Lots of houses and bodily fluids.

After 3 full days of the ultimate episode of House Hunters, 40+ houses and just enough beer to get me on and off the planes, I think we've found a house. If you go to any real estate website, you can ususally find a place to type in an MLS #. (Sometimes you have to choose to do an advanced search.) Then you can type in this MLS #167159 and you should pull up at least a outdoor photo of our potential new house, if not also several shots of the inside. It's about the same size as our current home but the washer/dryer is inside - which is fantastic. A super kitchen with 3 bedrooms and a one-car garage rounds out the ammenities. It's in a good neighborhood and not far from the university or from my potential work sites.

Tallahassee wasn't exactly what I expected but I'm not sure how to describe what I expected. The city is beautiful - lots of trees. FSU's campus is really pretty. All of the buildings look very similar in structure so there's an architectural symmetry to the campus that makes it seem as if most of the buildings are original even if they were recently added to campus. Andy's office is really nice and so are the people. We spent about an hour with them on Monday when I got finished with my interviews. I'm excited for Andy to work in such a friendly office.

My interviews went well. I was offered one job from the middle school and my interview at the public high school went well. I didn't end up meeting with the Catholic school at all. I have about a week to get back to the middle school but I'd like to hear from the high school first. Now we just wait and pray that God continues to guide our path.

We had a bit of a scare while we were away. Andy's parents took great care of E while we were gone. They handed her off to my parents on Sunday afternoon. Mom brought E back up here to F'ville on Monday. Yesterday, about noon Mom's nose started bleeding and she couldn't get it to stop. She called Dad and he headed up this direction. Meanwhile Mom headed to the emergency room after finding a friend to watch Emma. They put some weird mini-torpedo looking thing in her nose to apply pressure and administer clotting medication so the bleeding would stop. After a night on painkillers and a vomitous drive to LR, she met with an ENT doctor. He said she had not one but TWO holes in blood vessels in her sinus cavity. He cauterized them so they would stop bleeding and gave her some great pain medication. She spent the day in bed and feels like she's on the mend. It was scary what with the non-stop bleeding and all but once that was under control, I felt like it wasn't as dangerous as we had first thought. The ENT doctor said it was just bad luck that this happened. He said it wasn't anything she's done or any medicine she's taken that would have caused this. Mom sounded better on the phone this evening. Emma spent the night with a friend and probably enjoyed that more than staying home anyway. She asked me this morning if Mimi's "bad nose" was feeling better. It was a long 3 1/2 days. Going to bed.

Possible New Jobs

Check out the following websites. These are the possible new homes for me and my teaching career. Yes, I've applied to a Catholic High School. I know, I know... I'll have to watch my poetry. he he he It's kind of creepy though. Their colors are blue and gold (PA's colors) and their mascot is a cougar (SWJH's mascot). Weird.
John Paul II Catholic High School
Lincoln High School
Riversprings Middle School
My first choice would be high school - I'm just tired of jr. high crap. Ultimately, I'll probably have to take the position that offers the most money. At least it's good to know there are people out there interested in talking to me. Cross your fingers - and your toes, if you can do it.

Recipe for disaster.

My mother decided it would be "fun" to bring her toy poodle to our house this weekend. My dad knew better. There happens to be CENTURIES of evidence to support the fact that dogs and cats don't get along. Apparently my mother would attempt to reverse years of evolution in one measly weekend. Needless to say: the cats are pissed. The poodle believes our cats to be giant motorized toys. Max is certain the dog is an evil demon come to torment him. Zoey is just bitchy and territorial. It took about 3.7 seconds for her tail to expand to feather-duster circumference. Hopefully, Sunday I will be able to report that everyone kept to his/her corners and no blood or fur was lost. I'm not sure how one should look at it: natural selection or best intentions leading to...yada yada yada.

Anyone hiring?

I spent most of the day calling schools and sweating over having a job possibility in Florida. I probably called 20 different schools. Now the decision becomes: public or private? There are pros and cons to both. The laugh of the whole thing is that my 2 best leads right now are a private Catholic high school and a public high school with a 87% African-American population. There's nothing wrong with either of the schools in themselves: it's just that I will stick out like a sore thumb. It will be the adult version of Sesame Street's "one of these things is doing its own thing" (insert music here). Ultimately, wherever God opens a door, I'll be willing to walk right on in. Just keep your fingers crossed that I don't run into the door and break my nose instead.

Going once, going twice...SOLD!

Huzzah! The closing went through today without a hitch. We met the "buyers". There was no 3rd eye nor any hairy, unfortunately placed mole as one might expect from would-be extortionists. They seemed very nice - the type of people we might actually be friends with if we weren't moving 5+ states away. Creepy karmic facts: (1) they have 2 cats (2) their check number for their earnest $ was 2114 (our address) (3) today was her birthday - I guess it really was meant to be. It only took about 3 minutes of conversation to realize that it was their realtor who is the real ghoul. I shall not even grace her with an insult - it's not worth it.

