Mr. Hall seems a bit off

Since moving up here Mr. Hall has taken charge of the house. He is an incredibly hard worker. He regularly uses items like wheel barrows and chainsaws to clean up the yard. Inside the house, he is installing cabinets and dishwashers. Rewiring entire rooms and such. Then he gets the kids, plays some Left for Dead and I come home.

I can't help but contrast what would happen if I stayed home. If I stayed home I'd be sleeping and reading and then not much else. Because I am lazy and unstructured.

But something has been off this week. I think the lack of electricity has made it come to the surface. I see him getting all this stuff done, but I think Mr. Hall may be going a little nuts. I think it is the lack of people in his new work life.



I've seen him at his old work, talking with people.

He has a special talent, that Mr. Hall of mine. He is an engineer that has salesmen like ability to schmooze clients. This is rare in the species of engineer. He's good looking and can make people feel comfortable spending $20,000 dollars on a networking system. I've seen it. I've seen him calm and charm even the most high maintenance female project manager. And with guys? He can tell dirty jokes and back slap with the best of them.

I think this might be what Mr. Hall is getting all nuts about. It's subtle this nuts. He never complains about anything. But I see the signs.

Here he is making our home so beautiful. The landscaping is making my eyes pop. All a-gog I be. Our home is becoming a show place. He's doing such a wonderful job. But he's in isolation. Which is no good. Yet here's the thing. We have these tiny ones that go to school six hours a day and I work eight to nine. So someone has to be there. And now that he's home more we are actually saving money by not paying people.

Then, last night he made an announcement. He will be keeping both kids home for the summer. They'll have scheduled activities but still. Pancake will have off of school so might as well keep Mac home too.

And I had a pang of jealously. And guilt. Because I would be no good staying at home. But I want to. But, again I am lazy and unstructured. Best for me to work and bring home the bacon.

Oh Mr. Hall. U da best!

(ten points for the husband and wife in the pic above!)

The bigger the hair, the closer to God

So, I would be remiss I didn't tell you guys the lights are out at the House of Hall. It's a long story but no, we are not trailer trash who failed to pay the bills. If you were my facebook friend you would know the story but noooOOOooo, you gotta be all hatin the facebook yo! Yeah, I'll looking at you Earl!And HEFF!!

We still have water, hot water at that. We have a handy new grill too. We can make soup and p b and j sammiches. I will be grilling burgers tonight that should all thawed out. And we can make rice. It's all good.

What I bemoan, what makes me o so sad, is the flatness of my hair. Without the AC/DC juice, the hair of Mrs. Hall, it is flat. My 100 dollar hair dryer sits and waits, wanting to be dutiful. But no, it is not to be for a bit. So my thick brown hair just lays there, neglected. And my make up is put on in low light. This is disturbing to me. I just feel all wonky.

But, never fear. We'll bust out the tent and make an adventure out of this. We'll have smores and everything.

And I'll try not to panic because this weekend Mr. Hall will be away on business. And it's going to be rainy. And there will be no access to movies for the kids. Or Wii. Which means I'll most likely go insane. And that will be fitting, I mean, have you ever seen anyone have good hair in a straight jacket?

IGNORE that last post, it wasn't done yet, should be up tomorrow

Which would you rather be, a spoon or a fork?

Since we got the house in October, we've been having sit down meals every night again. It's just us, (Me, Mr. Hall, Pancake and Mac.) Mommy and Daddy take turn cooking and serve some tasty dishes. The kids know the rules: no whinning, you either eat what is served or sit there nicely. Try to get most of it in your mouth and not on the floor. NO talking with your mouth full. And no whining. Whining gets you a time out!

And we play games, games like: What would you rather be, A spoon or a fork? A bird or a cat?

Pancake says a spoon, because spoons spoon up ice cream. Mr. Hall says a fork because forks fork up cake. Pancake frowned a bit and asked if she change her answer. Then someone said, Why not have the best of both worlds- A SPORK!

As far as the cat vs. bird, Pancake was unwavering. She would like to be a cat. I said a bird, a big one that can fly over mountains. As long as it's not an eagle, it'll be all good.

