Where or Where Has my Little Lorraine Gone?

Well, since I last blogged, Barack Obama won the election, my cousin Suzanne had her baby, we adopted a cute little kitten named Olive, and I got in a massive car accident. So to say that nothing exciting has happened would be a total lie. My political dream came true. That alone called for dancing in the streets. I wasn't sure this day would ever come...one where I am actually PROUD of my fellow Americans for making the right decision.

So moving on to our latest addition to the family. It started out with us wanting a second dog. Chris and I searched far and wide for the right one. We didn't want a new puppy. We aren't home enough and that would be unfair to the little girl or guy. So we wanted an older dog. A mellow well behaved older dog that we could rescue from the shelter.
Oh right. But then we remember that those kinds of dogs don't LIVE in the shelter. They live in homes with their very happy families. And while I am all about saving a shelter dog when you can, the maniacal half pit bull/half shepherd dogs that inhabited about 95% of every shelter we went to just didn't seem like the kind of dog that would fit into our lifestyle (or the lifestyle of our 11 pound papillon for that matter).
So after much deliberation (ok, like an afternoon) we decided on a cat. Afterall, we learned that our dog likes cats better than other dogs anyway. So we adopted a sweet little orange tabby. Olive is her name. She's about 5 months so not teeny tiny but nowhere near full grown. She is incredibly sweet and they get along swimmingly so now Tug has a pal.


As for me and the car accident, I lost a battle with a very big truck. (his fault, not mine for the record). I'm thankful that nothing is broken or disfigured but damn am I in a lot of pain. My body got banged around a lot and I whacked my head hard enough for a nice concussion. But all things considered, I'm doing pretty well. We went to see the car and chances are it is totaled. This is incredibly frustrating being that the car is PAID OFF and now currently only worth about 7-8K. So if we need to get a new car...even a used car...the insurance company giving us 7 or 8 K means that we will invitably end up with a car payment, unless we get an old junker. I'd rather not have an old junker. My car was a 2002 Ford Escape in pretty nice condition. What do you think the chances are that I can get something like that? Oh right. Zero. You'd think with this economy they'd practically be GIVING cars away, but they are somehow trying desperately to hang on to the notion that maybe people will still continue buying things for more than they are worth.
Fat chance, man. Fat chance.

Hockey Mom THIS

Ok- so I have settled in and I no longer have any excuse not to write. That doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly get good at it again, but I have no excuse. So I just had a little message. And it goes something like this.

Dear John McCain,

As a fervent supporter of Barack Obama, I thank you for making it easy on us liberals and blowing your own election by choosing a clueless dimwit to be your running mate. And I don't mean that in a sexist way (as seems to be the big concern all of sudden). I mean it in the way that any Vice Presidential candidate should be called a dimwit when they can't even define standard concepts or answer basic BIG ISSUE questions on foreign policies.

(please watch this whole thing. she has no clue and just rambles in circles. You'll notice that she doesn't actually SAY anything and I love how annoyed Charlie Gibson gets. Like he's explaining it to a school kid who just isn't paying attention.. "I get lost in a blizzard of words there").

It's nice, Mr. McCain, that you are using the same old scare tactics to try and fool Americans to voting for you. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared that enough Americans are naive to fall for it. But in selecting Sarah Palin as your running mate...well let's just say I can't wait for October 2 when Joe Biden rips her a new one in the Vice Presidential debate. I'm not sure if you noticed, but no matter how many times Palin says "Islamic extremists hellbent on destroying our freedom" it doesn't make her any more knowledgeable on foreign policy.

So, since you are so pro-America, I would just like to point out that you have chosen a running mate solely so you could pull in voters such as the extreme religious right and defected female Clinton-ites (who I'd like to think are not dumb enough to vote for McCain just bc a woman is running with him. Do you think they're that dumb Mr. McCain). If you were really concerned about the future of our nation, I'd like to think that you may have chosen someone who could point to Pakistan on a map so that when she takes over the biggest nation in the free world when you inevitably croak,  we'd have a shot in hell. 

Maybe I sound bitter here, but last time I checked, handing out fake homemade signs at the RNC that say "Hockey Moms Love Palin" is a pretty pathetic way to try to bring in votes.  And to any fellow Americans who may be on the fence, just remember what Palin really stands for. Remember how she is just as "hellbent" on taking away our freedoms (those of religion, choice, a clean planet, the list goes on) as many "evil people" she so very much loves to reference. It's all about perspective people. Let's not forget that. 

Blogger Block

I am in the throes of horrific blogger block. Oh wait. Then I just remember that it's bc I'm on facebook all the time. Dammit!

Cape Cod

Cape Cod has to be my favorite place. It reminds me of being a kid when me and my parents and my gram and my Uncle Michael and my cousins would all pile into some rented house and spend every day on the beach eating sandy PB&J sandwiches and deeming ourselves "THE BEACHIES!!!" I miss those days when even a sandy PB&J made it all okay.

Check out the pics!

Tidbits and...Turds?

Thoughts for the day...

-Tug has run full force into the porch screen door at least 10 times. I am wondering how long it will take him to get the concept

-Going to Cape Cod tomorrow and am wondering how many pairs of shorts I will actually require for 7 days at the beach. My current estimation seems to be somewhere in between 5 and 349058977.

-A trip to the Home Depot always seems to go something like this. You need sliders for the bottom of your chairs. You search in and out of every aisle until you realize you are never going to find them. You search guerilla style for a man in an orange apron, peeking in and out of every aisle until you spot one. He is surrounded by five other hungry shoppers, hovering like wolves. You wait your turn until forty-five minutes later you find your self stalking and accosting a poor acne ridden adolescent boy on his way to the bathroom rolling up his apron about the get off work and beg him desperately for the chair sliders. He directs you to the wrong aisle and you start the process all over again.

-I never watch TV. I am home alone today off from work, however, and was watching the Olympics. They ended and Martha Stewart came on. About five minutes in she referred so some poor chef's cupcake creation as looking like a "piece of turd." Tell me again why this woman is on TV.

Ok. That's  it for now folks.

Long Island...and then some

So here's the thing about my lady friends and bachelorette parties. Everyone I know has always said "I don't want any strippers" and I have been more than happy to oblige. I never had the slightest urge for one myself. But...then Jessica was having her party. And if anyone needs a stripper, it's Jessica. SO we all called Hunk-O-Mania and ordered a stripper. It went something like this...

Them: "Hunk-o-Mania, how can we help you?"

Us: "Ah yes...we'd like...one stripper please."

Them: "For when and what time?"

Us: "Um...Saturday at 6:30?"

Them: "What theme would you like?"

Us: "I'm sorry? Like...under the sea? or back to the future?"

Them: "No. Like policeman, fireman, doctor...."

Us: "OH YES!! Um...policeman please."

Them: "Officer Matt will arrive at 6:30. That will be $300 for a half hour."

Who knew strippers could be so expensive? And it was quite a business transaction, might I add. Jessica was not expecting a thing and Officer Matt was probably the nicest guy I have met in awhile. Not skeevy and no they don't get all the way naked. We thought it might be more like him doing a little dance, but in the end it was more like him totally violating us (in a PG-13 kinda way, nothing too horrible) and putting us all in these ridiculous positions like nothing I have ever seen in my life. It was really amusing and I'm really glad that I got to experience it...one time. That will probably be enough.  We then headed out to Fire Island and had an awesome night. Seriously it was so much fun.  Then since I am off for 3 weeks, I decided to stay at Kate's out on Long Island for the week. We basically ate, drank, and sat on the beach all week. It was awesome. Now I have to tend to the house and ya know...keep unpacking!!!!!

Dog Days

For the first time in probably....ever...Chris came to ME with a seemingly absurd statement.

"Lorraine, we need to get another dog."

I stopped for a moment and looked over. Was this my husband? My very sensible practical husband who does nothing close to impulsive? I examined him for a moment to make sure some alien clone had not taken over his body and yes, it seems that it was in fact my husband.

"Tug is all alone during the day now. He needs a friend."

I'm fairly certain that I had been begging for another dog since I started taking in random strays when we first got married. But now he was coming to ME with this request. He wanted a second dog. Another small one. Maybe a rescue dog who was calm, a little older than a puppy and already house trained. Well that sounds wonderful. Where can we special order one of those?? Last I heard the shelter was the puppy home for wayward souls, but I'd be more than happy to try.

So we take a trip to the local Humane Society. We are just dog browsing at this point. A family trip to Cape Cod in a few weeks causes us to question getting a dog before we get back. We are taking Tug with us to Cape Cod, but new mystery dog may not be ready for a frolic on the beach. New mystery dog may not be as well trained as Tug.  We go into the shelter as if we are walking onto a used car lot. Don't give into high pressure. We're just LOOKING! We're not ready to take ANYTHING home. More or less we just want to get an idea of what kinds of dogs frequent the local shelter.