A thousand thank-yous to our realtor, Chris. He put up with a lot - considering A's persistently pessimistic outlook. A gujabillion and one thanks to Jessica for still being my friend after all of this. I promise that there will be no more realty-based phone calls. At least not until next weekend when we start looking for a house in FL. Jess, I am instructing you now to slap me - hard - if A or I try to do anything to our potential "sellers" that resembles what has made us so mad. I'm not sure how you'll slap me from 3 hours away, but you have my permission - I'll be in LR for a while in June. Catch me if you can. Now we get to fly (terror) to FL and spend some money on a new house. Yippee!

Writer's Wish

I'm taking Jessica's advice and turning over a new leaf. She has chosen to be positive about her and Ken's wait for approval to go to VN and get Beckett. I am choosing to be positive about selling our house. I don't want to talk about it anymore and I'm sure you're all tired of hearing about it too. It will be fine. People do this all the time. Here endeth the epic.

Having said that, I am currently (currently meaning this point in my life) under self-imposed pressure. I have wanted to write since I can remember knowing how to write. And I mean write as in "write a novel that is published to some small circle of acclaim from which I can make a tidbit of extra money". I am constantly beset with the urge to scribble something down. I suppose writing here on this blog is, in a way, publishing but let's be honest, who is really interested in this drivel? Maybe by taking the time to write on the blog, I'm draining any reserves I might actually have to write a book. The burr in my literary saddle is that I have no great story to tell. I have thought of writing about my childhood - recent as it may seem to some. However, then there's the inevitable fear of offending family, friends, or both in the process. I've thought of writing a "history" of my grandfather's life which is, in my opinion, fascinating. It seems a daunting task. What if I don't do him justice and offend him? I've had lists of ideas for fictional stories but I can't seem to get past the first few "chapters" with any of them. Ultimately if I want to do it, I'm just going to have to make myself sit down at regular intervals and write. This, of course, is at odds with my innate talent for procrastination. If only there was an imaginary deadline that could force me into producing something. I suppose I'll just have to wait for the right muse. Which sounds extremely passive and makes me want to slap myself. So, before this mental pity-party really gets out of hand I'll bid you all good night.

Closing on the house...maybe

So, the saga continues. Now they're not happy with the repairs we've done to the house. They even ripped several holes in the outside of the house just to prove their point. "We are unhappy. We are so unhappy that we must gouge a hole in the garage to emphasize how unhappy we are." I am currently researching modern Voo-Doo techniques. Anyone interested in making some dolls?

Happy Mother's Day

What is it about Mother's Day that makes one want to be a better mother? I guess it's the recognition and attention. I feel like people are counting on me now: it's not just a game anymore - these people bought me gifts...I have to deliver the "goods". So, last night, as E was up for 2 hours between 12:15 and 2:00ish, I didn't even get irritated. Why can't I avoid mental-breakdown stage all the time?

This morning when E looked at me and said, "Happy Mother's Day, Mama!" it darn near broke my heart. It was completely unprompted (not that I'm sure Andy didn't coach her before I got up). I was speechless, there were tears forming in the corners of my eyes. Then within the next 15 minutes she also told Max, Zoey, Abby (the neighbor's dog) and Cheyenne our 4-year old neighbor "Happy Mother's Day" too. At least my moment was mine for a little while.

Now, I'm sitting in the living room listening to her wind down for her nap. She's singing - something she does ALL THE TIME these days. (You guessed it, singing at 1:45 this morning.) She's combining The Itsy Bitsy Spider and her ABC's. "The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout, H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P" Ain't being a Mama the best job in the world?

Another Kind of Green a la John Mayer

By the way...I don't know how many of you read John Mayer's blog, but not only is he an astounding musician, he's got some pretty good ideas too. His newest idea is to go "light green" or phase himself into being an environmentalist. For more info read his blog - listed on the sidebar to the left. But the thing I wanted to mention was this - he's developing a reusable shopping bag kit to help do away with all those plastic Wal-Mart-bag-type things clogging up our trash (not to mention the space underneath our kitchen sinks. C'mon, you know that's where you put yours too.) Anyway - I'm totally on board with this. In fact, I even sent an email to Wal-Mart several weeks ago suggesting something similar. They are such a huge retailer that if they at least went back to paper bags, it would make such a positive impact on our environment, not to mention the retail world. People watch Wal-Mart - others would go to paper bags too. Anyway, just something for you to think about. It would be a small change either way: using paper bags or using reusable shopping bags made of cloth or nylon. I'm all for it. Can't wait for a product to come out. Until then I'll ask for paper bags, even though they don't give you the option anymore. Hey, there's gotta be something left for E and her kids too, you know?