But she didn't buy my argument. She says cats are warm and cuddly, and everyone has one. Plus birds die faster, meaning they don't live as long. Girl has a point there. ;)

We also play: Tell me a lie. Each of us goes around and says one thing about their day that is true and one that is not true. Then we guess which is which.

I have learned that kids are easy liars. But the lies are easy to spot.

I can say this, each time I turn the key in my front door I get a thrill. We live together, all snug and warm. A year ago we were spread between two houses, two hours away. And now each night we get to have dinner together. And the thrill gets even bigger still.

And I wonder if it will ever get old, all this thrill in the simple things.

Knowing me, it probably never will. :)

SO, which would you rather be, a spoon or a fork?

Then I kind of lost it in a very good way

It's been a crazy effin few weeks ya'll.

For those that don't know, we lost the baby a few weeks ago. Since then, I've had way too much contact with medical professionals. Because last week I had a migraine and they did blood work cause it was my first migraine ever. Which is fine.

Guess what they found? HCG. HCG makes makes the line on a pregnancy test light up. Evidence of baby on board. Only I lost the baby a few weeks ago. So this is leftover HCG. Which is oddly comforting. So, in the end, it was a false positive.

But this false positive HCG made all the MDs light up. And they kept wanting to measure it to make sure it's going down. To make sure I'm not pregnant any more. They kept wanting to draw blood work. Which was fine. I went back to the office and they drew blood. And guess what they found? The HCG is going down. Two tests to establish the obvious.

Then they called and said they just want to make sure, so can I get another blood test.

Then I said no.

Enough going to that stupid women's clinic. Enough heading to the bathroom for urine tests and me crying in the bathroom because there is where I learned I lost the baby. Enough getting my blood drawn. Enough getting examined down there. Enough having my body touched with latex gloves. Even listening to the results over the phone. Enough, ENOUGH, ENOUGH!!!

It's not cancer. It's a miscarriage. Healing from this will no longer be measured by their medical expertise, but by my emotional recovery.

So I called the nurse and told her no. And she said, well the doctor wants, and I said there is too much psychological impact to these tests and I just can't do it anymore. And she pushed a bit more and I kind of lost it. Then I cried and she got all comforting, which I.did.not.want. I just wanted to hang up. And I thanked her for her care and ended the call politely.

Then I cried a bit. Squeeze it out I say. Let the emotions flow. Hurting is part of the healing. And healing from a miscarriage is healthy.

Because it's not cancer. It's a miscarriage. The baby was not meant to be. And my recovery will no longer be measured by lab tests, but by my emotional state.

Which is actually going quite well.

My body is my own again. I'm feeling taller. Mr. Hall and I are smiling again. I am starting to feel human. Back on the weight watchers. Feeling healthy. Back in my size ten pantalones.

And I fantasize. Healthy, rich fantasies.

I envision the day I'll announce I'm five months pregnant. I'll type it in here. Or maybe we'll just wait and tell nobody until I'm ready to pop.

These fantasies are savory.

Because I'm not an empty vessel. I'm not alone here. I'm healing and doing well. Waiting until we can try again.

Which will be sooner than I think.

Until then. Back off you medical doctors and you're wanting tests. This is my body and we are doing just fine!

RAWR!!

Spank-a-butt

Mac has been a crank and spank this week. Ask him to do anything and he will dissolve into a puddle of snot bubbles and no no NOs! Then, he started acting up at school.

Sigh.

He's a substantial boy. Solid. I think he is testing how his girth can get him his way.

It doesn't help matters that he's such a cutie. He knows how to turn on the charm. The saving grace in all this is that he has a good quality heart. There is love and kindness through and through him.

If you make this grow you'll see Mrs. Hall in the background.

sigh

So, between Mr. Hall and I, we should figure it out. We'll do the time outs and the occasional pat on the tush. I won't read up on it. I'll let it flow and be calm. Best to not overreact to these things. Maybe boys will be boys. And maybe this is ok.

After all, Mr. Hall was once a boy too. I love you Mr. Hall.

Feel the funk my good people!

Pepe "The King" Prawn says, "I will make the pancakes unnhhkay.."

