God is testing me, I just know it

First, we did indeed sell our house on 9-18-2009. About three weeks ago, and the heaven's rejoiced.

Then we found a house we loved, put in an offer, it was accepted and a thousand violins began to play. Then the roof inspector found serious issues with the roof. Serious as in the roof was built wrong and a large portion was caving in. The owners decided to slap some wood on it and call it a day. mmmmkaayyy, uuhhmmm

We thought since the roof was BUILT WRONG perhaps an engineer could take a look and GIVE DIRECTION ON HOW TO FIX IT INSTEAD OF JUST PATCHING THE PROBLEM. We were willing to split the cost of any repairs. The owners said no, patching is fine and if'n that there slapping of yon wood don't fixit, that's just yer problem now innit? Thus we went our merry way.

We began our house looking journey anew. I would search and get excited. Call the realtor about property only to find that THE HOUSE WAS ALREADY SOLD OR . . . .

This one we looked at last week, it was phenomenal. We toured it, I almost wet myself.



We almost put in an offer and then, THEN we found out IT WAS ALREADY FORECLOSED ON SO WHAT THE HELL NOBODY TELLS US OR OUR REALTOR THUS WASTING ALMOST A WEEK OF OUR TIME??

We could buy a foreclosed property but that takes 4 to 6 months of paperwork and DAMMIT!!!

Then there was this house. Ya'll remember this photo? From this post?

Well, surprise surprise, it was still on the market. It is live able but needs a lot, and I mean a lot of work. But the locale is awesome and the neighborhood is banging so we hold our noses and here comes the cold water. Our offer went out.

24 hours pass, no word from their realtor. 28, 30 and such and so forth. No word. Then last night at 10.30 our realtor called and said this

"They are selling their house to become missionaries. To become missionaries for this particular church they need to sell all of their belongings. And their church was going to be part of the sale which complicates the sale" And then AND THEN!!!!!!

AND THEN!!!!k!

I stopped listening because seriously how fucking hard is it to buy a house?

(sorry about the swears)

How hard people????!!!!!




Mr. Hall warned me about this. He said, "Babe, you are going to hurt yourself getting attached and unattached to theses houses. Really, it can take a while."
I didn't listen. I told him "No, It'll be fine, it'll be ok." And then I proceeded to get attached and detached to every house we have looked at online and in person. Which means I have loved and envisioned myself and family in about 12 dozen houses.

And I am hurt.

I have one broken arm, three broken fingers and a cracked pelvis. And my left foot keeps swelling on and off for no reason.

Well, not really. But. I'm still here in a house that is not my own, with my husband not here 3 days a week. All while living with people that don't really like me. gah. no, no more. Must switch gears hear. Turn this ship around.




All can change though, I have been here before and my mood will change for all sorts of better when we have an accepted offer. Just that step alone cures 95% of what ails Mrs. Hall. So.

There is a house out there, I know there is. One that fights our budget, our local likings and will survive the inspection process. One that we can move into and I can unpack my pots and pans. One where the kids can sleep in their own rooms. One that I can snooze in my cherry wood sleigh bed. One that we can say, this is our home, this is The House of Hall.

Because this is my wish, my hope. This is my salvation. And it's coming, I hope I hope I hope.

Have a good weekend everyone and take care.

:)

We're already in outer space

On the way back from closing on (and thus officially selling) our house, we stopped at a truck stop restaurant. There was a larger than life size mural of a space ship orbiting the earth.

The sandwiches were ok. I had a tuna melt. Mac had the pickle. He tried to tear it in half to share with his sister. She didn't ask him to, he was sharing spontaneously.

Then Pancake took it and cut it in half, giving half of it back to Mac. They did this very quietly. No real talking, they just did this automatically.

And oh my goodness, my heart swelled with pride and I got all googley moogley with Mommy goodness.

