Oh, sweet relief! I just got a text message from my brother in law saying that the piano has been picked up. Whew!
Burden=lifted.
That's just the way I like it.
Damn Piano
The Move *dum dum dum*
So the wonderful aforementioned move happened this weekend. And if by "wonderful" I mean "totally awful and painful," then yes, it was wonderful.
Since the UHaul wasn't available to be picked up until 10:30, we decided to start out by making one trip to the apartment to move smaller things in our cars: clothes from the closet, random stuff that didn't make it into boxes, and a truckload of boxes by the courtesy of Edgar's best friend, who has a big truck and was able to help us until 3:00. So far so good. Besides a lot of sweat and the annoyance of clothes falling off of hangers and hangers falling off of clothes as we carried armfuls from the closet to the car, then in turn from the car to the closet, there was no big problem other than the cat. He was not pleased at all the hub-bub and tried to decapitate me with his hind claws when I finally trapped him to lock him up in the bathroom so that he couldn't escape out of the front door.
The first trip was completed and unloaded by around 10:00, so we had a little bit of time to relax before we picked up the UHaul. Edgar's brother and best friend headed back to the apartment to pack another load of boxes into his truck while we went with his mother to pick up the UHaul. By the time we got back the load of boxes was ready to go in the truck and we started packing up the UHaul. This is where things started to fall apart.
If you've been keeping count, thus far there have been two huge-ass loads of boxes packed into our friend's truck. One would think, for a simple two bedroom apartment, that there couldn't be much more. This is where you'd be wrong. We still had about 20 boxes that had to be loaded in to the UHaul. My mother-in-law is a pack rat of the worst kind, because she insists that she's not a pack rat. "But I did throw stuff away!" "But we've lived here for 12 years, that's a lot of things over that time!" "But some of this stuff is the kids'!". Etcetera, ad nauseum. A rebuttal: Throwing away an old tube of lipstick and a VHS tape is not "throwing stuff away." Just because you accumulate things over 12 years does not mean that you need to keep them when they become obsolete *ahem VCR*, broken *ahem bookshelf*, or are replaced *ahem 3 food processors*. If your 33 year old sons who have moved out (not counting our brief stay with them--all of The Hubby's things are in storage save his clothes and his PS3) have not come back to claim any of those items in the years since they have moved out, they obviously don't need it anymore and you should throw it away. Especially when you ask them if they want it and they specifically say "No, throw it away." That is not code for putting it back where you found it. I took a picture of the huge pile of boxes and once i find my USB cord I will upload a picture for your viewing pleasure.
Anyways, once the boxes are done, I bring the ugly truth front and center and tell the guys (Edgar, his brother, and his friend) that we need to move the piano. If we wait until the end to do it, everyone's muscles will already be shot and there will be no way to get it done. Heaviest stuff done first, then on to the lighter lifting. Oh, the piano. It's an upright with a leg that's falling off. So there's that. We got it out the door on to the landing easily enough, but then there was the issue of getting it down the stairs. Yes, we are on the second floor. The guys did make a valiant effort, I'll give them that. They had the thing rigged up on a dolly, prepared to ease it down one step at a time with two of them standing in the backfield with ropes pulling in the opposite direction for tension. It seemed like a good plan. Until the first step, were it became abundantly clear that there was no way in hell that that piano was going to make it down those steps in one piece. Back to the drawing board, kiddos. Needless to say the piano went back inside and is still there as I write this. We finally convinced my mother-in-law that she needs to hire professional piano movers, something that she had insisted that we wouldn't need. Until the the time she heard the horrible sound the piano made as it went down that first step. My only question left is how they got the damn thing up those stairs in the first place.
The Piano Incident, as it will forever be known, ate up about 45 minutes of our precious moving time. I say 'precious' because we only had Edgar's friend until 3:00 and the UHaul had to be turned in at 6:30. And the more we started to move other things, the more it became clear to us that we had no chance in hell of finishing anywhere in that timeframe. And that's when my mother-in-law and brother-in-law decided to go pick up a couple of guys at Home Depot. Antonio and Angelino, wherever you are now.......you are my heroes. Dear Lord, these guys kicked that apartment's ass. They walked in the door, asked where they should start, and they didn't stop until it was over. I think that I now firmly come down on the side of supporting illegal immigration.
