Archives for October 2006

Things That Go “AAAAAAAH” In The Night

Just an hour ago I was sleeping peacefully, dreaming about basements or carpet or windows or some other housing-related topic (oh, don’t roll your eyes – it only makes good sense that my OCD would carry over into my dreamlife since I am unable to quit thinking about basements and carpet and windows in my awake life, and really, it shouldn’t even surprise you anymore when I tell you how weird I am. Because I am BONA FIDE weird, my friends).

But then I heard Alex crying.

And I guess what I mean by ‘crying’ is that he was shrieking with the force of all nature.

So I jumped out from under the covers and ran to the stairs, which, as best my drowsy brain could deduce, was the general vicinity of All The Noise.

The little man was standing about four steps from the bottom landing, pointing wildly in the direction of the dining room while he perfected his high-pitched screaming techniques. I’m still not sure what 1) prompted him to come downstairs or 2) caused him to reach a whole new level of decibel heights, but the bottom line is that he’s now sleeping soundly in our bed, and his daddy and I are wide awake.

I feel that something is wrong with this equation.

But since I’m awake, I will take this opportunity to fill you in on what’s going on in our little neck of the woods, and while it’s probably a bit presumptuous of me to assume that you, you know, care, I really can’t think of anything else to do at 2:53 in the morning except for watching infomercials, and if I do that then I’ll never get back to sleep because I’ll start obsessing about food dehydrators and the Murad skin care system. And Flowbees.

So let’s see.

Alex has started calling one of his buddies from Mother’s Day Out his “brother friend,” and when he says it my heart skips a beat (or nine) because I often pray that if he is our only child, he will have friends who are like family to him. So in that respect, hearing a three year old say “brother friend” is like God reaching down, patting me on the shoulder, and reassuring me that All Is Well.

It makes me smile. And it melts my heart.

In casting news, D was a bit upset that I chose Andrew Shue to play him in the Lifetime movie I created in my head when we were trapped in the car for two days this past weekend when people were showing our house. Frankly I think that D is still carrying around the stereotype of Billy from “Melrose Place,” picturing the guy who stood around shirtless the majority of the time and uttered memorable dialogue like, “UHHHH, Alison!”

I assured my husband that the casting was based solely on people who I thought might be available or willing to make a Lifetime movie – not because they bore any physical or intellectual resemblance to us – but as soon as I finished making my point I realized the insanity, the total insanity, that we were having a discussion – and a lively one, at that – about who we would cast in a Lifetime movie about our real estate misadventures, and clearly it was time to back away from the hypothetical casting ledge.

Also.

I have written before about my annoying tendency to completely overlook the obvious.

And so in that tradition, I feel compelled to tell you that yesterday, for the first time in my life, I realized that the phrase “Civil War” is an oxymoron.

Please don’t tell my professors from graduate school. They would be mortified.

Not to mention that when I shared my sudden clarity about this phrase with D, he said, “I don’t think I would tell anyone that.”

But I just did.

You can thank Alex for my exhaustion-induced confession.

Fall Back

I woke up this morning when my clock said 5:30, and by the time I completed a series of Elaborate Calculations (is it really 4:30? is it really 6:30? did I set the clock to the correct time before I went to sleep?), I was wide awake and decided that a pot of coffee was in order.

Math always did make me crave caffeine.

So anyway.

Yesterday we had two showings, which was great news. The only downside of that news is that the realty company will only give you a “range” of when the people who are looking will be by the house. We had showings scheduled between 12 and 2, then between 3 and 5, and that can mean only one thing.

We spent our whole! afternoon! In the car! With the dogs! And a three year old!

OH MY SWEET MERCIFUL GOODNESS IT WAS INSANITY.

