Really NOT MY FAULT!!
Twice I was unpacking my goods, loading the car when I noticed items in the lower part of the cart.
Really, not my fault, I'm just a space case!
Totally forgot about the items.
And no, I didn't go back . . . mmmwwhaa HAAAA HAAA!!!
Cause you see, I'm not a grown up yet.
Have a Happy Sunday All!!!
NOW get out there and cause some trouble!!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Hello All! How was your turkey day?
My little SIL, who's such a cutie herself, has two chihuahuas. They aren't purebreds so they lack that ridiculous shaking thing that pure chihuahuas do. We went to the dog park and they were so adorable, zipping around, chasing each other. Nipping at each other's heels. Barking like crazy at the big dogs.
Sigh. There were a few dogs there that were big. They came upon me all humungo doggy like. Leaned into my legs. They were rotties. Big, black rottweilers. I found myself weeping a bit. I miss my Henry. I didn't realize that going to the dog park would unfurl such feelings. So I petted them and leaned back while the tiny chihuahuas went all spastic crazy. Yippily barking while the big dogs stood silent, taking it all in.
hold on, gonna cry a bit here. I love Henry. Even though he's passed on, my love remains. As we unpack all our stuff I find bits and pieces of him. Stray collars, his winter dog bed, a leash I tried out. Then there is his huge kennel that we never really needed. We'll put it on Craig's list soon. hold on . . . I'm having hard time here, give me a minute.
sigh . . wiping a few tears . . big deep, cleansing breath, and ok, that's better . . i'm ok now . . ;)
Let's turn this around eh?
So the tiny dogs were fun. Just the right size for my kids to chase, pet and get lovins from. They practiced being gentle and petting softly. Mac kept trying to get them to play trains with him. He would hold up a wooden caboose and say, "Here puppy, you chew on this." Or he would say, "You can push it with your tail!" Watching him warm to the dogs was awesome.
The wee doggies really helped me yesterday. It was a wonderful Thanksgiving with lots of merriment. And honey wine. Good lord! Whoever put together honey with wine is a genius. One of the guests yesterday was from Ethopia. So really, the honeywine was from Ethopia. It was like nectar. Nectar from the Gods!
It was so good, I wasn't really paying attention and had three glasses. I am a lightweight. It was nice being sauced. But, then it was 9.30 and I was still tipsy. And I still had to drive two hours to get home. So I didn't.
I slept on my SIL's floor with the puppies. The chihuahuas were aggressive snugglers. I like to sleep on my right side, spooning a body pillow. They snuggled in the crook behind my knees. It was so comforting having them there, enjoying the doggy love. Enjoying the massive healing powers from such tiny pups.
Make no mistake. Dog is God's definition of love.
This is Henry by the way. With my daughter Pancake.
So now, if you'll excuse me. I got up at 5.30 am this morning and drove 2.5 hours to get to work. Time to act like I am well rested and intelligent ;)
Take care all and have a good weekend ;)
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
May your day be filled with relatives and food.
And booze. Lots and lots of booze.
TAKE CARE ALL AND HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!
*taken from the fine folks at "Awkwardfamilyphotos.com"
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
During all the packing, sorting and tossing during these last few days, HBO's "Big Love" was playing in the background. This show is about polygamy or plural marriage. One man, Bill Paxton, is married to three wives ((L-R) Barb-first wife, Nikki-second wife, Margene-third wife). They all live this life, forming a family, calling this life "living the principle".
On the drive back, as I am wont to do, I took a mental trip down another path for the Hall Marriage. One that included adding a second and third wife to our family. I used the conflicts and plotlines from Big Love as an outline for my thoughts. It is a three hour drive. Lots of time to wax poetic. Mr. Hall always leans in while I talk. It is very sweet and tender.
First, in order for a plural marriage to survive, all parties must be willing to sacrifice their own personal needs for the greater good. There must be religion involved. It doesn't matter how much you believe in any alternative lifestyle, if you don't have an almighty God directing you, then you don't have sustainable motivation. Polygamy takes fortitude and renewable motivational. Without religion, the marriages will fail. Therefore, in order for us to become polygamous, we would have to step up our Christianity from interested and happy to obsessional and delirious.
