PooBou.com

Kris moved out yesterday. Moving day was pretty uneventful since she hardly has any belongings here. I don’t know if I mentioned this, but the job she got is as an accountant at a retirement community. One of the residents there recently lost his wife, and he wanted to downsize from a one-bedroom to a studio. He offered Kris his sofa, but she insisted that she couldn’t possibly take it for free, so he said to give a donation of $50 to the hospice that took care of his wife. (Aww.) Obviously, she did. And the couch is really nice, because apparently the stereotype about how old people take good care of their stuff is actually true.

Yesterday, Kris and I, along with our rented U-Haul van, went to the retirement community to pick up the couch. I was parked illegally, so I stood guard by the van while she and the maintenance man went to retrieve the couch. Two funny things transpired inside that I truly wish I had seen:

1) The little old man who gave her the couch? Wouldn’t let her pick it up. Because she’s a woman. Of course. So the maintenance guy and this 80 year-old man with a bad back had to lift it all by themselves. (I asked Kris if he knew that not one but TWO women would be solely responsible for unloading the couch at our destination point. She said, “No, I was afraid he’d try to hop in the van and come with us.”)

2) As she was leaving, he got a little emotional (remember, this poor man lost his wife less than a month ago) and he told her, “Well, I hope you have as many good times on that couch as we did.” Kris said that if he hadn’t been a very frail 80 year-old man, it would’ve sounded totally inappropriate, but still, her first thought was, “eww, thank God I’m getting a slipcover.” Apparently even the maintenance guy had to stifle a giggle on that one. I don’t know that I would’ve been able to hold it in, so it’s probably best that I wasn’t there.

After the Great Sofa Expedition, we headed back to our house to get her things here. Dave helped us load up, and came along to help us unload at her new apartment, which was great because it seemed to go ten times faster than it would have if it had just been Kris and me.

Anyway, her new apartment seems really nice, and I know it’s good for all parties involved for Kris to have her own space - it makes her feel more established about living here, and Dave may not wear pants around the house for a month. (Poor guy, I think he really missed Underwear Time.) But honestly, when we left her at her apartment last night, I felt like I was abandoning her, and I don’t know why. It was a pretty awful feeling, though.

Then we got back home, and there was no dog crate in our dining room anymore, and the house just seemed totally empty. I sat on the couch and cried. Yes, I love our cats, but I totally fell in love with Lucky, and I’ve been getting doggie kisses every day for the past 2 1/2 months, and I’m going to miss them terribly. Dave suggested what Angie said last week - that maybe we could get a puppy. I think he’s also hoping that it’ll distract me from this whole desparately-wanting-a-baby thing, although I don’t know if that’s the best motivation for getting a new pet. Last night, I missed Lucky so much that when he suggested it, I almost jumped off the couch and said, “Ok, let’s go to the shelter and get a dog now!” But I know it’s a big decision, so I’m going to think about it for at least a few weeks and then see how I feel about it.

The other reason I was upset last night is because Beaumont disappeared on Wednesday morning and I hadn’t seen him since. Dave’s cats (not Teenie, since she has no claws) spend most of the day outside hunting for mice, but they always come in at dusk when I stand on the deck and do the “here kitty-kitty” yell. Beaumont had been gone for well over 72 hours, and even though Dave told me not to worry because he was probably just out having fun, I kept having visions of him getting mauled by a coyote or hit by a car. He finally turned up late last night. I cried again when I found him (obviously, I’m a tad hormonal), although he seemed to care way more about his kibble than in apologizing for his extended absence. Dave called him a “dirty little stopout” - I think that’s his official new nickname.

Oh, and I might have spent the rest of the evening online looking at dogs on Petfinder and our local paper’s pet listings. Maybe.

2 Comments »

Last night I had a dream where I met a very scary-looking man. He was old, had white hair and a beard, and he was dressed in all denim and leather. He looked sort of like a cross between Santa Claus and a Hell’s Angel. I don’t know why, but I was terrified of him and tried to run away. He caught up with me - or rather, I ran into a room and he was already there waiting for me. (Since this occurred in dreamland, I guess no explanation is needed for how he got there ahead of me. The logic of how fast I can run versus the velocity of some old biker dude doesn’t really apply.) I tried to hide under a table to get away from him.

He told me that he was my father. It occurred to me that this man looked absolutely nothing like my dad, so he must be God. (Naturally.)