And here's hoping your morning is funk-a-liscious ;)

Flashback Friday: My mother in law, wine yeast and a storage shed

Published 2-18-2009. And MAN OH MAN IS IT AWESOME TO READ THIS. Because all my hopes and dreams came true.

This was on my "Daily art" desktop calendar.
It is called "The Worship of Venus" by Titian (1488-1576)
All sorts of chubby cherubs up there ;)

Last weekend, Valentine's weekend, we moved the bulk of our furniture up here.

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I am telling you people, at the end of next month, we can put our house on the market. The house should sell easily enough. Our house is in a seller's market. (Read: big city everyone loves, economy good) Getting a house up here should be easy. It is a buyer's market up here. (Read: not such a big city and well . . .)

AND THEN THE HEAVEN'S SHALL OPEN UP AND GLORY DAY, GLORY DAY, A THOUSAND VIOLINS WILL BEGIN TO PLAY . . . .

All sorts of chubby cherubs will fly around, strumming tiny little harps. . . .

Meanwhile, I was tickled by this exchange that took place while my husband was dissembling our couch that looks like this:

That is a big bastard of a leather lazy-boy couch. Somehow, my husband unscrewed a bunch of things underneath and separated it into manageable pieces. It is not moveable in the solid chunk form.

It required some effort, this separation, what with the twisting and hunkering, all while the couch was tilted above him.

I know because I read to him from my Sephora catalogue while he worked.

GAWD!! I love the Sephora catalogue. I mean, the way they describe the items just blows me away. I mean, listen to this description (of face cream):

. .. Willowherb, a unique anti-irritant, helps to prevent sensitivities while wine yeast and marine complex combat against environmental damage. The combination of jojoba leaf, a powerful antioxidant, with Burdock root, silica powder, and other effective ingredients refine pores . . .

"Huh, wine yeast, huh. Well, can you shine the light over here?" says Mr. Hall in response.

(It was my job to hold the light btw, I am not completely useless :)



And there is this description of hand cream:

Enriched with 20% Shea butter, this super-creamy balm penetrates quickly to protect, nourish, and moisturize the skin. Honey, almond, and coconut oil are blended with Shea butter to create this unique and extremely effective moisturizer

LORD HOWDY! I mean come on, doesn't it all sound so dreamy? This Sephora catalogue, it is mentally uplifting.

I love the catalogue so much that I took it to dinner with my mother in law that night. Because I still feel tense around his family. Because my MIL didn't come to our wedding on purpose. I never held it against her cause she's kinda nuts. But, I just don't care anymore, I don't care about being tense anymore. And I wanted to continue reading my sephora catalogue.



And I tell ya, it's better than wine, this stuff. I was so relaxed during dinner as I read through the descriptions of the products. Ya see, I just don't care anymore. I am done trying to figure out my mother in law. Done being angry at the past. Done trying to figure out why she does the stuff she does. She was there that night. Really there. And all lovey dovey with Pancake. And that is all that mattered.

Either way, our glorious couch is 0.5 miles away from my work, tucked in a storage shed. It's best friend, our dark cherry wood sleigh bed, is nestling right beside her.

I see the light at the end of the tunnel people. I hear the angels tuning up their violins. And my queen size pillow top mattress? Oh, it's in there too. Happy to be near me again. Patiently waiting for us to snuggle again.

Mind over Matter my Ass

Last summer the Tribe Called Hall went to the fair. Well, several fairs actually. I decided long ago not to be a wussy mom. I was not going to sit on the bench, watching her kids enjoy the rides. Waving and being wussy. No, no! I was going to go on every ride.

This is despite the fact that I get nauseous swinging on a swing set. And even the Ferris wheel make me queasy. So yeah, I got on the tilt-a-whirl determined to just suck it up and power through. Because I love my kids!

Longest five minutes of my life.

I ralphed in a trash bin after the ride. Really loudly. The kids thought it was funny.

Goddammmit!

Then I sat on a park bench with my head between my knees. Then Mr. Hall gently fed me salty popcorn. One piece at a time. Took a good 20 minutes for my vertical hold to solidify the ground in one place.

gah!