Also, I believe, we would need to create a self sustaining family. I have read a lot on polygamous clans and the best ones, the ones that last, live off the land and are an agricultural society. I could do this, become a farmer's wife. Maybe. In the HBO show however, they are all supported by the husband's job. This is no good, it could come crashing down all around him and the family would be left bereft.
Second on the list, the husband must be of supreme quality. He must be unrelenting in his kindness, energy and devotion towards his wives. If the marriages are to thrive and grow, he must grow with each wife according to their needs. He must also be a facilitator and leader within the family as he will no doubt, be in charge of the lot. Well, in co-charge with the first wife.
The first wife is essential to success. She will be seen as the leader of the wives more so than the husband in a lot of ways. Again, I have read a lot about polygamous marriages and frankly, the husband often seems secondary to the every day needs of the wives. After all, the demands on him (making money, servicing other wives, actively directing a church of some sort) eats up his time. Hence the term of 'sister-wives'. The wives have their own family, a sub family of sapphic support.
This is why the first wife is so important. Most wives, in a single marriage, direct the various day to day doings of family life. They handle the organization of the family in terms of child care needs, organizing meals, cleaning of the house, negotiating the emotional needs of each family member, booking medical appointments et cetera. The first wife must be a proficient family manager, after all, with a second and third wife and their children, she manages them as well.
I can say, it looks exceedingly difficult, living in a plural marriage. But I believe that Mr. Hall would be an excellent husband for such an arrangement. He was brought up a single mom who worked a lot and was basically in charge of two high maintenance sisters. Plus, he is a little bit older than me. He has as keen sense of women and how they operate. He also has a deft way of negotiating and supplying any needs they might have.
The first wife in the show, Barb, seems to be doing well. She could care take a little more but, meh.
First wife, very pretty curly hair, just like me
I would be an excellent first wife. Now that I have been married for about eight years, I have learned how to temper my emotional needs, how to smooth out sleep deprived feelings. I have learned how to respond and organize the needs of the entire household and create a warm and thriving family. I am a fully functioning partner in our success.
I would also be an excellent resource while choosing the second and third wife. I would have never picked, Nikki, as second wife. She is a spoiled prairie doll, unable to communicate her needs in a healthy way. Always scheming and manipulating. Not only is she not second wife material, but she is not any wife material.
Who in the hell picked her as second wife? I mean come on!
She would pose a problem for me, as a first wife. She is in her early thirties, same age as me. I would need ten years yet before I could handle the all the ages of the younger wives. The third wife from big love, Margene , SHE would be no problem whatsoever. But, yes, this type of arrangement would have to wait ten years, for me to be mature enough.
Margene is a doll
This is when, for the first time, Mr. Hall pipes up.
"TEN YEARS!! You realize I will be 50 years old at that point right?!, There's no way that would be a good thing, adding another wife and kids to the family."
By golly he's right. And really, there is absolutely no need for to complicate things with extra wives and children in this family.
I mean jeez, one wife is enough for everyone!!!
So that ends another side trip in the mental journey of Mrs. Hall :)
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Tonight I bought the test that can tell me, in about two weeks, if or if not. Or...I could just wait until my body tells me. Because it always does.
Either way, two things are true. When Mr. Hall calls on the phone in the middle of the day, or enters a room, I do indeed get a silly grin.
And this song was piping through Walgreens while I was making my purchase. Clear as day. I don't remember ever hearing it but, oh my goodness what a song.
Here, take your time, relax a bit. And take a listen.
Take care everyone . . . .
Friday, November 20, 2009
- Last night I was thinking about the first date of Mr. Hall and I. It did not go well. I had brought a friend to hang out with. I had two screwdrivers and totally won a game of monopoly. Mr. Hall was cranky but silent about it (the friend not the losing). I was going to nursing school and living in a single dorm. Meaning I had no roommate. But Mr. Hall left that night with a kiss on my cheek. He did not stay. There was a raging blizzard but he left. Not because he was mad, but because he was a gentle man who didn't make out with drunk girls.
- Then I thought of our first apartment. How we didn't even have a can opener between the two of us. How he cared for me in the last year of nursing school. He was the best boyfriend in the world. Changed the cat box even. Still does.
