Grape Did It

Even the Grinchiest hearts relent in the spring

Paranoid

"What's all the dirt in our bathroom?"

"I don't know, I found some like that in the guest bathroom too,"

"What? There's dirt - in this strange shape - all over the other bathroom too?"

"No, I cleaned it up but there was, I guess it's in both bathrooms,"

"Well?! How did it get there? I've been at the restaurant all night!"

"I don't know, I don't know, is anything missing?"

"JEEZ I DON'T KNOW, how can you act so calm?!"

"Hope, the only place in this complex where there is mud is where you take the dogs out - go get your shoes and check them,"

"...oh, yeah, here look, my shoes have that odd shape on the bottom and are full of mud. I must've popped into each bathroom before I left for work,"

"I was afraid you were about to make us move again,"

Would you like dressing on that?

The other day I pitched a salad fork into one of my customer's laps. He took it fairly in stride, gave me a weak smile, but said it was ok. As I blushed and continued to apologize profusely, his friend grabbed a small handful of salad and threw it into his lap, along with the dirty fork. To emphasize that, no really! it's ok, he likes having things thrown on his pants. The first guy - the one who's lap became a fork holder - looked slightly taken aback by his friend's behavior, but kept a faux amused look on his face for my benefit as his friend continued to throw lettuce onto his pants. I need more friends like that guy.

The women in my family? We're not show offs

Oh I'll get a kiss if I want a kiss

It's not, but it sounds dirty

"Ok, take off your shirt and close your eyes,"

"Oh, ok,"

"Now, put your hands on my shoulders and just walk with me,"

"Um, yeah, ok, do I need to be nervous?"

"No. Keep following, I'm guiding you right,"

"Now. Lie down on the bed,"

(Sound of buttons being pushed)

"Aaaah,"

"Can you feel that? Is it nice? The new fan I bought for our room?"

Happy Birthday Dad

Hi Dad!

I know you don't read my blog, and I think we can all be honest here and say that is a good thing, but happy birthday to the man who heard, "I HAAAAAATE YOU!" every day between my 13th and 17th years of life. I don't hate you, I never did, but boy did I believe it when I tried to leave the house wearing cut off shorts so short the pockets hung out and you wouldn't let me. How dare you. Try to make me behave like a lady when it was so, not cool. And all those times you tried to protect me? The nerve. Or when you honked the horn near every car full of guys, yelled and pointed at my ducking head, "she thinks you're cute!"? I'll send you my therapy bill later. As for now, just have a happy birthday and remember, I am the fruits of your years of very tough labor. And though you probably did not get paid nearly enough, I am so grateful.

Happy birthday.

Two years

As of yesterday, Bud and I have been dating two years. It has been the longest two years of my life. And the shortest. That's the only way I can think to describe it, and believe me, usually I can describe things baby. But greatest, worst, heartbreaking and hearthealing, the gloomiest days combined with the ones that feel like sunshine bursting out of every pore - those are the things I can say. For the first 24 years of my life I heard people describe relationships that way and it was irritating. Something that should be joyous and fun should not also be boring and maddening. But I guess, it's like being single - lots of fun mixed with lots of loneliness. Only now it's lots of fun mixed with compromise. And I know this will come as a shock to most of you, but I do not like compromise. Only without it, I would not be dating someone who can pick up a cockroach with his bare hands and make a mean cornbread and beans. Or, someone who patches the walls when, upon lifting down the wall decorations, finds all the holes I made when trying to put them up. And tried to hide from him until we inevitably moved and he found them. And then gave me a lecture on how to find a wall stud. Again. While I hummed to keep the sound of another home improvement talk out of my ears. Or someone who can make a bad day good just by showing up. A guy who walks in and makes my shoulders relax because Hey, I know you! And you understand me! And you might even laugh at my jokes! And you will stick around even after everyone else has rolled their eyes and slowly backed away.

Our anniversary celebration consisted of the clinking between a small kitchen glass of cheap chardonnay and a Miller Lite can. And then passing out after the demoralizing experience of moving. But we did it together, and let me tell you, moving is SO much better when you have someone to do it with.

Overheard snippet

"...I said, I told her, I'm no happier doing this than you are, so quit your bitching! You know? I'm doing this out of the kindness of MAH heart, you know?!..."

Yes, we know.

This is for Jackie

Let's get it on the table right now. I am shallow. Which means if you read my blog AND like it AND tell me you like it by either comment or email, I will probably love you in an irrational way. I'm not fishing for compliments, more saying if you compliment me I am putty and I admit it. Which is one of the first steps.

Let me go ahead and bang this story out (since you asked so nicely Jackie!) because I'm doing a double-shift at the restaurant today (I have always wanted to use that sentence).

Last Monday Bud left for one of his business trips which I was not thrilled about but getting more used to. Becoming more brave with staying home alone if you will. Tuesday night I had tucked the dogs into bed (yes, literally, Sadie sleeps under the covers in the guest bed, Copper generally picks from a few different places) and moseyed into our bedroom to change into my pajamas. I guess now, it was in normal female over-alertness that I looked out of our sliding glass door. Like the trusting idiot that I am, I had the blinds only half closed, allowing that creepy middle of the road vision inside and out. I could see 2 inch slivers of window and 2 inch slivers of blinds, alternately. What I saw looked like a figure standing outside the door. Something to remember - to get to our bedroom patio door, you have to climb over a wall, it sort of sits in a window well. I squinted my eyes because, no, this is too much like a movie, stop being so dramatic Hope. BUT NO. A PERSON. A HUMAN PERSON (probably a man, let's be honest) and worst part? When he caught me looking at him, he got still as a statue. Oh really? You think if you get really still I won't SEE YOU? Like I am a Tyrannosaurus Rex and can only detect movement?!

I jumped towards the window (for some bizarre and unusually ballsy reason) to pull the blinds when, faster than I have ever seen anyone move, he hauled ass over the wall and ran like the weasel he is. Have you ever had your heart pound SO fast you can hear it in your ears? I'm sure. I was deaf as I grabbed the phone out from under my pillow (where I keep it when Bud is gone) and called 911. About halfway through the conversation, the dispatcher told me I was being very calm about the whole thing. No, not calm, scared into COMPLETE OBLIVION is a better way to put it.

The policeman who came to the house was very nice and looked around the perimeter for me and then said, "I don't see any concrete evidence but, and I'm not trying to scare you, there have been several incidences of break-ins and peeping Toms in this area," Yes, everyone, that is what he said. Followed by, "if I were you, I would just plan for scenarios like this - for instance, how would you react if someone broke down your front door?" HOW WOULD I REACT? I WOULD CURL UP INTO A PUDDLE AND WET MYSELF, THAT'S HOW. I'm sorry for all the caps BUT, and I think this is a truly appropriate situation for this phrase (sorry mom), WHAT THE FUCK?

When Bud got home (two days early and two days after I'd been staying at our friend's apartment) I got shotgun lessons in the living room. I also called management and told them I just couldn't live here anymore. I know, I know I can't move from each and every apartment or house I have when I get scared but that, that's just not worth it.

On the happy side! We're moving to a bigger apartment, second floor and the complex is farther out of the way/off the road. After the horror that is moving is over, I think we (read: me) will be much happier.