As you can see it's been quite a while since I've posted anything on Mommy Quest, and I have to tell you, so far it's been a rough kind of year. And it's not over yet.
I guess I kind of fell off the blogging band wagon and took some time off. Then, in February, not only did the family pet of eight years pass away, ONE WEEK later, so did my Father.
I still have a hard time thinking about it. Being over 1K miles away from my parents who live in Wisconsin makes things of this magnitude makes it more than overwhelming. It sort of disconnects a person from the tragedy, only to leave an emptiness as I clung to my Husband and Son for support. Mom, on the other hand, I can't vouche for her. Over the years of not being around her, I've noticed a change that - even after Dad's death - seemed like someone I really didn't know at all. I'll leave it like this: it is what it is.
Three months later I become pregnant. We were trying... sort of. I emphasized that I was perfectly content with ONE CHILD. Well, I guess I'm going to sing another song then, aren't I? This preganancy had knocked me on my ass, and then some.
And the year isn't over yet.
Then, a month ago, my Father-in-law lands in the hospital with a heart condition. Thank the Lord, he's okay now, but he's got a pace maker keeping his ticker going. Easy does it Grandpa, no more swinging from the chandiliers for you!
I don't think I'd be able to handle anymore tragedies for this year. It's the beginning of September and we just came through Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene. We didn't have any power for 2 1/2 days, and I sort of enjoyed it. My Husband and kid, on the other hand, those technological computer and gaming addicts, were going bonkers. All in all, it prepared us for what would happen if something bigger than a tropical storm hit us, and we're tightening our preparedness.
So, that's pretty much it so far. I don't want to utter the phrase, "How much worse can it get?" because we all know that it could. This is Labor Day weekend and still some people are without power, and I just want to have an enjoyable day with my family (one who is currently passed out with exhaustion on the couch and the other playing a video game. You guess who is who).
I'll check in from time to time. I've come across some interesting recipies and survival stuff which always peaks my interest. Maybe I'll post them here. Until then, I'm logging out and hoping to wrangle the rest of the team for a ride out in the car or something. Staying indoors lately has been driving me BONKERS! See, there is something that drives Mommy nuts, and frittering away is one of them.
Peace.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Squash Soup
This is a soup that I picked up from MsCountryW. from the tube. She called it "Invalid Squash Soup" because she had broken her collar bone (OUCH!) from breaking in a mustang up in Wisconsin (btw, I constantly miss Wisconsin now that I don't have access to it anymore, you know, from living on the east coast and all that). All ingredients get pureed later after it cools a bit.
Squash Soup:
Since my rosemary wasn't fresh, there were a lot of pieces that just didn't get pureed right, plus there are twigs from the branches in the dried stuff. I strained the soup and worked down the pulp through the mesh leaving a gourmet looking squash soup in the end. I didn't add the milk in the main pot but I just added a dab of milk to all our soup bowls before serving. Give it a swirl and it looks very attractive, kind of like the cappuccinos with the fancy swirls inside the cup.
Great way to use squash. I liked this very much.
Squash Soup:
- 2 lb butternut squash (save the seeds to dry fry in a pan, yummy! my favorite)
- 1 large onion, rough chopped
- 2 apples, peeled and rough chopped
- 6 cups chicken or vegetable stock
- 2 Tb rosemary (I had the dried stuff, going to plant some for fresh herbs in the apartment)
- Optional: 1/4 C milk, cream or half and half
Since my rosemary wasn't fresh, there were a lot of pieces that just didn't get pureed right, plus there are twigs from the branches in the dried stuff. I strained the soup and worked down the pulp through the mesh leaving a gourmet looking squash soup in the end. I didn't add the milk in the main pot but I just added a dab of milk to all our soup bowls before serving. Give it a swirl and it looks very attractive, kind of like the cappuccinos with the fancy swirls inside the cup.
Great way to use squash. I liked this very much.
Witches Shopping
Full moons, I hear, can bring on crazy and vivid dreams. I believe the moon was 93% full last night, so go figure. This morning we're under a wind advisory, which also started early in the morning around 1 a.m. Maybe all of this contributed to the ambiance of my 'wierd' dream.
This was no exception. I just have to write it down somewhere because I remember it clearly except that I never know how a dream begins, I just remember the middle and ending parts of it.
It was the old auditorium in my grammar school back in Chicago that was like a cafeteria in my dream. I had a ton of books in my hands and I was racing past this table where food was being 'brown bagged' for pennies on the dollar. Tacos for .24, huge kaiser bun roast beef sandwiches -my favorite!- for .49 (why I remember these numbers, I don't know but I do) and some sort of dessert that was just as cheap. All the girls in my school piled up to form a line but somehow I veered in a circle around the table and supersceeded those who were in the line and others followed my direction (no cutzies! lol). As I made a full circle around to where I started, I noticed something out of place on the table. There before me is a box of lingerie. Not the real racey stuff, but the normal nightgown type of stuff.
Suddenly my hands were free and I picked up the first one that I saw. The lady behind the table asked me if I saw anything I liked and I told her they're all pretty but that I really liked the one I was holding. It was black lace and silk on the outside with the center that had some rainbow like metal shimmering stuff.