Of course almost instantly we have a friendly older volunteer walk up to us asking what it was we're looking for. We give me our order. He pauses and more or less says we won't find anything like that here. I peruse the cages. Pitbull. Staffie. Shepherd mix. Pitubull. Staffie. Sherpherd mix. A Greater Pyrennes, which in another life I would LOVE to have. But essentially we need something small to medium. A few more volunteers come up to us. 

They ask if we could at least take a dog on a walk (since we are clearly worthless bastards who won't adopt a dog today). We feel bad. Very bad. So we take "Paul" on a walk. "Paul" is a pitbull who they tell us is the "good boy" out of the bunch. "Paul" drags us halfway down the block attempting to chase after every car, eat every piece of garbage, and take a chunk out of Chris's face. Since they said "Paul" was the good boy, we are questioning the caliber of dog we will find here. Now granted, I am ALL FOR adopting a dog. There is no reason not to. But until we can find that very special someone, I don't intend to take home any "Pauls" any time soon.

Wish us luck!!

It's Official!

Well, it's official ladies and gentlemen. Chris and I have moved into our first home. And we love it. After offering pizza and beer to my closest friends and family, we managed to complete the move in no time and save a ton of money by not hiring any damn movers (My recommendation? Just befriend burly men....or at least wimpy men like my friends who can muster up enough burly to move some shit).

However, it's the unpacking things that is getting to me slightly. The last time I moved, I was in between jobs and had all the time in the world to unpack. This time? Not to much. In fact, I am lucky if I even unpack a single item when I get home from work. Granted Chris and Jim managed to find the time to build a horseshoe pit in my backyard to play and drink beers at, but who needs clothes in the closet? Or shades on the windows? Or food in the pantry? Nah, not us. As long as we've got some horseshoes and some beer, we're apparently all good.

In any event, I've done some exploring of my new surroundings. It's quite gorgeous up here and close enough to everything that I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. It's about an hour from NYC..so definitely further than before...but I'm not cryin' about it. The dark skies and infinite stars that I see make up for it, trust me. Although the wide range of totally unidentifiable bugs...that I could do without. (I'm talking mutant bugs. Crazy bugs. Bugs I've never seen in my LIFE!).

So here's to home ownership. What does it really mean? It means I now check my account balance before I buy a bottle of water, cuz you never do know if there is any money in it.
Cheers!

Who Are The People At Your Local Gym?

Going to the gym is a little bit like going to the circus.  The characters one encounters are beyond anything you could hope to find at even the freakiest freak-show. Let me just briefly chronicle a few of my favorite characters.

Germ-o-phobe Guy-  Germ-o-phobe guy is frighteningly thin, guant, and intense. He goes to the gym covered from head toe. No. I mean COVERED. Long pants, long shirt, bandana wrapped around his head, gloves on his hands. Perhaps the thought of touching another person's sweat simply overwhelms him, but he does not allow a single inch of skin to touch any gym surface. Before using a piece of equipment he wipes it down with his OWN Clorox wipes that he brings from home. He then lays towels down on everything. Needless to say, with all the sweating he does under all those layers of clothes, he smells like someone's dirty gym socks they left in their locker for 3.5 years.

Excessive Grunting Guy- This one you can hear from across the gym. Only he doesn't only grunt - but yells, and highcoughs, and spits, and shoots fire from his ears!! I look over and see the veins in his head bursting. He is bright bright red and I am fairly certain that at any moment, his head will explode. Thankfully Germ-o-phobe guy has plenty of Clorox wipes to assist with clean up

Beefy Lady- Look- more power to you lady. You are 5'10" and have more muscle than me and my husband combined. But when you look at me with your fake tan, bleached blonde hair, and nail extensions that rival Wolverine, and give me that  "pish posh scrawny girl and her 10lb weights" look, I sort of want to rip your lycra bike shorts from your waist and wrap them around your neck. I'm just saying...

At Least I Look Cute Lady- Every gym has one. Or ten. She is decked out in the most expensive EVERYthing, full face of makeup, hair done, and a weight in one hand. She then proceeds to hold said weight and wander around the gym talking to dudes. I check every once and while to see if the weight has changed position or perhaps if she has decided to get on a machine. Once I believe I saw look perplexedly at the treadmill, shake her head, and then continue to gab whilst holding the weight. I am baffled as to how she stays so thin, considering she has never once worked out, but have to think that she could better be spending her $50 a month elsewhere.

Creepy Old Guy- I think this one speak for itself. I'm not completely sure, but I think he may even have given me a kissy face one time

WORKOUT IS LIFE Couple- These two treat a trip to the gym like they are fu**ing. No seriously.  One of them sits on a machine while the other one spots. They then proceed to encourage each other by saying things like "Oh yea baby, do it. Do it. Oh yea, you're so close."

Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend I am watching amateur porn. It's certainly more exciting than watching myself lift weights in the mirror.

And the list goes on and on and on.....

Cleric Lorraine Palizza Presiding

So I did it. This here atheist married her two best friends, Kate and Jim out on the docks in Long Island.

Check out the pics here...

Here's a sneak preview

To say the least, this was the most amazing experience. My two best friends asked me to MARRY them! I was so choked up when Kate walked down the aisle that I had to seriously pull it together when it was time to speak. HOWEVER, I got rave reviews and everyone told me I did a great job. In fact some guy even asked if I could perform his vow renewal!! (We'll see about that...).

In any event, it was pretty funny. Several people came up to me to tell me what a beautiful ceremony it was, which was nice. But then they'd ask if I was actually a minister. When I then explained that NO  I was not, but in fact I just got a certificate online for $29.95...the looks I got were pretty amusing.

At the end of the day, though, it was the most amazing experience and I am beyond honored that my friends asked me to perform their wedding. I will never forget this.  The wedding was gorgeous- an open air pavilion on the bay. The weather was perfect. 85 degrees with no humidity and not a cloud in the sky.  AMAZING band. And to top it off, someone was setting off a fireworks display across the bay right in the middle of the ceremony. Unreal.

What's YOUR Favorite Flavor?

Can't beat the selection in the Mexican Food Aisle at the Shop-Rite.

Bad Blogger

 Apologies for my disappearance. This whole moving thing is seriously eating my time. Will return when settled!!

Packing It In

Chris and I are hoping to move on July 26. That means it is packing time. I have moved almost every year since high school, whether it was from dorm to dorm or state to state....2006-2008 was the longest I'd stayed in one place since high school.

So you'd think I'd be a pro at it, right? Wrong. My problem is that I become totally overwhelmed by the process. I either start throwing everything out or packing everything in a box until I have 23 boxes marked "Miscellaneous" and one marked "Towels."  And that's as far as I get. Chris has a different approach. It took him the entire day to pack one room, being that he has to meticulously go through every single item in it. I was at the point where he was telling me "We need a box for junk and a box for doo-dads!!!"  when I totally zoned out. To add to it, I'm disgustingly ill today. A combination of no sleep and working a lot has left me with a nasty cold. 

Things I did succeed in doing today?

1. Take everything off the walls

2. Take nails out of walls

3. Fill a box or two

4. Find every guitar pick I had ever misplaced since Xmas

5. Fall asleep on the futon in the office while Chris continued to pack.

Needless to say, it was less than productive. Ah well. 

That Number Does Not Compute

Today I went to get gas at the local Getty station. I love this Getty station because it is run by a little Filipino man who loves everyone and pumps your gas for you...no extra charge. The gas there is usually a few cents cheaper too, and it is absolutely no frills. Something that is particularly no frills are the pumps themselves. They are the old school pumps with the rotating numbers and no option for "swipe your card and go" service. I notice a piece of paper taped to the pump. This is what it says.

"Due to the mechanical inability of this pump to recognize prices above $4.00, The Department of Weights and Measures has authorized the use of half gallon pricing. Therefore, your total cost will be double what it states on the pump."

Let me just reiterate that. Due to the "mechanical inability" of the pump, $4.00 gas was never supposed to exist. Let alone $4.25 gas. I wonder what's going to happen to my beloved Getty when gas hits $8.00 a gallon? Go out of business or get new pumps, I suppose. It's a sad sad state of things indeed.

Stimulus THIS

So Chris and I logged on to our bank account to find that, low and behold, our $1200 stimulus check has been direct deposited. Now we know what we are supposed to be doing with this check. We are supposed to be buying 1/2 a big screen plasma screen TV, we are supposed to be buying 3/4 of a laptop, we are supposed to be investing it in shares of a failing stock, or we are supposed to be taking a road trip on $1200 worth of gas, perhaps to somewhere exotic like...Southern Jersey.

But you know what we did with OUR stimulus check? Click. Transfer. Into Savings. Yes, folks. The economy blows, but quite honestly I know that we are going to need that $1200 for something legitimate, like (not even) 1/2 of a monthly mortgage payment. SO, we saved it. My hope is that most Americans with too. Not because I want the economy to fail. But because I think the problem with the economy is that Americans always want what they can't afford, and they want it right now. Perhaps if we all just paid for the things we need before the things we want, we'd all be in a better place. Now I am no saving guru. I spend on stupid shit sometimes. But that isn't very often. The fact is, I know that I need a lot of things for my house. And there are a lot of things I need long before I will EVER need a flat screen TV.

