Like Jon Snow, we know nothing

I filled out no less than 56 pages for our adoption from foster care application. All manner of personal, medical, housing and financial questions were asked. The state wants to know all the things. So, I parked my butt in the minivan, drove to a wooded park on a sunny day and KNOCKED IT OUT IN 3 HOURS. BOOM!!


Mr.. Hall was less enthusiastic about the paperwork. Revealing your tax information to strangers on a wink and a prayer that there are kids out there, that we can adopt, was something he grumbled at. He's not convinced this will actually work. Most kids in foster care either go back home or are adopted by their foster families. Just adopting from foster care is a least likely scenario. So, all of this may be for nothing and I understand his groaning. I don't care though. I'm not doing anything else right now.


There's a lull in the House of Hall. Our middle son, the genius Mac, has come along nicely with his defiant tendencies, ADHD and giftedness. Very blessed times as of late. Medication and therapy are going super helpful. Him maturing to age 10 helped immensely. Still some struggles, but Rome wasn't molded in a day.


Our oldest, the wee 14 year old Pancake, she's coming along too. All righteous indignation and very much knowing she's correct. Not even a question. Here's a typical conversation.


Me: I don't even want to discuss things with you anymore, you don't listen, you just wait to jump in to...to school  me ...
Pancake: That's because you're wrong.


Hilarious.


The crazy part is I totally remember this at her age. The fighting energies. The good fight fighting energies. I still have them. They continue to serve me well.


I think Mr. Hall and I are really into our kids. We love them and know them. It's a bit weird now. They are shaping who they are, based on their likes and wants. Which again, weird. Little kids are easy, it's all about nap times and snacks. Older kids like to discuss communism and the concept of infinity. All the while rolling their eyes at your aged wisdom when they struggle. Because parents are wrong. Like Jon Snow, we know nothing.


These are good problems to have. Watching our older kids outpace our intellect. Watching them grow and being tall people. Give us lip because we're morons.


We love though. They love too. We all still love each other and share a common, snuggly bond. We genuinely enjoy each other's company. I could not be more blessed.


So yeah, it's time to add more kids. 

Revelation of new

Settling into the new job. Super fancy here in the private sector. They ordered me a chair, painted my office and sent my flowers. There is a whole marketing department. That is weird. It's all weird. The work is the same. I see patients for mental health reasons. I prescribe mental health medications. I do what we mental health nurse practitioners do.

Only it's bananas and super hard. At least it was. This organization is BIG. The patients are COMPLICATED. My coworkers are WICKED SMART. All of which forces my growth. Not growing is why (in part) I left my former job. I needed to grow. My brain isn't completely demolished from all the kids. It needs very science and caring things to do in the service of others. Which is what I do at my job.

For the first two weeks I felt very overwhelmed. Felt very exhausted and began to have nightmares. I took ambien for a week straight. I take ambien maybe once/twice a year. I started saying things out loud to Mr. Hall. My scary, sad, stressful emotional stuff. He laughed and hugged me. Because he's happy for me and my struggle.

This is the same Mr. Hall who happily cheered on my contractions during labor. All smiley and RAH RAH RAH!! That's right. He didn't comfort me during labor so much as cheered me on because it was happening and it's awesome. Because struggle is growth and happiness in the end.

So the nightmares and the constant rumination. I would never be without thoughts of what I said  or did at my new office. At night I would dream I was there too. It was no good.  It all broke loose when I went to church on Sunday.

I hadn't been to church in a long while. Holidays/lazy/what have you. But I woke up 5 minutes before the service and high tailed it there. During the singing I reached on up and asked God for help. It was then I had a revelation.

I had forgotten about that up there. God calls whom He calls because we are the ones to do what we are needed to do. I'm not here, at my fancy new job, because I'm the smartest and most capable. I'm here because He put me here. And it will come. The knowledge, the workings, the reasons I'm here will become apparent. All this rumination and second guessing it the evil one shooting me down, coloring my thoughts and he is wrong.

It was a great lift of ugly. Then there was this silence in my head. No more second guessing or reviewing everything I had said and done at work. No more feeling consumed by work thoughts. Just silence. It took some getting use to. It took a couple of nights but my sleep is 99% back to normal. My energy is returning. And all is well in the House of Hall.

GOD IS GOOD

PRAISE HIS NAME

2 second family hugs are the best

Wake up at 6.30 am. Tired. Didn't wake up in time for crossfit. It'll be a squeeze, but I'll go tonight.


