabinets in the kitchen! The porch wraps around! There is a little pond with goldfish and frogs in it! And shade, shade, shade all around!
So, let's hope, if there's a hellmouth, it's just a tiny one!
MK
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Like Buttah!
I saw Julie & Julia last night and really enjoyed myself. Of course, the Meryl Streep/Julia Child part more fun than the Julie Whoever/Amy Whatsername part! You had a legend playing a legend versus a somewhat regular person played by a new-to-me actress! Yes, the Julie character was a trifle self-absorbed, but I can tell you, working in a cubicle is dull and when people call and yell at you most of the day, it's stressful, to boot. A girl needs an outlet whether it's making a perfect poached egg or crying over an aspic tragedy. I felt that both actresses played their parts well. And Stanley Tucci as Julia's husband, Paul Child was all that and a scoupcon of pomme frittes!
I have to say, though, what really what stole the show for me was all of that gorgeous butter. Big chunks of butter sizzling in a pan, soft butter being rubbed onto chicken before roasting, pounds of expensive-looking butter stacked in Julie's fridge. If I could have all the butter I wanted and not get fat or die of butter clogged arteries, I'd be one happy, happy, greasy lady! When I go, encase me in butter and slide me to heaven!
I have to say, though, what really what stole the show for me was all of that gorgeous butter. Big chunks of butter sizzling in a pan, soft butter being rubbed onto chicken before roasting, pounds of expensive-looking butter stacked in Julie's fridge. If I could have all the butter I wanted and not get fat or die of butter clogged arteries, I'd be one happy, happy, greasy lady! When I go, encase me in butter and slide me to heaven!
Soundtrack my life!
So, it's time to get funky! Not that I have NEWS about our house, but I'm going to affirm the positive (which makes me feel like a loved one is surely going to drop dead, but what the hell) by putting together a soundtrack for our new adventure!
Come on guys--figure out how to comment on this dang blog and help me get together a list of songs for my moving experience. House related songs, songs with the word home in them, moving on songs. I only know brilliant people, so let's get busy!
Examples:
Our House (in the middle of our street)--who did this one? Madness?
Brick House (Commodores) okay that's more about me, though my bricks are a bit more like
stucco these days)
When I think of Home (from The Wiz)
Come on-a My House (Rosemary Clooney)
I've always wanted a personal soundtrack! Help a mutha out here!
Thanks!
P.S. Kids songs are welcome!
Come on guys--figure out how to comment on this dang blog and help me get together a list of songs for my moving experience. House related songs, songs with the word home in them, moving on songs. I only know brilliant people, so let's get busy!
Examples:
Our House (in the middle of our street)--who did this one? Madness?
Brick House (Commodores) okay that's more about me, though my bricks are a bit more like
stucco these days)
When I think of Home (from The Wiz)
Come on-a My House (Rosemary Clooney)
I've always wanted a personal soundtrack! Help a mutha out here!
Thanks!
P.S. Kids songs are welcome!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
"Wanton Soup" and "Of "Rats and Me"
Wanton Soup:
Ever try to talk to a five year-old, build dinosaurs and write up an order for Chinese food for dinner? You'll find that certain things are not on the menu! "I'll have the wanton soup, the loooooowwww mein, and the twice cooked "pork" (wink, wink)." Sometimes I think my sanity and admittedly poor ability to attend to details are returning as my boy grows up. Sometimes, not so much.
Of Rats and Men:
So, during Saturday's vermin extravaganza at a local pet store, Comet was thoughty enough to suggest that we pick up a few "real fur" mice for our cats DoDo and Mz. P. For the uninitiated, these are cat toys fashioned from the skin of an unfortunate rabbit and stuffed with cardboard with a dash of catnip for pizzazz. Most cats love 'em!
We brought them home andticipating wild feline frolic. Our indoor/outdoor cat, Dodo "Scourge of Rodentia," knocked them around a bit. If I couldn't tell she was a bit unimpressed and a little annoyed, she showed me by bringing a LARGE.DEAD.RAT home and laying it on the hall carpet. "This is what I think of your toys! THIS is what you should bring home from the pet store!"
I am usually the "whole dead rodent" detail at the house, leaving partial rodents, odd excretions, dead birds and anything that is still alive when it crosses the threshold to Gameguy. But I could tell that Ratty had heft and I don't do heft, so Gameguy to the rescue! Of course, he had to take many photos with his iphone before disposing of the creature. Someday, I'll learn to post photos and then we're all in for a treat!
Ever try to talk to a five year-old, build dinosaurs and write up an order for Chinese food for dinner? You'll find that certain things are not on the menu! "I'll have the wanton soup, the loooooowwww mein, and the twice cooked "pork" (wink, wink)." Sometimes I think my sanity and admittedly poor ability to attend to details are returning as my boy grows up. Sometimes, not so much.
Of Rats and Men:
So, during Saturday's vermin extravaganza at a local pet store, Comet was thoughty enough to suggest that we pick up a few "real fur" mice for our cats DoDo and Mz. P. For the uninitiated, these are cat toys fashioned from the skin of an unfortunate rabbit and stuffed with cardboard with a dash of catnip for pizzazz. Most cats love 'em!
We brought them home andticipating wild feline frolic. Our indoor/outdoor cat, Dodo "Scourge of Rodentia," knocked them around a bit. If I couldn't tell she was a bit unimpressed and a little annoyed, she showed me by bringing a LARGE.DEAD.RAT home and laying it on the hall carpet. "This is what I think of your toys! THIS is what you should bring home from the pet store!"