On that note, just another sign of a failing economy. I saw a commerical  today for Michigan. Yes, you heard me correctly. A commercial. As in, please move your entrepreneurial company to Michigan because we have a sick unemployment rate, and sure the state is in total disarray, but wouldn't you love to live in the lovely mitten state? That made me a bit sad. To say the least. 

Easy as 1..2..7...?

I never really liked math. Thankfully, I was always pretty good at it. But I never really liked it. So I'm not one to scoff at those who suck at it. But today was the classic example of why our society is generally dumb.

I go to the market today to pick up some fish for dinner. I enjoy buying fresh fish the day of.  So I have my fish, my red onion, a few other incidentals. The woman in front of me is talking to her daughter and is not speaking English. The cashier rings up her total. It comes to $19.28. She hands the cashier a 20. He punches it in and once the drawer is already opened, he is ready to hand her the 72 cents it tells him she is owed. She gestures to her purse and takes out some change.  The cashier gets a dollar bill ready, assuming it is going to be EXACT change.

Uh oh. She throws him for a loop and hands him 35 cents. Cashier boy, whose name of course is Kolby and is no more than 17, gets a look of complete horror on his face. He stops and stares as the 35 cents for what seems like an eternity, eyes widening and face getting redder by the second. I see the gears turning in his head. Is this really that hard? I mean come on. Even if you just count on your fingers, it's not that hard to do 35 minus 28!! 

I'd say a good  30 seconds went by. Sweet little Kolby is just staring at the screen. Perhaps he was hoping he could pull up a calculator function. Perhaps he was contemplating taking out his cell phone and using the function on there.  But then I realize something.  Oh my goodness. He doesn't even know how to make change!! He doesn't even know that all you have to do is take 35 minus 28...plus the dollar. I could see if the math was getting crazy. Like four or five dollars worth with confusing amounts of coins kinda change. But this is easy. He stares back at the woman who is still talking to her daughter, almost oblivious. He then asks her if she has exact change!

Only one problem. She doesn't speak English. She just says something in Spanish and points back at the money she has already given him. The perfectly valid 35 cents that should for no reason be returned to its previous owner. I look at Kolby and consider telling him that he owes her $1.07. But I think Kolby's pride was hurt enough, and I was sort of enjoying the spectacle if I'm honest.

Kolby turns back to his drawer. His hand hovers over the nickels, then back to the dimes, finally landing on the pennies. I think perhaps he's got it figured out. He picks up two pennies. . I try using some Jedi mind action to guide his hand over to the nickels. His hand is still hovering. It wavers. It shakes. It.....

...hands the two pennies to the woman. Still engaged in conversation, she is none the wiser and walks away, 5 cents short.  Oh Kolby, you were so close. You knew that from $19.28 you had to round up to SOMEthing...but it wasn't the right thing. And thus begins yet another generation of dumbed down technology dependence. (Man, when did I get so old??)

O-BA-MA!!! O-BA-MA!!!

Victory never felt so good. Whether you are a supporter or not, go watch his speech from last night. You would have to be made of steel not to feel inspired and moved.

Now, we move forward.

Is There Any Cure for Me!?!

The multiple listing service (MLS), where all the real estate for sale is listed, has become my new best friend.  I know what you're saying. Lorraine, you already bought a house, you can stop looking now. 

No, I can't. You see I have developed a nasty virus.  Unlike the typical "buyer's remorse" you often hear about, I have developed something on the total opposite end of the spectrum. It's called 

"I got the nicest house in my price range, nanny nanny poo poo-itis."  

I hear it may even me incurable. Symptoms include:

*Compulsively checking MLS for homes in the same price range that I got my home for

*Thoroughly examining each photo of said houses and scoffing at the ugly carpet, impossible to remover wallpaper, or horrific hot pink and orange bathroom tile.

*Calculating the amount of acreage of said houses times the desirability of location divided by the cost of taxes to the power of home renovations needed...times pi.

*Basking in the realization that my house has the most acreage, best location, moderate taxes, and least renovations needed of the homes in its price range....times pi.

*Compulsively RE-checking MLS in surrounding areas as well, to make sure that I'm still right.

Yup, it's a nasty nasty case I've got. But boy does it make me feel good at the end of the day!

Manual Labor

I spent this weekend in Rhode Island with Chris's family. It was nice to do the New England thing and see everyone, but I was more excited for Monday.

Monday was going to be manual labor day. We left Rhode Island around 8:30 am so that we could meet dad at my new house. Monday was the day we would do a few things.

1. Check out the hiking trails in our backyard. Yes, you heard me, there are trails in my backyard.

2. Introduce Tug to the new house and let him sniff all over our massive needing to be mowed lawn and our teeny tiny house.

3. DEMOLITION!!!!!!


Ok, so having hiking trails in the woods in your backyard? Um. Effing awesome. They don't go on for miles and miles but they go on enough for a good dog walking and a good little burst of "into the woods" time. Tug enjoyed thoroughly and even more-so enjoyed the big lawn to pee all over. But me? I was most excited for the demo to begin.

Our big plan is to get into the house by the end of July. Thankfully for us, very little needs to be done. The house was built in 1950 but has new windows, roof, driveway, siding, all the big stuff. What it DOES need is new molding and new doors. And this means we got to rip things apart. Nothing better than that!! There is something so therapeutic about hammering and pulling and throwing around big pieces of wood. My job was to wait on the deck for the hunks of wood and hammer all the nails out so the wood could go to the dump. And dammit I enjoyed it thoroughly!! Another thing I thoroughly enjoyed? Listening to my dad exclaim how well built this house is. That there are a zillion nails holding everything together and the walls are built like a fort.

You may not be able to appreciate this as much as I can. But my dad is an electrician by trade and can build anything. Anything involved with home improvement...he is a pro. But his favorite pastime is bitching about how poorly everything is built and how HE is going to have to fix all of it. So the fact that this lil' house in the woods that I bought happens to be to HIS standards of "well built" is so many years of redemption rolled into one, you can't even begin to understand. He even said that MY house was built better than HIS!!

SCORE!!!!

So I have to admit, I am thrilled with my little house. It's so damn cute, the property is so damn amazing, and pretty soon we will make it our own. It was not built with crappy drywall that will fall apart the minute I hang a picture, it was not built by some massive development company in one month so that it looks all fancy but is actually made of toothpicks....it is a good house. A good solid house with lots of possibility and I love it.
That and all the manual labor that goes with it. :)

Trauma- Life at the Doggie Park

No joke here. My brother's dog Holly is a papillon, just like my dog Tug. This means she is a small dog with a big dog's heart shoved inside of her, along with the cuteness of the cutest thing you've ever seen, the genius of lassie, and the athletic ability of...well ok...we'll leave that to Tug. My dog is the circus dog while Holly more prefers to lounge. But in any event, she's awesome. And all that awesome packed in to one little doggie tends to make other dogs....jealous.

Sadly for Holly, the other day that other dog happened to be a massive German Shepherd. Now look. I don't know how many of you people go to dog parks. But there is an unspoken rule. If your dog is an an asshole, ya can't come in!! In fact, add to that... if you are asshole who never should have gotten a dog in the first place, because you can't control it, ya can't come in then either!!!

Unfortunately for Holly, the apparent combination of both of these manifested itself into one said massive German Shepherd and one said massive raging asshole owner. No sooner were Stephen and Jocelyn about to leave, as too many big dogs started showing up, did this German Shepherd go apeshit. In what I can only imagine was the most traumatic thing they have ever witnessed (i was not there, i only heard) the German Shepherd attacked Holly, took her in his mouth and started shaking her back and forth violently.

She lived. Somehow. We all still aren't sure how. She apparently bled everywhere, as Stephen scooped her up and ran her to the vet. He thought for sure she was a goner, but those papillons, they are damn troopers. So Holly was stitched up (which took many many stitches) and while I always made fun of Stephen for having a slightly pudgy dog, I have to think her round lil haunches saved her life. Miraculously, despite two HUGE flesh wounds the size of a Shepherd's jaw, she did not break any bones or puncture any vital organs. So I have to think the fact that she was grabbed from the back, and not the head or neck, was a life saver. I really can't imagine witnessing that. Stephen says he hardly remembers what was happening because he was so traumatized. Of course after dropping Holly off for surgery they tried to see if the asshole owner had come to the vet or perhaps hung around the dog park, but no, of course he took off. His and his asshole aggressive dog. So they were stuck with the $1500 bill and a whole lot of grief. For someone who also has no kids, and only a dog, I know that your dog is essentially treated like your child. The thought of seeing it nearly eaten...well I just can't imagine that.

