It's ok, cause i don't live there ANYMORE!

A simple phone rarely is that when calling my mom.

RING RING

My Mom: Hello?

Me: Hey Mom, can you bring over a can opener when you pick up Pancake for her karate today?


MY MOM: What? Where are you? Are you at home right now?!

(editor's note: I'm calling from my cell phone, while I'm at work I use that phone)

Me: Yeah, I'm at home. So, do you have an extra can opener?

My Mom: Well . . . we have the one that goes under the cuppoard, but why are you at home?

Me: Ooh...I've got a bit of the flu.. no biggie.

MY MOM: (starts to go into panic mode) WHAT?? Are you ok?? What's wrong with you??!!!

Me: Nothing, I've got a bit of the flu..its not a big deal..one of the other doctor's has been out all week.

MY MOM: (panic rising) WHAT??!!! The doctor said to STAY HOME ALL WEEK?? Are you OKAY??!!!

ME: MOM!!! (yeah, i yelled at my mom, shut up) I said, a doctor I work with has been out all week, i'm fine, just a little sick. I'm going back to work tomorrow. SO.... ABOUT THE CAN OPENER??

MY MOM: IS PANCAKE AND MAC OK??!! ARE THEY SICK??!!! (PANIC PANIC!!)

ME: MOMM!!! CHRIST!!! EVERYONE IS FINE!! OBVIOUSLY since you are picking her up for karate she is fine. GAAAAH!!!! (yeah, i know, i'm yelling at my mom, i said shut up!!!!)

My mom: Why do you need the can opener? Didn't you just buy one?

ME: MOMM!!!! LOOK!!! ours is not working and we want to start the crock pot but we need a can opener to open the FLIPPING CREAM OF MUSHROOM SOUP!!!!

My mom: Well, there's no need to yell Holly. I can bring extra can opener we have. No problem.

me: Ok good. Pancake really likes it when you bring her to karate. She gets all jazzed when she sees your car and stuff.

My mom: Well, I love bringing her, you know that. Tell her I love her and we'll go out to dinner afterward. Goodbye Holly.

THEN SHE HANGS UP IN A HUFF.

But's it's ok. Because I don't live there anymore!!!

WEE HEE!!

And now, let's all take some time to enjoy the scenery and have a great weekend!!!

ahem. This photo is of my backyard. For reels peeple. And it's all good ;)

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.

:)

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.

This is not my house I just live here (Update)

update: for those reading in google reader, there are words here, so click on my page and come to the site to read them. or just enjoy the video before the mofos yank it. On this night I took extra special care of myself. I lovingly dyed my hair, did my nails, lingered in a hot shower. On this night I breathed deep and relaxed.

It was also on this night my mom chooses to toss the work ‘fuck’ around like a ping pong ball. Normally I can withstand it, normally I can take it. Sometimes I make the mistake of stepping on to the whirling disk and fall, smacking my face on the concrete.

Tonight I just collected myself and ran downstairs, turned off the light and shut the door. She yelled from upstairs, still batting the word ‘fuck’ around.

Ignoring the drama makes it grow.

I don’t care though.

Because I am far from home, but not in the danger zone.