It was out of this world . . . :)



And yeah. Sold the house. Will buy the next on in 26 days . . . . :)

My crazy is attracting wildlife

This one time, at band camp, wait . . no, that's not right. Lemme start again.

This one time, when I was driving on a four lane highway, I saw somebody's wheel come clean off. I was in the right lane, he was all the way over in the opposite right lane. And his front wheel just rolled right off. Then a huge, bright-orange shower of sparks flew into the air as his rim skidded on the concrete.

He pulled over safely. The tire merrily rolled it's way across our lanes. No harm, no foul.

That's my brain right now. The wheels are falling off. And my crazy is activated. Which I am perfectly ok with. Because I know why I am going crazy. And it's all good.

Now animals are getting in on the act.

A few days ago, I was driving home from work. I had just left the parking lot and was on a side street. Then I saw an animal lounging in the middle of the road, almost blocking me. I slowed to way down, trying to figure out what it was. It took me a good five minutes. It was about the size of a cat, but it was reddish-orange and had wiry hair. It moved more like a dog but with a big puffy tail, with a white puff on the end. Then it hit me.









THAT'S A FOX!!

I have never seen a fox before. It was really cool. And really, it was lounging. We made eye contact. The fox sauntered off, all causual. There was no scurring, it just sauntered. All relaxed and see ya later babe.



Then yesterday, I was walking to my car on my lunch break. Looking down, I thought I saw a grass hopper on the sidewalk. It was blindingly sunny out. OOH so sunny and oooohhh so deliciously warm. But, it couldn't be a grasshopper. It looked too big and had a slanted "H" shape. I thought it was a wood chip, all broken or something.




I was walking and staring at it and walking and ... WHAMO!! Two grass hoppers jumped all the way up and pounced against my chest.

I screamed like a little girl!!!!!!

It echoed. Really loudly. I looked around and thank God I was alone.

The grasshoppers, they were getting it on. Right outside the building where I work. On the sidewalk in front of God and everybody. And even in mid hop they didn't unlock themselves. That's dedication to propagation.




After the yelp I realized I had left through the wrong door. My car was parked on the other side of the building. Now, our building only has 10 parking spots. All of which are in the back. Not only had a left through the wrong door, there was no reason for me to forgot where I parked.

Yet, there I was. Getting pelted with mating grasshoppers. In the blinding midday sun. I started giggling at my dorkiness. Then I started laughing. Laughed all the way to the car. ;)

So really, the brain, it's coming unglued a bit. And being rampantly silly. And now, my crazy is attracting all sorts of wildlife. :)

Which is fine and dandy. I have been so wound tight, driving this tense stress ball of my life. Keeping it all together. And now, very soon, I will have a house all to my own. My husband will be back where he belongs. With us, the wife and kids. It's about time I unglued!

When I think about our new house, I feel like I've won the lottery. I just know the guy with the big check and camera crew and people with balloons are just waiting for me. I just keep seeing it, us, in our house.

Paroxysms! Visions! Unstoppable seizures of joy I tells ya!

It's been a long, long, long road. And finally, it's leading me home.*




*Thank you Cam! Your the best!

That's how I am, but, how are you?

For the last two days I have been yawning a lot.


Which is weird.


I mean, I am tired but, I am always kind of tired. And sometimes exhausted. But my yawning. This is new. I was dictating and I was yawning. Showering--yawned. Eating my oatmeal---yawn. Going to bed? A bit giggly.


And then, I was playing with my son. We were on the floor in his bedroom. I was blowing raspberries on his belly. Then I layed down next to him and we looked at the ceiling fan.


"woo-woooooo-woo" he said while tracing circles in the air.


Then Daddy came, he popped up and ran to him.


I curled up in a soft little ball, listening to the kids go crazy with their Daddy.

All sorts of giggles and kids being tossed about.

Then.

I feel asleep.

And slept really hard for 10 minutes. Right there on the floor.

Which was weird.