As of today, Holly is recovering doing well. But I imagine she will be a little off her game for awhile. So folks, the dog park can be a fun place. But dogs are dogs and animals don't always do what you think they are going to do. Dogs that have never been properly socialized have no place at the dog park. People who are assholes also have no place owning huge dogs that are probably smarter than they are. Take heed.

Why I Will Miss Rockland County

It's official. Christopher and I are homeowners. As of Monday we are the proud owners of a little ranch in Putnam County. And as of Wednesday night, we get to start moving in. (which we intend to do very slowly as we have a few things to get in line before we actually haul all of our crap up there).

So, I've lived away from Valley Cottage before. In college to Scranton and then to Nashville and then to Clarksville, TN. So yea, I've moved around before. But this is the first time I will ever be living anywhere in NY but Rockland County- so I have to write a little list on the things I will miss.

1. Living on Sequoia Drive

We currently rent the upstairs of my dad's house from him. I grew up on Sequoia drive, and am still friends with the families I grew up with since birth. The things I love about Sequoia Drive are: 

-It's name. Sequoias are my favorite tree

-The dead end. Nothing beats living on a dead end.

-The train. I have a huge freight railroad line that runs through my backyard. The sound (or should I say the defeaning sound) of the train roaring past is one of my favorite sounds.

-The creek. Or more like a moat now that they have widened it to prevent flooding. 

Here's to you, Sequoia Drive. I will clearly be back to visit my dad, but I will miss seeing you every day!!

2. Seeing my Dad

Ok, so my dad may be a pain sometimes, but at the end of the day he has the biggest heart of anyone I know. And as much as I get frustrated yelling so that he can actually hear me, or finding the my laundry has been folded (keep your hands off my unmentionables dad!) I will miss the fact that he would always ask if I wanted him to make me dinner, the oil on my car would miraculously be changed, and the dog would always be entertained during the day.

Papa D is the best.

3. Nyack

I heart downtown Nyack. I know there are plenty of similiar towns in Putnam and Northern Westchester, but something about Nyack will always be close to my heart!

4. Being so close to the Hudson

Not like I'm moving far from the water exactly, but I loved being right there.

5. The New City Diner

See my previous post about this one. I will miss the New City Diner so much. Not to mention that their owners have opened up a NEW second diner in Blauvelt.  I hope the grand opening happens before I leave!

6. Knowing all the super secret shortcuts

As most of you already know, I am totally obsessed with maps. I love directions and finding my way around. Living in Rockland my whole life, I can tell you 16 different ways to get to just about every destination. I know the fastest way, the shortest way, the way with the fewest lights, the prettiest way, the way with the best shops on the way, the way that will allow you to pass the DINER on the way, and every way in between.  So that fact that I will now be the sucker driving on the main roads because I don't know any other way....totally irks the shit out of me. 

7. Being close to Jersey

So again, not like I'm going to be FAR from Jersey, but I'll have to cross a bridge to get there. And in case you think Jersey is worthless, let me remind of these fun facts.

-Gas is almost always 20-30 cents cheaper per gallon

-It's always full serve. It's the law in Jersey that you cannot pump your own gas!

-There is no sales tax on clothes

-They have malls that are actually worth going to

-They have more diners per square mile than just about anywhere

-The Emm Effing Jerzzzzzey Shore

8. The Palisades Parkway

Unlike Jersey and unlike the other side of the bridge, we have a b-line road that takes us right to the GW bridge WITHOUT going through Jersey traffic and WITHOUT going through the Bronx.  So while it will be nice to be on the city side of the river, driving in through the Bronx to get to Manhattan will be a major pain in the keester. I have a feeling I may end up suffering the very long train ride to go into NYC.

9. The Tappan Zee Bridge

I know most Rocklanders would think I was absolutely out of my mind for saying this. The TZ bridge is old, constantly under construction, and notoriously backed up. But I cross it every day to go to work. And no matter what the traffic or the hold up, I can never deny a single fact. The view from the Tappan Zee Bridge is absolutely breathtaking. It crosses over the Hudson River for a whopping 3-mile span. It is the longest span of any bridge of its kind. To one side you get a view of Hook Mountain- gorgeous. And to the other side you can just peek around the corner to see the Manhattan skyline. Whether it's a gray choppy river day or a bright sunny day, I've seen more beautiful skies crossing that bridge that just about anywhere else. Not to mention that I have seen 5 rainbows- FULL ARCH rainbows- in the 2.5 years that I have been crossing that bridge every day to go to work. Gorgeous.

10.  I Grew Up Here!!

I guess I don't really need to elaborate on this one. I have awesome memories in this place. I have memories of people I will never see again and things I can never recreate. But in the end, I am excited to be moving. I am excited to start a new life with Chris in a new place. And it's not far from home (45 minutes). Just visiting our house on the day of our closing, I stood in the backyard and it took my breath away. This is MY backyard! This is MY house!!! I live here!!

What an amazing accomplished feeling that is. It's been a good week so far. :)

ShopRite Gone Wrong

Chris and I enjoy adventure. We also enjoy being creatures of habit in our own little ways. Grocery shopping happens to be one of these habits. Now admittedly, I am a fan of the "go to the market and wing it" strategy, while Chris is of the list-making breed. Years of being together has taught me that there is no way I am getting the man to the supermarket without a list. So be it.
Recently, our lives have been totally insane. Time is a thing of the past and hence grocery shopping for us usually means 8:30 pm on Sunday night. We try to tell ourselves this is normal by saying we are "avoiding the crowds" or "waiting until they restock from the Sunday rush" but in reality, then we realize that we go so late because there is no way in hell we'll ever get our shit together to get out of the house with list in hand before that time.

Today, however, something about our grocery trip completely rocked our world. Somehow between last week and this week, the ShopRite of West Nyack has completely remodeled. Apparently the freezer section had begun sinking into the marshland (this market is located next to the Palisades Mall, notorious for the fact that it too is sinking into the marshland, all 3rd largest mall in America of it).

This threw us for a loop. For starters, when you walk in now, you are faced with what is called the "Pharmacy Privacy Section." This section is stocked with condoms, pregnancy tests, lubes, and the like. This cracked me up as the "Privacy Section" is now the very first thing glaring in front of you as you walk in the store. How anyone thought that this would be "private" is beyond me.

I take a quick look around. WTF. The fruits and vegetables, which were once the far left of the store, are now located in what is the MIDDLE of the store, with aisles on either side of it. This completely effs our system. We always get the fruits and veggies first, then make our way through the rest of the store. Chris insists we should not break tradition and heads for the pile of peaches. I am hesitant. Shouldn't we start on one end and make our way to the other? No, the habit monster has struck again. Besides, I too enjoy our system. We are a well oiled grocery shopping machine.

Or well. We were. The problem is, they haven't just relocated the freezer section and a few shelves. They have completely re-arranged everything. I am totally out of sorts. To make it worse, I am wearing a baseball cap. I know what you are saying. What the hell does that have to do with anything? Well, for me, having my peripheral vision blocked out by the rim of my hat sort of does something to my consciousness. Don't think I don't realize how insane this sounds, but it's something like Jeff from Today's Special (if you don't know what I am talking about I pity your Nickelodeon-less childhood). In any event, my inability to see what is around me makes it impossible for me to function normally. But for some reason the little tunnel vision I develop with a baseball cap makes me feel all warm and cozy. I wear baseball caps only when going grocery shopping, and only when going grocery shopping in the rain.

So back to the mission. Things start going wrong when I break out in song and dance in the new "cereal and rice aisle." The cereal was never with the rice before. I do a little dance and sing a song about it. Chris is looking at his list, previously written in a manner that would allow us to go from end to end checking things off in the proper order. Well the new set up means out list is completely fucked. And now I am dancing. I get a look. Usually Chris likes my dances, but not when he can't find where the granola bars are located. We scoot into the napkin aisle. I am moving at a snails pace, commenting on every little thing I see, something like the kid in the outfield sniffing the dandelions. It's the baseball cap, I tell you!! Chris asks me to please stop dancing so that we can get this grocery trip over before 10pm.
We are now on a mission for oatmeal. I start hysterically laughing. Chris asks why, as my laughing has now prevented me from moving forward down the aisle. "Well, I was just imagining myself doing a little dance down this aisle, and it went like this." Uh oh. So I'm dancing in the market again. I tend to do this quite often. I'll think of something I think is funny and bust out laughing and no one knows why. Only now I had to go act on it.

We have now done at least 3 laps of the entire market as the new set up has totally screwed us up and we keep missing things on the list. Chris has gone up and down every aisle searching in vain for the couscous. I am still moving slowly, baseball cap mode, and I see Chris take off. Uh oh. He has entered "I am on a fucking mission" mode....and it has begun to escalate into "Code Blue my wife is dancing again, must move faster and ditch the crazy lady" mode. I look up from my tunnel baseball vision and Chris is practically running with the cart. By the time I mosey on over the his end of the store, I find a nice gentleman who works there. He looks disturbed. I ask him where the couscous is located. His eyes widen and he says "oh, some other guy just asked for that."
"Yea, he's my husband." Right now grocery boy is thinking wow, that guy was moving like he's on large amounts of speed, and he is married to you, who is moving like she is on large amounts of dope.