I said, "Oh, this is pretty," as I held it up by the black speghetti straps, "but I don't think I can afford it."
Suddenly, the dream shifts... like they normally do. Somehow the next thing I know, I'm standing in clothing store in a downtown city (pick a city, any city with lots of high rise buildings). The table morphed into a counter with the lady behind it.
"It's on sale." she said.
"Oh?" I said looking at it.
"Yes," she looked at the price tag reading my thoughts. I felt I couldn't afford it, it looked too expensive. "It's half off."
I still probably couldn't afford it.
"How much?" I just knew I wouldn't have the money to buy it.
"A penny."
What?
"Really, how much?" I paused.
She looked at me, straight in my face and said, "A penny."
Impossible but I wasn't going to argue.
"I don't think I can fit into it." I held it up to my waistline. I had played this game before. Something really pretty would never fit me.
"Why don't you go and try it on." she said. She pointed me to the changing rooms.
I half heartedly took the item knowing that I just wouldn't be able to fit into it. As I walked, I looked around me. There were women of all makes and descriptions. Large, small, tall, wide, narrow... and then the sense that every woman is beautiful came to mind. Each and every one of us, is unique. No matter what we look like, we are beautiful, no matter what we wear externally. You know, love thy self kind of thing.
Now why would I talk about all this? Wait, there's more.
So here I am, coming out of the dressing room with a gorgeous lingerie (not the one I came in with) and this pink/white frilly thing that just looked beautiful and it turned more into a summer dress than anything else. I noticed that the women in the store are dressed in a similar fashion.
This wouldn't have gotten my attention for dreams, but when I saw/heard something outside like a rally/protest it made me stop in my tracks.
"Oh, no." someone said from somewhere in the store, "Here we go again."
What was going on?
I went closer to the front entrance and there in a line was about 20 people with signs, yelling, "You're going to burn in hell!" and "Witches repent!" The faces of the people were really angry. Within moments of the dream a barrier of a line formed with police in riot gear. A plastic looking wall went up on the outside to keep the people out of the store.
There were a few guys in shoppe, and as I was standing next to the door (in my frilly pink thing), he tried to break through the barrier when he got smashed and slapped and punched by those on the opposite side of the line. I pulled him back into the shoppe as he was bleeding from a bottle that was broken over his head.
What just happened to this lovely little shopping dream?
I got the impression that he thought I was trying to make my way out of the shoppe and tried to take the brunt of the onslaught for me. Chivalry in it's wierdest (but coolest) form.
I heard mumblings on what we were supposed to do. How were we supposed to leave?
In the back of my mind I just knew that there was a back exit out of the place that led downwards to a lower level of shops and alleyway made just for that purpose. It was like the city had a lower shopping level. Kind of cool actually.
So I walked out the back way to check and see if it was safe. Sure enough, not one person was in sight. Everyone in the area was drawn to the attention at the front of the store.
As I walked down the brick walkway with closed gourmet shoppes on either side of me, around the corner I was taken off guard. Totally by surprise and scared out of my wits, a guy in full riot gear was before me. I almost turned to run when his hand reached out and grabbed hold of me. I began to scream when he lifted the visor (which I couldn't see into) of his helmet and he yelled:
"Hey! Hey! It's okay! It's okay!"
It was Mike Rowe.
OMG, he's been invading my dreams lately, I just can't seem to shake him.
Thought it gets wierd? Wait. There's more.
"I have to get you and the others out of here." he said. Man, that voice... that Mike Rowe voice. He was taking on the role of guardian, and I must say, he was lookin' good in that riot gear.
Okay, so as we're making our way back to the shoppe, this is were Warcraft seemed to kick in. I went back into the shoppe and women and men were beginning to arm themselves with whatever they could get their hands on. I came in with hands up, the sign of "peace, don't kill me" as I walked.
I said out loud (here's the wierd part and warcraft like PvP), "Don't kill him, he's my husband!"
Mike was right behind me, but it's so odd that he looked more like a blood elf at that moment than Mike Rowe. And not to mention that I kept saying over and over, "Don't kill him, he's my husband!"
Side note: Flashback to Hellfire Pennisula in Warcraft. One of us (Hubby and I) would switch to the other faction to cap PvP towers and, let's say, Hubby went Horde side, I'd be on the Alliance side yelling to everyone not to kill my Husband because we're switching out the towers so the faction could earn some PvP credit (using the system against the system). So, this had the same kind of feel to it, except, Mike was the stand in for Hubby in the dream.
Now there was a handful of men in the shoppe and they were ready to smash anyone's brains out because we seemed to be fighting for our lives at the moment. I actually had to get in between this guy and the morphed "Mike" because the dude was going to take a swing at him.
"He's here to help!" and that diffused the situation.
Mike then took charge of how he was going to get us out of here. I think he tested the front door (Front Door Theory #1) and in riot gear he took a beating. The mob in front who were protesting against "Witches"
were so blind with rage that they took swing after swing at him as he carreened through, and failed, against the barriers.
Back entrance it was. It was a stealth mission. If we all left at the same time, the mobs would catch on and find out that we were "escaping".
Mike pulled me aside, all serious, and said, "I'm getting you out of here first. I'm not going to take any chances."