Of course, that doesn't mean that the day wasn't still without hiccups. The first was the UHaul itself. We ordered the 24 or 27 foot UHaul, I'm not sure which. Either way, on the UHaul website, it gives the description that it's good for a place with 3-4 bedrooms. Thanks to the packrat tendencies of my mother-in-law as previously described, that 2 bedroom apartment easily filled that UHaul to bursting. Of course, with the guys just dropping stuff in the UHaul and going back for another load of funiture, they were only using the horizontal space, not the vertical space available. I eventually had to step in and save them, organizing and piling things to make it all fit. I'm quite proud of myself. I do owe it all to my dad though, that man is the Packing Master (hmmm, that sounds dirty, must come up with a different description). He can pack an entire room into a suitcase, walls and all. I happily called him later and told him that he did, in fact, teach me something in my 25 years of life; he got a good laugh out of it.
Another thing that was not so good: the state of the furniture once we got it to the house. No one was brilliant enough to think to use furniture pads or blankets, so a lot of the furniture had chips and nicks. Maybe even a couple of gashes. All courtesy of the eleventy-billion speed bumps in their new neighborhood.
Of course, the bright, shining spot of badness for the day had all to do with the cat. Once we were done moving stuff out of the apartment, I went to get him out of the bathroom to stow him in the car and transport him to the new house. When I opened the bathroom door, my nostrils received the putrid greeting of cat poo. Fiyero, while sometimes being a very loving cat, also has a spiteful streak. When he's pissed off at us, he retaliates by crapping outside of his litter box. Right on the floor next to it. As in "I want you to know that I know where my litter box is and what I'm supposed to do there, but I'm doing it on the floor because I think you deserve it." (By the way, this was the second surprise that he left us that day. When we moved the couch away from the wall, we were both equally amazed and disgusted to find a hairball stuck to the wall behind the couch. He likes to lay on the back of the couch, and apparently one day, probably a couple months ago juding by the texture of it, he had a hairball while laying there and just turned his head and spewed it in the tiny space between the couch and the wall). After I cleaned the poop up, I was finally able to get ahold of him. He fought me all the way down to the car. I had to carry him myself, as he outgrew his kitty carrier long, long ago. Once inside the car, he continued to fight me while I grapsed on to him until all of the doors were closed. I finally let him go, at which point he collapses in my lap, looks at me with a pathetic look in his eyes, and begins to pant. I have never seen another cat pant, and I've only seen him do it once before, on a car ride as well. But he was going whole hog this time. He even was making noise. He sounded like a dog about twice his size. So dramatic. When I got him to the new house, it was straight to the bathroom again for him, since we had to move all of the furniture in. He learned how to exact new torture on me at this point. I closed the door to the bathroom, walked to the kitchen to get a bowl of water for him (panting crybaby), but when I opened the door to the bathroom to give it to him.....he was gone. Checked the bathtub, not there. Checked behind the toilet, not there. Even opened the cabinet under the sink, not there either. I started freaking out. How did he get out of here? Did he sneak out the door just before I closed it? Did he become invisible? Did he magically learn how to walk through walls? Luckily, my cat did not turn all magic on me; Edgar found him pressed against the wall crouching in fear in the 6-inch space between the floor and the bottom of the cabinet. He didn't come out of there until after midnight that night. Even after all of the moving was done and everyone else had left and the house was quiet, he still stayed there. We slept with out bedroom door open that night so that he could come in and be with us (this is normally not an option as he likes to think that feet that move under the covers are monsters and need to be pounced on and bitten). Come into be with us he surely did, jumping on my stomach and walking all over us repeatedly.
We also 'lost' the cat again on Sunday. He was truly making a case for being magically magical. We couldn't find him for hours, but we eventually realized that he was inside of this huge overstuffed armchair. Not under it. Inside of it. The lining on the bottom had ripped in transit, and he realized this at some point. He got through the lining and up in to the actual structure of the chair. And would not come out. We finally had to tip the the chair backwards, me almost in tears because I was sure that we would end up breaking his neck somehow, to shake him out, then put the chair up against the wall so he couldn't climb back in. He was not pleased. He then retreated under my in-laws bed for the rest of the day and didn't come out until around 6 pm. He seemed in better spirits this morning, so hopefully we won't have anymore of the "Disappearing Cat" act.
All drama aside, we're settling nicely into the new place. It was a joy to take a shower this morning in a bathroom that wasn't stifling hot, and to be able to blow dry my hair and not be sweating buckets when I was finished. It was nice to sleep with the wonderful central air keeping me cool. It was nice to be in a quiet neighborhood where there aren't annoying children and dogs making noise at all hours (wow, I sounded about 60 there). It was nice to have an ice-maker in the freezer, not crappy ice cube trays. It's actually a really nice place. I wouldn't mind having a place like that in a few years when Edgar and I have kids.