Good vs. Evil (Me)

I'm in the middle of a monstrous fight - with myself. Besides the usual argument over whether or not I should have dessert or one more beer, I'm arguing with my conscience over moving. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited about living in FL. I'm NOT excited about packing and moving to Tallahassee. Logically, I know that it makes more sense to rent a POD or do a U-Pack/We Move It kind of thing. It would be cheaper. A POD can be stored. We are able-bodied people. We don't have that much stuff. BUT I DON'T WANT TO DO IT! What if we pack it wrong in the POD/trailer and something breaks? What if one of us throws our back out? What if we can't fit it all in the storage unit we order and have to rent a U-haul anyway? The horror. It's keeping me up at night. I just can't decide if the extra $$ is worth it. I might actually get lucky and get some tanned, well-built movers that would enhance the situation. Who am I kidding? They'll be gargantuan, bald behemoths with more tattoos than teeth. I don't know... packing and loading ourselves is most cost-efficient and could cause our marriage a few dark weeks but, as Katie pointed out, it will be mid-June when we're lugging heavy boxes/furniture in and out of our house all day. Sitting in a lawn-chair with an iced tea while saying things like, "Be careful with that - it was my grandmother's!" sounds pretty damn good.

Reality TV

I hate reality TV. Wait, "hate" is a strong word. Reality TV has never done anything to me so I have no good reason to hate it. However, now that I think about it, reality TV has done something to me. It has caused me to waste minutes, hours, possibly even days of my life. In all fairness, I don't hate all reality shows, just the shows that make me dumber. I realize that sounds silly but it happens. Who really needs to watch some D-list celebrity work his butt off to do the Cha-cha - for an hour?? Why would I want to watch people compete to be the next big movie director when so many movies out there already have enough dead-pan acting and over-acted love scenes as it is? When I watch TV I want to be entertained and distracted from my life. I don't want to be stressed out over whether or not Lisa is going to be voted off the island. I don't want to pick the next pop star with my phone. So I say: vote everyone off, FIRE them all, offer them the final DEAL - I'm tired of TV producers' laziness being passed off as "good TV". Get a brain, write an interesting script, make people think. Most of us get enough reality as it is. End of rant.

Deep breaths

I am officially freaking out. This is not unusual. By nature, I am a worrier. It's what I do and, according to the husband, I do it well. We are 55 days from moving out of our house. That sounds like a long time. In reality, it's not: particularly since WE HAVEN'T PACKED A BLASTED ROLL OF TOILET PAPER YET! How are we supposed to get 7 years of married life, both of our careers and our children's memories boxed up in 10 days? I'm hyperventilating. Yes, I said 10 days. That's about all we really have left between working, graduation festivities for A's students, trip to FL to find a house, end of school/jobs and wedding-ing. I realize "wedding-ing" isn't a word but I'm flipping out! I will accept any of the following from anyone feeling the need to assist: boxes, packing paper/bubble wrap, a dolly, or quantities of Valium or Xanax to help combat the twitch developing above my left eye.

My personal hell.

I am a Christian. I like to think I have a strong faith. I believe that God gives us strength to endure everything life throws at us. I know this because I continue to fly commercially.

I hate to fly. I hate it worse than doing my hair and anyone who knows me knows how much I hate to fix my hair. I would rather grade essays than fly. I would rather go to the dentist than fly. I would rather clean my house than fly. OK - so you get it. However, I MUST fly to get halfway across the United States for things that I enjoy: Eclipse Prom, New York City, to my new home. Yes, if I don't want to have to drive 14+ hours in a weekend in order to find a house in FL, I am going to have to fly - again. Since I just recently got back from Phoenix, AZ (yes, I took a plane - 4 planes to be exact) I'm not excited about having to get back on another metal cylinder hurtling through the air at the speed of ridiculosity. (I try to keep my self-inflicted, life-endagering experiences to one per year.) So, in less than 3 weeks, I will be boarding another set of 4 planes to head to Tallahassee to find our new house. Bleh.

Let me explain to you why this is not funny. I get airsick. Yep, I'm the girl who always checks the seat-back pocket for the barf bag. Sadly, medication does not always help. (Unless you count the time when I was 11, misread the dosage, took a whole Dramamine pill and traveled unconscious and drooling on the anonymous passenger next to me - Mom had to slap me to wake me up.) I am the girl who grips the armrests with my hands and wraps my ankles around the seat-base during the 20 minute descent. My husband made the mistake of waking me up just to let me know we were nearing the airport on our honeymoon - not his wisest decision. That one's ranked right up there with the time he asked me, "Are you going to get up?" 3 minutes before my alarm went off. Full strength Dramamine makes me a zombie - even for hours after the flight. Non-drowsy Dramamine doesn't work - I still toss my cookies. I was told that my problem is most likely psychological. In short, I psych myself into such a state that I get sick from nerves. So - "Bring on the Xanax!", I hear you cry. I have a wonderful doctor who gave me this beautiful drug and supposedly, I could now fly fear-free. But wait...you guessed it - I heaved on the way to AZ last weekend. I am the grown woman who has a 2 1/2 year old child who still throws up on airlplanes. Humiliating.