Rustle the middle son Mac. My genius son. Put a kitchen timer next to his head. 10 min to get up or consequence. This keeps me from badgering him. We would use an alarm clock, but even the blaring ones don't rouse him. He slept on living room floor. It works better than his bed he says.  At least this week.


Attempt coffee. Get half of it down. Make oatmeal. Also half. Can't find clean pants so I put on a dress.


Skittle around my daughter Pancake,  whose standing near the stove eating a bagel with peanut butter. She doesn't talk. I go for a side hug, she tenses. At 13, she's not interested in hugs. I don't care. I side hug. We confirm I'm picking her up from volley ball. She makes a joke and I'm so happy. She stopped joking a few months ago and it was tough. But today, a joke. Praise HIS NAME!! With two bites left she puts her dishes in the sink.


My 3 year old son River bellows from upstairs. OPPPPEEEENNN IIITTT!! It being a  wee baby gate for his room. He rattles it with his foot, clutching matchbox cars and plastic Easter eggs. He doesn't want to put them down and open the gate. He has to pee. Desperation sets in. The volume rises.... OOOPPPEEEEN IIITTT!! I go open it. Give him a squeeze and he's off to potty. Still clutching the cars and eggs.


The timer goes off. My genius son is snoring hard. I get a squirt bottle and mist him. Loud snarls spiral up from the nest of blankets. Then he curls up like a caterpillar, trying to go back to sleep. I turn the nozzle from mist to stream. Three squeezes to the forehead and he's up. He stomps downstairs to get dressed. He has 9 min to get to the bus. He's too late for breakfast.


Then there is Ruth. Our wee puppy dog. Dogs are the frickin best!!

My daughter leaves like a ninja. But I see her. I run to the door, flip it open and holler 'BYE SWEETIE...LOVE YOU....HAVE FUN AT SCHOOL.' She barely turns her head but a slight smirk appears.  She heard me.


I go and check on my genius son. He's laying on the bathroom floor. Fake sleeping. I tell him get up or no electronics for a week. I can see his light now. The coma has lifted. The bus carries him to school. 


River announces there is no need for pants today. Underwear day he declares. I leave him with a bowl full of raisin bran and my husband who will get him dressed. Like putting pants on a bucking kangaroo. I head out. I forgot to brush my teeth and couldn't find a hair brush. Pancake hoards and hides them. I brush both when I get to work.


There are a number of tough cases at work. I prescribe mental health medications. I see dementia cases where I can't really help. I feel sad for and with them. I see relentless drug seekers who make me angry. I'm not a vending machine. You don't want to get better, you just want a fix. That's not going to happen in my office. I don't say these things. I say, No. And. We are done,  get out of my office or I'll call security. Because now I'm mad and scared. Addicts can be dangerous. They leave. I'll have to answer to the patient advocate for that.


I see patients who are doing phenomenal. I count the blessings. Coworker lunch goes well. Lots of laughs and support. More patients then done.


Then the kid pick up mambo begins. I start with my daughter from volleyball. She's hunched over, walking forcefully to the car. I can tell she's crying and trying to hide it. She's introverted and sports requires a lot of effort socially. She's doing it though. I smile and give her my phone so she can dive into tumblr and pinterest.


Then our new foster girl Andrea. Her pick up is at an after school program across town. My name is not on the list for approved picker upper people. They only have Mr. Hall's name. Mr. Hall is across town picking up Mac. It's 5.30 pm and there is no way to contact a social worker to address this. The after school teacher says she'll call the birth mom. I sit down with Andrea whose all smiles and happy. She's truly a beautiful girl. I'm humbled and happy. We color and wait. I've got 15 min to pick up River but I'm at peace. There is no rushing this.


Mom calls back and gives the O.K.


We pick up River who leaps into Pancakes arms. We all do a quick group hug. Pancake doesn't fight it, at least at first.


2 second family hugs are the best.

I'm one Tough Mudder!

I heard about tough mudder years ago. At the time, I wasn't sure the people who did tough mudder and I were the same species. But I started to dream. I started to want.



 

I would run into folks who had done this and I would ask them millions of questions about it. I can't remember any of them saying, "you should do this." When people ask me questions I don't encourage them. Maybe I should.

 

But after the want--- years passed on. My want never passed.