I am usually the "whole dead rodent" detail at the house, leaving partial rodents, odd excretions, dead birds and anything that is still alive when it crosses the threshold to Gameguy. But I could tell that Ratty had heft and I don't do heft, so Gameguy to the rescue! Of course, he had to take many photos with his iphone before disposing of the creature. Someday, I'll learn to post photos and then we're all in for a treat!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Everybody Limbo!
So the house situation is like being in limbo. Not the limbo where unbaptised babies went in the horror movie that was my early religious education. It's not quite that bad. I'm talking the limbo where you have to bend over backwards and shimmy under a pole and try to pretend you're having a good time while you do it. My back ain't what it used to be folks and my patience never existed, so come on already!!!!
"The House," (that's how it appears in my mind) is owned by two banks, and banks don't have to do anything they don't want to, as we have learned. Certainly not in a timely fashion. They won't just say "yes!" Just say "yes" to us paying money for the house you want to get off your books! Just say "yes" to letting us move in while the second floor is still visible above the weeds! Just say "yes" to letting us have some paperwork to show the school district so that Comet doesn't have to change schools a week after school starts on August 25th.
Or just say "no" and put me out of my misery! I'm beginning to see my beautiful house as the weedy, dusty, abandoned stepchild of some hardhearted entities who don't care if Jack McKoi or LaKoi-a Jackson (my goldfish to be) die in their little pond home. Who don't care if everything grows together in a big tangled messy, and I spend the rest of my days playing "Weed, Not a Weed?" They don't care that I'm afraid to pack in case I have to unpack everything all over again. They don't care how many tums I have to ingest or how jumpy I've become. It's no skin off their portfolio!
So, banks, whatever your names are, hear my impassioned plea: Just say "yes, Yes, YES" to accepting our offer! Because we'd like to have the place inspected and make sure it isn't insulated with mold spores or built on a hellmouth. Come to think of it, the hellmouth wouldn't get us out of our contract.
"The House," (that's how it appears in my mind) is owned by two banks, and banks don't have to do anything they don't want to, as we have learned. Certainly not in a timely fashion. They won't just say "yes!" Just say "yes" to us paying money for the house you want to get off your books! Just say "yes" to letting us move in while the second floor is still visible above the weeds! Just say "yes" to letting us have some paperwork to show the school district so that Comet doesn't have to change schools a week after school starts on August 25th.
Or just say "no" and put me out of my misery! I'm beginning to see my beautiful house as the weedy, dusty, abandoned stepchild of some hardhearted entities who don't care if Jack McKoi or LaKoi-a Jackson (my goldfish to be) die in their little pond home. Who don't care if everything grows together in a big tangled messy, and I spend the rest of my days playing "Weed, Not a Weed?" They don't care that I'm afraid to pack in case I have to unpack everything all over again. They don't care how many tums I have to ingest or how jumpy I've become. It's no skin off their portfolio!
So, banks, whatever your names are, hear my impassioned plea: Just say "yes, Yes, YES" to accepting our offer! Because we'd like to have the place inspected and make sure it isn't insulated with mold spores or built on a hellmouth. Come to think of it, the hellmouth wouldn't get us out of our contract.
Pet Store revelations
1. Ferret poop is surprisingly large and stinky considering the size of the producer. Their CQ (cuteness quotient) took a real "nosedive" in my book.
2. Two rodents of any kind in a cage is cute. Thirty adorable "feeder" mice in a cage become VERMIN! It was like Willard, only with mice.
Overheard in a Pet Store:
Jerry Stiller look-a-like salesman to customer: "You can't go wrong with this snake!"
2. Two rodents of any kind in a cage is cute. Thirty adorable "feeder" mice in a cage become VERMIN! It was like Willard, only with mice.
Overheard in a Pet Store:
Jerry Stiller look-a-like salesman to customer: "You can't go wrong with this snake!"
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
To Be or to Have a Snack: the Melancholy Swede
I have never had any kind of career path. It's been more like being lost in the woods and stumbling upon occasional wildflowers and fuzzy bunnies while trying to survive the gnats, ticks and swampy areas. Throw in a lots of monotonous cicada chirping, a few ominous rustlings in the brush and the occasional howling in the distance, and you've got my working life. More "Endurer" than "Survivor." I bumbled along for years, had a baby who is now five, and I'm back in the woods already. Enough with this metaphor. Let's just say, I haven't had a clue.
Suddenly, things changed! I know what should have been my destiny! I should have been a Swedish detective. Call me Wallander. I have been reading Henning Mankell's Wallender series and I don't want to come up for air. I let Comet watch a shameful amount of Scooby Doo yesterday so that I could brave the inhospitable Swedish weather with my alter-ego, Kurt Wallander, trying to figure out who brutally murdered the elderly farmers to steal 27,000 kronor in an old briefcase. I am the fortyish melancholy, sarcastic yet brilliant, extremely tired yet tireless detective. So what if I was born in the wrong place, I'm not a work of fiction and couldn't detect my way out of a paper bag? Dammit, I should have been a police detective. Never mind that I scare easily and say things like, "Oh, well..." and, "What are you gonna do?" in the face of challenging circumstances. In my heart, I am the Chief Inspector.
I remember, years ago, when I was bemoaning my lack of life direction, a nice guy said, "Well, think of the section you head for when you go to a bookstore. I always head for the computer section and now I'm working on my degree in computer engineering. Where do you go in a bookstore?" I replied, "Fiction." He thought a moment and said, "Maybe you could be a fictional character?" I could. I really could!