For the record, neither of us use drugs.

And normally, I do move quite quickly. Just not on a late night grocery trip when wearing my baseball cap. Needless to say, we left sans couscous and called it a night.

Savannah and Veterans

So the wedding in Savannah was great in the sense that Savannah is an amazing city. Everyone should get there at some point. Preferably in the spring (I have a feeling it gets nasty come summer time). However, seeing all of our old college friends from Chris's ROTC class was really hard. This is the first time they have all been in one place since graduating college. Opposite deployment schedules to Iraq have meant they have been in opposite places for years now. So they have all been shipped back and forth overseas multiple times.

I could go on and on about how sad it is. About how many of them are injured and scarred physically and emotionally. I could tell you word for word how they talked about wasting their 20's watching people die, and how maybe them dying would have been a better option. About how they would start having panic attacks in small spaces because they couldn't see the exits. About how they were having horrible neurological symptoms from an IED that went off yards away from them.  About how they are ALL getting out of the army but are having horrible times finding jobs, despite having college degrees, because the job market sucks and sucks 100 times more because of discrimination against veterans.

But instead of going into the great detail, I will just say this. My friends are not the same. They will never be the same. These experiences have changed them forever. And it makes me very very sad.  I am so lucky that Chris has readjusted to civilian life without issue. Most men who have been in this war are not so lucky. It truly broke my heart.

Three Years Today

On May 09, 2005 I was having open heart surgery. So today marks the three year anniversary of that day. Today, three years later, I am feeling good. I am running around like a maniac getting ready to drive to Savannah, Georgia for a wedding. Couldn't possibly be doing anything more different than I was that day in 2005.It's more or less totally insane for me to think about how this was me right after surgery...
Yup, that's me at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville, TN where I had my surgery. And no, my family isn't nuts. It was my own morbid curiosity. Pre-surgery I requested that they take pictures of me while I was still hooked up to the breathing machine, etc, as I was curious how that must have looked and thought it'd be a cool momento to have. This is the least gross picture that came out of the mix. All in all I had a breathing tube, a central line in my neck, a central line in my wrist, two pacing wires coming out of my chest, two drainage tubes coming out of my chest, EKG wires, a pressure cuff, an IV in each hand, and well...a massive effing scar.

But in any event, it has made me reflect about a lot of things. For starters, check out the difference between me then and me now...

THEN (about 2 weeks post-op)

NOW

It's amazing that you can hardly even see my scars any more! But the truly amazing thing is that I was given a new lease on life. I've not been shy about the fact that my health has been anything but ideal. In fact it has down right sucked. But if it wasn't for one very thorough echo-tech at Ft. Campbell's Blanchfield Army Hospital (trust me, I too am shocked that I am praising an Army hospital) I could very well be on my way to being a goner by now. The fact was, I had been complaining of cardiac distress since 1999. I had chest pains, palpitations, what felt like an irregular heart beat, all sorts of symptoms. The diagnoses that I received over the years before 2005? Acid reflux, costochondritis, anxiety, and mitral valve prolapse. More or less, doctors blew me off. A 20 year old coming in complaining of cardiac issues when nothing blatant pops up means it's probably nothing according to them. Now...I do have a mitral valve prolapse, but how scary to think that after all the echos and EKGs and cardiac tests that I had done in 1999, no one caught the other more life threatening congenital defects I had. In fact all my LIFE no one saw or heard them. These were things that usually got fixed in infancy!

So thankfully in 2005, I had an episode at my job. I kept feeling like I was going to pass out for weeks on end. I'd be driving to work and would have to pull over because I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I'd get short of breath and my head would feel like it was going to explode. For awhile I thought maybe I was having mini seizures because I'd almost lose consciousness for a moment and then zip back into it. But at work one day, I walked behind the nurses station and the head nurse took one look at me and said "sit the hell down." She said I was diaphoretic (sweating excessively for no reason), almost completely white in color, and looked visibly out of breath. My blood pressure typically is about 95/65. That day it was 150/100. My resting heart rate is usually high...around 80 or 90...but that day was 165. Resting. This was all completely abnormal. I got sent to the ER. And guess what. They said nothing was wrong. But they DID tell me to follow up with a cardiologist. Normally, I may have blown it off. But with all the symptoms I had been having, I knew I had to do something.

So I made an appointment at the Army hospital, as that was where my insurance worked out of. I was not thrilled about this because my experiences with the Army doctors had been nothing short of horrors. But I have to say, I literally owe them my life. Wouldn't you know it, that very thorough echo-tech saw that something was "a little off" to say the least. The right side of my heart was significantly enlarged. And it looked like there may be a hole. More tests were run and they found both the rare location of hole in my heart (which meant open heart surgery would be the only option for fixing it) and the pulmonary vein that was partially connected to the wrong part of my heart. Essentially, all the oxygenated blood was either leaking to the other side of my heart or being recirculated back out into my body. Very little of it was making it to my heart. In the end the doctors told me that the structural defects in my heart would have led the right side of my heart to enlarge even further, eventually leading to cardiac arrest. As the internet put it,
"After age 20 years, the mortality rate is approximately 5% per decade with 90% of patients dead by age 60 years."
Um. Yikes! However this clearly put things into perspective for me. Sure, open heart surgery sucked enormously. It tore my body to shreds. But I could have gone a lifetime never knowing and I could have been dead much sooner than hoped.

So in actually, open heart surgery was the best thing that has ever happened to me. My friend KK (Kristen) always tells me how much she loves my scar, as it is why I am still around. My appreciation for this fact is far deeper than I would ever show. Secretly, I do love my scar. Immensely.

Weighty Issue

In typical girl fashion, I have always had issues with my weight. While I realize that any normal person looking at me would say "You are skinny. Shut up." that isn't really where I am going with this. I'm not trying to imply that I think I am currently fat. I logically know that I am thin. But what it comes down to for me is feeling comfortable in my skin.

I have an issue. I can only operate in two planes. Eating way too much or eating way too little. My appetite fluctuates from non-existent to ravenous and does not know anything of a nice normal in between. So my weight has this tendency to fluctuate within this 5-10 lb range that I can't seem to get a good handle on. And the fact is that I am rarely comfortable in my skin. At 5'7" I know how much I should weigh. I know that my tendency is to weigh less than that. But I know that regardless of what number it says on the scale, I know how I like to feel in my clothes. And it irks the friggin hell out of me when I don't feel that way.

I try really hard to figure out what it is about my appetite and my food issues (I become completely fixated. Sometimes all I can think about is food. Whether it's seeking it out or avoiding it, I have no healthy relationship with it in any remote sense of the word). Perhaps it's something physical, perhaps my metabolism and my appetite just can't get it together. Maybe that's why my appetite fluctuates the way it does. Or maybe it's totally psychological. I don't really know. But either way, I'm growing tired of it. I want to be thin and fit and not too thin but not any less thin than I am now. Is that sooooo much to ask?

Oh. Well dammit....

Movin' On Up...sort of

On May 19, Chris and I are scheduled to have the closing on our very first home purchase. While this is extremely exciting, I have to be honest. I am scared effing shitless. Why? Because the thought of handing over a check for a sum that is the large majority of our life savings is kind of like bending over and letting someone have their way with you. Oh. That and the thought of paying the mortgage. Essentially, we will be paying more than double what we are paying right now in rent. Somehow we all calculated that we can actually afford to do this. But as I (now obsessively) check my bank statement from paycheck to paycheck, I find myself thinking...sure we can afford this. As long as we can eat imagination for dinner and figure out how to make our cars run on hopes and dreams!!!! The $1000 a month healthcare costs certainly don't help my case. Honestly if it wasn't for that, we could afford this house no problem. And I realize that when it comes down to it, I may have to scale things back for a little while. Not to mention that the job market being as it is, it doesn't look like either of us will be getting any big raises or promotions any time soon. Of course I guess the godwaful economy is the only reason we are able to buy a house right now ANYway. Living in the suburbs of NYC is also much like bending over and having someone have their way with you. A little less than actually living IN the city...but not by much.
Now I know what you're thinking. But you work in the NY metro area...you get PAID more!! Right?
Wrong.
I mean sure, I get paid more. Do I get paid enough more to make up for the absurd discrepancy between average salary and cost of living? Absolutely not!! When I was working in Nashville for that year, I made only $10,000 less than what I make right now. That's it. And in Nasvhille, making what I made was like being filthy rich!! Anything over 40K is like making 100K in NY. No joke. Proof? We rented a 4bedroom, 2 bathroom, brand new house with a shit load of land for a whopping $750 a month. We could have bought the same house for $80,000. I didn't work for the last few months I was there, after my surgery. And on Chris's salary alone, which wasn't much, we still had plenty of money to pay for everything we needed, wanted, and more. So yes. I may make more than someone living somewhere else. But I certainly don't make enough. Needless to say, I am not making six figures. And that's about what you need to make to make ends meet around here. I look at my friends who live outside cities like Philly and Chicago and I hear about them buying these nice houses in the $250's or nice condos in the $200's. For fun, I plugged 250K into a real estate search engine in the three local NY counties that surround NYC. Rockland (where I currently live), Westchester (where I currently work) and Putnam (where I am moving to). Westchester is directly north of the city, north of the Bronx to be exact, and sick expensive. Rockland is directly across the Hudson River from Westchester and while there is a bridge involved, is just as expensive as living right next to the city, and Putnam is directly north of Westchester. Northern Putnam and the really out of the way places are more affordable, but Chris works in the city...so naturally we are moving to an area of Putnam that is right on the Westchester border. So...still pretty pricey albeit a little less. So here were my results of a single family home that you can get in each county for $250,000...