Awww.....! That was epic. Just like the "Stay alive!" in the Last of the Mohicans with Daniel Day Lewis, "I will find you, just stay alive!" ... I should watch that movie again, btw.
I didn't argue. He ran with me down the back alleyway to safety. My dream left him in battle gear making his way back to the other "witches" who needed a rescue from the mad, mob mentality.
This was just one of those oddly charged dreams. I could read a lot into the dream, there's a few things in there that would be worth delving into. This would be a dream that I would wake up from, turn to Hubby (if he was still in bed because he leaves early in the morning to go to work), smack him and say, "Where the hell were you? I had to have a television guy save me!"
With so much to gleen from the dream, all I can say is...
Anyway, the dress looked pretty...
This was no exception. I just have to write it down somewhere because I remember it clearly except that I never know how a dream begins, I just remember the middle and ending parts of it.
It was the old auditorium in my grammar school back in Chicago that was like a cafeteria in my dream. I had a ton of books in my hands and I was racing past this table where food was being 'brown bagged' for pennies on the dollar. Tacos for .24, huge kaiser bun roast beef sandwiches -my favorite!- for .49 (why I remember these numbers, I don't know but I do) and some sort of dessert that was just as cheap. All the girls in my school piled up to form a line but somehow I veered in a circle around the table and supersceeded those who were in the line and others followed my direction (no cutzies! lol). As I made a full circle around to where I started, I noticed something out of place on the table. There before me is a box of lingerie. Not the real racey stuff, but the normal nightgown type of stuff.
Suddenly my hands were free and I picked up the first one that I saw. The lady behind the table asked me if I saw anything I liked and I told her they're all pretty but that I really liked the one I was holding. It was black lace and silk on the outside with the center that had some rainbow like metal shimmering stuff.
I said, "Oh, this is pretty," as I held it up by the black speghetti straps, "but I don't think I can afford it."
Suddenly, the dream shifts... like they normally do. Somehow the next thing I know, I'm standing in clothing store in a downtown city (pick a city, any city with lots of high rise buildings). The table morphed into a counter with the lady behind it.
"It's on sale." she said.
"Oh?" I said looking at it.
"Yes," she looked at the price tag reading my thoughts. I felt I couldn't afford it, it looked too expensive. "It's half off."
I still probably couldn't afford it.
"How much?" I just knew I wouldn't have the money to buy it.
"A penny."
What?
"Really, how much?" I paused.
She looked at me, straight in my face and said, "A penny."
Impossible but I wasn't going to argue.
"I don't think I can fit into it." I held it up to my waistline. I had played this game before. Something really pretty would never fit me.
"Why don't you go and try it on." she said. She pointed me to the changing rooms.
I half heartedly took the item knowing that I just wouldn't be able to fit into it. As I walked, I looked around me. There were women of all makes and descriptions. Large, small, tall, wide, narrow... and then the sense that every woman is beautiful came to mind. Each and every one of us, is unique. No matter what we look like, we are beautiful, no matter what we wear externally. You know, love thy self kind of thing.
Now why would I talk about all this? Wait, there's more.
So here I am, coming out of the dressing room with a gorgeous lingerie (not the one I came in with) and this pink/white frilly thing that just looked beautiful and it turned more into a summer dress than anything else. I noticed that the women in the store are dressed in a similar fashion.
This wouldn't have gotten my attention for dreams, but when I saw/heard something outside like a rally/protest it made me stop in my tracks.
"Oh, no." someone said from somewhere in the store, "Here we go again."
What was going on?
I went closer to the front entrance and there in a line was about 20 people with signs, yelling, "You're going to burn in hell!" and "Witches repent!" The faces of the people were really angry. Within moments of the dream a barrier of a line formed with police in riot gear. A plastic looking wall went up on the outside to keep the people out of the store.
There were a few guys in shoppe, and as I was standing next to the door (in my frilly pink thing), he tried to break through the barrier when he got smashed and slapped and punched by those on the opposite side of the line. I pulled him back into the shoppe as he was bleeding from a bottle that was broken over his head.
What just happened to this lovely little shopping dream?
I got the impression that he thought I was trying to make my way out of the shoppe and tried to take the brunt of the onslaught for me. Chivalry in it's wierdest (but coolest) form.
I heard mumblings on what we were supposed to do. How were we supposed to leave?
In the back of my mind I just knew that there was a back exit out of the place that led downwards to a lower level of shops and alleyway made just for that purpose. It was like the city had a lower shopping level. Kind of cool actually.
So I walked out the back way to check and see if it was safe. Sure enough, not one person was in sight. Everyone in the area was drawn to the attention at the front of the store.
As I walked down the brick walkway with closed gourmet shoppes on either side of me, around the corner I was taken off guard. Totally by surprise and scared out of my wits, a guy in full riot gear was before me. I almost turned to run when his hand reached out and grabbed hold of me. I began to scream when he lifted the visor (which I couldn't see into) of his helmet and he yelled:
"Hey! Hey! It's okay! It's okay!"
It was Mike Rowe.
OMG, he's been invading my dreams lately, I just can't seem to shake him.
Thought it gets wierd? Wait. There's more.
"I have to get you and the others out of here." he said. Man, that voice... that Mike Rowe voice. He was taking on the role of guardian, and I must say, he was lookin' good in that riot gear.