So that was moving day. And I get to do it all again in two weeks. Oh, the joy.
New Layout!
Well, I've been a bit bored today at work (to say the least), so I decided to make some changes on my blog. The most apparent is clearly the new layout. Thanks to RayCreations for the template. I've also added an RSS link so anyone can subscribe to my posts.
This is my first blog ever, so I'm still learning the ropes. I hope to keep improving this as time goes by. And hopefully people will read it. :)
Uh oh, Time to Move
Yay, it's Friday! Except I'm really not looking forward to this weekend :(
Edgar and I are currently living with his parents due to the unfortunate circumstance of us both being out of work at that same time. Now that we're both employed again, we've found our own place, but it's unfortunately not going to be ready for another two weeks. And, for our own bad luck, his parents are moving this weekend. So that will be two moves in two weeks for us, and for that I am not very happy.
Not that the place his parents (and, by extension, us) live in right now is a palace. It's a two bedroom apartment in an old complex that is full of loud children and loud dogs, as well as an increasingly annoying neighbor who can't seem to talk in anything other than a yell and has a cat named "Meow Meow" that she is constantly losing. And living in the San Gabriel Valley without central air conditioning this summer has been pure hell.
If anything, at least we'll get a two week jump on the central air. They'll still be in the valley but that central air will be a life saver considering what temperatures around here are supposed to do over the next week. It won't be needed as much at our new place that we'll be moving into in a few weeks since we'll be living near the beach, but it's always nice to have it when you need it (for those of you that are not familiar with Southern California, inland valleys tend to run about 20 degrees hotter during the day than the beaches). At the current place we're at, there is a wall unit AC in the living room, but as soon as you take two steps into the hallway to the bedrooms or the kitchen it's like climbing inside an oven. The bathroom gets so hot that you can hardly breathe, but since we're living with my mother- and father-in-law I'm not exactly going to leave the bathroom door open to air out while I'm in the shower and getting ready in the morning. My mother-in-law is also an old school Mexican lady who will just sit in the heat and not do anything about it, so she'll never turn the AC on herself. Edgar and I will come back from the movies on a weekend afternoon into the inferno, where the apartment will be 100 degrees inside, she'll be sweating up a storm, compounded by her hot flashes, trying to cool off using a paper fan that she's waving in front of her face. Unless you say "Hey, it's hot! Let's turn on the AC," she'll just sit and suffer.
I am happy for my in-laws, though, because they've been living in that apartment for almost 20 years and they're finally going to be moving into an actual house. They're still renting, but it's better than being stuck in that apartment. It would just be nicer if their move wasn't happening until after ours. Or maybe I'm just jealous because I'm really excited for my and The Hubby's new apartment and wish the move was for us to go there now, instead of making a stopover (albeit brief) in another place that's not ours.
Or maybe I'm just lazy and the idea of physical labor pains me.
One More Thing
Ok, I'm not so much about posting more than once in a day, but I can't keep my mouth shut about this one.......
Fla. Students' shirts: 'Islam is of the Devil'
GAINESVILLE, Fla. - A lawyer for a north Florida school district says a handful of students have been sent home from Alachua County Schools this week for wearing shirts that read "Islam is of the Devil."
School district staff attorney Tom Wittmer says the shirts might have offended or distracted others and violated the district's dress code.
The shirts are connected to a local church called the Dove World Outreach Center Church Senior Pastor Terry Jones tells The Gainesville Sun that spreading the church's message is more important than education.
The congregation says a 10-year-old elementary school student was sent home Monday because of the shirt. Three high school students were sent home Tuesday and a middle school student also had to change clothes.
Really?! No, really?! "Spreading the church's message is more important than education." Really?! I'm pretty sure education is more imporant than spreading hate.
Indoctrination at its worst. People like this must be stopped. Like an elementary school child really understands the tenets of faith for Muslims. Clearly the Dove World Outreach Center doesn't.
Grow up, people. The world is bigger than your own backyards.
Thanks, MSNBC, for the article.
Torrance High School (And Shattered Dreams....)
Finding myself in the situation of being super early for work this morning, I decided to take a detour a few blocks out of my way to view for myself a little of piece pop culture in all of its glory. My office is located in Torrance, CA, and as it just so happens, the exterior of Torrance High School was used for location filming in one of my favorite TV shows of all time, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (laugh if you will, but that show was awesome--all seven seasons are available on DVD, FYI). It was also used for 90210 (both original recipe and re-boot) and probably just about every teen movie that ever hit the market.