 

Then I had my last baby making me a mother of five (three our own, two foster kids). A month post birth, while I was still nursing, I joined weight watchers. I was determined to get healthy once and forever.  

 And I stumbled onto crossfit and said out loud, "I'm going to do the tough mudder". It was a bold but quiet peep of a statement. It caught in my throat and startled me. I was determined though.

 

ABSOFRICKINLUTELY determined.

So, let's begin shall we?

I don't believe there is a way to train for the tough mudder. You need to be ready though. Be strong, be fit, be badass and work hard. That's what I did for a year prior. There was a lot of crossfit involved.

The event itself is 12 mud laced miles of running, climbing, bashing, running, hills, reaching, swimming, climbing, MORE EFFING RUNNING, hills, berlin walls and running. Go ahead and google the photos. They're pretty accurate.

 Mud.

These yellow things have electricity in them.

 

Grabbing stangers in places you normally just grab your husband.

WOOPS!! SORRY DUDE!!

These monkey bars are fun. I got on one ring and promptly feel into the water.

 

IT WAS AN AMAZING DAY WITH MY HUSBAND AND I COULDN'T WALK FOR THREE DAYS AFTERWARD.

 

but wow. look at this.

 

When they handed me the orange head band.

I started hysterically crying.

Happy holy mother of God tears.

Hypeventillating tears.

People were asking if was ok.

It was out of my control-

 this

crying.

CRYING FOR HAPPY!!

 I did it. and I'm so proud of me.

I got flowers from Mr. Hall and everything. 



Psychology of the run

My head is absolutely swimming. There's not much to say so I'll talk that photo up there. That's me. Running. Running during a recent crossfit workout. Before crossfit, I never ran at all.

The work out was run 800 m, do a bunch of weights and push ups, run 800 mg, do a bunch of SERIOUSLY? more weights and push ups, and then run 800 m. This is the last 800 m. I was soaked through. The tank top came off for the first time ever.

This photo was the last 800 m. I didn't want Mr. Hall to run beside me. I didn't want his constant stream of encouragement. I didn't want this photo taken.

I'm glad Mr. Hall didn't listen. That photo is BADASS!

Running is hard. It's long and plodding. There's nothing you can do but plow through it, one step after another. Burning lungs and all.

We got an email about our foster daughter. They'll be terminating the birth mother's rights and they want to meet with us to talk about 'adoption'. And now I'm losing my mind.

It's not a big surprise, this development. The birth mother has had a lot of time to get it together and she hasn't. The foster daughter needs permanence. I want to be her permanent. Mr. Hall is not so sure. It's killing me all of this.

Mr. Hall doesn't want to stop being foster parents. He wants to take kids in, work on their issues and send them back to their mom. He has energy for these kids that we don't even know yet. If we adopt this shuts things down. The other option is helping her transfer to another adoptive family.

I want to be honest and look through my last few years. I had two miscarriages. This plays a role here, I know it does. My healing has moved forward in leaps and bounds but it'll never be fully healed. Not until I'm in heaven with John and Chloe in my arms.

But oh my God this girl we call foster daughter. I can't even breathe if we're offered the chance to be her real mommy and daddy. 

So now, I pray, on the knees and pray.....no matter what happens this race is a long one....with Mr. Hall beside me... taking pictures of my badassery.......

Happy in the dressing room

I had a moment in the dressing room last week. At my house, there is no full length mirror so it's quite a shock seeing myself in technicolor. The evidence of three, hard fought pregnancies is undeniable. Yet, I was quite pleased with myself. In fact, I was happy.

Imagine that. Happy in a dressing room.

I don't have a flat, concave belly. I don't have chisled anything. Yet, I'm pleased as punch. I never expected this. My goal was not to be the fat mom. That was my first and only goal.

I can't express the relief I have, not being the fat mom. At the park I'm wearing skinny jeans and crawling in the tubes with the kids. I'm trying to do pull ups on the monkey bars. I'm laughing and chasing my tiny kids. Pretending I'm a hungry monster trying to eat their toes. They squeal with wide eyed happiness. I don't feel exhausted or dehydrated. I feel strong and pretty. Mr. Hall gives me hugs and pats me on the tush. It's all very exciting.

Let me tell you about the dresses.

Downtown, there is a consignment store I've been eyeing for years. All manner of dresses and cool vintage wear. I've been coveting. Deeply, privately and with hope. Last week I was there and wow. I am a fox when dressed properly.