When I inquired about that, it turned out that yep, he was God, alright. He said that He had something very important to tell me. I don’t remember anything after that.

An aside: My grandmother died the day after Christmas in 1996. I had just met and moved in with Kris a few weeks prior - right before the semester ended for winter break. Kris needed a roommate, I didn’t want to live on campus, so: perfect, right? Anyway, I moved in with her, then went home and proceeded to have the Worst Christmas Ever.

Soon after the new semester started in January, I started dating this guy who Kris had just broken up with. They had been broken up for maybe a week (tops) when he hit on me, and I totally went for it because I was pathetically lonely and insecure at the time. I dated him behind her back because I knew it was a shitty thing to do.

At some point, my grandmother appeared to me in a dream, and told me to knock it off with that guy, because he was bad news, and because even though I didn’t know her very well yet, Kris was going to end up being one of my closest friends for the rest of my life. And what do you know, she was right on both counts. I don’t know if I really believe that people can appear to us in dreams like that, or if maybe it was just my own conscience that was rearing its head.

So, back to current day: what’s really bothering me is that if God appeared to me in a dream and wanted to tell me something, shouldn’t I remember the part of the dream where He told me some very important bit of information? What does it mean if I can’t recall what He wanted me to know?

The only other part of that dream that I remember is that I had to fly a plane by myself (no passengers, it was just a little crop duster-type plane) and it was crashing. Considering my fear of heights, I think that puts the whole dream firmly in the “nightmare” category. But I’m still confused about the God part.

9 Comments »

Thank you all for the very kind comments and emails on that last post. Y’all are too sweet, really. I’m feeling a little better this week, so I guess the exercise (and slightly improved eating habits) must be helping.

This past weekend was pretty fun. Saturday night, we had a girls’ night and went dancing. The group was me, Kris, Janet, Linda, and a girl that works in Dave’s office that I don’t know very well. We had a good time - I was designated driver since heaven only knows what’s going on with my ovaries and I’d prefer to be cautious in the meantime. Kris and Linda seem to have really bonded, which is awesome since they’re both single, and since Janet and I (the old married ladies) aren’t always up for nights on the town like they are.

Actually, come to think of it, I thought they bonded, but it could’ve just been that they were both very, very drunk. There were tequila shots involved. It was sort of scary.

But we all had a good time, and hey, dancing is exercise, so bonus! I finally got in bed somewhere around 5 a.m. You know you’re getting old when that kind of thing totally kicks your butt the next day, even though you didn’t have a drop of alcohol the night before.

Sunday, Dave and I got in touch with our inner 14 year-old boys by burning a whole bunch of yard waste that had been lying around for ages. (It was very Beavis: “Fire! Fire! Heh heh heh!”) There was the wood that used to be our old deck; the one that was torn down when Dave’s brother Steve built our new, pretty one. There were also some dead shrubs that we dug up and never replanted, and um, our Christmas tree, which has been in the driveway since sometime in early January. Because apparently besides just being lazy, we also try to make our yard look as white trash as humanly possible. (And we do it well. Trust me.)

So we had a nice little bonfire on Sunday evening. And of course, the whole project was my idea and I told Dave not to worry about it, that I’d take care of all of it, and that I just needed him for two seconds to help me lift something that was stuck in the mud, and then he ended up doing 80% of the work. Because he’s awesome that way. It was actually quite romantic to sit on a little blanket next to an open fire while the sun was setting. The weather was perfect for it, and it was all quite lovely. Until it got chilly and the mosquitoes came out. At which point I hightailed it inside and left Dave to baby-sit the fire alone.

In other news, Kris is moving out this Saturday. She found a nice little apartment that’s pretty close to her office, and she got a really good rent special on it. The only problem is that her house in Memphis won’t close until the middle of next month (still praying that works out), so she doesn’t have the money to move her furniture up yet. In the meantime, I’m lending her the bed in our guest room and some other odds and ends from around the house. One of her co-workers is giving her an old sofa, so she should be relatively well set up.

And I must say, even though I know it means I’ll get out of the house 10 or 15 minutes earlier in the morning, I am really going to miss Lucky when she moves out. I have totally fallen in love with that dog. Although I know Dave and our cats will breathe a collective sigh of relief and wish her a hearty “good riddance.” Oh well.