Okay, so as we're making our way back to the shoppe, this is were Warcraft seemed to kick in. I went back into the shoppe and women and men were beginning to arm themselves with whatever they could get their hands on. I came in with hands up, the sign of "peace, don't kill me" as I walked.
I said out loud (here's the wierd part and warcraft like PvP), "Don't kill him, he's my husband!"
Mike was right behind me, but it's so odd that he looked more like a blood elf at that moment than Mike Rowe. And not to mention that I kept saying over and over, "Don't kill him, he's my husband!"
Side note: Flashback to Hellfire Pennisula in Warcraft. One of us (Hubby and I) would switch to the other faction to cap PvP towers and, let's say, Hubby went Horde side, I'd be on the Alliance side yelling to everyone not to kill my Husband because we're switching out the towers so the faction could earn some PvP credit (using the system against the system). So, this had the same kind of feel to it, except, Mike was the stand in for Hubby in the dream.
Now there was a handful of men in the shoppe and they were ready to smash anyone's brains out because we seemed to be fighting for our lives at the moment. I actually had to get in between this guy and the morphed "Mike" because the dude was going to take a swing at him.
"He's here to help!" and that diffused the situation.
Mike then took charge of how he was going to get us out of here. I think he tested the front door (Front Door Theory #1) and in riot gear he took a beating. The mob in front who were protesting against "Witches"
were so blind with rage that they took swing after swing at him as he carreened through, and failed, against the barriers.
Back entrance it was. It was a stealth mission. If we all left at the same time, the mobs would catch on and find out that we were "escaping".
Mike pulled me aside, all serious, and said, "I'm getting you out of here first. I'm not going to take any chances."
Awww.....! That was epic. Just like the "Stay alive!" in the Last of the Mohicans with Daniel Day Lewis, "I will find you, just stay alive!" ... I should watch that movie again, btw.
I didn't argue. He ran with me down the back alleyway to safety. My dream left him in battle gear making his way back to the other "witches" who needed a rescue from the mad, mob mentality.
This was just one of those oddly charged dreams. I could read a lot into the dream, there's a few things in there that would be worth delving into. This would be a dream that I would wake up from, turn to Hubby (if he was still in bed because he leaves early in the morning to go to work), smack him and say, "Where the hell were you? I had to have a television guy save me!"
With so much to gleen from the dream, all I can say is...
Anyway, the dress looked pretty...
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Tripping Down Memory Lane
Today as we shopped and did errands pertaining to the Thanksgiving holiday, I somehow (later on in the evening) started to reminisce about my 'old neighborhood', Chicago. Even tho Christmas is a solid month away, I couldn't help but think back to the days when it was cold and bone chilling in Chicago, and dragging my family out into the weather to take a drive through one of the most well known areas in the neighborhood for Christmas decorations.
Edgebrook, Illinois, is for all intense purposes, a place where I dreamed of living. It was the upper middle class, and I always suspected doctors, lawyers and business people alike lived there. The houses were well do to, but not like the stately mansions and huge luxury homes of Evanston and the "Gold Coast" suburban area north of Chicago. Edgebrook was a place that I drove past and through on my way to work when I was a supervisor at the bank in Lincolnwood. Even when I was driving 20-25 min to get home (Mom and Dad carpooled everywhere, only had one family car and I was still in my late teens/early 20's and couldn't afford my own car... okay, that wasn't true. I was too cheap to buy a car) I would find that my drive home was something that held a certain exhausted charm to it. Maybe it was the delusion of being run 8+ hours ragged for slave wages with a crazy amount of responsibility and got paid as much (or less) that a fry cook at McD's. Somehow the toiling made whole by the thoughts of maybe, one day, living in one of those homes I drove past and that what I was doing was going to get me there.
Silly girl.
A .10 cent raise back in the 90's must be equivalent to $1.00 raise to todays standards... Nah. The bank was just filthy rich and a bunch of greedy corporate [blankity blanks] who knew how to squeeze every ounce of energy out of you. And when you looked at that .10 raise, looked at them, it was pure astonishment to see them react as if it was such a hardhsip for them to give you that .10 raise - yes, it must be difficult for them to squeeze more than a dime out of their butt cheeks.
*coughs* Sorry, that rears up it's ugly head from time to time. Stellar performance from an employee= craptastic wages i.e. = more money for them, not for you.
Back to the 'good' part of reminscing.
Anyways, Edgebrook was the place to go for seeing the best of the best in Christmas decorations. I'm not kidding. It seemed like all of Chicago would go around the holiday and there were a good 3-4 blocks of people decking the halls with more than boughs of holly. As far as I understood it, people would rent out decorations from somewhere and they were on a waiting list for years. Things included animated santas, mrs. santa, elves, reindeer, life sized wise men and the manger with lifesized everything (from animals to baby Jesus). Lights everywhere, a three tier christmas tree (it was famous for one house always having it: first floor bay window = bottom of tree, second floor picture window= middle part of tree, rootop = tip of tree). This place was always jam packed with cars that crawled at less than 2 miles per hour. People walked in subzero temps to see everything. I had once brought a carafe of hot chocolate, found a radio station that played holiday music and gathered Mom and Dad in the car to go for a drive.