There was one dress I loved the most. It was from banana republic. Retro inspired, black and white pattern. There was a red dress so beautiful, it made me blush. The owner gave a frowny face. She loved those dresses too. "But I'm too big for them". But  I'm not. To the victor go the spoils.

This is my real life. I'm capable of lifting heavy things, hopping on boxes and jump rope a mile a minute. Nothing seems impossible now. I feel smoother and taller. And it's not going to stop.

The blog, she is neglected lately. I just don't have the inner tormoil I use to have. No inner conflict to write about. Plus, there is facebook. I document my life there so here is neglected.

BUT. I am still a busy bee. Being a wife, mom, nurse and now foster mom.

WIFE

I love being married. I love being Mrs. Hall. We've been married 12 years now and he still rings my bell. No better way to start my day then standing in the kitchen, holding hands with him and praying. Love it!

MOM

3 kids now

Pancake-age 10.

She is so smart and kind. Very much her own girl. Owns a cornsnake, likes bugs and dirt. READS CONSTANTLY. Goes to Zumba and yoga with me and we do inverted headstands together. Starting to show some tween tendencies of self consciousness and shyness. My plan is to use prayer and yoga to GET HER THROUGH THE TEEN YEARS. That and making sure she has plenty of time with her girlfriends so they can be silly and giggle and giggle and silly. She's such a jokster!

Mac-age 6.

Every morning we say 'MAC GET DRESSED!' and 'MAC, EAT YOUR OATMEAL.' Ten minutes later we'll find him sitting there, shirt on backwards, having taken two bites of oatmeal lost in his own little world. He'll smile and say, "If twins don't live in the same house, do they have the same birthdays?" or "How do arrows know how which way to point?" He's a thinker that one. A silly, jokster thinker who never sits still. Like if Plato was a hummingbird.

River-age 5 months

OH THIS BOY OF MINE. I am over the moon with him. So squiggly, so smiley, so baby chubby thighs and giggles. The photo says it all!

NURSE

Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practioner actually

I still have crazy patients and moral dilemas, but there are less so these days. I have found a groove and really enjoy my work. I get to guide people through their crisis and help them heal. It's humbling work. I am very blessed.

FOSTER MOM

The abstract idea of 'being a foster family' started as a whisper in my heart. I heard the whisper, talked it over with Mr. Hall and we prayed. We prayed to let God guide us, let him reveal the opportunity and we would answer his call.

I can't help but giggle about it all. I can't believe how God has changed me through this process. Being a foster mom comes with so many challenges. But challenge makes the heart grow. Our family system has changed too. The kids are use to the other kids that come into our life. They adjust and grow too. Sometimes it's not pretty but in the end, it's amazingly beautiful.

So far, one child has been with us for over a year (on weekends). Another came here a few weeks ago.

It's a task of loving without expectation. We never know when these kids might leave our life. So we love them now, while they're here. We don't know what will happend. So we give them hugs and prayer and warm meals. These kids are great and challenging. I hope OH I HOPE they benefit from seeing Mr. and Mrs. Hall loving each other and treating each other right. I hope they feel God's love.

And it's not just the kids. These kids have bio-moms and bio-grandmas. They are hurting too. Sometimes the bio family members call and it's totally awkward. We help the kids make art projects to bring on their family visits. We send photos and emails. We say, 'he had a great time at the zoo this weekend' or 'She really liked going to the library with us.' We keep things light and positive in one of darkest situations ever.

It's the ultimate task of not judging. Because God didn't call to us to judge, He called us to be shining examples of His light and love.

SO

that's my comings and goings. howzit with yous?

The Elixir of love and stories

That up there is Mr. Hall fixing the brakes on his truck.

He was annoyed at me, taking his photo.

I don't think husbands, wives, children and assorted family/friends of bloggers get how awesome these kinds of 'fixed the breaks' moments are. We LOVE documenting our lives. I post something on facebook twice daily. A cute photo of kids or a quick story about something. Like how our daughter recently learned how to make armpit farts.

It's all golden my good people.

It's like an elixir right now, as a I fight through round 17 of first trimester nausea and exhaustion. Reading and telling stories helps all of this.

So,

Thanks for writing,

and

Thanks for reading :)

hand-foot-mouth

That up there, is my daughter's snake. It's a corn snake. She loves Sunset with all of her big, big heart. She named him Sunset because the clouds at sunset are pink. That's my hand though.