Suddenly, things changed! I know what should have been my destiny! I should have been a Swedish detective. Call me Wallander. I have been reading Henning Mankell's Wallender series and I don't want to come up for air. I let Comet watch a shameful amount of Scooby Doo yesterday so that I could brave the inhospitable Swedish weather with my alter-ego, Kurt Wallander, trying to figure out who brutally murdered the elderly farmers to steal 27,000 kronor in an old briefcase. I am the fortyish melancholy, sarcastic yet brilliant, extremely tired yet tireless detective. So what if I was born in the wrong place, I'm not a work of fiction and couldn't detect my way out of a paper bag? Dammit, I should have been a police detective. Never mind that I scare easily and say things like, "Oh, well..." and, "What are you gonna do?" in the face of challenging circumstances. In my heart, I am the Chief Inspector.
I remember, years ago, when I was bemoaning my lack of life direction, a nice guy said, "Well, think of the section you head for when you go to a bookstore. I always head for the computer section and now I'm working on my degree in computer engineering. Where do you go in a bookstore?" I replied, "Fiction." He thought a moment and said, "Maybe you could be a fictional character?" I could. I really could!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Out of the mouthes of dudes...
Comet: " Mom, what's a babe?"
MK: "A baby?"
Comet: "No, a babe is a girl and a boy is a dude."
MK: "Hmm. Who told you that?"
Comet: "Nobody. I told myself."
But there's more:
Comet (to school secretary giving us a tour of his new school): "My mom looks younger than she is because she lost a few pounds."
MK: "A baby?"
Comet: "No, a babe is a girl and a boy is a dude."
MK: "Hmm. Who told you that?"
Comet: "Nobody. I told myself."
But there's more:
Comet (to school secretary giving us a tour of his new school): "My mom looks younger than she is because she lost a few pounds."
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The award for "funniest couple living in obscurity" goes to
Gameguy and Misty Krystal! (Wild applause and some award show theme music)
You know how funny *I* am, so here's a joke Gameguy just made up:
What's Medusa's favorite cheese?
Gorgonzola!
Come on, it's funny! That two such wits could live under one roof. The odds are staggering!
You know how funny *I* am, so here's a joke Gameguy just made up:
What's Medusa's favorite cheese?
Gorgonzola!
Come on, it's funny! That two such wits could live under one roof. The odds are staggering!
Friday, July 24, 2009
A little more misty, a little less dotty
I've changed my template! Let me know what you think (that'd be Perfecto and GameGuy).
MK
MK
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Heart of the Matter
So I just paid umpteen dollars for the "heart" of a watermelon. Because the thought of cutting up a watermelon or even separating the juicy part from the rind of a quarter of a watermelon causes me serious fatigue. It's kind of a pre-traumatic stress disorder. Of my housework aversions, which are many and various, cutting up produce makes me want to stick my head in the crisper drawer and bang it closed repeatedly. It's too much to ask of me. Really.
I grew up in a home where it was considered shameful to have someone come in and do housecleaning. How could anyone (i.e. any woman) be that lazy! How, indeed? I should also add that my family was not in a position to be hiring outsiders to do anything, period. Years passed, and I triumphed over the voices of the past as soon as I could afford a house cleaner. We have gladly paid people to clean for years now. Before I had cash flow, I just didn't clean. Almost completely the truth. So, considering my relationship with fresh produce, It's safe to say that I would probably pay people to do anything for me. If I'd pay the grocery store five times the price of uncut watermelon to chop a little chunk out of the middle and put in a plastic box for me, I've got to wonder what I wouldn't pay for. Give me unlimited income, and I'll have someone come in the morning to open my eyes and my mouth and pour coffee in the right opening. Good times.
P.S. Kudos to GameGuy for cutting up an entire watermelon into perfect pieces for Comet's school park get together yesterday! Without his good work, I probably would have dropped the watermelon on the sidewalk and let the kids have at it.
I grew up in a home where it was considered shameful to have someone come in and do housecleaning. How could anyone (i.e. any woman) be that lazy! How, indeed? I should also add that my family was not in a position to be hiring outsiders to do anything, period. Years passed, and I triumphed over the voices of the past as soon as I could afford a house cleaner. We have gladly paid people to clean for years now. Before I had cash flow, I just didn't clean. Almost completely the truth. So, considering my relationship with fresh produce, It's safe to say that I would probably pay people to do anything for me. If I'd pay the grocery store five times the price of uncut watermelon to chop a little chunk out of the middle and put in a plastic box for me, I've got to wonder what I wouldn't pay for. Give me unlimited income, and I'll have someone come in the morning to open my eyes and my mouth and pour coffee in the right opening. Good times.
P.S. Kudos to GameGuy for cutting up an entire watermelon into perfect pieces for Comet's school park get together yesterday! Without his good work, I probably would have dropped the watermelon on the sidewalk and let the kids have at it.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
My tired is tired
As I walked up the front walk carrying tonight's pizza, I thought of lying face down on the grass, arms extended, holding the pizza box out in front of my tired little head. I did not lie down. I persevered. Now I am stuffed and tired.
I could blame 44 years of sloth for my current exhaustion, but I blame pilates. One class and I thought I'd have to ask for a bag to carry my pelvis home. This morning, I was suspiciously not sore. By 4 p.m., however, I felt like I climbed Mt. Everest to get to my pilates class. The old grey Mare, she ain't what she used to be.
I always thought of myself as hale and hardy. Now my personal ecosystem is so tenuous that last Thursday my whole day was ruined when I got water up my nose (swimming). Feeble, thy name is Misty.
I could blame 44 years of sloth for my current exhaustion, but I blame pilates. One class and I thought I'd have to ask for a bag to carry my pelvis home. This morning, I was suspiciously not sore. By 4 p.m., however, I felt like I climbed Mt. Everest to get to my pilates class. The old grey Mare, she ain't what she used to be.
