I see the bad moon rising

my husband hasn't planned a weekend festivity for us since the day he proposed. almost 2 years ago. don't get me wrong - that was a great day that he planned.. way back then. maybe he thinks he deserves a vacation for that. maybe I just look forward to my Friday nights more than he does.
I enjoy rewards - and Friday is a reward for getting through Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. it's a reward for working out all week.. I get Friday night off. so that I can do something other than sit around and watch tv on my couch like I do every other night. so that I can put on earrings and that nice shirt I've had for a month but still haven't worn yet because we haven't done anything that requires it.

so I decided to take action. I developed a plan to change this pattern but alas, it just plain did not work. I told myself I would not propose any plans for our weekend. would not think of anything fun to do. would refrain from sharing excitement about the weekend. and I did such a good job at this.

until he tells me one of his friends wants a poker / guy night. and it's going to happen on... FRIDAY. nice. so not only am I not going out to dinner or wine or a movie or even the front lawn with him, but now I am doing the same old Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday shit solo on a Friday.
I can enjoy doing things alone but one of the joys of Friday involves a nice wine or a beer. and I refuse to go to a bar, with the clubbing young crowd, alone.

but wait a second.

hold the phone.

don't drop it like it's hot just yet.

what it do baby boo...

I see a friend's extra Creedence Clearwater Revival concert ticket at the Saratoga Mountain Winery in my future tonight. ok honey, you go toss around some cards on a small table at a sausage fest. I hope you get some good flops and rivers. I'll be rolling on the river. boo ya.

all those legs make them jump higher. and attack faster.

the moving is complete. boxes are emptied. new tv is on the way. we can sit down and enjoy the olympics without thinking of what the hell we're going to put in that extra closet. everything was honky doory. until I saw the biggest spider I have ever seen in person, crawling rampant, in my garage. good thing I have already done a ton of organizing in there because I will never go in the garage again until Nick shows me the carcass of this ginormous Lord of the Rings character that should be paying us rent money.

seriously.

never again will my feet trek through there - even if I'm doing a sprint THROUGH the garage to pop out at the front yard. it is just not going to happen. Nick, of course, did not see it. the man who, when a mysterious noise sounds, he asks me "what was that?" while he remains seated. the husband who, upon being alarmed by me that there is a spider too large for me to comfortably kill without the threat of it possibly jumping on my skin, comes over and coos the spider in to his arms, and sets him free. right outside the door. so that he can step right back in whenever he so chooses. no - he did not see this creature. so of course, he is thinking I am exaggerating. but I swear, this fucker upon meeting my gaze, threw his cloak over his body and became invisible. how he got Frodo's cloak? I dare not ask. Frodo himself is probably hiding in our rafters signaling Spidey with secret baseball-like hand symbols.... "she is.. . desk room.. . go for.. . bunt. correction - right.. . cankle"

since running away from spidey and researching and writing my anxiety away, I think I may know what kind of spider it is. because google images makes us all professionals.

ok so that's not completely accurate. I am just trying to rid of any future nightmares by bringing humor to the table.

but here, in all his / her glory, is the true evil spidey (or at the least the closest google has to offer):

sweet dreams.

chocolate is for snacking

the weekend went by like a gasp of emergency air. so much, in such little time.

I have been on a mission at home that my weekend festivities played havoc with. In an effort to walk up and down stairs less, I will eat as much food as possible. how does this work? we're moving. the massive adventure begins Sunday morning and I refuse to transport bags of food in addition to the buttload of boxes that will be packed and ready to go by then. food is meant to be eaten. not moved.

and thus, I will finally finish off those boxes of frozen EATING RIGHT healthy waffles for breakfast; cans of EATING RIGHT healthy soups; bag of frozen vegetables that's been waiting for me for who knows how long. hm. I am starting to see a theme here.

maybe I should only purchase ice cream and chocolate. I always seem to go right through those.