But, this post is not about Sunset.

It's about this one time, about 10 years ago, I was driving to the doctor's office because my hands were itching something fierce. I was a wee CNA (nurse's assistant) at the time. I worked at a nursing home, helping the elderly.

SO-I'm driving to the doctor's office, literally rubbing my hands on the steering wheel as I drove. My arms and neck itched too. I was living in this old house, renting the top floor while I went to nursing school. There was NO air conditioning in the house. It was summer, so the temps were in the 90's most days. Sticky hot.

Mr. Hall would visit on weekends. We slept on this old, scratchy, pull out couch. We'd wake up in a hamster pile in the sunken center. Cupfuls of sweat would pool under his Adam's apple. It was miserable.

I think about this and I think, wow, Mr. Hall really loved me. He drove two hours to see me on those weekends. All to sleep in a horrible, scratchy, broken, pull out couch. :)

So of course I would have a heat rash from the couch.

Turns out, it was hand-foot-mouth disease. Google it if you want. Go ahead, I'll wait.

GROSS RIGHT???!!!

Totally contagious too. Which is why I got it working at nursing home. I also picked up scabies from there too. Working at hospitals and nursing homes is dangerous business. Lots of closeness, lots of shared, lots of hosts for viruses and such to thrive.

I was thinking about this today, as I am running a fever and have a sore throat. The kids are back in school. Which is why we've been sick the last week. Kids are vectors.

YET

The thing is, Mr. Hall never once caught anything I ever caught. He never gets sick from anything we ever have. Or. . . maybe he doesn't complain about it :)

Mr. Hall is due in less than 24

One of the best things about being married is that someone is waiting for you, all excited you're coming home. And I can't tell you how excited I am, to have Mr. Hall coming home. The kids are excited too.

Here's hoping for safe travels and no complications. Woot!

A random story about me and THC

Today, I am feeling rather blah. I'm not smiling. This is no good. So let's hear a random story about me and THC. At the end, I will be cheered up. I promise.

When I was a wee lass of 23, I went to Amsterdam. I went with my bestie friend Sarah and her dumbass pot head brother James. I was a college student at the time, so I was poor as dirt. The tickets to Amsterdam were cheap. It was a January promotion. There were like 7 connecting flights to get there.

Alas- I did not partake in the Mary Jane on that trip. Sadly, I was a good girl.

What I did smoke was Winston Lights. GAWD I LOVED SMOKING!! I had been smoking for about a year at that point. I loved it. It helped me. Those cigarettes loved me. And in Amsterdam I could smoke EVERYWHERE. Like at the supermarket picking out oranges. I smoked with purpose and intent on that trip. I smoked because I knew it was my last week to smoke.

Two weeks prior I had started dating Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall is a militant anti-smoker. I had decided to quit for him. My new love interest of two weeks. And oh, how I loved him from the moment we met. That was like 12 years ago, I still remember the gobsmacking rush of love that came over me. Still does.

Anywho-back to Amsterdam. It was my first European country. I marveled at the cobblestone streets, the ever present bicycles and quaint little shops. Everything was arty and ornamental. It lit my passion for travel. I loved it.

A good time was had by all.

Then the flight home. 18 hours in, one more flight back to my home state. AND HER DUMBASS POT HEAD BROTHER HAD A DIME BAG OF THC ON HIM. I was hallucinating from all the connecting flights, I was beyond reach. And all of us were searched in very private ways and I lost it. Bawled like a baby. Lost touch with reality.

Part of the crying was knowing my bestie wasn't really my bestie. As we traveled on that trip, I learned that I wasn't such a good fit for her. Or she me. But we, Sarah and I, stuck together long enough for her to be my maid of honor at my wedding. But after that we stopped. We'd been besties for 5+ years. Sad really.

When I got to the last airport, at my hometown, I was still hallucinating. I called Mr. Hall, my love of two weeks, to fetch me. I didn't want anything to do with anyone. I just needed someone to pick me up and bring me home.

And he did. He drove so carefully, spoke softly. He poured me into my dorm room bed. He washed my clothes and nursed me back to reality over the next few days. He was so gentle, so kind. So loving and nurting.

He still is.

see now, that's better . . . all fixed!