We did go to lunch and to a bookstore, and then we tried to temper the riding around with some time out of the car. We took the dogs for a long walk and enjoyed all the fall foliage outside, but around 2:00 D and I both started to get a little bit unnerved by All The Questions From Alex, and I finally had to tell A. that we were going to have quiet time until Mama’s nerves calmed down because if we didn’t have some quiet time right away I was going to have a Twitching Fit of epic proportions, something so severe and so memorable that Lifetime would want to make a movie about it. They would call the movie “When Mama Loses Her Mind,” and it would star Jennie Garth (but only if she’ll gain weight for the sake of her Craft) and Andrew Shue.

Not that I’ve given the whole scenario any thought. Or anything.

But you do have time to think about these things when you spend the whole afternoon RIDING AROUND IN THE CAR with TWO DOGS and a THREE YEAR OLD.

So by the time we got home and ate supper and got Alex in the tub, we were exhausted. We watched TV for about 16 minutes before we gave up the ghost and went to bed. It wasn’t even 9:30, which probably offers some insight as to why I was awake at 4:30 this morning and making my way through a pot of coffee by 4:45.

And the best part? We get to do the same thing this afternoon!

I think maybe we’ll try going to one of those indoor playgrounds – hopefully that’ll help combat the restlessness.

I can’t help but picture the dogs and me in one of those inflatables, jumping like crazy and taking turns going down the slide.

Stranger things have happened.

Now Where’s That Trusty Anvil?

I am quite certain that at some point in the next few hours my left eyeball is going to shoot out of my skull like a cannon and land on the coffee table. And while I’ll probably think “EWWWW, that’s pretty gross,” I don’t think I’ll mind the relief, OH THE SWEET MERCIFUL RELIEF from the relentless sinus pressure. I’ve actually been watching television tonight with my left eye closed, and I’ve concluded that I’ll more than likely be okay vision-wise when my eye does in fact separate from its socket.

Just in time for Halloween!

See? I CAN be festive!

The thing is that there’s really no escaping the Blinding Sinus Pressure, because I get it honest. When I was growing up, Mama often used to tell me that she had “sinus,” and I didn’t really know what that meant other than “SHHHHH! QUIET! NO TALKING!” while Mama walked around the house with her thumb pressed over whichever side of her face was afflicted. However, since I’d never had a sinus infection of own, I just didn’t get it.

But then my friend Daphne and I moved into a little mold trap called Hathorn Hall when we were in college, and our sinus cavities became filled with Every Known Bacteria, and we’ve both had chronic sinus problems ever since. We often like to compare notes on the severity of our symptoms, but ever since I had the sinus infection that went into my eyes and transformed said eyes into goopy red slits, I’ve considered myself the hands-down champion.

I am understandably proud.

Perhaps I should get a trophy.

So I’m going to continue taking my allergy medicine and stuffing my nose with various mentholated items. The good news is that I don’t feel bad at all, so I can continue to vacuum my rugs until they’re threadbare in anticipation of a prospective buyer showing up at our house.

And if my eyeball does in fact shoot out of my skull, I’ll just clean that mess right up and get back to the vacuuming.

Because I am nothing if not practical.

Thursday Thirteen

Banner by Kelly
Thirteen Random Things
1. I seem to have acquired my first cold / sinus infection of the fall. Which means that at some point in the next few days I will be requesting some form of anvil and hammer combination to open up my sinus cavity and thereby relieve the pressure.

2. Alex is talking so much, and by “so much” what I really mean is that he’s never, ever quiet unless he’s sleeping. And even then it’s hit or miss, because lately one of his favorite pasttimes is to wake up in the middle of the night and request that I read him a book or get him some water.

It’s not a problem saying “no” to those requests, in case you’re wondering.

3. The leaves have just started to turn here, and oh have mercy they’re gorgeous. Best time of year. No doubt.

4. I watched Madonna on “Oprah” yesterday. And it dawned on me, about three minutes into the interview, that at some point Madonna has started to sound exactly like Jane Seymour.

At one point Madonna actually said “fahm-lee,” all British-like, and I had to quit watching for a second while my brain tried to reconcile the girl in the “Holiday” video with the woman on “Oprah” who was articulating every single syllable. Go figure.