Which brings me to yesterday. I tried putting together a gas grill.



I am not a handy woman. Yet, I was determined to put it together. I layed out all the parts, studied the manual and got through step 5. Only there was something wrong. I couldn't get to step six.

I retraced my steps. I restudied the manual. I looked over the parts. It just wasn't jelling. Then I got flustered and didn't want to ask for help. Cause I didn't want to be one of those wives that is helpless. So stared at the manual, then at the grill. Then at the manual. I couldn't start step six cause it the picture in the manual didn't match THE DANG THING IN FRONT OF ME.

So I stared some more.

For 35 minutes.

Then I felt a migraine rip through the right side of my head.

GAAAHAHH!!!

My vision got blurry and I thought I was going to pass out.

wahaaha!!

It was a complete SYSTEMS FAILURE!

bbaaah!!

So, I say this.

Sometimes, it's good to be humbled.

:P

The Interview Experiment (redux)

I believe it's high time to resurrect the Interview Experiment. Read my interview (now with fresh updates) then go to the end to get yours!

--------------------------------------------------------

I have been interviewed by Mr. Verdant Dude, formerly known as Mr. Bug Eyed Earl. (yeah Earl!)

question one: How ya handling the winter so far in "Super Duper"?

It sucks ass.

UPDATE: I LOVE LIVING HERE!!! CAUSE THIS IS MY BACK YARD YO!

question two: You've only been on Blogger for about a year (update-it's been like two years now). What inspired you to start blogging?

I have of lot of involuntary creative energy. Specifically, a writer's energy. It is a driving force, a veritable pipeline. It is there every day, the buzzing words, the sentences writing themselves out in my head.

It has been part of me for as long as I can remember.When I was little, I loved to write stories and poems. Diving into big words, lounging in their sound before I could fasten a bra. I have had a few things published in local journal type publications. Mostly poems.

Oddly enough, I was never a journal keeper or a big reader. Except for autobiographies. I use to read two a week. This is how I found the blogosphere. That was a long time ago.

I would have started a blog then, but I was busy. The energy was diverted by school/work/mom/wife tasks, but in June 2008, I graduated with my master's and became a grown up Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner. With school out of the way, my muse to became insistent and mouthy. She insists I work out who I am and what I feel. And tell my story. And I agree with her. Hence the birth of this blog.

THANK YOU FOR READING MY STORY!

WE REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE LOTS OF CHOICES IN THE BLOGOSPHERE, THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING TO FLY AIR HALL!

three: What can you tell us about the other two blogs that you contribute to ? What percentage of your blogging time is devoted to each of your blogs?(update-i don't contribute anymore cause i'm selfish)

Bonez is the first blog I contributed to. It is run by a very nice guy named Tony. It is sort a think tank blog. Very eclectic.

I have contributed other pieces to that blog. But, now that my career has picked up, I can barely keep up with this blog. It is nice though, publishing somewhere else. It changes what you write. It is always good to grow.

Thems' private thoughts was a one time only guest post. It was a contest to write a holiday post. Thank you James for inviting me! It's fun to play with others!

four: Do you ever yearn to go back to the punk look of your youth? Got any pics from back then you wanna post? Or from when you were a nude model? (Just kidding about the last one...kinda)

No, no urge to relive the punk years. Not in hair cut form or in life style choices. It is a relief, when the crazy ends. and breathe . . . .

As far as the art (from when I was a nude model) I am sure it's out there. My body has been reproduced in chalk, acrylic and oil pant. There are sculptures, photography and videography too. There is a lot of stuff out there, if the artist(s) kept any of it.

I can honestly say I was an awesome model. I was clearly the most request. I thrived in that setting really. I could hold difficult and interesting poses for 45 minutes. The short poses were a chance to dance in place for 2 minutes at time. I started out as an artist so I knew how to use the angles of my body, how to inspire people.

My favorite classes to pose for, were the continuing ed. classes for seniors. They were always so nice. So dedicated to their craft. They gave me such respect and encouragement. AND they would bring me cookies! I miss all those old ladies and gents. It was so avant garde, so sophisticated, so safe with them. I was encouraged to become living art, by seasoned artists.