I always thought of myself as hale and hardy. Now my personal ecosystem is so tenuous that last Thursday my whole day was ruined when I got water up my nose (swimming). Feeble, thy name is Misty.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I'm blogging!
Suffice it to say, stuff is happening, mostly good, and I'm counting this as a post. It counts. It really counts.
MK
MK
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mutha's Day!
So, this mother's Mothers Day started out with a real punch! No, really! I got punched first thing this morning by the fruit of my loins because I insisted that he eat a little breakfast before I let him play with *my* Colorforms. A timeout was in order and as I commiserated with GameGuy, I found myself saying, "I mean I carried Comet inside me! I've got a SCAR, Blogdammit! Now this!" All is not lost, however. I just finished watching "Pride and Prejudice" (Colin Firth edition) and GameGuy had intimated that there are plants, hopefully very hardy plants, to be planted in my honor this afternoon. After blogging, I plan to take a shower and hit Barnes and Noble with my lovely gift cards! Don't cry for me, Angelina (Jolie). Who knows, maybe she got punched a few times today, too.
Plus, I had a splendid 44th birthday yesterday thanks to the work of GameGuy, Our Lady of Perfection (OLOP, my friend and patron saint of all black dogs), and a friend who will remain nameless until I make up his blog alias. I got wonderful books, just when I really needed a good read, flowers, music, spin art, gift cards, and a Toob of Jamestown Settlers (I loved me some Captain John Smith as a little girl). Also, there was angelfood cake with strawberries! Did I further mention the Tibetan/Indian food and a few really good bellylaughs with OLOP and my other friend whilst GameGuy took Comet home for bed? What a great birthday for a woman in her middle years. Thanks!
Plus, I had a splendid 44th birthday yesterday thanks to the work of GameGuy, Our Lady of Perfection (OLOP, my friend and patron saint of all black dogs), and a friend who will remain nameless until I make up his blog alias. I got wonderful books, just when I really needed a good read, flowers, music, spin art, gift cards, and a Toob of Jamestown Settlers (I loved me some Captain John Smith as a little girl). Also, there was angelfood cake with strawberries! Did I further mention the Tibetan/Indian food and a few really good bellylaughs with OLOP and my other friend whilst GameGuy took Comet home for bed? What a great birthday for a woman in her middle years. Thanks!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Thanks, Mama
Yesterday, whilst slogging along behind Comet at a benefit for the local Food Bank that boasted of many bouncy houses and two giant slides, I had occasion to feel grateful to my mother. I point this out because this is not the usual feeling I have about the dear old DP (deceased parent). Things were often grim. But yesterday, as I was carrying all of Comet's stuff and my stuff and two drinks and a basket of plastic vegetables that Comet won at a previous event, doing something that was not particularly fun for me so that Comet could do something that was spectacularly fun for him, shivering in the wet chilliness, I thought of my own mother and trips we to to Rockaway playland and other amusement parks when I was a kid.
We went to in the summer to "ride the rides." By which I mean, I rode the rides and my mother watched. In polyester and uncomfortable shoes, spending more than she should have, my mother sweated and was probably bored and tired while I had the time of my life. Sometimes, she even brought my cousins or friends along with us: One Woman, Four Kids, No Escape! And this was in the day when there wasn't so much geared toward children and most of the kids I knew didn't have parents who would take them special places just for the fun of it.
What I'm getting at is that, thirty-odd years later, I am finally grateful. It's not so much fun to be the pack animal at the fair, to "suffer" physical discomfort, to go to places you would probably avoid as a childless person, and to keep smiling (or at least keep from yelling), so that a little person can have the time of his life. Not to mention having to cajole said young person into leaving so that his pack-Mom can put down some of her burden and regain the feeling in her arms.
Comet is coming in on five, and already he has done more fun, kid things than I did in my whole childhood. Times are different, there is so much more to do and, what's more I have the means and the support of a fantastic partner, two things my mother never had. So, I'm grateful for the fun times she provided and put up with. It helps me do the same for Comet and his friends. Thanks, Mama.
We went to in the summer to "ride the rides." By which I mean, I rode the rides and my mother watched. In polyester and uncomfortable shoes, spending more than she should have, my mother sweated and was probably bored and tired while I had the time of my life. Sometimes, she even brought my cousins or friends along with us: One Woman, Four Kids, No Escape! And this was in the day when there wasn't so much geared toward children and most of the kids I knew didn't have parents who would take them special places just for the fun of it.
What I'm getting at is that, thirty-odd years later, I am finally grateful. It's not so much fun to be the pack animal at the fair, to "suffer" physical discomfort, to go to places you would probably avoid as a childless person, and to keep smiling (or at least keep from yelling), so that a little person can have the time of his life. Not to mention having to cajole said young person into leaving so that his pack-Mom can put down some of her burden and regain the feeling in her arms.
Comet is coming in on five, and already he has done more fun, kid things than I did in my whole childhood. Times are different, there is so much more to do and, what's more I have the means and the support of a fantastic partner, two things my mother never had. So, I'm grateful for the fun times she provided and put up with. It helps me do the same for Comet and his friends. Thanks, Mama.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
brandy is not dandy!
So, for many years I've had this fantasy that brandy was a delicious, sweet, thick, comforting drink. People lazing by the fireplace, sticking their noses into ridiculously large glasses of pure idle delight. That was what I expected in my snifter. But I never tried it. So when I found myself in a liquor store yesterday (just an expression, I didn't wake up on the floor of the ABC store), I bought some. I was perusing the teeny tiny bottle section, as is my wont, and I got very excited when I saw a teensy bottle of brandy! I bought it with great expectations, but when I tried it later that night--whoo boy! That was some nasty stuff! I think it can remove nail polish, no problem. It was not delicious, sweet, thick or comforting! Maybe brandy tastes good if you are freezing to death and happen upon a friendly, keg toting St. Bernard, or if you've just stumbled out of a London downpour in a Dickens novel. I hope I never find myself in circumstances that would make brandy appealing.