5. We got to hang out with our friends Kevin and Traci this past Tuesday night. And I miss them. A bunch.

6. You know how you can be a little down in the dumps and then something or someone comes along and snaps you right out of it? Shannon did that for me a couple of days ago by sending me the sweetest, most encouraging email – it really did make my day.

7. I realize that it makes me un-American, but I am seriously not even a little bit interested in Halloween. And I would pretty much rather stick pins in my eyeballs than dress up in a costume.

Festive, aren’t I? :-)

8. We are actually having to run the heat at night. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME?

9. To all you blogging girls going to the meet and greet in Dallas: HAVE FUN. And drink a diet Coke for me. And some coffee. And some sweet tea.

So basically, you know, a caffeinated beverage of any sort.

10. Remember that anvil I mentioned in #1? I’m ready for it now.

11. One day I hope to write a blog post comprised only of Tyra Banks’ words-o-wisdom on “America’s Next Top Model.” My favorite at the moment is, and I quote, “Girl, you can stick out your bootie and still do ‘model.’”

I’m not sure what it means, exactly, but it cracks me up.

12. OH GOOD GRIEF who in the world thought of Thursday Thirteen? I feel that Thursday Three would have been far more sensible.

13. But I’m done now. Carry on.

My Brother SO Would Have Done This If We Hadn’t Been Methodists


Thanks, Diane, for the link!

In Which I Offer Definitive Proof Of How Lame I Am

There have been several defining moments in my life that have established beyond all reasonable doubt that I have officially become a grown-up.

The first time this happened to me was when I looked at the Billboard Top 10 and realized that I couldn’t hum even one of the songs if you offered me a million dollars.

And then, about a month ago, a teenager I know was showing me a CD of a band she really likes, and I said, “Oh, I’ve never heard of Oar.”

She looked at the floor for a second – long enough for me to know that I’d made a major gaffe – and I said, “What? Is that not how you say it? Is it not pronounced like the thing you row a boat with?”

She looked at me sort of sheepishly and said, “Um, no ma’am. It’s pronounced Oh-Ay-Are. You, um, just say the letters.”

I’m telling you: it was just like the time my mama called Rick Springfield “Rick Springsteen.” I was 14 and was, like, SOOOOO embarrassed because how could she not know the difference?!? I mean, Rick SPRINGSTEEN? WHAT-EV-ER! Rick Springfield was, like, SO much cooler than Bruce Springsteen. Had she not seen Rick sporting a sleeveless t-shirt in the “Jesse’s Girl” video?

Because he totally ROCKED IT, y’all.

But then, you know, “Oar.”

I said “Oar.”

And suddenly my mama and I are equally out of touch with the pop culture pulse of America.

Anyway, I’ve had several more “Oh my word I’ve become my mama” moments since the unfortunate “Oar Incident,” but I don’t think I’ve ever had a stronger epiphany about the fact that Yes, I Am A Grown-Up than I did yesterday.

Our realtor Leigh just closed on a house that she sold, and the family moved to their new place this past weekend. Yesterday Leigh called me and said, “Hey, you may not be interested, but The H.’s want to know if you want their moving boxes. Some of them you’d have to break down, but there are probably 30 that have never been put together, and you’re welcome to them.”

Y’all.

You would have thought that someone had offered me bags of money.

I was beside myself with happiness.

So yesterday afternoon, I drove right over to The H.’s beautiful new home and loaded my car with box after box after box. I couldn’t help but think that when I was a teenager, I would have been rolling my eyes, all “GAH, Mama – why can’t you, like, BUY boxes?”

But yesterday? As a 30-something grown-up? I was all, “YAY! YAY! FREE BOXES! FREEEEEE BOXES!”

It was like Christmas. A very ironic Christmas.

Only a Christmas with no actual presents.

Just, you know, boxes.

But still.

I wish I’d had an Oar or a Rick Springsteen CD to listen to on the way back home.