Nerd Family Values Part II

I just overheard my 10 year old ask her friend over the phone,

"Who is your favorite president?"

I see my history nerd husband is rubbing on her.

Which reminds me, I have been meaning to mention this interesting little bit of toilet trivia.

My husband is reading a book about Andrew Jackson. Did you know that Andrew Jackson and his wife adopted a baby which was one of twin babies that were born to one of their siblings? Yeah, apparantely twins were such a financial burden that the two women got together and cooked up a scheme arranging for the adoption of only one of the babies. Can you even imagine someone doing something like that now?

Yeah, I'm a nerd too.

Snow Day Induced Cabin Fever

I am home with the kids today because they had another snow day. I am irritable.

Why are kids so gross? I swear one or both of them is either leaking some sort of bodily fluid or disgusting smelling vapors or both at the same time.

Really? Blech.

Can someone explain men to me?

My husband has been a total grump lately. Granted, he has been under an enormous amount of pressure and stress at work and he has been working like a zillion hours a week, but I don’t get men. When I am really stressed out at work, I love to go home to my man and curl up on the couch with him.

It seems like I read Men are from Mars years ago and I remember something about men having to retreat to their cave and how you should leave them alone.

Okay, ya’ll, I am not good at the leaving alone thing. Our house isn’t that big, how do I ignore him when he is right there in my face being a BFG (big fat grump). Not to mention, this is the first time in our marriage where I have felt like my husband truly does not like me. And of course, that makes me more henlike.

I’m not so self-absorbed to think that this has anything to do with me other than I am there, but it is really bugging me.

So do any of you seasoned married ladies have any advice for me on this? How do you support your man through stressful situations when everything that would make you feel better seems to make him grumpier?

Your Life, My Life, A Reminder

This drawing has been hanging in my cubicle since I quit my first real job almost 9 years ago. Many of you will remember that I was in the midst of a personal crisis and quitting that job, while a very uncomfortable proposition, was a necessity. As much as I wanted to stay in my comfort zone, I knew that I had to go. It was the most painful transition of my life.

But as it turned out, quitting that job turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made. I could never have imagined at the time how well things would turn out for me in terms of my career and my personal life.

I found myself gazing at this drawing this morning and I realized that while I have been staring at it for 9 years, I have stopped seeing it. It is time to move forward, stop looking back and hanging on with desperation to something that is no longer an option. It's uncomfortable and scary, but as in the past, a necessity.

The way things change

Tomorrow it will be 6 years since Dave and I started dating (we have been married for almost 4). The date was on a Saturday, so I figure that would actually be tonight.

That night we went to dinner and a movie and then back to my place. I think right about now we were sitting on my couch having a beer and talking. We had so much to talk about back then because neither of us had heard each others stories yet. I don't mean that to sound wistful because we still talk a lot, but we have definitely heard each others stories. It is fun to remember the times at the beginning of love when you can't get enough of each other and talk on the phone for hours and the thoughts of that person consume you.

Right now Dave is playing Call of Duty with Sam and I am in the office blogging. It is 10:30 on a Saturday night. It's funny how things change.

I came home yesterday to find that Dave had purchased me a spa package and scheduled it for tomorrow. So I will be getting a 90 minute massage tomorrow morning followed by a manicure and pedicure. That man has come a long way on his gift giving. I used to have to tell him exactly what to buy for me or he would freak out and not buy my anything (this includes my engagment ring, he was too afraid to pick it out without me)

My point is that while it is fun to remember what it was like at the beginning, right now is exactly where I want to be.

Postscript to the Lying Bitch

Dear LB,

Now that I have given it some thought, maybe you were right. Maybe I do need to lose 20lbs.

I'm going to miss food.

Laundry list

First of all, did you know that Panera Bread does not have ranch dressing? Yes, I found this out yesterday. I guess it isn’t cool enough (actually that is me editorializing. I don’t know why they don’t carry it and the 15 year old who was taking my order didn’t have a clue)

Second of all, I am t-i-r-e-d today. Mainly because I stayed up past my bedtime on Sunday night and it is now catching up with me. I should have treated myself to a triple this morning, but I wanted to hurry up and get to work before the snow started. I am figuring the kids won’t have school tomorrow and I am planning on staying home with them if that happens.

#3 I am dreaming of somewhere warm, and it isn’t Michigan.

#4 I am not going to be able to buy new pants for at least a year or however long it takes for the ridiculous skinny legs to go out of fashion again. I refuse to buy them. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse. I hate them and they are ugly and you can call me a fashion reject for saying it. Banana Republic, are you listening to me? All your pants this year are UGLY. Please bring back the wider leg and you could throw some cuffs at me, that would be great.

#5 Is it bizarre that we use our grill all year round? Yes I stand in my garage in 10 degree weather and grill.

Work (Again)

What am I doing right now? The literal answer to that questions is:

I’m sitting at my desk. It is 8:25 a.m. and I am trying to get my day started. There is a space heater buzzing under my desk keeping me feet warm and I don’t know how I would survive without it. It’s pretty quiet in the office still. While I check my e-mail and the morning news, my tiny desk radio is next to me broadcasting my favorite morning show and at the moment I started to type this post it was playing a McDonald’s commercial that is on every morning and it just occurred to me that I am so sick of hearing it. But if I shut the radio off, it is too quiet and I get edgy. I need something to distract me from where I am and what I am doing (literally).

What is on my agenda today? Spreadsheets, numbers, revenue forecasts, spreadsheets, forms, numbers, spreadsheets, well, you get the picture, right? Hey, at least I don’t have any meetings today, that is a rarity. So that brings me round to my original question, in a slightly different form.