P.S. Does this mean that travelling in a coach-and-four would be in anyway uncomfortable?
P.S. Does this mean that travelling in a coach-and-four would be in anyway uncomfortable?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Eternal Damnation, made easy!
Comet (at 7:01) a.m.: "It's Moooooorrrrrrning!"
The following is and internal dialog between myself and the Prince of Darkness:
Misty K: "Oh, Sh*t! Just a thirty minutes more sleep! Please! Hey, I smell rotten eggs! WTF?"
The Devil: "Er, that's sulfur. Anyway, if you'd just prick your finger and sign here in your
own blood, I will give you a whole DAY of sleep and...."
Misty K: "I'll take it--get me a pin!"
The Devil: "Wait, I was also going to make make you 5th in the line of succession for the throne
of England!"
Misty K: "No thanks, I can't wear hats! Now, just give me the damn pin!"
The following is and internal dialog between myself and the Prince of Darkness:
Misty K: "Oh, Sh*t! Just a thirty minutes more sleep! Please! Hey, I smell rotten eggs! WTF?"
The Devil: "Er, that's sulfur. Anyway, if you'd just prick your finger and sign here in your
own blood, I will give you a whole DAY of sleep and...."
Misty K: "I'll take it--get me a pin!"
The Devil: "Wait, I was also going to make make you 5th in the line of succession for the throne
of England!"
Misty K: "No thanks, I can't wear hats! Now, just give me the damn pin!"
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Feelin' the Love.....
Comet: "Mama, I made you a one-way ticket!"
MistyK: "Where am I going?"
Comet: "To New York for NINE DAYS!"
MistyK: "Where am I going?"
Comet: "To New York for NINE DAYS!"
Monday, March 2, 2009
dad-GUM-it!
This morning I committed my worst housekeeping atrocity to date. Sure, in the past there have been rooms full of suds ala Peter Brady and once a number of fire trucks sped to my apartment with sirens blaring, but in those situations the clean-up was easy-paesy. The fireman actually cleaned up most of the Nacho Inferno of '89. So far, I haven't really had to take too much responsibility for my ineptitude.
This time, I've really done it! I washed and the proceeded to dry a pair of my pants with a whole pack of gum (green gum) in the pocket. Now, my dryer looks like it belongs to the Jackson Pollack estate and I have to figure out a way to de-gum up the works.
Of course, I headed to the internet. The first thing I tried, heating the dryer up and wiping with a dryer sheet, might have worked if it was only one piece of gum. But it just couldn't handle the volume. My second attempt involved orange scented Goo Gone. Better, but still not up to the task of removingf twenty-something pieces of gummy goodness from the dryer drum. Next, I'm trying Simple green and a Scrubby. Following that, I'm giving up gum and buying a clothesline.
I guess it really does pay to check out those pockets before throwing the clothes in the wash. Usually the most exciting thing I find in the dryer is some freshly laundered money.
MKR
This time, I've really done it! I washed and the proceeded to dry a pair of my pants with a whole pack of gum (green gum) in the pocket. Now, my dryer looks like it belongs to the Jackson Pollack estate and I have to figure out a way to de-gum up the works.
Of course, I headed to the internet. The first thing I tried, heating the dryer up and wiping with a dryer sheet, might have worked if it was only one piece of gum. But it just couldn't handle the volume. My second attempt involved orange scented Goo Gone. Better, but still not up to the task of removingf twenty-something pieces of gummy goodness from the dryer drum. Next, I'm trying Simple green and a Scrubby. Following that, I'm giving up gum and buying a clothesline.
I guess it really does pay to check out those pockets before throwing the clothes in the wash. Usually the most exciting thing I find in the dryer is some freshly laundered money.
MKR
Saturday, February 28, 2009
KISS and makeup
Comet and I are going to a matinee of Suessical with my cousin Fancy and her seventeen year-old son, GQ, and truth be told, I was feeling a bit drab and I decided to wear a little makeup. I haven't worn makeup since my wedding seven years ago, but I decided I needed a little "collah." Of course, the makeup I am wearing is at least seven years old or older. I didn't put on much mind you, but I think the mascara wand had a life of it's own! Now I have little spider leg eyelashes and I feel oddly pale and my lips seem too pinky. The truth is I always end up feeling like I'm in drag when I dabble in girliness. Fancy, who is glamorous and knows her eyeliner from a hole in the ground, will have to come to my rescue.
I'm going to give Fancy a multiple choice quiz when she arrives. Two questions:
1. Do I look a.) great, b.) like a sad clown or, c.) like Gene Simmons on the KISS reunion tour?
2 Do you a.) think there is hope for me, b.) think there is help for me, c.) think we have time
for me to scrub this crap off?
Oh, how I enjoy being a girl!
I'm going to give Fancy a multiple choice quiz when she arrives. Two questions:
1. Do I look a.) great, b.) like a sad clown or, c.) like Gene Simmons on the KISS reunion tour?
2 Do you a.) think there is hope for me, b.) think there is help for me, c.) think we have time
for me to scrub this crap off?
Oh, how I enjoy being a girl!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Overheard On A Play Date
On the trolley, going downtown with Comet's pre-school class:
Comet: "How old is your dad, Loki?"
Loki shrugs and continues poking his twin brother, Joki.
Comet (bragging): "My dad is forty!"