- Then I thought of our second apartment. We were married by then. We put up a tent in our room. He used a copper pipe frame to hang all manner of red and green cloth material. It really hushed the room, made it all sensual.
All of this I was thinking last night, as we were lounging in front of the fireplace. The kids were asleep. . . . .
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
For the first installment of Mary the Secretary, click here. Mary is the 50ish, plump secretary at my work.
Before we begin, I must say that I've been in multiple levels of employ. Bottom, middle and now, in command. I have a delicate understanding of the various power structures. And within each level I have thrived, because I embrace my power, no matter where I am standing.
What we are talking about here, between Mary and I, is power. A simple power struggle. Mary feels powerless and thus attempts to be my caretaker, my smother secretary. That way, she can have power over me. To which I say: good luck chick-a-dee.
It began last week with the two phone calls. And when I showed on Monday, she had re-arranged my office. Moved the chair, adjusted the monitor. She had given me three notebooks to take notes, plus two stacks of post its. All of it sitting there, squatting on my chair. She had made coffee and on and on. I shut the door. Took a deep breath.
I scooped up the notebooks and brought them to her. I firmly placed them next to her key board, as she was typing. I said, "Oh, I don't need these to take notes. Thanks though. Can you print out my list of patients today? Thanks." And cue smile.
Later at lunch . . . Mary occupied the room with stories from her personal life.
AN YAH DER HEY, SHO' NUFF, Mary has been in an abusive/codependant relationship. Told you so. And she felt the need to go on and fucking on about it during lunch. Cause girl's got issues but no dignity. I mean come on Mary, trying to eat my sub sammich here.
Mary thrives in chaos. Nothing else is comfortable. I am not comfortable with chaos. I like calm. I like balmy beaches and butterflies and the colors red and purple. I listen to people's chaos all day. They open up vast treasure troves of psychic pain. I help them heal. This is my job and I love it. So no, I don't want to eat lunch with her pain. Nor do I want a side dish of her spastic life.
Life is hard enough. I like to make mine easier at every turn possible. So here is the coup de gras that put Mary in her place.
Around one oclock that day, Mary had to unexpectedly leave. Her daughter WHO IS MY AGE THAT BEING 33 is sick. Again, her daughter is a fully functioning adult. Yet her Mom is running to her. Mary looks at me. She starts to explain who and what is ailing her daughter. AGAIN, MARY'S DAUGHTER IS MY AGE THAT BEING 33. Mary is breathless and getting a bit wild eyed. I stop listening. Then I blink a few times, still not listening to what sounds like the flu bug.
Then I say, "Mary. Can you fax these before you go? And connect me with the maintenance guy, the temp in my office is freezing. Thanks. And I hope your daughter feels better." I say it just like that.
Mary looks stricken. Hurt even. Which is my intent. And by the way, I never, and I mean NEVER, tell people to fax things for me. Nor do I have someone patched through to my office. But I did this time. And I don't feel bad about it.
Because sometimes, the best lessons are learned through struggle, through hurt and strife. That day, Mary learned I won't tolerate the impressing her drama on my person. Because we are all grown ups at that office. Not little kids. Little kids go around, showing their boo-boos. Eventually we all learn to suffer with dignity. Then we learn how to not suffer at all.
And not ruin lunch with wild tales of an asshole ex husband. And not draw the pity of fellow coworkers.
Can't we talk about the movies we like? Or shows we love? Like Mad Men for example. Gawd I love that show. The smoking, the drinking, the debachery. And lord help me, those clothes. Those dresses, those kitten heels . . . oh lawd . . . the clothes on that show.... I get the vapors just watching.
So in the end, the battle was won. And maybe now, we can get down to business. Which is sharing office space. All while serving the greater good, to serve others. And there is no greater service than the service of others.
Now, if I could just get Mary to keep something else in her drawer for me. Something much more useful than post-its . . . ;)
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
"Lemme take off my skirt so I can pee standing up!"
That's what Mac said to me yesterday, all cherub cheeks and happy. His sister found some ballerina outfits to dress him in yesterday. Because that's what a little brother is for, to be your personal dress up doll.