Sadly, I was kind of disappointed. It just looks......well, different. The stone of the facade seems darker, the front lawn isn't as wide and sprawling as it appears on film, and sadly (though it's to be expected), you really can't see much. It also makes you go "Hmm" because the high school is not lined up flush to the street, as it would appear on TV; it actually sits at an angle and the "street" that you see on TV is actually just more of an access drive/drop off point. But as you drive past you can see the curved, covered walkway where Giles delivers his "The earth is doomed" line at the end of the first episode.
Part of me wishes that I hadn't gone to see it. Sure, I've done the back lot tours at Universal Studios, but I was never nearly such a big fan of the shows that you see there as I was for BtVS (that's how we fans abbreviate it *insert proverbial 'lol' here*). I love that show and I completely bought in to the universe of that show as it was presented to me, but I didn't realize how seeing the school in real life would affect my illusion of that fantasy world. Because now the next time I watch an episode, I'll be looking at those exterior shots in a completely different way. Not so much the same feeling I had after the tour tram went through the Desperate Housewives set.
Ah, well, it is a TV show, after all. It's not real and for the sake of creative license things are not always presented as they are in real life. And I know that. And normallly I wouldn't even give it a second thought. It must just be that the show struck a very deep chord in me when I never expected it to and so my perception of it is different than with anything else. Much love for the world that Joss Whedon created; the romance, the fantasy, the danger, the drama, the comedy, and the oh-so-delicious helpings of teenage angst, with just the right amount of witty reparte thrown in, mixed together to make one of the best shows that's ever been on television. Once you get over the silliness of the name (which I'd like to think is an intentional commentary on how we judge books by their covers--the show is anything but silly and pointless as the name would suggest), it's just one of those guilty pleasures that you can lose yourself in. Over and over and over again.
It's Wednesday
Ok, so I didn't win the lottery last night. That's ok, though, because no one else did and that means the jackpot will be $325 million on Friday, so I'd rather win it then anyways. :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In other news of the day events, RIP Ted Kennedy. I was reading last night when the Special Report came on announcing that he had died. It made it very apparent that the Kennedy Curse is still alive. Along with his sister Eunice Kennedy Shriver, that's two in one month. This family cannot catch a break.
The announcement also led me to consider how the Kennedy dynasty is dwindling out. I wasn't alive during the time of JFK and RFK, but I was a young girl for the time of Jackie O and John Jr's deaths, as well as that of a lesser cousin that died while trying to play football and ski at the same time (Michael? His name eludes me at the moment).
There's one Kennedy left in Congress, and while Caroline Kennedy turns up in the press every now and then, it seems like most of this glamorous political family is gone. By the time my kids are my age, the Kennedy name will most likely no longer be synonymous with a political dynasty that pushed for social change....JFK will probably be the only one they ever learn about in school, because he was the only one that was ever president. None of the others will be newsworthy so long after death, except maybe RFK.....but by that time, who knows if our failing education system will even cover him?
Just a thought.
After I'm a Ba-zillionaire
Ooooh, I can feel it, tonight is the night. Tonight.....I win the MegaMillions jackpot!!
Hey, it could happen. That $252 million totally has my name written all over it.
Sometimes when I'm bored I imagine what life would be like if I actually would win the jackpot. What I would do, what I would buy, what I would see....
- Killer trip to Las Vegas. Killer.
- Debt-free living.
- Ivy League educations for my nieces and my own future children.
- My own house. Not an apartment, not a mortgage, but my very own house. (The Hubby could live there too.)
- Two words: Shoe Room
- Pay off my parent's mortgage and buy them a place to live when they visit me in California.
- Silver Mercedes convertible (or red, I'm a little indecisive).
- Ridiculously large collection of wine in the wine cellar that I would add to my very own house.
- My very own library in my very own house.
- Travel around the world to my heart's content. I would turn 1,000 Places to See Before You Die into a checklist.
- Back to college just for fun....art history, literature, anthropology.....the possibilities are endless.
- Season tickets on the 50-yard line to see the Indianapolis Colts, as paying for eight round-trip airline tickets from LAX to Indy would no longer be a problem.
- And of course the obligatory lump sums to be given to various family members that rank as well as literacy projects.
Corporate Stupidity
Ah, finally! My husband will finally get to start his new job this week. I was really starting to sweat about that.