ROCKLAND
This lovely two bedroom "cottage" located in West Haverstraw, which is kind of like the suburban ghetto, located right next to what looks like a crack house. The description says "Handyman special! Sold as is" which translates to "total shitbox! good luck!"

WESTCHESTER
This dreamy semi-attached in Yonkers! Also sold, "as is." Yonkers has nice areas and really not nice areas. For the most part Westchester County is really nice, with one or two exceptions, but hence is by far the most expensive county. Everything I pulled up on a 250K search was either in ghetto Yonkers, ghetto Mount Vernon, or a one bedroom cottage on a lake somewhere that looked like something out of deliverance.

PUTNAM
Putnam county is great. It's a lot of land and conservation areas and lakes. Gorgeous places in Putnam exist. But it is basically the place you go when you want to still be able to commute to the city but you just can't afford to buy anywhere else. However by national standards, it is still not cheap. Not at all. As it is Chris's train ride is going to be 70 minutes long and we are moving to the southern-most reasonable tip of Putnam that we could find near a train station!! So I found this oh so lovely two bedroom ranch in Brewster, which is the town we are moving to. The description boasts things like "level lot" and "great for investors- do a flip!" which basically says hey, we know this house is a shitbox. That's why we're selling it for so cheap. Oh but don't worry, taxes on this baby are still $7,000 a year. Imagine an actual nice house? Yea. Welcome to my world.

Let's play another little game now. What can you get for 500K in these counties? In most other places in the US, you can get an effing mansion for 500K. Let's see what our search turns up..

ROCKLAND
A 3 bedroom ranch in New City, which does boast the best schools in Rockland. This house is 1500 square feet, .95 acres of land, and $9000 a year in taxes. It costs 500K.

WESTCHESTER
This lovely 4 bedroom in Greenburgh! A whopping 1600 square feet! One tenth of an acre of land. Okay area. Looks like something someone's grandma must live in. $10,000 a year in taxes. Did I mention that Westchester is obscenely expensive and that is why I will never live there???


PUTNAM
Well, I suppose this is a house that almost looks like it should cost 500K! Although I realize that to anyone else in any other part of the county, this house looks like it should cost about 300K. 4 bedrooms, 2500 square feet, 1.2 acres. But this is why I am moving to Brewster, I guess. Just a bit farther north and things do change at least a little.

So what about our place? We found ourselves the least expensive house in all of Brewster that was still actually nice, which as it so happens is also the most we could ever humanly possibly afford at this time. And it's a lovely little...and let me restate that...LITTLE house. 1300 square feet of little..although that doesn't include the full basement we intend to finish. Honestly, I am not in the least complaining about the house we bought. I love it. It's perfect for us right now. I am just so happy that we can buy anything at all, and while I am BAFFLED that houses cost so much in this area, I do not need some big house, as previously stated. I am honestly in love with our little home, the idea of having our own place with our own back yard, and the town that we are moving to (Brewster). The house is a three bedroom ranch on an acre of land. The land is what really sold us on this place. It's got a huge backyard and what feels like endless woods behind that house. And woods they won't build on. There are big evergreens separating our house from the houses next to us, and they are plenty far away. It's got charm. A cute little fireplace room with an entire wall of built in book shelf. Yea. We love it. And it doesn't really need work, other than some cosmetic stuff and some sprucing up of the landscape. But all the big stuff...windows, roof, driveway, etc...is all done.I won't even let you guess how much it cost, but with the housing market as it is (remember that folks...all these houses you see above still cost 250K despite the housing crisis. Imagine a few years ago?) it wasn't nearly as much as it may have been two years ago. We managed to stay under 400K, but not by that much. And to be honest, the fact that it was under 400K blew our minds. Just a year ago nothing would even come UP on a real estate search for a single family home under 400K. Maybe that semi-attached in Yonkers. So honestly, we just feel lucky and proud of ourselves for being able to do this. It's been a long haul. We knew now was the time to buy. We had nothing to sell and some money in the bank and the interest rates were amazing. (We locked in around 5.6%...sad when I get so excited about something like that). So we went for it. However don't be surprised if all of a sudden I stop blogging because I had to give up my internet service to pay my mortgage.
Doh.
PS...here's what a million dollars can get you in Westchester. (sorry, I had to). Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, 2000 square feet, and one tenth of an acre. A million bucks and your neighbor is on top of you. Oh...and $17,000 a year in taxes. For the record, there are towns in Westchester that you can plug in homes worth a million dollars as the MAXIMUM...and no homes show up in the search.
IIIIII LOVE NEW YOOOORRRRKKK!!! Next edition...what can you can get for a million dollars in the five boroughs!!?

Rich People Are Assholes

I have never in my life had money. I don't know what it is like to come from money, have money, and will most likely never be rich. (Because I'm an idiot and live in NY where the cost of living is completely insane, but anyway....). I work in Westchester County, which for all intensive purposes is full of completely rich assholes. I mean stupid rich. $3000 on a bag is no big deal rich. A lot of people would most likely be jealous of this kind of lifestyle...the big house, the clothes, the vacations.

Me? I don't really see it that way. To be honest, I don't want a McMansion (my term for all these pre-fab huge brand new houses that they throw together in a month in developments of 10 and 20 at a time, and then charge a million dollars for. I despise them and would never want one). I'd much rather live in a tiny farmhouse with some character. And I don't need stuff. Stuff is exactly that. It's just useless STUFF. Do you know how much stuff I donate annually to good will and I don't even SHOP. It's still a lot of stuff! I have always been baffled with this country's obsession with stuff. We need more more more always more of tons of useless crapola. I will never understand it.

But this story I read this morning...this really effing cracked me up. The thing that kills me about rich assholes is that they try to act like they are just average people with financial struggles like everyone else. What they are forgetting is that they are having financial struggles because they bought a 5 million dollar house, married a gold digger who spends my salary in a month just buying clothes, and have shithole kids who want BMWs and then crash them two weeks later. I have struggles because I want to do things like get better, eat healthy food, and put gas in my car. And I have a Masters degree and am an Occupational Therapist and a Supervisor at my job! Yea. Still totally poor.
But listen to what this ass said. Jose Canseco recently foreclosed on his home because he just didn't want to pay for it anymore and knew he couldn't sell it right now. And this is what he had to say about it....

"You know my life, this financial thing, is a very complicated issue. Obviously, when you make all that money, people think, `OK, let's assume it is $35 million.' People have to understand that $35 million, you're paying the government 41 percent. That leaves you with about $17 or $18 million, not even. Then you're taking care of your whole family."

What!? You poor baby!! You have to take care of a FAMILY making only $17 or $18 mill!? Who could EVER afford to do that!?
S-H-I-T--H-O-L-E!!!

You see folks, this is just one indication of my problem with this country. People are all about making as much money as humanly possible with no regard for the little guy. People only care about what will fund their next ridiculous purchase. And unfortunately the little guy is roped into this and HE is the one foreclosing on his house because in actuality, he really couldn't afford it in the first place. In actuality, predatory lenders screwed him royally. In actuality, a government like we have right now cares only about progressing the big guy and shitting all over the little guy.

The scary thing is, that I have become the little guy. Again, me with my Masters Degree and professional job. The middle class is quickly disappearing. We have the rich, the poor, and the utterly destitute. It's a sad sad time for America.

Intercoms Are Awesome

You may not know how much fun an intercom can provide. That might be because you don't have one.

For those of you who don't already know, Chris and I currently rent the upstairs of my dad's house from him. (Though we just bought a house and are closing in May! Yippee!)
But in the meantime, we are here. My father, love him to death, is the most deaf human being on the face of the planet. Years of working on construction sites as an electrician will do that to you I suppose. He refuses to wear a hearing aid and speaks at a ridiculously loud volume.