So yeah :)
All good over here at the House of Hall.
And now, let's enjoy this diddy from Soulja Boy. Because we don't have cable and really, we won't be getting cable. The kids are going through withdrawal.
So errant, copyright infringed videos of SpongeBob, is all they can watch for now. Either that or keep playing dress up with her dance outfits. ;)
Friday, November 13, 2009
It has been two weeks now, with use in the new house. It’s a quad level so the kids can run up and down the stairs, chasing each other until the fall down into fits of laughter. Then they cry out to be tickled and tossed around.
They are having such fun discovering all the nooks and crannies. All kinds of places to play hide and seek.
And then, tonight, when I was putting Pancake to bed, she says,
“Momma . . .”
And I say, “Yes Sweetie.”
“I love my new room Momma, thanks for buying us a house.”
I hugged her really tight and tried not to cry it was so sweet.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
We are now trying to conceive our third child. And within the next week, the sentiment goes from ‘we're trying to get pregnant’ to ‘this is when it could happen’. Or, as Mr. Hall says,
I am very thankful I started this blog after my two children were born. Now I can write our stories better. Beyond the cold hard facts I mean. Watch how the stories change throughout this post.
Pancake was conceived on a Sunday night after an episode of X-files. We had been married about 4 months. There was a beige futon involved. When I took the pregnancy test, it was a Saturday morning. The toilet seat had cracked the night before and it pinched my tush.
When the test turned positive I plotzed. I didn’t believe it. I called the nurse help line and asked if I should have a blood test to make sure. I called my friends and my mom. It stunned me for a long time. An excited stunned, but I was stunned none the less.
Mac was conceived on a Monday morning after we dropped Pancake off at day care. We were in the lower level guest bedroom in our first house. We were really, really tired, but it was fun none the less.
When that test turned positive, I was in my kitchen. I did a little jig and called Mr. Hall. He was not as shocked or surprised. But I was. I was happy and more relaxed but it was still a matter of-"I can’t believe it worked!"
With both pregnancies, the state of shock wore off when zombie like exhaustion and nausea become my constant companions. Nothing takes pregnancy from an abstract thought to an unrelenting and bone crushing reality, faster than that. But really, this time around, I am prepared for all if it. I have learned to nap sitting in my office chair. I have learned to puke with ninja like precision. No biggie :)
So let me start talking about our next baby. Who is already here by the way. The kids have always been here, even before they were conceived. It's just a matter of when they will arrive. Because they are here right now, in our hearts.
This next baby will be conceived a bit differently. This time I am just letting go and letting it all happen. Without ovulation charts, without obsessing. I'm letting the miracle happen, as is.
Which really, it’s happened that way in the first place, twice.
Becoming pregnant is a largely invisible process. I cannot make any of this happen by planning or sheer force of will. It's a matter of turning my body over to the divine and letting her unseen magic whirl within.
This is the pigeon pose by the way. I pose I did this morning. Go yoga!
All of this is coming from us and outside us. All at the same time. For us, first came the love, then came the marriage, then came the baby in the baby carriage.
And make no mistake, there is no love like married love. Living together doesn’t even come close. At least not for us. Then there is the love I have for him- because he made me pregnant. Our babies grew inside my belly because of him. There are no words for this. Just paroxysms of joy and permeated bliss.
Which I find myself feeling, over and over again, in the dark. We turned off the lights and we crawl into bed, feeling the warmth of our dark red comforter. We nuzzle and spoon in our cherry wood sleigh bed. Our babies snoozing sleepily across the hall. Babies we birthed. All of us here, home.
In the dark, during these nights, I feel whole and full of God’s grace. I feel the swirling energy emanating from inside and outside our bodies. In the dark, when we are bound round each other, smooshed and warm, I feel touched by the hand of God. I feel the miracle of our marriage. A miracle we've been blessed with.
And maybe, just maybe, before next month, we will be blessed with yet another miracle still.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
First, let me clarify something. Mary isn’t the new secretary, just new to me. I’ll be working between two clinics, starting today. Mary works the front desk at my new clinic.
As of right now, Mary is working my last nerve.
Lord help me, here goes.