When Edgar lost his job last year, he had to take a crappy, much lower paying job working in customer service for a very large cell phone company just for the sake of us being able to pay our bills while he looked for something new. Something new came along late in July in the form of a purchasing position with an international industrial supply company. He actually got the call on my birthday, July 24th, a Friday, that they would be offering him the job.
On the very next Monday, things started to fall apart. They called him back and said that they might not be able to proceed with the offer because he's not a US Citizen (he's a permanent resident). There was this whole thing about government contracts and being unsure if non-citizens could work on those things. And it's not as if they didn't know this--he had three different interviews with four different people for this position, and he stated in all of them that he was a resident, not a citizen. After a week of indecision, they finally proceeded with the offer. Which they should have done in the first place, because he's worked for other companies with government contracts and never had a problem. So at this point, a week had gone by since they initially told him he got the job.
At that point, they sent him the offer papers stating that he would start work on August 3rd. If only. Then they tell him that he needs to take his drug test and pass a background check, and once that's done he'll be able to start the next day. If only. He took the drug test on the 3rd, and that was also his last day at the crappy cell phone company (he had to work weekends there). This, of course, was his last day because he was working under the assumption that the background check would take only a few days (as it does at, oh, say, EVERY OTHER COMPANY ON THE PLANET). Not so much this time.
A week goes by. According to the manager, they're still waiting on hearing back from the background check company. Edgar was calling the manager pretty much every day at this point. Here we are, he's already had his last day at his job, he's spent a week at home, we have a new apartment that we're moving in to in September--he needs a paycheck! So after another week of waiting, the manager says they've finally gotten the background check and he'll be able to start in 3-4 days.
THEN, lo and behold, the background check company left out a document that was necessary to show that Edgar's SSN was actually his own. Luckily, that was something that he could get from the Social Security Office on his own, which he immediately did and emailed to the manager. So everything should be ok then, right? Wrong.
The background check company had filled out all of the paperwork wrong. Edgar has a very long last name (four words). He only uses, and I only took when we married, the first name in the last name. From his own experience, life is just easier that way. Of course all of his official documents, license, SSN, green card, etc., have his full last name, and the company that's hiring him is aware of the name he goes by vs. his official last name. The background company didn't put his full last name on the forms, so everything had to be resubmitted. That was early last week.
So here we are, a month to the day after he was told that he had gotten the job, and he has finally gotten word of the official day that he needs to start. He's out several weeks of salary, and now will not get paid until after we move in to our new apartment.
So with these things in mind, I have a word of advice for his company:
- Know your hiring policies. I would think that HR would be fully aware of their hiring policies regarding the hiring of residents/legal aliens with work authorization vs. citizens.
- GET A NEW EFFING BACKGROUND CHECK COMPANY
I'm so blissed out right now with the fact that this uncertainty has finally gone away. My life is my life again, and it's going to be a good one.
*Breathe*Relax* Smile*
Stupid Criminals Make Me Happy (You Betcha)
This, from our lovely friends at MSNBC. Thank you, Alaska.
FBI: Man gives teller ID before robbing bank
ANCHORAGE, Alaska - A 34-year-old man is in custody after authorities say he gave a teller his account number and showed her his picture ID before robbing an Anchorage bank.
The FBI says Jarell Paul Arnold of Anchorage is being held on federal bank robbery charges.
The FBI alleges Arnold walked into an Alaska USA Federal Credit Union branch Friday and inquired about the balance on his account, according to the Anchorage Daily News. The teller asked for his name, account number and ID, the paper said. Authorities say he complied, and then handed over a receipt with a note on the back that said he had a gun and demanded money. The FBI says he got away with about $600.
Must have been desperate to catch that bus to Russia.......
Movie of the Week
Edgar and I just got back from seeing "Inglourious Basterds," and I have to say that despite the huge anachronism of the movie's climax, I enjoyed it more than any Tarantino film that I've seen in a very long time. And no, not because of Brad Pitt. This was old-school Tarantino at its finest. Lots of words, lots of gore, lots of humor.
The funniest part of the movie for me wasn't part of the film itself though. Right after the lights went down for the previews, a group of three people came into our row to go across Edgar and I towards the center. So the first two people, with low-voiced "Excuse me"s shuffle past us. But then #3, a cracked-out-looking bottle blonde, starts reaching out in the dark, feeling the air to find the seat next to me, upon which my purse is sitting. I instinctively pull my purse into my lap. The hands come closer. I lean in my seat towards Edgar. The hands come still closer. I can't take it any more. "I'm not your friend!" I hiss in panic as she grabs my arm. So after a whispered "Sorry" she finally moved past us to her friends and life went on. Reflecting on it in the car on the way home though, the image in my head of my crouching fearfully in my seat as the Crypt Keeper tried to feel me up was too much too take and Edgar and I were laughing so hard that I started to cry.