Well, in less than a week we close on our house. Hand over the keys to the new owners.

Then, in less than one month, we close on the new house. Some other couple will hand over their keys to us. And then, we will have a house again.

They accepted our offer two days ago.

Maybe this recent fit of yawning and passing out on the floor is not so weird after all.

So, that's how I am, but, how are you?

Dear people trying to sell me your house:

Dear people trying to sell me your house:

First, let me say, I know your pain. Having recently sold my house, I realize that one must take it on the chin. It is a buyer's market out there. So please, just bend over and get it over with.

We are all adults here. We have to realize that a real estate transaction is just a transfer of property. A house is just a property. No more, no less. A property you devalued by your crappy interior decorating choices.

Which is fine. Go ahead and crap up your house. I care not. Unless I like your house. If I like your house and you crapped it up, then I get angry. Because if I likes your house, I've already claimed it. And that means you fricked up my house. Which makes me angry. Grrrr...rrr..

You don't want to see me angry.



This kitchen right here, this makes me angry.



There is no cause for two tone cabinet doors. Ok simmer Ms. Hulk, ehh..I mean Mrs. Hall, simmer . . it's gonna be ok . .

Then there is this:



That is from a house I have personally been through. Their reckless and somewhat insane use of color has devalued the house. Cheap ceiling fans... crown molding made of plastic . . . ok simmer... simmer Ms. Hulk. . I mean Mrs. Hall...

Now, I understand everyone has their own sense of style. But, when selling your house, you don't matter any more. You or your cheap ceiling fans. Or painted doors in every room.

That's right, you don't matter anymore because the house is not you. It is property you are selling. Your personal sense of style is making people throw up. And delaying the sell of your house.

I'll give you a minute to mourn that fact.



See now, doesn't that feel better, having a sad? And it's not so bad. Even though you used SHOWER CURTAINS AS WINDOW TREATMENTS IN THE LIVING ROOM doesn't mean it's over.

I am still looking at your house. Still thinking about buying it. I promise I can try to look past your white trash taste. AND UTTER FAILURE AT YOUR DIY UPDATES.

But then you give me this.



Are you trying to hurt me?

I mean, that fireplace is just magnificent. All those shades of brown. And hard wood floors?!!! Those lovely hard wood floors! Then you pick the one color that would fight with that fireplace. AND fight with the floors.

You choose a CRAYOLA BLUE!! You realize that is just nasty right? RIGHT??!!!

So now I am forced to envision my lovely tush, planted on my RICH DARK BROWN, LEATHER, lazy boy couch, NEXT TO THAT GLORIOUS FIREPLACE!! Only my fantasy is being effed up cause I would have to repaint everything.

Why FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY!!??? Why do you make this harder than it needs to be? Why don't you clean up your stupid decorating and do it right before you sell your house.

You are all morons. From the bottom of the cake.

Gah.

GAH

GAHHH

ok simmer Ms. Hulk . . ehh, I mean Mrs. Hall . . . simmer . . . . calm down . . . it'll be ok . . .


Wait. Did I just . .


Wait...



Wait, what is this?? Wait do I see WALLPAPER BORDERS??!!!!!





SHE HULK SMASH!!!!

Breaking out of the cage

There are lots of houses on the market.

Some of them are called character homes. This is real estate language for 'older' and charming home. Think hardwood floors, pocket doors and ornate details. Looking through these homes online is making me feel better than the houses I actually walked through.

I have found one that, if it were here right now, I'm marry it.

But, the sale of our house has hit a snag. It's resolving and we are still on track to close the sale in the first week of September.

Again, selling one's house is a bit like prison sex.

Now that it is resolving my mind is wandering and looking over images that make me all googley moogley.

Very soon, we will be out of this cage. In our new house. Complete with a lush and vibrant milieu.

Oh yes, it will be done . . . .