Today I come home and see a little gray box plugged in on the counter in the kitchen. I click the button. "Testing?" My father responds that he got this for when my Uncle Michael moves in. (More on good news, once I move out, my Uncle is moving in. He lives alone in the town over and my cousins and I are all completely thrilled that our single dads will be living together so we can worry about them less...). Anyhow, my dad claims this way he won't have to bother my Uncle if he gets a phone call or needs him. He can just intercom on up. There is a locked door dividing the up and downstairs. For the most part we just leave it opened, but good to know it is there!
So I click it again. "Luuuuuke.....I am your faaaather." I probably said that about 12 times before my dad told me to knock it off. I walk away from the little gray box.

Check some email. Do some stuff for work. But I see it...taunting me... just sitting there, out of the corner of my eye. I creep back over to it. "WEEEEEEEEEE!!!" I squeal in a ridiculously high pitched voice. My dad responds asking if I need something. "No, I'm fine." Back to work. Two minutes pass, max. I wonder what other high pitched annoying sounds I can make. I wonder what it will sound like. I creep over again. "YIIIPPPPPEEEEEEEEEE!!" My dad tells me to knock it off. "Saawwreeee" I lament.

Write a few words. Tap tap tap my pen. Write a few more words. Tap again. I feel a bead of sweat or two form on my forehead. I charge from the table to the beautiful gray box and completely freak out, Tourette's style, making all sorts of ridiculous sounds and noises and words and songs and OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS THING!!!

I wait. Hmmm. No response. I go downstairs. There's my father, wearing the headphones we bought him for Xmas, as he tends to listen to the TV at a ridiculous volume. Looks like they work for drowning out crazy daughters as well. Why do I get the feeling that the little gray box will be removed from my kitchen by tomorrow....

Kurt

I heart Kurt Vonnegut. Just a little reminder...

Tug

I'm not just being partial. Tug is the best dog ever.


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Feeling Old

Man, I feel old. Not because I think 28 is old. I know it's not actually old. But because I can no longer hang. I mean let's be honest. I could NEVER really hang. But there was a time, once upon a time, that I could go out until all hours of the night, night after night, and sleep until ten the next day and be fine like nothing ever happened. Now I have maybe one good night in me and then I'm done. I think the main problem is that I can no longer sleep late. Not in the sense that I have so much to do that I can't sleep late, but as in my body won't let me. By 8 AM my body is just saying "What the hell, get out of bed you lazy shite!" So after karaoke on Wednesday I was a little reluctant to head out again with Brennan and Joe to Hoboken on Thursday. Chris had work all this week so he couldn't come out and it's a bit of a haul to Hoboken, but I went anyway. As always I'm GLAD I went. I had a kickass time. But by 2 AM the thought of driving home 45 minutes almost made me want to curl up on the sidewalk and just take a little nap until the morning. I could have stayed at my brother's place as he lives in Hoboken, but he had to work today and I figured ringing him up at 2 AM would have been a tad rude.

So here I am, it's 10 AM and I magically slept until 9 today. But two days out past 2 AM in a row and I'm seriously shot to hell. Chris and I are supposed to go hang with our friend, Dave Moretti tonight. Chris and Dave have been friends since high school and were in their sketch comedy group together. Dave is a pretty well known actor in the gay community and stars in a show called "The Lair" on the Here! network- a gay focused television network. That's him in the title pic on the right...without the fangs...it's a vampire show but he plays the detective! Anyway, he lives in LA but is in town tonight doing some big promotion party at a huge gay club in NYC and we were going to be "put on the list" so we could go. Then he tells us it doesn't actually START until after 11:30. I don't really know why I am surprised. Did I think the party at the gay club was somehow going to start at 7pm? No. It'll be an all night rager. So here I am thinking gee, is Dave by any chance available for dinner? I don't think I have a third night of going out in me. Especially being that NY stays open until after 4 AM. At least in the Jerz things close at 2!! Thankfully I think Dave does have some "free time" from 6-9 pm (god he's such an actor now, penciling us in and all, but gotta love him). Hopefully we'll get to go to dinner, maybe walk around the city a bit, and get the hell home.

Yup. I feel old.

Karaoke

Last night I went to Karaoke Night with Brennan and Joe. Joe is actually a legitimate musician --> Joe Wilson Music and pretty awesome if you ask me. But this makes for good times during Karaoke. The bar was definitely full of some interesting folk...
For starters, I pull up and see Brennan outside. "This guy's singing opera. He brought his own CD." What? I take a moment to listen and in fact he is correct. I walk in and see "Mickey" who is a 'Nam Vet busting a lung on some high notes. He retires to a corner when he is finished and I notice that he still has headphones on. He's sort of mumbling to himself. Holy crap, he's actually practicing for the next song...
But he's a 'Nam Vet. We all know this means he can do whatever the EFF he wants and no one should say a damn thing about it. Good for you, Mickey. Whatever gets you through the PTSD. (no, I mean seriously).
There were one or two legitimately good singers, Joe including, but for the most part it was your standard fare of horribly drunk trashy girls murdering already horrible songs like "Hotel California" (puke). At one point a group of insanely smashed girls tried to get up there and sing "Hey Jude." Now...isn't there a code? Isn't there a Karaoke code that says:

A) Never attempt to sing the Beatles
B) If you are stupid enough to attempt to sing the Beatles, don't sing "Hey Jude." Everyone knows that song and will know you are effing murdering it.
C) If your version of singing is more like screaming in a single flat key...don't sing at all!

No? Well, someone should make one. I did not personally sing any Karaoke though I did sing my little heart out at the table. The fact of the matter is, I certainly wasn't going to sing alone, Joe is an amazing singer who should sing alone and not with me, Brennan only wanted to scream backup for Joe, and I did not have a group of drunk sluts with me to go and sing some horrible version of "Magic Carpet Ride" - so I just sat this one out.

Here's Brennan and Joe rocking out to some Weezer. Score.

I'm Nervous....

...about the PA primary!!! I've already petitioned all my college friends who are from or still live in PA to make sure they are registered and go vote

Now let's just hope they listen! Being a New Yorker, I knew Hillary would win in NY- but I can at least hope that my college town and state will vote Obama! Eek!

Papillons and Kitties and...Birds? Oh My!

Look at this ridiculous love fest. My dog Tug (the red and white one), my brother's dog Holly...also a Papillon like Tug...and my cat Morgan. Let me tell you something. I have no idea how this happened. First of all, Morgan hates everyone. I love Morgan to death but she will scratch your freakin eyes out if you pet her 3 seconds beyond the point at which she no longer wishes to be pet. The fact that I walk in on her snuggling up with these two? Total insanity. We were watching my brother's dog Holly this weekend. And as for Holly, she is the reason I told Stephen to marry Jocelyn. No one has Papillons and when I found out she had one, I said she HAS to be the one. Tug was the only Papillon I'd ever seen in person at that point! But she is a pip. She thinks she is a rotweiller and will attempt to take on any dog, cat, or human if she wants. Typically she and Morgan do not get along. And as for my sweet little Tug. He is the best dog ever, but is a total wimp. He loves people and loves Morgan, but can do without other dogs. He is either scared of them or ignores them. He and Holly have learned to co-exist but he certainly is not apt to SNOOGLING with her!!
So this may have been the funniest thing I saw all day. Until it turned to the most disturbing.
Perhaps you don't see the fourth member of this little picture here. Yes, there is a fourth. After taking this picture, I went to go pet Holly. What's this? Holly, you have a feather in your tail. I go to pull it out. It's not pulling out. I look closer. What the...
It appears that Holly's tail fur is all matted in some sort of crazy cocooned rat's nest. Something is effing in there! I pick her up holding her as far away from me as I possibly could and run yelling downstairs to my father who is actually on the phone with Stephen. I'm squealing at this point. I shove the dog in my dad's arms and he takes her outside.
Then I hear HIM yelling. "Rainey!!! You won't believe this!!!"
AAAAAA! WHAT!!!!

Yea, you guessed it. There was a dead baby bird tangled in Holly's hair. I have absolutely no idea how this happened. I have no idea whether it was already dead or if it died in the throes of attempting to release itself from Holly's tail fluff. It was a tiny thing, but it was dead and tangled in her tail. I now start flipping out. She was sleeping in my bed last night! Has it been there since last night? Am I going to die of bird flu? Did I touch the bird and then unknowingly but my hands near my mouth? WHERE'S THE PURELL! OH MY GOD!!
My dad chops off hunks of Holly's tail fur to get this thing out and disposes of it. I call my brother squealing like a maniac. He is totally baffled. We are all totally baffled.

Something tells me that in the history of all dogs on the entire planet, this is the first time one has come inside with a dead baby bird tangled in its tail. I'd bet money on it. Someone PLEASE prove me wrong.

Obama in Scranton!

Senator Obama at the Glider Diner in Scranton! I have to say, even I wouldn't eat at the Glider, but kudos to Barack for giving it a go!