I've been searching Utube (hehe spelling) to see if I could actually find some video on the area because that's all I've been talking about with Hubby. I wish he could have seen it.
Then I googled a few places and found that one of the churches I drove past (for the 7 years I worked at the bank) had burned down to the ground this year due to arson. I had a "OMG" moment. How sad!
Then I google mapped the street and took a virtual drive down this roadway and was just floored at how things have changed (I haven't been back in Chicago in 8 years). I know Mom and Dad take a drive into the "old neighborhood" now and again and they rattle off things that have changed to me. My mind really doesn't seem to get it unless I see it so I say a lot of, "Mmmhmm" s.
Mostly it's a shock to the system to see how something that was ingrained in me seems so foreign right now. Today I'm all about the sustainability, wanting to raise my own chickens and garden in my dream home's backyard. The old me was very much a Frasier Crane kind of girl: books, working my tail off for crap wages even tho I looked business-like and professional, dreaming of of expensive cars and manicured houses. If the old me took a look at the new me, she'd pause and say, "You want to raise chickens... really?"
City vs Country.
Old vs New.
It's just funny how things progress, slow down, reconsider and change. It's just so wierd when I look at Chicago now through the eyes of what I am now. It feels foreign, unreal, as if it was just a dream. And it's completely different than the world I live in now. This seems more substantial, more meaningful than the Chicago-girl I once was. I guess I'd have to appreciate the old me to in turn appreciate the new me. Can't see where you're going unless you know where you've been, kind of thing.
Edgebrook, Illinois, is for all intense purposes, a place where I dreamed of living. It was the upper middle class, and I always suspected doctors, lawyers and business people alike lived there. The houses were well do to, but not like the stately mansions and huge luxury homes of Evanston and the "Gold Coast" suburban area north of Chicago. Edgebrook was a place that I drove past and through on my way to work when I was a supervisor at the bank in Lincolnwood. Even when I was driving 20-25 min to get home (Mom and Dad carpooled everywhere, only had one family car and I was still in my late teens/early 20's and couldn't afford my own car... okay, that wasn't true. I was too cheap to buy a car) I would find that my drive home was something that held a certain exhausted charm to it. Maybe it was the delusion of being run 8+ hours ragged for slave wages with a crazy amount of responsibility and got paid as much (or less) that a fry cook at McD's. Somehow the toiling made whole by the thoughts of maybe, one day, living in one of those homes I drove past and that what I was doing was going to get me there.
Silly girl.
A .10 cent raise back in the 90's must be equivalent to $1.00 raise to todays standards... Nah. The bank was just filthy rich and a bunch of greedy corporate [blankity blanks] who knew how to squeeze every ounce of energy out of you. And when you looked at that .10 raise, looked at them, it was pure astonishment to see them react as if it was such a hardhsip for them to give you that .10 raise - yes, it must be difficult for them to squeeze more than a dime out of their butt cheeks.
*coughs* Sorry, that rears up it's ugly head from time to time. Stellar performance from an employee= craptastic wages i.e. = more money for them, not for you.
Back to the 'good' part of reminscing.
Anyways, Edgebrook was the place to go for seeing the best of the best in Christmas decorations. I'm not kidding. It seemed like all of Chicago would go around the holiday and there were a good 3-4 blocks of people decking the halls with more than boughs of holly. As far as I understood it, people would rent out decorations from somewhere and they were on a waiting list for years. Things included animated santas, mrs. santa, elves, reindeer, life sized wise men and the manger with lifesized everything (from animals to baby Jesus). Lights everywhere, a three tier christmas tree (it was famous for one house always having it: first floor bay window = bottom of tree, second floor picture window= middle part of tree, rootop = tip of tree). This place was always jam packed with cars that crawled at less than 2 miles per hour. People walked in subzero temps to see everything. I had once brought a carafe of hot chocolate, found a radio station that played holiday music and gathered Mom and Dad in the car to go for a drive.
I've been searching Utube (hehe spelling) to see if I could actually find some video on the area because that's all I've been talking about with Hubby. I wish he could have seen it.
Then I googled a few places and found that one of the churches I drove past (for the 7 years I worked at the bank) had burned down to the ground this year due to arson. I had a "OMG" moment. How sad!
Then I google mapped the street and took a virtual drive down this roadway and was just floored at how things have changed (I haven't been back in Chicago in 8 years). I know Mom and Dad take a drive into the "old neighborhood" now and again and they rattle off things that have changed to me. My mind really doesn't seem to get it unless I see it so I say a lot of, "Mmmhmm" s.
Mostly it's a shock to the system to see how something that was ingrained in me seems so foreign right now. Today I'm all about the sustainability, wanting to raise my own chickens and garden in my dream home's backyard. The old me was very much a Frasier Crane kind of girl: books, working my tail off for crap wages even tho I looked business-like and professional, dreaming of of expensive cars and manicured houses. If the old me took a look at the new me, she'd pause and say, "You want to raise chickens... really?"
City vs Country.
Old vs New.