The Killers - Mr. Brightside

The Manning up of Mrs. Hall

Three areas to discuss in the Manning up of Mrs. Hall



1. The House:

Selling a house is not a linear process. Until I sign the closing papers, I can't be sure about anything. It's a bit like poker, you can work the stats on how to best play but in the end, it all depends on the cards you are dealt. And how you play your hand. It's not really fair and it's painful. But, in the end, there is really no choice.

Or as Mr. Hall says,

"Selling the house is a lot like prison sex".


(do yourself a favor and NEVER GOOGLE THE TERM 'PRISON SEX', TRUST ME)






2. My tolerance for suckage and ability to give

By all accounts, I am a spoiled woman. I have my needs taken care of and am well loved. Dealing with pain, frustration and separation from my husband has been tough. Single motherhood, no matter how fleeting, is tough. It is suckage incorporated.

When things get tough, I get kind of selfish. Thus, I have been neglecting Mr. Hall. I actively put a stop to this about a month ago. I consciously increased my tolerance for pain and actively sought to make him happy. To ease his pain.

Or as Mr. Hall says,

"I really like how you are attacking me lately, and the extra massages and such. . . see, that's all I need babe, and extra goodness with you being on top again."







3. My Go-Go Girl skills

Something broke open last night, inside my head. I took the wee Mac on a bike ride, with him in a kid seat behind me. I was really huffin and puffin. I realized that since I have have kids, especially during the summer, we rarely stay indoors. We are always going someplace or doing something.

This is the polar opposite of my upbringing. In fact, my parent's sit and watch their 888 inch flat screen tv with their 8000 channels every day. I use to have the biggest jonez for TV. Then I married a man who downloads a lot and I became selective. Now, I don’t have time to watch nothing. And the kids, they can't sit long enough to watch anything I want. They only have eyes for SpongeBob.

So I go. And go. And GO GO GO. And I love it!!! I never want to go back to a sedentary life. Never want to have a life without adventure, even it if is taking a walk around the block. And it doesn’t even phase me anymore, the huffing and puffing, the taking of two children on my own, out into the wilds of local parks and bike rides.

I could leave this office right now, pick up the kids and drive to Vegas without even packing. It would be no problem what so ever. Wouldn't have to plan or make lists or research or worry or obsess. Because I can do anything and go anywhere.

I can GO GO GO!!!



I am more free than I have ever been lately.

Manning up indeed.

I want a bathroom I can play baseball in

Looking for houses today.

I would like a bathroom that I can play baseball in.

But.

I'll settle for one that makes my heart sing and my husband nod and smile with satisfaction.

Wish us luck.


I swear, this song is my personal anthem.

ROCK ON Y'ALL!!

I wanna be a rock star

Missing money and twitching all over (big NEWS!)

Mr. Hall was paying for dinner the other weekend. He opened his wallet and made a frowny face.

"My wallet, it stays so full. I am so use to you scooping out the money. Taking all my tens and twenties." He sighed.

This apartness, this living two separate lives during the weekdays, it's starting to wear us down.

but. wait.

this post will not be about that.

no.

wait for it.

wait for it.

wwaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttt

We have offers on the house people.

offerssSSS

Now, if you'll exuse me I going to start twitching with excitement and maybe get all watery eyed. And when we close the house and buy a new one ..

O

I'll be all snot bubble cry and hire a mariachi band to celebrate properly!

This is what I am going to do tonight, and this is how I will do it

• The girl's at the office decided that 'we' should all go and see a show. Ya know, us women of the office. The show? Menopause the Musical: A hilarious celebration of women and the change.
  
  
• Now, I am no where near the menopausal age, I just work with women that are. I have always worked with ehem, wizened women near the change of life age.
  
  
• I'm going. Going out to dinner with the group too. We are going to a cheesy Italian place for the early bird special. Again, I am the youngest in the office by at least 15 years.
  