First of all, she called me during my vacation last week. Which is not that big of a deal. Except she called twice.
The first call was ok. She wanted to know if I needed directions to the clinic or needed to know which door to come into. She wanted to let me know the ‘girls’ were ordering out for lunch so I needn’t bring one. Which is fine. Nice to see she is looking after things.
Except I already did a dry run to the clinic. Got my keys two weeks ago. I explain this to her. She doesn’t quite know how to take it. I thank her for her concern.
And the lunch? Gah. Everyone I work with , everyone who is female, is large and middle aged. This won’t happen to me because I yoga and weight watchers. So no, I don’t want to order out. Because the bigger women at my work order fatty yucky stuff. Stuff that makes you bloated and yuck. But, I say nothing. I will do my best to order out healthy. Not sure what I can do about preventing middle age though.
But then. Gah.
Lord help me, help me understand this woman
She didn’t take no for an answer. She kept pestering me about meeting me somewhere on the highway, or at the door and blah, blah, blah… it’s a small clinic people. Not a humungo hospital. There are like 10 parking spots total. And even if was a huge, mammoth hospital, I can figure it out. I talk her down. She chills and wishes me well. I thank her for her concern and politely hang up.
Then she calls me back.
THIS IS WHERE I START TO GET A LITTLE PISSY.
She says I need to know about my schedule. Did I know that I have THIRTEEN PATIENTS ON MONDAY AND OH MY GOD EIGHT NEW PATIENTS ON TUESDAY? She is in panic mode. Fuckin a’, I’m on vacation here Mary.
I tell her YAH, I KNOW MY SCHEDULE ALREADY. I have already prepped for my first day back. And really, I don’t care what’s on my schedule anyway. MY JOB IS TO SEE PATIENTS. I DON’T CARE WHO COMES IN. I have a certain amount of slots open AND REALLY, I HOPE THEY ALL GET FILLED CAUSE IT’S MY JOB. To see patients. I talk her down YET AGAIN. And then hang up.
I really like a full schedule. I like being busy. And working in a mental health clinic, it makes sense to pack your schedule because half the patients no show anyway. It’s just the nature of who we work with.
Also, I am a nurse. Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner even. I can handle anything. It’s a matter of training and my innate laid back personality traits. And nothing really rattles me.
That is the truth by the way. Nothing rattles me while I am on the job.
Except Mary rattles me.
Lord help me accept the things I cannot change . . . .
Mary is a unrepentant caretaker. I would bet a million dollars she has been in an abusive or co-dependant relationship. It appears she has an absolute need to mother hen those around her. And feels the consummate need to be taking care of. I am not interested in any of it.
And change the things I cannot accept . . .
So, I’ve got some extra work to do today. I have to let Mary know; in no uncertain terms, what I am interested in. I am interested in being left alone and to my own devices. I do not want my hand held. I do not want to be helped unless I ask.
The hard part of this task, is not being all girl about it. Women don’t talk to each other directly. We do a lot of communication in other ways. (don’t get me started on fucking postit notes).
I’ve worked with all men before. They talk to each other without saying things like, “I’m sorry but….” Or “Don’t be mad, but I . . .” and so forth. Men say stuff like, “Knock it off, you’re being a dumbass.” Or “Stop fucking with my stuff.” Then they do the guy nod and nothing more is said.
We, however, apologize all the damn time and often nothing is accomplished. Because we have to keep talking about it. Cause we are not direct communicators.
LIKE WHEN SHE CALLED ME TWICE.
And lord give me the wisdom to know the difference.
So, today, when I feel her smother hen energy come my way I will be direct and firm. I will put up my hand and say, “Mary, there is no need for that.” And if she continues to pester I will say, “Mary, knock it off, your working my last nerve! Step off!!”
SIGH. Guess what else I learned during those phone calls?
The woman lives about two blocks away. Guess who I will be carpooling with two days a week??
Lord help us all ;)
Morning all, making breakfast. What would you like this morning?
We have a fully stocked omelet bar, excellent selection of coffee and juices. And we have a crepe station.
We have warm apples, kijafa cherries or peaches with cream for the crepe filling.