Swirly Swirls

Being married provides a lot of fuel. There is no way I have to do this alone, this crazy life. I will always have someone who is nice to me and wants to hear about my day. Mr. Hall takes good care of me.

And I love it when, before he writes something, he swirls the pen on a piece of scrap paper to ready the ink.

I love it when, even with gatorade, he'll swirl his glass and sniff before he sips.

I love the way he takes his time with everything, even putting on a t-shirt. He'll fluff it out and gingerly place it over his head.

I love how he tackles all manner of handy man projects, figuring it out as he goes. And he does a good job because, as he says, "I may not know how to do it, but I care enough to do it right."

I love how he makes patient faces when we load furniture unto a moving truck. Letting me set the dresser down every so often to rest, never making a fuss about it.

I love it how crazy attracted he is to me, even after all these years. He's still bananas over me.

And I'm still crazy for him. He is my super man, my man of steel.

Happy Anniversary babe-love you.

My spanking hand-it's twitching.

Mr. Hall has been back two days now and I must say . . . ahhhh . . . that's SO MUCH better!

Yet, my spanking hand-it's twitching.

Mr. Hall and I run on different wavelengths. As a rule, I am unfocused, prone to wandering and not getting things done. He is a straight line and really good at everything.

Now, me and the kids, we've been alone for three weeks. Our cat like tendencies have grown unchecked. We walk willy nilly through the zoo, not consulting the map, going here and there. Walking without purpose. We take an hour to get a few things from the store. Then we forget the thing we went for. This drives Mr. Hall nuts. He gets twitchy. I can see him sort of fuming on the inside. Which I kind of enjoy.

This is marriage after nine years people. There is pleasure in bugging your mate. Trust me. The eye rolls and head shakes of disbelief-they are pleasing in a very small way. I know it's petty, shush!

Also, since he's been back, he has started to stand behind me, giving me advice on how to get things done. Like at the post office, or watering the plants. Which really, these are things I emailed or called him about when he was gone. I really screwed up on stuff when he was gone. Because I don't know how to do anything. I am not domesticated.

Then he started to tell me how to marinate the chicken for the grill last night.

This is when I snapped.

I got very use to being in charge, doing things all spasmodically. Being messy and haphazard. It gets done alright? And then he shows back up, all efficient and here, let me help you. With the rolling of the eyes and the head shakes of disbelief. With the gah noises. So I threw a oven mitt at his belly. But, as we all know, I am a horrible shot.

I whipped it and it smacked him right in the eye. And it was on. We did this slap fight thing and dangit, he's really strong. And I tried my girliest but in no less then two moves he had me pinned. This also irritates me. With the greatest of ease, he brings me to the earth.

Which is maybe a good thing. Because he's here, with his family and being our anchor. It's like adjusting to gravity now that he's back. And it feels so good to feel grounded again.

One more night and he'll be home

and everything will be back in place and home will feel like home again :)

Happy Father's Day

This is what Daddy's do.

And Mr. Hall does it the best!


Happy Father's Day everyone!

Now Go!

Give a Dad a manly handshake and hardly slap on the back-

Maybe even give your Dad a hug! :)

Whitey Tighties

Look! The stools from this post.

So I ask Mr. Hall, "What have you and Mac been doing these past three days now that he's not in day care? Are you keeping him stimulated and doing activities with him?"

He says, "We cut stuff up with scissors, couldn't find any glue though. Watched some cartoons, ate lunch, napped, mopped the floor, played in the yard and hung out in our whitey tighties."

"Sounds like a good time," I say.

:)

Have a good weekend all!

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!)

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

Your so hot, you're making me sexist (repost sorta)

• 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. . . . .

I've never had such a fire place as ours. It is dark brown and stout. We were so warm. It was awesome.

I love my boom king. ;)

Have a good weekend everyone. Take care of you and yours ;)

What love is, nine years later . . .

Anniversary Pose

A midday sun broke through the windowed walls,

Lighting your inky mesh shorts and sweaty chest.

We are twisted half way round,

Sitting back into an absent chair.

The heat in this room is cranked on high

Making mush from our mylonite muscles.

Side by side we posture and pose

Making our bodies be planks, wheels and bows.

My eyes close and my jaw goes soft,

Bubbles of energy bursting inside.

My breath grows long, taming all of this-

that I feel for you.

Nine years ago, I was made a wife;

With you for a man, my husband.

You have made me more than me.

And my love still swells when next to you-

Because I am all yours.