  
• I am going because I am sad and in the dumps. I am going because I am woman of accomplishment. I make goals and plan to accomplish things. I have accomplished a master's degree, becoming a psychiatric nurse practitioner. I have been fabulously married x 8 + years, have two awesome children who are more fabulous than I could have ever wished for. I am blessed beyond belief.
  
  
• I am use to getting what I want because I plan and achieve what I want to.
  
  
• Then there is this: I am selling my house. There is a large amount not being able to control, plan, fix, work, break down brick walls by sheer force of will, or make it happen by grit of my teeth. So. I. am. stuck. in. here. Which is kind of like limbo.
  
  
• And my husband, he says, babe, it'll be ok, we've had 15 or so people come and take a look and it's only been on the market for a week. Trust me, he says. And i trust him and I am so sad that my sad is making him sad.
  
  
• so, hear me know!!!
  
  
• I will go to that show and that dinner. I will leave the goddamn sour puss face at the office. I will laugh, smile and enjoy the hell out of the overcooked pasta and weak tomato sauces. I will deny the sad and the sour and my pretentiousness, and, as god as my witness, have an awesome time!!!!
  
  
• I will go to that show and enjoy all the low rent humor and laugh my fucking ass off even if I don't get the jokes because I am full up of my estrogen and suffer none of the 'change of life' consequences. Menopause is nothing I know about. But I will laugh so hard my pee just might come out. A little anyway.
  
  
• I won't just fake it like when I saw the Vagina Monologues. (google it, I can't right now-at work an all) That show wasn't really funny people. Just sayin'.
  
  
• I will not worry about the kids tonight. I will not worry if my parent's are tending to them properly. Or feel guilty or make them make me feel guilty about having them watch the kids. This will be the first time I will have them baby sit since I moved back home. One time in 8 months won't kill them. I will not be home after work but arrive home at around 10.00 pm. Way after their bedtime.
  
  
• I will carry but not clutch my cell phone.
  
  
• I will steal this time, grind it into my bread so that I may feast on the feasts of queens, complete with roast beast!!
  
  
• or Italian sausage, which ever comes first :)

Wish me luck!!!!

Somebody get me a DRINK!

Alright look. I don't want to write this, but dammit, here it is.

I've been fighting a bit of a depression lately. Feel no pity for me! I see the sadness for what it is. It is me having stayed way too long in the basement of my parent's house. And missing Mr. Hall and all.

So I count my blessings, get out as much as possible doing things with the kids. Sticking with weight watchers, doing yoga. Crying when I need to, feeling sad when I need to. Celebrating the weekends with untold fervor. Yet, the cloud, she grew bigger. But, at least I have a name to my shame.

And the name is this:

Every day I come home to a house that is not my home. My husband two hours away. Everything sticky with yuck and tension. My asshole dads exits to the basement. I leave with the kids and return around 7.30. Bath-bed-book and songs for the kids. Then, I go downstairs. Wake up at 6.30 and start it again.

Things have thawed a bit with my mom and I. Her vacation helped a lot. My Dad? Still and asshole. But he hides in the basement, so yeah, good for everyone involved.

Then, in the last two days, just about everything has changed.

I started reviewing how this all came about. I graduated, this time last year, with a Master's Degree in Nursing. This enabled me to become a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner.

Now, I graduated in a town that was surrounded by TWO MEDICAL SCHOOLS and FOUR SCHOOLS OF NURSING. This alone limited the job market for such a new nurse practitioner.

Then, that word in front of nurse practitioner, "Psychiatric", limits things further. There are not a lot of jobs in mental health. Most health care organizations really don't expand or fuel their money into the mental health department.

Ya see, most health care organizations are profit based. A patient comes and the organization is reimbursed by the patients insurance company. This reimbursement is based on what type of appointment and or procedure is performed.

For instance, if the patient gets a hip surgery, they get a lot of money from the insurance company. Hip surgeries are expensive. Seeing a hip surgeon is expensive. CHA-CHING!!! My visits with patients, being a nurse practitioner, and doing what we do, just talking, this is not that expensive. cha- (no ching). This reimbursement covers the cost of salaries and running the place.