And on the radio, we have the '70s station. Which is very easy and danceable listening. It's kind of creepy though, I mean, for some one my age. I recognize most of the songs I know are playing. Only it's not my songs, it the original versions of what I am familiar with.
Thankfully, no one has remade this song. Which had all of shaking our groove thang. And there is no doubt, we will be singing this all day ;)
Friday, November 6, 2009
As mentioned before, and I will say it again, Mr. Hall is an engineer.
The brain of Mr. Hall is complicated and takes a long time. Engineers see the unseen and logical connections between everything. Especially if it's mechanical. Thus, when buying a mechanical device, like an electric tooth brush or flat screen TV, he ponders endlessly.
And researches and researches. And compares and learns all he can. Plus he is thrifty to the point of maniacal. He finds it a moral and righteous victory when he buys quality on the cheap. All of which takes time and considerable mental effort on his part.
For me, I've learned to just sit back and chill. I cannot rush nor direct this process. Best just to enjoy the view. (click here for photos of such an event).
This week though, he fought his engineer nature. He went out to just two stores and bought a tv. Then he came home and said, "You have no idea how hard it was babe. I just went out and bought a TV." He looked tired and in pain. I gave him a hug and said, "Oh honey, I wish I could have been there, helping you." Then I massaged his temples because that's where he carries his stress.
Here is Mr. Hall in engineer mode. Examining and putting together vast continents built of logic and electrical supplies.
Then, last night, after five months of research and visits to endless stores and websites, he bought a fancy electric tooth brush. While I was giving it a whirl, he explained in great detail, the inner workings and seven million applicator heads. I listened earnestly. When he explains the secret life of machines, his eyes light up. And I get all sparkly.
Then he said, "I got it in the clearance bin, 50 % off!" He did a fist pump in the air.
And that's when I jumped up and down, emitting a wee squeal. So happy for him. Then we did the butt bump. Which I enjoy the most.
HAVE AN AWESOME WEEKEND EVERYONE!!
Now get out there and shake your rump!
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Sharing a bed was once cumbersome. I like to spread out. All the physical contact made me twitchy. I use to push the twitchy down deep, trying to make it disapear. Instead of vanishing, it made me bitey. While I slept, my body shoved. Jeff would wake up on the last sliver of the bed.
Then we had a baby, then another. My body began to open, to sink in. When he offered massages, I accepted. I became nonverbal with the melty it made me feel. I became a snuggler, a seeker of the spoon.
When he is here, the bed is softer. I feel his deep breathing while he slumbers. I feel his chest on my back. His arms are heavy, looping my waist. His legs crush me as they intertwine. All of this makes me warm. All of this heals my sore, my missing him. He makes the bed home.
Word associated: Warm
Suggested by: James from England, his blog "Them's Private Thoughts"
Monday, November 2, 2009
Good morning campers!!!
Did everyone remember to set their clocks back? What? That was yesterday???
Why didn't anyone remind me? I figured it out though, after I started making breakfast for the wee Pancake. An hour early. She got to go back to bed. I can't get back to sleep so I'm writing this instead. :)
I am a flighty bird. Especially when I am the throws of moving into my new house. Oh Glory Day!!
This weekend, Mr. Hall and I removed copious amount of storage items from the storage sheds. He then busied himself with strapping things down to his handy dandy trailer. He adores that trailer and I must say, it is a very excellent one. Either way, it was a bit chillsters out and strapping things down is something I don't need to help with. So I stepped into the sun, closed my eyes and wandered off in my mind.
About five minutes later Mr. Hall says, "WHAT are you looking at?? What are you doing with you hands?"
I said, "I was on the beach at St. Tropez. Lounging in a beach chair, feeling the slightest cool breeze. I wasn't looking at anything, my eyes are closed while I soaked up the sun. Can you smell the sea salt? I am wearing my cutest bikini and listening to the waves of the ocean.", I motioned over to the highway. "Can you smell the coconut from our pina colodas? There right here, in my hands. I ordered you one." I held out my hand and indeed, Mr. Hall came over and reached for one.
So we stood in our fall jackets, all full of dust, cobwebs and moving, and he closed his eyes. And for a few minutes, we were on the beach.
Take care everyone and may you be moved where ever you wish :)