What the fuck am I doing? (Sorry I hope you are not terribly offended by profanity, and if you are, you probably would not like me very much.)

Okay, what I am saying to myself is in response to my question is, “Quit whining, bitch, and either deal with the career you have made for yourself. Or change it.”

So, I am going to change it.

More to follow.

The Wii Fit or as I like to call it, Lying Bitch

First of all, why does the Wii fit voice sound like a Teletubby?

Second of all the Wii fit told me that my true age is 45 and that my ideal weight is 20lbs less than I currently weigh. Ya’ll, I am not a skinny minnie, but 20lbs seems like a lot for me. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to shed 20lbs, but I don’t know if that is really all that realistic. I mean, I am almost 5’8” so I’m not light, but this hurt my ego a little. So to the Wii fit teletubby, I say,

Bite me, you lying bitch.

Thirdly, how the frick does it calculate your BMI and is that really accurate? Does it not need to take into account things like muscle mass and your frame size?

I am not happy with the Wii fit right now and the yoga option seemed lame. Do I really have to pick one pose at a time? Am I missing something with this contraption? Dave is a little annoyed with me because he bought it for me for Christmas and I just finally broke it out of the box this weekend and now even if I hate it and will never use it, it is too late to take it back.

Oops.

As I Recall

When I was young, before I understood politics and social stereotypes, my paternal grandparents lived in a double wide trailer. It was an hour drive from our house. Every other Sunday we would go to church and then to visit and there was always a pot of spaghetti sauce simmering away on the stove. It was my grandpa’s “secret” recipe and was loaded with big chunks of beef and pork and sausage. When we arrived my grandma would start a pot of water to cook the noodles and it seemed like forever before they would be ready. They served the spaghetti with fresh grated parmesan cheese and a simple vinegar and oil salad. I don’t remember the dishes or the silverware or the glasses, but I remember that the table was wooden with a bench on one side and it sat in front of a large window at the front of the trailer overlooking the driveway where my grandpa’s car was parked. It was usually a large sedan like a Crown Victoria or a Grand Marquis and in my mind it is maroon. I wonder now if he always drove a Ford, like I remember, or if my memory is skewed because my dad always drove a Ford. Perhaps it was a Chevy or a Buick.

The carpet was green (I remember it as green, but on this detail I am fuzzy) and the couch was covered in orange and brown flowers. There was a grandfather clock in the corner and a fire place surrounded by fake bricks that when turned on radiated heat and flashed a fake orange flame. My grandma had lamps that turned on when you touched them. I thought that was really fascinating and would run my child hands over the lamp as lightly as possible to see how sensitive it was. The lamp was gold.

In the back room, there was a globe on a stand and a portrait of Jack and Bobby Kennedy on the wall. The portrait stands out in my mind (and my cousins as several were talking about it at the funeral a few weeks ago). I remember staring at it. I didn’t really know much about Jack Kennedy except that he had been President and that he had the same name as my dad. I knew nothing of Bobby Kennedy. The portrait said JFK and RFK and had their birth and death dates. I would stare at these dates and the images of their faces, these men who meant nothing to me but with my adult knowledge, I understand their impact on the American political landscape. I know so much more of these men now and it is fascinating to me how your adult knowledge can overlay your childhood memories like tracing paper. I recently attempted to find a print of this painting on the vast expanse that is the internet, but it was nowhere to be found. Strange, I would have thought it would have been abundant on ebay and the like. If I had not spoken of it with my family, I would be questioning myself if it had actually existed other than in my head.

I don’t remember the bathroom, although I’m sure I used it.

Across the street was a steep hill and a field with only utility poles and power lines. I used to play out there with my cousins if any of them happened to be there on the same day. Sometimes it was just my parents, brothers and me. And later, just my parents and me. I remember myself in girly dresses with ruffles and knit tights, but maybe my mom brought a change of clothes for me because I don’t see myself in a dress rolling down the hill.

Inside, the tv was always on. It was nothing I was interested in because I don’t remember what was on it. My grandpa would put the remote in his pocket so no one could change the channel. There was a plaque on the shelf that said, “May you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows your dead”. I didn’t understand what that meant and my mom had to explain it to me. The plaque had a green shamrock on it (My grandpa was Italian, but my grandma was Irish)

On Easter, the kitchen table would hold an Easter basket full of chocolate, and dyed hard boiled eggs and jelly beans and chewy sugary pieces shaped like lambs and chicks all on a bed of purple or green plastic grass. Was there a Christmas tree at Christmas? We never went on actual Christmas, the family was too large and the trailer too small so we always went to my aunt and uncles house instead. My memories don’t include a Christmas tree.

We would eat and visit and then load up into the car to drive the hour back home. And I would lounge in the backseat, my dress flopping every which way (and very unladylike), with my tights drooping at the crotch and my shoes discarded on the floor, the dark cloud of school the next morning hanging over my head not knowing what important memories these visits would turn out to be later in my life, not ever thinking of a day when both my grandparents would be gone, not ever thinking about politics or religion or old Irish Blessings, not ever thinking that I should pay closer attention to the bathroom in my grandparents trailer.

This was one visit and every visit. Later, they moved out of the trailer, I think I was already away at college and my visits had become less and less frequent. My grandpa started dementia. He got lost driving around in his car and they had to take it away from him. Then he went into a nursing home and then he died. I was in my last year of college. I don’t remember ever eating the spaghetti anywhere but the trailer, and in fact, I’m quite sure that my memory is accurate on that point. She lived from then until just a few weeks ago, by herself, in the condo they had moved to, still making her own meals and her own bed. But, of course, they live on in their 7 children and their children and their children’s children and in stories like this.