AND mental health patients are NOTORIOUS FOR NOT SHOWING UP FOR APPOINTMENTS. AND not having insurance. So as a result-MOST MENTAL HEALTH DEPARTMENTS NOT ONLY FAIL TO MAKE A PROFIT but THEY LOSE MONEY FOR THE ORGANIZATION.

WHAT ALL THIS MEANS IS THAT JOBS ARE SLIM PICKINS AND THAT IS WHY I AM HERE, IN THE GODDAMN BASEMENT.

Realizing this helps me. It really lifted my spirits to think of this yesterday. Because coming here is NOT MY FAULT. I needed to find a job and here is the BEST JOB IN THE WORLD.

Thus begins my basis of my happy.

THEN IT GETS BETTER.

Hey, are you still awake? Sorry to bore you with the background of American medicine...

The house went up on the web yesterday.

wait for it


waaaaaaaaait foooorrr iiittt . . . . .


We have had six people come and take a peep. And this is just the first two days.



I realize that these six people could be looking for nothing.

But

this is what hope is.


And now my task has gone from killing the black cloud of depression

to

Holding down the spiraling of manic happiness i am starting to feel.


Spiraling Hope.




Because one thing leads to another and having the house up for sale means people are looking and when people look they will love and when they will love they will put an offer in and then we get to accept it and then we get to sign papers saying here take this house and then

oh.

my.

god.


I can't say it.

wait.

wait. gotta dab the eyes here. hold on.

then.

Then we can buy a new house and all of this


all of this


will be gone.


I am literally vibrating with hope. Need to keep it level. Steady now, stteeaadddy. . . .

I have to hand this over now. To God.

because no matter what or how I feel right now, right now I have no control beyond making my hope and happy grow. And right here, right now, having this kind of hope means everything. :)

Van Halen - Right Now
Uploaded by VividJame. - Full seasons and entire episodes online.

That's when the beatings started

If you are regular fan of the Blog de Senora Hall, you know how I feel about the mister. I lurve the Mister Hall with all my heart. I remember our first conversation on the phone, which lasted something like 5 hours.

During the first half hour I said, "You're such a brilliant thinker." I was gushing. Embarrassed, I tried to take it back. But, it was out there. I was smitten. I had gushed. No takesy backsies.

I had never encountered anyone like Mr. Hall before. He is all man. He is very strong and powerful. With a blend of thoughtful, caring and thorough love. As you can see, I still gush. Almost nine years of marriage people. He still rings my bell.

However, as a result of his thoughtfulness and the care he takes with everything, he moves at a slower pace than me. I am a warp speed kind of girl. Again, I have the ADD brain. I actively attend to this, find ways to slow myself down. I try to sleep well, eat well and do my yoga. But, under stress, everything speeds up. Including my thoughts, emotions and actions. I miss details and get snappy. And bossy.

The bossy stems from being a faux single mom right now. I have had a few stints as a single Mom already. Mr. Hall has been over seas twice during our marriage, about four months each time. During those times, like now, I slip into Robo Mom mode. I am very focused on giving the kids a very normal and calm life. Making sure everything is taken care of and making sure they are happy, warm and having fun. Which is what we usually do are parents. I just do all of it when he is not here.

This requires a lot of energy.

As a side effect, my focus becomes very narrow. I start to neglect myself emotionally. Basically, I shut off. Not to the kids though, they get love and hugs. They get snuggles, cuddles and tickles. I shut off to everyone else. Mr. Hall included.

But, this time of single Momdom is different then before. He is not overseas. Mr. Hall shows up on the weekends. During the weekends, I am knocked clear out of my Robo Mom mode. I have to shift everything -my thoughts, my actions, my way of communicating.