Curly: "My dad is forty-two."
Comet (triumphantly): "Well, my Mom is FORTY-THREE!"
I knew I was the best at *something*!
MK
Comet: "How old is your dad, Loki?"
Loki shrugs and continues poking his twin brother, Joki.
Comet (bragging): "My dad is forty!"
Curly: "My dad is forty-two."
Comet (triumphantly): "Well, my Mom is FORTY-THREE!"
I knew I was the best at *something*!
MK
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Giving it up for Lent
For some reason, probably tied to my "Voodoo Catholic" upbringing, I have the urge to give something up for Lent. I'm not looking to suffer, mind you. I'm already on Weight Watchers and will not be giving up anything that I'm still allowed to ingest. Those Very Filling Foods are mine, ALL MINE! So back off, or I'll whack you with a celery stalk!
I digress. For some reason, I really like old junk and I don't know how it came to this. It could have been fine art, fine wine or even stamps, but nooooooo, I had to pick used clothing and old books! Around the world, people are forgoing the pleasures of tobacco, alcohol and dessert in this Lenten season. So, I'm going to hit myself where I live! For the forty days of Lent, I have decided to stay out of thrift stores!
Yes, nosing around thrift stores is one of my main hobbies, but I need to go on a junk-free diet. Even when I really score at the Goodwill, we just end up with more stuff in the house. And we have stuff galore! I have so much stuff I forget what I have. Opening a closet around here is like Christmas. A Waltons/Little House on the Prairie kind of crap Christmas, but fun in a tiny, warmy way. (Oooh! Sealing wax and a frayed bungee cord! I love you, Pa!) So, I'm off the stuff!
And it will be hard for me. It really will. I likes me some old stuff, yes indeedy! It will hurt! And so, as most penitents are wont to ask,"What's in it for me? " This sacrifice will probably net me about 10 free hours over the next forty days, in 15 minute increments. I wonder what I will do to "kill" those extra minutes when there's not enough time to go home between errands. I'll probably end up reading or knitting in my car or going to Starbucks and spending twice as much as I would on a thrift store blouse for a venti latte. So less junk, a tiny bit more time, with a little more spending thrown in, just to make me feel less deprived. That's what it's going to get me. I feel more holy already.
Note: We will be hosting a yardsale to benefit Comet's preschool at the end of April, so I'll be able to do a whole Lent's worth of clutter collecting in a minutes in my own front yard. Praise be!
How did I ever get so interesting?
I digress. For some reason, I really like old junk and I don't know how it came to this. It could have been fine art, fine wine or even stamps, but nooooooo, I had to pick used clothing and old books! Around the world, people are forgoing the pleasures of tobacco, alcohol and dessert in this Lenten season. So, I'm going to hit myself where I live! For the forty days of Lent, I have decided to stay out of thrift stores!
Yes, nosing around thrift stores is one of my main hobbies, but I need to go on a junk-free diet. Even when I really score at the Goodwill, we just end up with more stuff in the house. And we have stuff galore! I have so much stuff I forget what I have. Opening a closet around here is like Christmas. A Waltons/Little House on the Prairie kind of crap Christmas, but fun in a tiny, warmy way. (Oooh! Sealing wax and a frayed bungee cord! I love you, Pa!) So, I'm off the stuff!
And it will be hard for me. It really will. I likes me some old stuff, yes indeedy! It will hurt! And so, as most penitents are wont to ask,"What's in it for me? " This sacrifice will probably net me about 10 free hours over the next forty days, in 15 minute increments. I wonder what I will do to "kill" those extra minutes when there's not enough time to go home between errands. I'll probably end up reading or knitting in my car or going to Starbucks and spending twice as much as I would on a thrift store blouse for a venti latte. So less junk, a tiny bit more time, with a little more spending thrown in, just to make me feel less deprived. That's what it's going to get me. I feel more holy already.
Note: We will be hosting a yardsale to benefit Comet's preschool at the end of April, so I'll be able to do a whole Lent's worth of clutter collecting in a minutes in my own front yard. Praise be!
How did I ever get so interesting?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
White Woman Complaining numero uno
Gameguy will be (5 miles) away at a board game convention this week and I'm turning up the heat! No, I'm not going to exercise for four hours a day or have a torrid affair in his semi-absence. I am, literally, turning up the heat, as in the thermostat! Sixty-nine tropical degrees! It's the least I can do for myself as I will be an almost solo parent this week.
Now before you go feeling sorry for me, don't! Gameguy does more than his share of parent work and holds a full-time job. Also, he's a homebody, so when other husbands are heading to the golf course or their favorite fishin' hole or waterin' hole, he's right here, ready to let me take an emergency nap. He doesn't even have commuter time to himself, unless you count the walk down the stairs from his office. He can bring home the bacon, and if necessary, will fry it up in a pan without complaint. His board game hobby is wholesome (at least the games he lets me see ) and he loves to share it with his family. Gameguy is all that and a bag of chips (potato or poker).
Like I said, don't feel sorry for me. Just let me do it for you! My complaints for today are that it is too cold, my house is not heating up fast enough, my technology is failing me (sassafrassin' cell phone won't make or take calls), and that's all I got. No, Wait! One of our cats is peeing on things: laundry, expensive yarn, my dresser. Quick call CSI, "Cat Scene Investigation!" How funny am I? But hear this, Dolce and Percy: as soon as there is a home DNA testing kit, somebody's furry little ass is grass. (Translation: I will be very cross with you and tell you so in no uncertain terms. Then I will wait, quietly seething and resenting, until you DIE OF OLD AGE! Take that, treacherous feline! Be afraid....very afraid! Hey, stop licking yourself and listen to me!)