There is magic to being a nude model for life drawing classes. The artist takes your image and filters it through their imagination and their skill level. You are a muse. It is every bit as awesome as it sounds.

five: I'm glad to see you've included "zombies" as one of your interests on your profile page. Care to change your thoughts on heading to Vegas when the zombies attack? De-composed flesh in that heat would be a bit stinky!

No.

I would head to Las Vegas so I could pursue my other life long dream. To be a performer in the Cirque De Solei. Which Cirque show? you say!

Why O of course! My life would dissolve into pure magic. :)

--------------------------------------------

If you would like to be interviewed by me, and really, why wouldn't you?

1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me." or email me: butcher(dot)hollow(at)gmail
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog (and I'll update mine) with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Warning: it may take a heck of a long time to send you five questions but dammit, as God as my witness, it will be done!!!

The Elixir of Beauty

There . . . now that's better, isn't it?

Have a good weekend all :)

Mr. Hall & Mrs. Hall discuss mating habits

Here's a funky little conversation I had with Mr. Hall.

Mr. Hall: Did you hear about those Eagles in Alaska?

Mrs. Hall: (suspiciously) Wait, is this story going to be like that story you told me about a person's hand size . . . that if their hand is bigger than their face they're really smart?

ed. note:

YES I FELL FOR THAT.

SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!

Mr. Hall: (laughing) No! No! That was funny though. I could have been a lot meaner with that. I barely pushed your hand by the way. No, this is a real story, you can look it up on CNN.* But, did you know Eagles mate in mid air?

Mrs. Hall: Weird.

Mr. Hall: Yeah, I know. It's a big deal in Alaska, tourists pay a lot of money to watch the mating habits. Apparently, there was mating couple who fell out of the sky. There were going at it and became oblivious to gravity. They fell and smashed right into a snowbank. The male eagle died but the female lived. She's injured though, rehabbing in some wildlife facility.

Mrs. Hall: WOAH!

Mr. Hall: Yeah, tell me about it. See, now, I totally get that. It's just crazy while things are going down, for guys I mean. I can totally understand becoming oblivious to gravity. It's just nutz for guys. I mean, all I gotta say to the male Eagle is, 'yeah, I feel ya buddy.'


END

*And sure enough HERES the story.

Revelations from the road (or) Acres of Concrete Chaos

I recently spent four days at a work conference. Which sparked the following post.



In my life, I am never alone nor alone for long. On the road, I noted a glaring lack of demand on my person and time. I marveled at my table for one while polishing an entire magazine. Walking about, without holding a little one’s hand, my gait settled and slowed. Then I was startled by the sound of my own thoughts. Then I heard them in full sentences.

At first I was bewildered by this. Then I started recognizing my freedom. Free from the ties that bind. Last time I felt absolute freedom was in college. I was a young girl with short shorn hair, tied up like tail pipes. Feral, happy, little tailpipes. Running all over campus, becoming a nurse. That was the last time I was truly alone. It was ten years ago.

The days wore on. My feelings grew odder, then grew into lead. They lined the pockets of my peacoat and strained the hem of my skirt. Without my tribe, I felt temporarily disappeared. Which is to say I was very sad. Then I ordered two martinis at the bar. This helped a little.



The next day, I decided to get out of the hotel. My goal was to walk and see the sights. The big city had huge skyscrapers, acres of concrete chaos which left my eyes round. But the absence of Mr. Hall was killing me. My arms ached to hold him. My ribs missed his weight. My mouth craved his ear to whisper my awe.

In the end, I recognized the utter lack of balance in my life. The last vacation I had was three years ago. There is no excuse for this other than self neglect. I need to guard against the inertia that constant need creates. Guard against it like a junk yard dog. I have gobs of vacation time saved up. It’s high time Mr. Hall and I used it.

So we will go. I will wear high heels and a low cut dress. I will be his hot wife, fawning all over my man. Blowing on his dice because baby needs a new pair of shoes. We will get drunk and giggle till my cheeks get red. We will get a room with two beds. Because The Tribe Called Hall started with us. It’s time to tend the roots.