I went to college at the University of Scranton in Scranton, PA. Most people know Scranton from it's fame in the show "The Office" (and let me tell you, they have it dead on, and knowing about Scranton makes that show so much funnier because they throw in tons of jokes and references you'd only get if you are familiar with Scranton). But it's also an area of political focus. Scranton used to be "The Electric City" and was a booming economy for coal. Then the coal ran out. Scranton plunged into total destitution and was known for having the highest population of people over the age of 80, second only to some town in Florida. Essentially, the jobs died out and all the young people left. The University was about the only thing keeping it going. Healthcare, unemployment, social security...Scranton was an area in total crisis. But they made changes. Granted tons of money for city was earned by citing college students for underage drinking or even just being NEAR a party my sophomore year of college. In that one year, they cracked down on the students so hard that they managed to make enough to revitalize the city. Do I think this was the best way to go about it? Um. No. Certainly not when I was in college. But the amount of dough they racked up made for some seriously nice changes. Businesses started moving back into the downtown. Suddenly there were cute restaurants, new bars, boutiques. It almost looked like...a city again! I have to admit, Scranton is now a sweet little spot and I give it a lot of credit. It's not easy being North Eastern PA (NEPA for short). It's heavy on rain, clouds, and wind, and never short on dysfunction. It has hills so huge that it made me wish they'd install conveyor belts to get me to and from class. But all in all, I freakin' loved going to Scranton. And I freakin' love the NEPA. It's cheap as hell to live there. Chris and I have considered moving there on more than one occasion, but the pitiful job market means we'll be staying in New York. Most likely for good.

Way to go, Barack! Wish I was there to see you!!

Seeing Ex-Boyfriends

By some odd chain of events, I ended up in Philly yesterday for my ex-boyfriend Steve's 30th birthday. I realize how strange this sounds. Most specifically since Chris was away all weekend at National Guard. However, Chris was well aware that I was going and being that Steve and I dated a gazillion years ago, he was fine with it (or so he says). Steve and I have always remained friends. Not "hang out all the time" friends. But friends. And somehow it ended up that the extra ticket he had for the Phillies/Mets game was going to go to....yours truly.

At first I'm thinking this might be a little weird. The other game attendees are going to be his older brother and some friends. Friends that I have not seen since we dated. Aren't they going to think this is weird? But then I tell myself no. They probably won't even REMEMBER me as Lorraine the girl Steve dated. I'll just be his friend Lorraine from college. That's fine.

Except that I was dead wrong. His brother must have some kind of supersonic memory. Not only did he remember me as "the hot girl that Steve fucked it up with" (apparently he told Steve often that he was a total idiot for breaking up with me. I can't say I disagree of course) but he seemed to know things about me that implied I'd been a topic of conversation on more than one recent occasion. "Oh, is your husband still in the army? Are you still an occupational therapist? You live just outside NYC, right?" He seemed to know more about my life than Steve did when we were dating!!
Then there was Jay. I'm almost startled to think of the last time I saw Jay. It involved Steve and I visiting him and his girlfriend. To make a long story short, Jay ended up seeing me naked. So all I am thinking now is, "Does this guy remember me as the girl he saw naked? Does he have a mental image of me naked? No way, right?"
Wrong.
Jay comes up to me almost immediately and says, "Do you remember that time we all hung out when you came to visit Harrisburg?" with a look on his face that says, "And I totally saw you naked??" So I smirk back...yes yes I remember.

So I am officially "that girl." I'm NEVER "that girl." The one who everyone is looking at thinking what the eff is she doing here. Where's her husband? Doesn't anyone care that she's hanging out with someone she used to have "relations" with? Suddenly I am completely self conscious and thinking yea, what AM I doing here? But I'm just having innocent fun with someone I now see as a friend. So what if people here have had relations with me or seen me naked or think I'm the hot girl (which I find preposterous) . Eff em!

All in all it was actually a really good time. It did, however, remind me of things that I loved and hated about dating Steve. In college he was just the coolest in my eyes. Vegetarian straight edger addicted to hardcore music and speed metal? Yes please!! Of course while he is still a Vegetarian, he's mostly dropped all that as he drinks now and doesn't bounce around to hardcore shows melting his face off. But there was plenty of stuff that made me nuts. For example, his amazing ability to be late for EVERYthing. What was supposed to be my going to a 4pm Phillies game and some dinner turned into my not leaving until after 11pm. This would be because we didn't actually EAT until 10pm. Steve is the kind of guy who says he will be somewhere and then shows up 6 hours late. No seriously. 6 hours. Once he told me he would be at my house at 8pm and showed up at 2am. As if nothing was wrong. After the game, Steve told some friends he was just going to go back to his place to change and then meet them for dinner. In a normal world, this should take no longer than 15 or 20 minutes at MOST for guys.

Right.
Me and Steve and his bro and Jay all go back to Steve's place after the game. First off, I am then reminded how Steve is even more of a slob than I am. In fact he's just outright dirty. I almost didn't want to use his bathroom. He actually remarked "sorry if there are pubes and stuff in there" and something about Jay having explosive diarrhea and him puking last night. Awesome. I enter the bathroom wondering just what kind of hair that is exactly all over the sink. I believe I decided Steve was actually shaving facial hair that he left in the sink...let's hope. I notice some random tortilla chips in the wastebasket. I won't even begin to go into the condition of the toilet. I somehow manage to make it out alive.

I come out and see the boys set up in front of the X-Box. No one has made any move to go
change. They have something called "Rock Band" which is the next evolution of the "Guitar Hero" fame.

Steve on guitar. Jay on drums.

I realize the picture above looks more like two teenagers than two 30 year olds. But hang on just a minute now. There's a drum set? I need to try this. So I kick Jay out of the drummer seat. I love drumming! Love it! This is the best game ever! I need to buy an X-Box and the $200 Rock Band game...TOMORROW!! Crap. Wait. What time is it? Yea, you guessed it. Hours have gone by. Notice in the above photo that they are still in Phillies garb. Our "quick run home and change" turned into a Rock Band extravaganza. Now I have a slightly better understanding of what happens in the infinite lost hours of Steve-dom.
By the time we actually get out of the apartment and go eat it's about 10pm. I eat quickly and say bye to everyone, thinking perhaps I will see them again when they have forgotten the images of me naked. Perhaps not. But all in all, as seeing ex-boyfriends go, it was a good time.

Open Windows

Man I needed today. I needed it so bad. I'm sitting here right now with all the windows open listening to (you guessed it) the crickets sing to me. It was 79 degrees today. Don't get me wrong. I love all four seasons. But my mood is profoundly affected by so many things and sunlight happens to be a big one. So when I see the sun shining and I feel it on my skin- to be honest I'm more likely to slip into mania now more than ever! I get so happy I think I might burst. Then I get a little impulsive, I'll be honest. But all in all I had a kickass day.

For starters, I went to the district annual review meeting for one of the kids I work with. I managed to get him occupational therapy services over the summer, as well as have his OT continue twice a week for next year. Score. On the way to work after this I called my co-worker and told her we should run out and get salads and eat outside. We work on a main road in a building, but there is a small patch of sunny grass on a ledge out back and it is just perfect for eating lunch!! 40 minutes later we agree to go back inside, albeit reluctantly, as we had kids to see. I go into the bathroom and see my rosy cheeks and a few extra freckles and I just have to smile. Those little freckles mean the leaves will be out any time now, I'll be kayaking at my cousin Claire's lake house and going to the beach soon enough!!
Then...bonus. My 3:15 canceled. My 4:00 canceled. My 5:00 asked to come in early!! So i see him at 3:15 and I am OUT OF WORK by 4:15!!! I sit in some traffic on the way home but I don't even care as I have the windows down and Cold War Kids playing (great sunny day music). KK calls and asks me if I want to walk the lake. Hell yes I do. We motor it for 3.3 miles and then we decide to drive to Nyack and walk the sick hills there.


Yes, the horizon is the top of that hill. Granted we are only walking but KK has shitty asthma and I'm still a little bit of a joint disaster so we do whatever we can for exercise. (don't judge me, as I am clearly already judging myself...).
Came home and Chris was on his way to leaving for National Guard this weekend. I still cringe whenever I see him in those damned fatigues. I know some people think the army uniform is hot (though I have to say, when he's just wearing the pants with the brown t-shirt and the boots...well...yum...) BUT for the most part I just have horrible flashbacks to TN when he was working full time active duty and he'd come home in that damned thing every day. And of course Iraq.
But no worries. It didn't ruin my wonderful day. I did sit down for this blog with a mind racing, no doubt due to the sudden influx of sunshine and vitamin D. I have to remind myself to just stay calm tonight, not do any online purchasing, not go out and wander around by myself, and not do anything else that hints of mania...and I shall be fine.
Cheers to spring!!

**ADDENDUM**

Typically when Chris is not around, I end up not eating. I love to cook for him and for us but when it's just me, I just don't bother. But, as if today couldn't get any better, my father brought me SUSHI!!! Yes! Officially the greatest day ever!