Sometimes, I'm not so good at it. I have to remind myself that he is not my 'helper'. He is not someone I can assign tasks and boss around. I need to ask nicely and be loving about things. After all, he is my partner. Someone who needs care, who needs my love. Who needs me.

Which is hard for me to understand sometimes. He is such a strong guy, so much of me is taken care of by him. To hear him needing me, to hear him say uncle, is to admit that he is not indestructible. And it calls attention to how self centered I can be.

Case in point, last Sunday morning.

I was sitting at the computer, planning the day. Exhausted, puffy eyed and twitchy. I was figuring out where to go with the kids. It needs to be a place that can entertain both a six and a two year old. I was planning how long it would take to drive there, coordinating the drive with nap times, planning what we needed to bring (clothes, diapers, snack etc).

Meanwhile, the kids were loudly playing in the next room. Half of my brain was in that room, hovering like a fly on the wall, picturing what was going on. Keeping a third eye on the them. My brain was all hyper yet fuzzy.

Then I hear a holler from the kids. It's not an emergency holler, more of a 'she snatched my toy' or 'he hit me' holler. I want to intervene and stop the yelping. I am trying to plan the day. Robo Mom Mode.

I say to Mr. Hall, who is laying on the bed, eyes closed while he half dozes, "Hey, can you check on them?" I am bristling and most likely, whining.

He says, "Their fine babe, we can hear them just fine. I could use a back rub though."

That's when the beatings started.

"GAAAH!!!!" Says I, "GAAAHH!!! JUST CHECK ON THEM!!! JUST DO IT!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS LIKE HERE!! What goes on during the week!!!" I cross the room, fists all clenched, cheeks all red. I realize how ridiculous I am though. I do have a slight smirk.

I straddle him and do that girl pounding on chest thing. Funneling the irked energies. We start to wrestle. He is a very adept guy. I am pinned in under 2 seconds. I am giggling a little. Starting to cry though. Soft sob.

I'm all wrapped up in his arms and legs on the twin bed. He is soft and strong. "Do you have a list of things you can do on the weekends? Places to go and such?" He exudes calm.

"No! I am just figuring it out, figuring out where the zoos and parks are in this city. You have no idea babe, you have no idea how much energy this takes. I am barely keeping up with things. No energy for 'lists.'"

I am sobbing softly. Over tired and spent. Exhausted from living this life up here. Living with my parents became unbearable


two months ago.


They love the grandkids, but don't offer any sort of hands on help. But they do love the grandkids. And they tolerate me. But, they are not fans of Mrs. Hall by any stretch. They do not have my back.

We underestimated the work it would take to get the house ready for sale. We underestimated toll it would take on both of us. Mr. Hall has been doing it all. He is only one guy. Working 70 hours a week. We should have hired people to help months ago. We have help now though. He is only working two days a week now.

So all of this single mom crap, it is turning chronic. And it is getting harder to turn to Mr. Hall for help. Harder to give him help when he asks for it. We are off in our rhythms.

That being said.

The house is now listed.

Which is the second of many steps of making this right. The first step is pealing back my isolative tendencies. We need to get through this together. Which means reaching out to him, giving him backrubs.

Because taking care of him is taking care of me. Which should, with any luck, reduce the beatings.

The Cedar House, a cat named Harely and bursting at the seams

This is our Cedar House (a house with Cedar Siding).
Wait, no, that's not our house!
This house is actually in California ;)

Life is good here.

Mondays are a little tough. That's when Mr. Hall absconds to the Cedar House. He took the wee Pancake with him this week. She will be sleeping in a sleeping bag. There are no beds left there. No TV, no cable. Just one tiny laptop that is broken half the time. It is an empty house that she will, most likely, see for the last time. Last time I was there was, most likely, my last time.