Guess what I'm doing for the next three days, go ahead, guess

I'm going away.

I'm going to a psychiatric conference. Which means I will leave from work tomorrow and drive 3 hours to a very BIG BIG city. Driving without kids in the backseat. Which is weird. I'm driving all by myself with maps. I have a hotel booked and everything. Booked it all by myself even.

I've never been to a conference before. But, to keep up my license up, I need continuing education hours. This will be 18 hours all told. Plus my work reimburses me for the conference and hotel/travel. I should have padded the travel expenses more.

This is so boring to talk about. I apologize. I mean, the conference itself should be interesting. But, it's all technical stuff. Neurotransmitters and whatnot. Doesn't translate well into blog form. Plus, I'm not paying for internet access so I am off the grid for three days. And I don't have internet on my phone cause I'm cheep.

CHEEP I SAY!

So you don't get to hear about it anyway.

ME NO LIKEY NO PUTER AND NO BLOGGY BLOG!!! ME NO LIKEY NO FACEBOOK!!

Plus, the thing is, is that, it just feels so odd. I mean, I will be without husband and children for three days. I've never really been without everyone. I already feel lonely about it. I mean, I'll be a solo member of the Tribe called Hall. Gallivanting about. It's so weird to think about.

ME NO LIKEY BEING SOLO TRIBE MEMBER!!

Who I am suppose to put on time outs? Whose socks am I suppose to hunt for? Who I am suppose to spoon at night? I mean, I'll call Mr. Hall through out the day but, gah.

Crap. Am I really this needy? Have I no identity outside of Mrs. Hall-- wife, mother nurse and friend?

I will be extremely busy though. Attending presentation after presentation. Learning things. Being all professional and such. I won't be going out after the long days though. I will be sticking to the the hotel. No need for met to venture out after the days are done. Lone single female in a big city after all. Safety first.

I'll get room service.

Stare at the cable television.

Maybe I'll bring booze to the hotel room. Is it bad to drink alone?

It's all so weird.

OK, that's all I got.

Wish me luck as I do something I've never done before.

The drive home

From the drive home today.

Home, showered and all snuggled.

It was a really great Easter gathering. My spirit is freer and my laughter is coming back. Mr. Hall is less sad too. He's smiling a lot easier.

The kids are the best elixir.

Thanks for the kind wishes everyone.

Mangoes on Good Friday

Thanks for all the thoughts, prayers and hugs. Really, I mean that.

I was eating a mango tonight and it was phenomenal. It caused these seizures of sweetness to ricochet in my mouth.

Which made me sad because food tastes so good now. Because I no longer have morning sickness. All the nausea and exhaustion has vaporized. I miss them. Because they meant baby on board.

Then I said to Mr. Hall, "I really don't want to go to your sister's for Easter. Everyone is going to ask how I am. And try to hug me. What can I say to them?"

Then he said, "Tell them you cried a bout a half an hour ago, so you're about to cry anytime now."

This was very funny. I laughed, really I did. I laughed because I have been crying in this spouting spurts. It's happening everywhere. When I was pushing my son on the swings, at the park, while I was laughing with him as he giggled and flew o so high, I started blubbering. When I was filling my car with gas, I started sobbing. When I was buying those mangoes, I cried a bit too.

These are short bursts though. Sudden little storms. I can pass them quickly. Pass them off as allergies as I wipe my eyes. They are reflective of the sadness that is there underneath all of this. Sadness is our new companion. It's never far. Mr. Hall feels it to. Feels it just like I do.

Then it hit me.

This sadness is like the morning sickness. It's a sign the baby was here. Only the baby is not here anymore. Now we, Mr. Hall and I, just have this sadness. And we promised to be sad together.

And thinking about the sadness, thinking of it like morning sickness, is really, really comforting. I'm not sure if that sounds strange but it's so comforting to hold this sadness now. It lets me welcome the sadness, it lets me feel all natural about it.

It's a gift, this sadness. And with our sad we honor our loss. And thinking about it like that, fills me with all sorts of hope.

Needless to say, those were some mangoes.