6 Comments »

I haven’t had a whole lot to write about lately, because I’m in a bit of a funk and I don’t know what to do with it. It seems to be a combination of my frustration with not getting pregnant and the fact that I’ve gained a few pounds over the last few months. Not a significant amount, I just hit a number on the scale that makes me uncomfortable. I came home on Monday and (literally) cried on Dave’s shoulder about the fact that I hate my body that “just wants to get fat and not make babies.” I feel defective. I hate that.

The pregnancy bit is frustrating because I’ve started charting my ovulation, and all it’s proven so far is that there is really no discernable pattern, and maybe I’m not even ovulating at all. I’m still taking my temperature every morning like a good little patient, but every time I go write it on the chart and realize - again - that nothing there looks the way it should, it makes me want to cry. And there’s nothing I can do about it, except keep charting for a few more months so I have something in writing to give to my doctor to prove that maybe there really is something wrong with me. It’s pretty disheartening. The suck factor there, in case you were wondering, is pretty much through the roof.

As for the weight thing - yeah, I know, it’s easily correctable, and I’ve been slacking. So the suck factor isn’t as high on that one, but it’s still bad. I haven’t been working out like I should, and I’ve probably eaten my body weight in Cadbury creme eggs during this past Easter season, so I’m aware that it’s my own damn fault. I’ve started a new regimen this week; Dave and I have been exercising, and I’m not allowing myself to buy copious amounts of junk food when I go grocery shopping. (I’m really bad in the supermarket. I tend to hoarde food.) I usually crave sugar at night, so I’ve started having strawberries and Cool Whip as my nighttime snack, rather than cookies or cereal or whatever. Also, I often grab a candy bar out of the vending machine at work after lunch, so today I brought a fruit bowl, and I’m going to try to start doing that every day.

Like most women, I have always had (and probably always will have) issues about my body image, as Dave can attest. The poor guy often has to hear me whine about clothes that I don’t want to wear because it’s “too grabby around my stomach” or whatever imaginary flaw I find with it. He’s always telling me that it’s in my head, and I know he’s right - really, I do - but I can’t seem to make my brain accept that. I guess the sudden revelation about it now is a combination of the scale (the dreaded, dreaded scale) and the fact that I recently bought our plane tickets to my cousin’s wedding in New Orleans this June. [Aside: hey Alphagal, are you & SNG going to be there? I think everyone else will be.]

For those of you who have never been there, New Orleans in the summer is just slightly hotter than the Fifth Concentric Circle of Hell, so breathable fabrics (cotton, linen) are pretty much mandatory. The problem is that I live in the Northwest, so every skirt or dress that I own is some kind of polyester/spandex-y/whatever-blend, and basically: I would die. Also, the wedding is at 6:00 in the evening, which implies that it needs to be at least somewhat dressy - and again, I live in the Northwest, where Birkenstocks are considered perfectly appropriate business attire, so all of my skirts (all 3 or 4 of them) are pretty casual.

So, I’m going to have to go shopping to buy something to wear to the wedding. And honestly? The thought of shopping for clothes when I’m in this “I hate my body” state of mind is enough to send me spiraling into a full-on panic attack. The wedding isn’t until June 10th, so I have time to drop 5 to 10 pounds between now and then. I’m honestly terrified to set goals like that for myself, though, because I have a wicked fear of failure. So I’m trying (trying!) to not think about the scale and to focus just on feeling more comfortable in my clothes. Hopefully then I can go shopping and buy a dress without bursting into tears in the dressing room at Macy’s.

And now you know why my posts lately have been sporadic and not very interesting. Maybe now that I’ve written about it and gotten it off my chest, I can snap out of this funk and get back to my usual goofy self. One can only hope, anyway.

8 Comments »

Since I have absolutely nothing interesting or funny to write about, it’s time for another installment of “what strange keyword searches are bringing people to my website?” I’m omitting all of the porn-related searches, because there are just too many of them to mention, and most of them are seriously, disturbingly gross.

Windshield wiper fluid gets in the nose?
Dude. Ouch.

Michael’s Bar & Grill, Rawlins, Wyoming
Hey, we were there! Best mozzarella sticks I have ever had in my life. And the guy who owned the place bought Kris a beer, so we liked him. Sucky town, good bar.

I hate Missouri
Boy, do I. No offense to anyone who lives there, but good LORD, it takes forever to drive across that state.