But seriously, come on. How stupid must a person be to hear their friends say "Excuse me" and then not climb over the people that were sitting there? Do they normally say "excuse me" to a chair before they sit on it? I get it, it was dark, but really? Some people should just stay home....
The World According to Amanda
To give you, gentle reader *snicker*, a context for anything I put in here, I thought I would start off with a little "about me" update-o-fun.
I was born and raised in good ole Indianapolis, Indiana, though I'm currently a transplant to Southern California. Growing up, I was the good girl; both in school and at home I was the seemingly perfect angel, yet never quite so perfect as my older sister. During my teenage years, I learned the careful balancing act of being the bad girl while maintaining the facade of a good girl. I found that worked really well for me, especially during those tricky college years where I still lived at home.
Upon receiving that oh-so-important Bachelors Degree in 2005, I struck out to find my place in the world. Apparently that place in the world was a cubicle in a customer service call center for an insurance company. Yes, that degree in Criminal Justice was being put to very good work.*cricket, cricket*. My place in the world was on the corner of Corporate Buyouts and Office Closures, and faced with the prospect of having to look for a new job, I took a cushy transfer offer (throw $1000.00 in moving expenses to a 22 year old and see how fast she grabs it), packed up the U-Haul with my fabulous co-worker Jason, and headed out to California.
That job ended up fizzling, but not before it gave me the best bonus of my life. Three months after I started the job in California, I went on my first date with a co-worker of mine, Edgar, who four months later became my fiance. Now he's my husband.
A few months after the engagement I accepted a job offer with a subprime mortgage company that will henceforth be referred to as The Devil. I won't be brainstorming a clever new anonymous nickname for it. I don't call it The Devil because it was a subprime mortgage company; I generally have no sympathy for people that bought houses that they couldn't afford and and didn't take advantage of their ARMS by using their 2 or 3 years of low interest to pay off other debts to improve their credit ratings so that they could refinance to a better rate after said low interest period (I know, how incredibly Republican of me. Don't worry, I really am a Democrat). I call it The Devil because it decided to "restructure" a year later and force me to move to a new place in the world located at the corner of Office Closureres and Unemployment. Unfortunately at that point, my husband-to-be had also lost his job (yay, recession!) and when our savings ran out 3 months after our marriage, we had to move in with his parents.
Oh, the joys of living with parents when you are a married couple. Goodbye privacy, hello in-laws encroaching on your life. No, mother-in-law, Edgar doesn't need you to buy him more underwear. Thanks, father-in-law, for eating the leftover pizza we brought home that I was going to have for lunch tomorrow. No, mother-in-law, seriously, I don't want to go to church with you. Oh, father-in-law? Please stop singing loudly to my cat. He's frightened.
Luckily for that parent-child relationship, Edgar found a new job in April 2009 and I just started one 3 weeks ago. The ink was dry on a lease for a loft in Long Beach about an hour later. Moving day is September 12th, and it cannot come soon enough. If anything, I'm longing for the day when I don't have to spend two hours in the evening in rush hour traffic to get from Torrance to West Covina.
So this is me. Hardcore Indianapolis Colts fan married to a Pittsburgh Steelers-love. Owner of a precocious cat-child named Fiyero (I loved Wicked, ok?). Avid reader (current selection: Beloved by Toni Morrison). Currently in the midst of the season 8 drama of Beverly Hills, 90210 reruns on the Soap Network. Hater of the word "moist" and people who insist on saying it in front of me to piss me off. Lover of wine, vodka, tequila....ok, anything with alcohol. And cheese. Enthusiast for Led Zeppelin, Dave Matthews, Harry Potter, and Barack Obama. And nail polish. Especially on my toes. Strong believer in naptime and DVRs. Aunt to the two most adorable children in the universe (they can hold that title until I have my own). Amateur blogger.
Questions?
Welcome to Me-Land
So this is it. I've done it. The blog. By me, for me, my own little corner of the sky. It seems like it's time.
I have a lot of thoughts but no way to express them. My husband has encouraged me to write in the past, so I've decided to take the plunge. I've been wanting my own little forum, my own soapbox, my own way to talk about what I think and respond to things I hear. Not that I have any egotistical delusions that anybody is actually going to read this.
So get ready, strap in, welcome to my head......