Oh! Oh! I also have a couple of dilemmas! First, I would like to move, somewhere close by because I love the town, *or* even better, demolish our lovely, old, nearly historic home and build an airtight, hotbox with a huge jacuzzi tub, a sunroom, a large gameroom for my boys and a working fireplace. Maybe it would also have an extra-warm room for me that is just mine, and no one better go in there unless I invite them in! Also, I would drain our marshy yard, or plant a rice paddy.
Dilemma number two is more amorphous. It's the what "what will I do with my life" thing. This is something I've felt forever, even when I was formally employed, until I got pregnant. When the bun was in the oven, I felt that I was doing enough for the world and continued to feel that way until tha last year or so when Comet suddenly became a kid! Now Comet goes to school for a full day next year, and it's not like I'm gonna do more housework to while away the hours! I was talking about this with Gameguy and mentioned that when I had more free time, I could, in theory, clean more. Oh, how we laughed! How we chuckled! It really *is* that funny. It's a dang laugh riot!
But I am concerned about what to do with my time, which I know is a nice dilemma to have. Oh sure I could get a job, but I've been out of "the force" for years, I can't remember if I have any mad skills, and with the job market as tight as it is, I don't think I'm in demand. Financially, I don't need to get a job right away and, though he is a big as big, Comet will still have occasional need of me. I will remain chief procurement officer for our family, cook, laundress, and Janey on the spot. I might try my hand at painting a bathroom or two. You never know.
I plan to volunteer at Comet's school as much as they will let me. He's not getting rid of me that easy! Comet, I apologize in advance, as your middle school years will be extra embarassing with Mama, complete with her cane and bifocals, trotting along on your class trips in her orthopaedic shoes. Hmm, maybe I need a part-time job at least I should get in better shape before it all goes to hell in a hand basket. I'll be thinking on it.
So I'm doing quite well, thank you. Now I'm off to throw down the gauntlet, or at least my cheap cell phone, at the AT&T store. Excelscior!
Misty K
P.S. And another thing: my neighbor could let his dog in already so the barking would cease. That would be nice, too.
Now before you go feeling sorry for me, don't! Gameguy does more than his share of parent work and holds a full-time job. Also, he's a homebody, so when other husbands are heading to the golf course or their favorite fishin' hole or waterin' hole, he's right here, ready to let me take an emergency nap. He doesn't even have commuter time to himself, unless you count the walk down the stairs from his office. He can bring home the bacon, and if necessary, will fry it up in a pan without complaint. His board game hobby is wholesome (at least the games he lets me see ) and he loves to share it with his family. Gameguy is all that and a bag of chips (potato or poker).
Like I said, don't feel sorry for me. Just let me do it for you! My complaints for today are that it is too cold, my house is not heating up fast enough, my technology is failing me (sassafrassin' cell phone won't make or take calls), and that's all I got. No, Wait! One of our cats is peeing on things: laundry, expensive yarn, my dresser. Quick call CSI, "Cat Scene Investigation!" How funny am I? But hear this, Dolce and Percy: as soon as there is a home DNA testing kit, somebody's furry little ass is grass. (Translation: I will be very cross with you and tell you so in no uncertain terms. Then I will wait, quietly seething and resenting, until you DIE OF OLD AGE! Take that, treacherous feline! Be afraid....very afraid! Hey, stop licking yourself and listen to me!)
Oh! Oh! I also have a couple of dilemmas! First, I would like to move, somewhere close by because I love the town, *or* even better, demolish our lovely, old, nearly historic home and build an airtight, hotbox with a huge jacuzzi tub, a sunroom, a large gameroom for my boys and a working fireplace. Maybe it would also have an extra-warm room for me that is just mine, and no one better go in there unless I invite them in! Also, I would drain our marshy yard, or plant a rice paddy.
Dilemma number two is more amorphous. It's the what "what will I do with my life" thing. This is something I've felt forever, even when I was formally employed, until I got pregnant. When the bun was in the oven, I felt that I was doing enough for the world and continued to feel that way until tha last year or so when Comet suddenly became a kid! Now Comet goes to school for a full day next year, and it's not like I'm gonna do more housework to while away the hours! I was talking about this with Gameguy and mentioned that when I had more free time, I could, in theory, clean more. Oh, how we laughed! How we chuckled! It really *is* that funny. It's a dang laugh riot!
But I am concerned about what to do with my time, which I know is a nice dilemma to have. Oh sure I could get a job, but I've been out of "the force" for years, I can't remember if I have any mad skills, and with the job market as tight as it is, I don't think I'm in demand. Financially, I don't need to get a job right away and, though he is a big as big, Comet will still have occasional need of me. I will remain chief procurement officer for our family, cook, laundress, and Janey on the spot. I might try my hand at painting a bathroom or two. You never know.
I plan to volunteer at Comet's school as much as they will let me. He's not getting rid of me that easy! Comet, I apologize in advance, as your middle school years will be extra embarassing with Mama, complete with her cane and bifocals, trotting along on your class trips in her orthopaedic shoes. Hmm, maybe I need a part-time job at least I should get in better shape before it all goes to hell in a hand basket. I'll be thinking on it.
So I'm doing quite well, thank you. Now I'm off to throw down the gauntlet, or at least my cheap cell phone, at the AT&T store. Excelscior!
Misty K
P.S. And another thing: my neighbor could let his dog in already so the barking would cease. That would be nice, too.