It's just funny how things progress, slow down, reconsider and change. It's just so wierd when I look at Chicago now through the eyes of what I am now. It feels foreign, unreal, as if it was just a dream. And it's completely different than the world I live in now. This seems more substantial, more meaningful than the Chicago-girl I once was. I guess I'd have to appreciate the old me to in turn appreciate the new me. Can't see where you're going unless you know where you've been, kind of thing.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Jehovah's Witnesses, a Messy Apartment and the Ghost Who Said Yeah
I've always said this, "If the place was cleaner I wouldn't mind having guests over."
[Thinks a minute].
Maybe that's why the place is never clean enough.
It's always a struggling battle in our smallish apartment. No space + lots of crap (ok, Hubby will say it is NOT crap [food, appliances taking up 3/4 of the kitchen, etc.] just that we haven't enough room) = me constantly trying to find ways to make it look neater and more spacious. Sure, I have my moment where I want to throw everything in the garbage and say, "No more stuff," but that would be unrealistic. We get the very welcomed bag of clothes from relatives for Kiddo who is growing my leaps and bounds. One pair of shoes this week is next weeks outgrown growth spurt.
I envy those who can plan parties and get togethers in their homes. I mean, I remember as a kid having get togethers at our house and family houses across the land, and I always wished rather than put into fruition of having a family get together at where we live. I keep banking on the thought of, "Once we have a house, then we'll entertain."
Right now it feels like all the stuff we have is like college dorm room stuff. Computers take up 1/4 of our living room, the coffee table and couch another 1/2. So, doing the math, there isn't that much room to walk or meander around. You can't spread your arms out and do "The Hills Are Alive" with the Sound of Music spin without bumping into something bulky like a t.v. or computer chair. I don't think any of this would work in a dorm room but it all has that look of, "Not in a house" kind of furniture. The couch, I've often said, will have to be replaced but I'm still waiting for that expansion of After the Wrath of Kiddo to make it work.
Ok. 12:07 pm. Kiddo was playing Goofy Skateboarding on his computer and put it on pause to have some lunch. I was typing away describing the couch thing, when all of a sudden, clear as can be, we (Kiddo and myself) hear from his speakers -which is playing the music from the game over and over- I hear ,"Yeeeeeah."
. . . . . . . .
A male voice, crystal clear, as if he was piped into the game and saying "Yeah". No feedback, no static, just as if someone had a microphone and just said it. Not that this really freaked me out... much. We're used to static feedback like a power surge, but this was completely different. This was the first time I had ever heard any 'voice' comeing through at any given time. This would have been perfect for Halloween, but that time is over, for the time being.
I'm taking this with a grain of salt. I find it kind of funny tho, about an hour and a half ago Jehovah's Witnesses came knocking on my door. Religious moment triggering something paranormal? That WOULD be funny. Hey Ghostie, I didn't invite them, m'kay? Luckily (I say this as I roll my eyes) Kiddo raced to the door, tripped, fell, hit his hand on the floor and started crying (not a lot, it was just a small face plant but it was enough for me to tell the J.W.'s that I couldn't come to the door now). Thanks Kid, I owe you a car for that one (but I don't want you hurting yourself just because Mom doesn't want to answer the door).
I don't like the idea of talking to someone in my messy apartment, while I'm standing in my p.j.'s, talking about God. Or, rather, someone else's take on God and how they're going door to door to 'spread the word'.
I've always like to ponder God, religions and such in the privacy of my own home and in the privacy in my own mind (or blog, but whatever lol). I guess if I was dressed, had the place all cleaned and sparkly, with a kitchen table that doesn't have a pile of crap everywhere, and chairs that you can actually sit on (more boxes of stuff), maybe, just maybe, if I had coffee brewed and some coffee cake made (anything coffee is a good bribe for me in my book), I would sort-of-maybe-be-inclined to let them in and sit down for a pleasant chat like the good old days. Not to mention I don't like the idea of strangers coming into the place when I'm all alone (not counting Kiddo). But, instead of the good ol' days chat with a neighbor or relative, this would be someone who was selling God to a 'sinner' or whatever they call someone who isn't interested in the brand of God they're selling like a door to door vacuum salesman. Maybe that last part wasn't necessary because I do hear that J.W.'s are very pleasant to chat with. No fire and brimstone "You're going to HELL! REPENT!" junk.
Again, maybe if we had a house, and it was clean...
[Thinks again.]
Maybe not.
I guess Mr. Ghost in our apartment wasn't interested in it either. "Yeeeeah."
*shivers*
Perhaps it was his delayed reaction to the whole situation.
[Thinks a minute].
Maybe that's why the place is never clean enough.
It's always a struggling battle in our smallish apartment. No space + lots of crap (ok, Hubby will say it is NOT crap [food, appliances taking up 3/4 of the kitchen, etc.] just that we haven't enough room) = me constantly trying to find ways to make it look neater and more spacious. Sure, I have my moment where I want to throw everything in the garbage and say, "No more stuff," but that would be unrealistic. We get the very welcomed bag of clothes from relatives for Kiddo who is growing my leaps and bounds. One pair of shoes this week is next weeks outgrown growth spurt.
I envy those who can plan parties and get togethers in their homes. I mean, I remember as a kid having get togethers at our house and family houses across the land, and I always wished rather than put into fruition of having a family get together at where we live. I keep banking on the thought of, "Once we have a house, then we'll entertain."