speaking of chocolate, every coworker of mine has run out of it in their sharing bowls. and the one girl that has some, keeps the bowl in an unreachable spot. this banana I brought is looking tastier and tastier simply for the sheer enjoyment of eating something at this point. damn these afternoon munchies.

popping pills

my mom told me this afternoon "oh by the way, your dad threw up on the golf course yesterday and went to the doctor this morning".

ok. well can you give me more information than that?

my dad is a big hefty guy. he is at least 6'3 and weighs probably about 285 right now. he was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes 13 years ago. he is 54 years old. his dad passed away at a young age (somewhere in his 50's) and he also had diabetes, and was overweight. he had a heart attack in his sleep.

and all of that information runs through my head every time I hear about my dad having a new problem.

lately I have noticed that his medicine cabinet is accumulating pills. he's got pills for high blood pressure. pills for back pain. pills for his diabetes. pills for crap I don't even know about because my parents don't tell me. it turns out he up-chucked yesterday because of the vicodin he took for his back pain that morning..... which is caused by the extra weight which also brought on the diabetes and the high blood pressure. so now he has oxycodone for his back pain which is supposedly a super-duper killer of pain. and about a year and a half ago he stepped on a nail but didn't feel it because his feet are numb and his foot has still not fully healed from that.

what's next???

renting roots

in two weeks I will have new walls. new floors. new ceiling. new seat to pee in to.

my husband and I are finally renting a house. apartment life will officially end for us on August 8th. and I cannot wait to make a dozen fresh cookies for my neighbor. cool an apple pie on the window sill. plant a garden outside my kitchen window. hang a tennis ball from the garage ceiling.

the only communication I have experienced in my years of apartment living have been walking to the neighbors' place at 2am to tell them to turn their TV down. going downstairs to tell the chinese lady she doesn't need to scream at her son that loud as it is disturbing in both a noise level and psychotic way. and sneaking up to our neighbors above us to see if they really do have pet elephants.

my hopes are high for the 'house' people.

why hello there stranger.

any day but today

tis Monday.
sometimes a Wednesday may feel like a Tuesday. or a Friday may seem like a Thursday. but if Monday ever feels like any other day, you know you're screwed. my thinking is this...
Monday can never feel like a Sunday or Saturday because one doesn't come in to the office on Saturday or Sunday. and if Monday ever feels like Tuesday or Wednesday, then you really know you're fucked. because it's going to be a long week.

but today is Monday. and it feels like a Monday to me. so irritating and just plain wrong.
it's one of those days where leaving the building at 5pm will feel like leaving school on the last day before summer. I'll zip open my bag while running to my car and let my laptop and all the papers and pens just flop to the ground as I make the 50 yard dash to my driver's seat and burn rubber out of the parking lot.
and then I'll come back in the morning. because I'm crazy like that.

what is it like to love one's job? do you have the same 'last day of school before summer' feeling when leaving your home to COME to work I wonder?

time's a changin'

there's been a lot of things changing recently for the world and for me.

Mrs. Clinton bowed out of the race for presidency. thousands of gay and lesbian couples are married. wall-e and eva fell in love. mud turned in to just dirt. and I? well, I have entered a new hair phase.

the bump is out. slick is in. actually, either slick or bouffant. but bouffant requires too many brushes as well as a bird and her babies to stick inside of it. thus I'm sticking with slicking.

hair phases are big deals because, it means time is changing. Friday night didn't just turn back in to Monday morning again... noooo it's much more drastic than that.... 2006 turned in to 2008. yikes. this is real business here.

one room's worth of crap turned in to 3 room's worth of crap. renting an apartment turned in to renting a house. dating a boy turned in to marrying a man. 4pm on a Friday turned in to 5pm on a Friday.

so, why am I still at work?

I need to leave. pull myself in to my skinny jeans, loopy earrings, and slick hair and go out and discuss Obama, new laws, Heath Ledger, the color of dirt, and the passing of time over some smooth fancy wine.

cheers.