All THAT to say THIS: I press on in the field of education for several reasons but my secret goal is to help educate the young boy or girl who will someday perfect "beaming" a la Star Trek. (You'll have to ask MK for the appropriate Trekky phrase to insert here.) Until that day...watch your shoes.

Packing with cats

I have two cats. These cats were my children before E came into the picture. Max is a black mammoth of a cat. I do seriously mean mammoth- as in a prehistorically gianormous version of the modern, domesticated housecat. He also happens to believe he is a ferocious panther. He is under the delusion that he is extremely scary and has superb hunting skills. Too bad he can't even kill a housefly until it has zoomed 22 hours of its 24 hour life away in our kitchen. Zoey thinks she is a tigress. She, unlike Max, is a svelt 8.5 pounds. She is also a complete hag, as cats go. She is certain that any living thing that steps foot in our yard is coming to attack. Have you ever heard a cat growl - from it's belly? Disturbing. This is also the same sweet little girl cat who zooms into a room to attack the oversized chair which, it seems, becomes her mortal enemy at 9:00. BOTH of these cats feel that they must go with us whenever we travel. They make this completely clear when they nest in the suitcase as we pack. It makes it quite difficult to keep clumps of cat hair off one's clothes when the cats are snuggling with everything I put in the suitcase. How is it that cats know exactly when to "help" by pawing at one's underthings and burrowing under the jeans so that you accidentally zip them inside the suitcase? (Again the howling is nerve-gratingly distinct) Nevertheless - I press on to take my girls' trip.

MK and I are heading out tomorrow to Nerd prom! Yes, I will miss my husband and child horribly but I will revel in 2 full mornings of waking up when I choose rather than being slowly inched over the side of my own bed by a 2 foot bed-hog who always seems to show up 3 minutes before the alarm goes off. We will do whatever we want, because we can. We will eat at restaurants without high chairs or sippy cups. We will go to a movie, maybe even two, that do not contain cartoon characters. We will drink beverages that could require tiny umbrellas. We will stay in a bookstore for several hours without my guilt complex kicking in before I've even finished my mocha. In short, I will be Reagan again for 2.5 days instead of Mama. Glorious to know she still exists and glorious to know that E's face when I show back up on Sunday will be the best part of the whole weekend.

Emma a.k.a. Bruiser

Emma-to-English dictionary translation: Mama = improvised La-Z-Boy.
I have the bruises to prove that my daughter thinks I'm a glorified couch. I suppose when she's 14 and won't even deign to visibly ride in a car with me, I will miss these dog-pile days. Right now, I just need some iron supplements and shin guards.

Nerd Prom Cometh

This weekend is it! Yes, after this weekend, there will be no doubt that I am officially obsessed with books. Not just any books: books about vampires. To clarify, books about a girl in love with a vampire who lives with a family of other vampires. I have read them and reread them and reread them. I have logged on to the author's website (Stephenie Meyer - she's listed here, too). Not only am I obsessed with these books, I am converting others. So far, Mary Kathryn, Courtney, Courtney's sister and countless students are members of the fold. (No Mom, it's not a cult and just because vampires appear in the book does not mean I'm getting ready to join Wicca and drink the Kool-aid.)
The thing that is so ridiculous - I am unbelievably excited about going to this thing. So is MK. We are excited like a jr. high girl gets excited about the new Lindsay Lohan movie. There are a myriad of reasons to be excited, not the least of which being that we get to have a day without students. Another reason: I get to spend time with MK. Yet another reason: I'll get to meet the author of some books I love. For these and other reasons that will be explained, my husband has dubbed this event: The Nerd Prom. MK's husband gleefully jumped on board. All I have to say is - if this is Nerd Prom, then just for the weekend, bring on the pocket-protectors and high-waters. I'm lovin' every minute of it.
To celebrate the release of the 3rd book in the series, the author is holding an event - in Tempe, AZ. Yes, in answer to your question, I am going - going with MK. Of course we are going together, we are basically the same person. The event is a... prom. That's right, you heard me, it's a prom. In the first book of the series, Twilight, the main characters attend prom at the end of the book. So, every time the author has an event related to her books, she throws a prom. Ergo - MK and I are going to Eclipse prom. Yes, we will wear formalwear. Yes, we will dance. Yes, we will have our photo taken, possibly behind some beautific backdrop. No, we are not exchanging corsages. That would just be silly.