Right now it feels like all the stuff we have is like college dorm room stuff. Computers take up 1/4 of our living room, the coffee table and couch another 1/2. So, doing the math, there isn't that much room to walk or meander around. You can't spread your arms out and do "The Hills Are Alive" with the Sound of Music spin without bumping into something bulky like a t.v. or computer chair. I don't think any of this would work in a dorm room but it all has that look of, "Not in a house" kind of furniture. The couch, I've often said, will have to be replaced but I'm still waiting for that expansion of After the Wrath of Kiddo to make it work.
Ok. 12:07 pm. Kiddo was playing Goofy Skateboarding on his computer and put it on pause to have some lunch. I was typing away describing the couch thing, when all of a sudden, clear as can be, we (Kiddo and myself) hear from his speakers -which is playing the music from the game over and over- I hear ,"Yeeeeeah."
. . . . . . . .
A male voice, crystal clear, as if he was piped into the game and saying "Yeah". No feedback, no static, just as if someone had a microphone and just said it. Not that this really freaked me out... much. We're used to static feedback like a power surge, but this was completely different. This was the first time I had ever heard any 'voice' comeing through at any given time. This would have been perfect for Halloween, but that time is over, for the time being.
I'm taking this with a grain of salt. I find it kind of funny tho, about an hour and a half ago Jehovah's Witnesses came knocking on my door. Religious moment triggering something paranormal? That WOULD be funny. Hey Ghostie, I didn't invite them, m'kay? Luckily (I say this as I roll my eyes) Kiddo raced to the door, tripped, fell, hit his hand on the floor and started crying (not a lot, it was just a small face plant but it was enough for me to tell the J.W.'s that I couldn't come to the door now). Thanks Kid, I owe you a car for that one (but I don't want you hurting yourself just because Mom doesn't want to answer the door).
I don't like the idea of talking to someone in my messy apartment, while I'm standing in my p.j.'s, talking about God. Or, rather, someone else's take on God and how they're going door to door to 'spread the word'.
I've always like to ponder God, religions and such in the privacy of my own home and in the privacy in my own mind (or blog, but whatever lol). I guess if I was dressed, had the place all cleaned and sparkly, with a kitchen table that doesn't have a pile of crap everywhere, and chairs that you can actually sit on (more boxes of stuff), maybe, just maybe, if I had coffee brewed and some coffee cake made (anything coffee is a good bribe for me in my book), I would sort-of-maybe-be-inclined to let them in and sit down for a pleasant chat like the good old days. Not to mention I don't like the idea of strangers coming into the place when I'm all alone (not counting Kiddo). But, instead of the good ol' days chat with a neighbor or relative, this would be someone who was selling God to a 'sinner' or whatever they call someone who isn't interested in the brand of God they're selling like a door to door vacuum salesman. Maybe that last part wasn't necessary because I do hear that J.W.'s are very pleasant to chat with. No fire and brimstone "You're going to HELL! REPENT!" junk.
Again, maybe if we had a house, and it was clean...
[Thinks again.]
Maybe not.
I guess Mr. Ghost in our apartment wasn't interested in it either. "Yeeeeah."
*shivers*
Perhaps it was his delayed reaction to the whole situation.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The War On Lactose Has Failed
Today was a epic fail on the waged war on lactose. I went grocery shopping at our local IGA store and I found that the evil doers had marked down ice cream to only $1.99 for a pint Gifford's (never tried it so that was an instant lose because I was excited) and the same went for half gallon of Turkey Hill Ice Cream. So, I failed, but then again, I sort of won in a way. Later, I will fail again when my stomach and other parts of me will revolt against the insufferable lactose. My G.I. track is going to not like me in the next few hours to come.
The arsonal used against me:
Gifford's Maine Moose Tracks : vanilla ice cream with fudge swirls, candy cups filled with caramel. Not sure if I like it or not. The candy cups are obscenely colored neon orange... that can't be good.
Turkey Hill : Choco Mint.... anything with mint and I'm done for. This is especially true for Ben and Jerry's Mint Cookie Ice Cream... omg, if I died and went to heaven that would have to be on the menu (anyone seen Defending Your Life with Merryl Streep and the guy who did the voice for Nemo's Dad in Finding Nemo? SUCH a good movie, one day I'm going to buy it on ebay).
Turkey Hill : Bavarian Espresso... two words in the English language that send delicious shivers up my spine. Haven't tried this, so I'm hoping to bide my time on the gut busting bomb I'm preping for with all this lactose.
And all this was dessert.
Appetizer:
Cheese, cheese and more cheese... on sale.
Munster (my favorite), Sharp Chedar (oh, that's a favorite too) and Colby Jack Cheese (um, did I say I already picked a favorite? Can three cheeses be the winner?) Anyway, these were on sale 3/$5. Naturally I had to get the trinity. My gut is soooo going to protest the first cheese I open. I almost got the sour cream that was on sale for .99 too.
Oh, and picked up a bag of cheese and spinich ravioli for $2.99 that is going to be the fam's dinner.
Cheese
Lactose
This isn't going to be pretty.
The arsonal used against me:
Gifford's Maine Moose Tracks : vanilla ice cream with fudge swirls, candy cups filled with caramel. Not sure if I like it or not. The candy cups are obscenely colored neon orange... that can't be good.