(My dad’s full name)
This struck me as odd because I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my dad’s name here, so I don’t know how I got 3 hits from that. Huh.

short and bald do I even stand a chance in dating
Aww. Of course you do, little fella. There’s someone out there for everyone. You just don’t have a chance with me. (Not because I have an issue with short, bald men - I honestly don’t - but because I’m taken, bitches.)

Penis was 5 feet long.
I know I said I wouldn’t mention any porn searches, but HA! HAAAA!! Oh, how that made me laugh. (I’m pretty sure they got linked to this post, which still horrifies me.)

now what
This is my favorite search phrase yet. No kidding.

4 Comments »

I know I have a self-imposed restriction on blogging about my job, but there are a few things that I think I can say without getting dooced.

1) I was in a meeting today with a lot of people that I don’t really know. This is not at all uncommon at my job. Since I am but a lowly temp, most people don’t bother introducing themselves to me unless they need something from me. And as loud and boisterous as I might be in my personal life, I’m sort of quiet at work and try as I might, I am just not the girl who’s going to be all, “Hi, I’m Cindy, who are you?”

Anyway, back to the meeting. Blah blah standard monthly reviewcakes. (I’ve obviously been reading way too many TwoP recaps lately.) Afterward, this girl who was in the meeting came up to me, introduced herself, and asked what I do. Just like that, “So what’s your role here?” Um, ok. Does that seem strange to anyone else? I can’t really imagine striking up a conversation with someone at work by asking them what they do. So I told her, and of course she has no idea what any of my stuff means, the same way I have no idea what any of her stuff means. She doesn’t even know who my boss is. There was really no point to the conversation at all. It was so strange.

2) About an hour ago, I was sent out to go retrieve the ID card of my boss’s boss, who it seems had left it in a conference room two buildings away. Our ID cards are what let us in the building, so it’s sort of important to have. It was odd that I was asked to go get it, because it’s essentially a personal errand, and I’ve never been asked to do something like that before. The whole thing was sort of anti-climactic - I walked over there and stopped by the receptionist’s desk first, because I thought maybe someone would have already found it and turned it in. And of course, someone had, so there were no real investigative skills required on my part. But I got to come back and be all like, “hey, I heard you were looking for this,” and be the big hero for the afternoon, so that’s cool. (Especially since I am terrified of my boss’s boss, because I am convinced that he doesn’t like me, but that’s a whole different story.)

3) This is the only part of the work-related post that might be dooce-able. There is someone I work with who absolutely drives me insane. I’m not saying who it is, or what this person does in relation to me. But this is one of those situations where because I am a temp and this other person is a full-time employee, the person assumes that he/she is my boss, when in fact he/she is not. And there is something about his/her personality and the way that he/she approaches me that totally rubs me the wrong way. I had to work with this person for a few hours yesterday afternoon, and I went home last night with a pounding headache behind my right eye. (It was still twitching when I went to bed.) It has gotten to the point where I can hear this person talking to someone else in the hall, and just the sound of his/her voice makes me want to hide under my desk. That’s not good.

(Think they can fire me for writing that? I wonder…)

Not much else going on here. I just keep re-reading this and giggling. Will someone get me a subscription to All You magazine? Pretty please?

1 Comment »

Dave informed me yesterday that there has just been entirely too much discussion on my blog lately about our pets’, um, “by-products”. Which is funny, because a couple of weeks ago, he accused me of writing too much on here about babies, and told me that I sounded obsessive. (I’m so not obsessed with getting pregnant, but I can see how it might come off that way if all you know about me is what you read on my blog.) But I’ll bet none of y’all knew that I had my own in-house content editor, did you? Admit it, you’re jealous.

So in light of all that, I’m changing the subject to something entirely unrelated, but also happy:

Kris got an offer on her house today. I don’t know the details about it yet, I just got a short email that it “could be good.” If it goes through, she’ll close on May 12th. Which means she’ll have the money to:
1) Get her own place and move out of ours (not that I haven’t loved having her around, because I have, but I know it’s been hard on Dave since our house has basically been in Estrogen Overload since sometime in mid-February);
2) Move her two kitties up here (who are currently living at her mom’s house);
3) Move her furniture up; and
4) Be relieved of a three-bedroom, one-bathroom source of stress that’s been weighing on her for the past six years.

The only glitch at this point is that her house still has to pass termite inspection. So Internet, please-please-please keep your best “non-termite-infested, good real estate” vibes going for her. All of my fingers and toes are crossed already, but I need all the back-up I can get.

2 Comments »