Friday, February 20, 2009
I see London, I see France
Do you remember a time when what kind of underpants you were wearing really mattered? Me neither. Legend has it that as a child, I was a fan of the lacey bottomed variety, but that just seems to itchy to think about. As an adult, I am a slave to comfort and thrift with a nod toward not embarrassing myself if I happen to get into an accident. If the elastic is good, there are no holes and they don't show through the fabric or over the waistband of what I wear, I'm ready to go. Things are different when you are just under five years old and a boy named Comet.
The undie story started this morning when the only clean underpants were of the Lightening McQueen variety. Understand, Lightening's star has fallen and it's all super heroes, all the time now. Comet would also be excited about underwear that depicted fighting of any kind. So far, no kickboxing/knife fight/bazooka battle 3 pair pack has shown up in a local venue. We've got to work with what"the corporations" (ala Gameguy) are selling: cartoon Super Heroes for cool boys and Diego and Elmo for the tragically unhip.
So, Comet and I sought our fortune at the local KMart. Let me just thank God and KMart, right here, that they had the appropriate heroes in a size four. Thank you (You)! I'll give Comet this, he's fast. He made his selections in two minutes. The choices? Drumroll, please. He will be shaking his booty in either Star Wars or Transformers drawers for the next six days. He insisted on putting on a new pair the minute we got home from the store and is happily sitting on Bumblebee ( "the best Transformer"), watching Scooby Doo on TV. Here's hoping that the old faithfuls of his wardrobe (what's left of Batman, Spidey, Scooby and the X-Men) will still be good enough. In our house, you need more than six pairs in your cycle. I'm just saying
The undie story started this morning when the only clean underpants were of the Lightening McQueen variety. Understand, Lightening's star has fallen and it's all super heroes, all the time now. Comet would also be excited about underwear that depicted fighting of any kind. So far, no kickboxing/knife fight/bazooka battle 3 pair pack has shown up in a local venue. We've got to work with what"the corporations" (ala Gameguy) are selling: cartoon Super Heroes for cool boys and Diego and Elmo for the tragically unhip.
So, Comet and I sought our fortune at the local KMart. Let me just thank God and KMart, right here, that they had the appropriate heroes in a size four. Thank you (You)! I'll give Comet this, he's fast. He made his selections in two minutes. The choices? Drumroll, please. He will be shaking his booty in either Star Wars or Transformers drawers for the next six days. He insisted on putting on a new pair the minute we got home from the store and is happily sitting on Bumblebee ( "the best Transformer"), watching Scooby Doo on TV. Here's hoping that the old faithfuls of his wardrobe (what's left of Batman, Spidey, Scooby and the X-Men) will still be good enough. In our house, you need more than six pairs in your cycle. I'm just saying
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Overheard on a Play Date
Comet: "Baby James, do you believe in God?
Baby James: "Who's God????
Comet: "You know! The guy up in the sky who makes the weather!" (Sheesh!)
(At least I know Comet's religious education is right on track!)
Baby James: "Who's God????
Comet: "You know! The guy up in the sky who makes the weather!" (Sheesh!)
(At least I know Comet's religious education is right on track!)
Revelation #1
I have no revelations! I chose my title because "Aquarius" was my first ever favorite song and all the other titles I thought of (like muthablogga and mamajama) were taken. I have no particular blogging goals. I hope to be funny and not too whiny. Or if I have to be whiny, at least I hope I'm funny.
I am a 43 year-old stay-at-home mother of an almost five year-old son I'll call Comet and wife to GameGuy, computer progammer and gamesman extraordinaire . I have worked in a fundraising office, a hospital and a library and all I learned is that I don't really want to do any of those things again. Every once in a while Comet will announce his desire to be something exciting when her grows up. Say a race car driver, a soldier, an "office guy," or, recently a "money guy." He follows up with "Mama, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Though I insist that I *am* grown up, frankly, I wish I knew! Taking care of my son for the past 4+ years has been the highlight of my working life, but as he goes off to a full day of kindergarten iin the Fall, I find myself wondering what's next.
For now, let me tell you about two features I want to have on Misty Krystal's Revelations. The first is "Overheard on a Play Date," in which I will regale you with the funny and strange conversations I overhear as I play chauffer, cook, cruise director for Comet and his pals. My second feature is inspired by my brilliant friend, Our Lady of Perfection (check out her blog). It's called "White Woman Complaining," a delightful look the little inconveniences in life that try my soul, but are not, in anyway, actual problems and only serve to make me look spoiled and silly, yet familiar and human (I hope). See? I do have a plan.
Now let me post and see what this thing looks like!
Now to publish my post and see what this thing looks like.
I am a 43 year-old stay-at-home mother of an almost five year-old son I'll call Comet and wife to GameGuy, computer progammer and gamesman extraordinaire . I have worked in a fundraising office, a hospital and a library and all I learned is that I don't really want to do any of those things again. Every once in a while Comet will announce his desire to be something exciting when her grows up. Say a race car driver, a soldier, an "office guy," or, recently a "money guy." He follows up with "Mama, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Though I insist that I *am* grown up, frankly, I wish I knew! Taking care of my son for the past 4+ years has been the highlight of my working life, but as he goes off to a full day of kindergarten iin the Fall, I find myself wondering what's next.
For now, let me tell you about two features I want to have on Misty Krystal's Revelations. The first is "Overheard on a Play Date," in which I will regale you with the funny and strange conversations I overhear as I play chauffer, cook, cruise director for Comet and his pals. My second feature is inspired by my brilliant friend, Our Lady of Perfection (check out her blog). It's called "White Woman Complaining," a delightful look the little inconveniences in life that try my soul, but are not, in anyway, actual problems and only serve to make me look spoiled and silly, yet familiar and human (I hope). See? I do have a plan.
Now let me post and see what this thing looks like!
Now to publish my post and see what this thing looks like.
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