Turkey Hill : Choco Mint.... anything with mint and I'm done for. This is especially true for Ben and Jerry's Mint Cookie Ice Cream... omg, if I died and went to heaven that would have to be on the menu (anyone seen Defending Your Life with Merryl Streep and the guy who did the voice for Nemo's Dad in Finding Nemo? SUCH a good movie, one day I'm going to buy it on ebay).
Turkey Hill : Bavarian Espresso... two words in the English language that send delicious shivers up my spine. Haven't tried this, so I'm hoping to bide my time on the gut busting bomb I'm preping for with all this lactose.
And all this was dessert.
Appetizer:
Cheese, cheese and more cheese... on sale.
Munster (my favorite), Sharp Chedar (oh, that's a favorite too) and Colby Jack Cheese (um, did I say I already picked a favorite? Can three cheeses be the winner?) Anyway, these were on sale 3/$5. Naturally I had to get the trinity. My gut is soooo going to protest the first cheese I open. I almost got the sour cream that was on sale for .99 too.
Oh, and picked up a bag of cheese and spinich ravioli for $2.99 that is going to be the fam's dinner.
Cheese
Lactose
This isn't going to be pretty.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Time to Stop Farting Around
Ok, so I'll be the first to admit it. I've been slacking in the writing articles department. I haven't written religiously since, I guess, a week ago. I slacked. I got distracted, I got caught caught up with the NaNoWriMo thing and sadly that won't earn any extra money in the household.
Found out today that the "good" car, the family car, the only safe drivable car (which has been in the shop for over a week now) needs two front struts replaced. Cha-ching: $240. I guess that's cheap compared to some places, but that's not including labor either. Did I mention we also needed a pair of front tires also? Yikes. Luckily we have Grandma/pa's help in the vehicle department. We can occasionally borrow one of their vehicles.
So, this is where my point comes up: Living expenses? This falls under my category of: OH CRAP, "I sure hope you saved up for this kind of catastrophe" type of thing. I knew this kind of thing was coming, but when you actually see the bottom line it's like I've suddenly gotten a bit numb over the whole thing. I consider what I write at home "suplemental" income, it's not even worth mentioning, but at this point, I might as well pretend I'm doing good by writing that 150 word article for .74 cents (at least it only took 5-8 minutes to write).
When things calm down financially, I still would like to get my little novelette self-published. Maybe then I can get this pipe dream of being an author rolling. Sure, it may stall and putter as it goes, but at least I can say I made an attempt before I call out my defeatist mentality.
It sure would be good right about now to be living on a plot of land and have our own home. I always wanted to live closer to the homesteading kind of way, and for some reason that's kind of a comfort right now. Being productive in an apartment, in my mind, seems confusing for being self reliant. Ramble, ramble, ramble, stall, stall, stall.
Well, I can think on the positive side, we're still free from debt, Hubby and I. Treading water every month and always looking for ways to save a penny here and there. You'd think by now our frugal ways would actually account for something other than knowing we don't have a credit card bill looming over us that will help us go belly up. Then again, maybe our frugal ways were just enough and just what we needed to survive (with one paycheck and all). Can't complain, but can't help to hope and aspire for better situations in life.
Well, enough of me rambling, I got about 40 minutes before life sets in and I have to do some errands out in the real world. Then, when back home it's time to get back to the grindstone again.
Found out today that the "good" car, the family car, the only safe drivable car (which has been in the shop for over a week now) needs two front struts replaced. Cha-ching: $240. I guess that's cheap compared to some places, but that's not including labor either. Did I mention we also needed a pair of front tires also? Yikes. Luckily we have Grandma/pa's help in the vehicle department. We can occasionally borrow one of their vehicles.
So, this is where my point comes up: Living expenses? This falls under my category of: OH CRAP, "I sure hope you saved up for this kind of catastrophe" type of thing. I knew this kind of thing was coming, but when you actually see the bottom line it's like I've suddenly gotten a bit numb over the whole thing. I consider what I write at home "suplemental" income, it's not even worth mentioning, but at this point, I might as well pretend I'm doing good by writing that 150 word article for .74 cents (at least it only took 5-8 minutes to write).
When things calm down financially, I still would like to get my little novelette self-published. Maybe then I can get this pipe dream of being an author rolling. Sure, it may stall and putter as it goes, but at least I can say I made an attempt before I call out my defeatist mentality.
It sure would be good right about now to be living on a plot of land and have our own home. I always wanted to live closer to the homesteading kind of way, and for some reason that's kind of a comfort right now. Being productive in an apartment, in my mind, seems confusing for being self reliant. Ramble, ramble, ramble, stall, stall, stall.
Well, I can think on the positive side, we're still free from debt, Hubby and I. Treading water every month and always looking for ways to save a penny here and there. You'd think by now our frugal ways would actually account for something other than knowing we don't have a credit card bill looming over us that will help us go belly up. Then again, maybe our frugal ways were just enough and just what we needed to survive (with one paycheck and all). Can't complain, but can't help to hope and aspire for better situations in life.
Well, enough of me rambling, I got about 40 minutes before life sets in and I have to do some errands out in the real world. Then, when back home it's time to get back to the grindstone again.
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