That weekend was fun. Sad and fantastic at the same time. Funny thing though. That Sunday, Mr. Hall and I took separate cars to our favorite breakfast spot. On the way, I stopped at a few places and to take some photos. Then I kept stopping and took more photos. Then I realized, with each stop I started lingering. Then Mr. Hall called my cell phone. He had gotten to restaurant a half hour ago. "Where are you?", He asked.



I couldn't really answer because I was too choked up. I was standing in front of the best slide in all of Cedartown, in the best park too. I was petting the cat from one of the nearby houses. Her name is Harley and is a fuzzy orange tabby. She is always at the park.

All of the kids that come here love to pet Harley. My kids loved petting her. That cat loved every kid who loved her. And here I was, without the kids, saying goodbye to Harley. I gently scratched behind her ears and rubbed under the Harley Davidson Collar. My eyes were all blurry with wet tears.



Best park ever. Even came with a cat for the kids to love on.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

I have lived in Cedartown, in the Cedar House, for the entire breadth of my young motherhood. We moved in when I was eight months pregnant with Pancake. Brought my dog, Henry, into that house. He ran all over the place in our back yard.

Started labor (both times) in that house. I painted fluffy clouds and Winnie the Pooh characters on the nursery walls. Each of my kids learned how to walk in that house. Each kid had their own room, decorated with their art from school.

Each room is filled with a these buoyant memories, stuffed floor to ceiling with big, fat overblown balloons. 7 years of memories, eight years of love coating the walls, soaking into the carpet. That house, it's filled with our love. Our family love.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

Let's turn this ship upright shall we?

Let me make this simple.



This love is not ending. It is a bit fractured right now, but it’s still thriving.

And let me say this. Mr. Hall comes here on weekends. On Mondays, he gets up at 5.30 to make the 2 hour drive back. But not today, today he lingered. We all woke up at seven am. We are tired, sore and sunburned from such a wonderful weekend.

And while I write about clicking my heels three times, he is doing the job of seven men. All manner of drywall, carpet, rewiring, trim refinishing, all of it going on at a furious pace. All of this happening in an empty house. Without his wife and kids.

But this week he has Pancake. And more understanding from his wife. A few more days, a few more weeks, all the measurements of time are small now. We are on the edge of being back together. And then the Cedar house will be filled by another family's love. Just like we took over for the previous family.

And then our next house, oh lordy, lordy, it won't know what hit it when we bust through the doors. Our love may very well burst the seams.

If I click my heels together three times . . . .

In this photo we have Mr. Hall. I told you people he's a hottie :)

Fresh from a rowdy round of yard work. Sweaty and smelling like manual labor, sticky weed stems and gas. It's quite the manly mixture.

Note the subtle expression. The eyebrows are key here. The eyebrows, they say, "My Wife, she is nuts, and she is not listening."

I took the photo while I was debating with him. I wanted to climb on top of the roof, the roof of the Cedar House. That way I could photograph the entire 60 acres of our backyard.

Ok, well, it's not 60 acres, but it is damn big. And he's says, "No babe, climbing up on the roof is not a good idea." In the photo he is saying it for the fifth time. I still don't understand why it's not a good idea, but, I trust him.

And really, such a hottie my husband! He is my Superman, my Man of Steel.

Sigh.

Some days it's easier and some days it's harder. Some days I try really hard to keep it all together. To make it through the day intact. Some days I can't. On this day, I want to add to fuel my hope. Make it grow all fiery and wicked. Because I've clicked my heels twice and all I need to do is wait. Just a few more moments.

Then I will click my heels together one more time....

And Pancake, Mac, Me and Mr. Hall will all be in a place ....

that is like no other....

Home.

And Mr. Hall, I know you are hustling too. Working so hard repainting, stripping wallpaper, installing carpeting and flooring, putting up drywall. All the manly things you do so well. You feel all of this too. Only you don't whine about it like me (smile and hug).

So let's listen up here everybody,

get your lighters ready and hold them up high!

Let's bow our heads and give thanks to the esteemed Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Take it Ozzy!