Things I don't like. Tuesday edition.

Today is Tuesday, right?

So I'm tired of bitching about our kitchen. If you're facebook friends with me, you know I've been blowing it up with my frustrations. And since I'm tired of my kitchen, I thought I'd bitch about the other things I'm tired of (in no particular order):

1. The Olympics. Or more specifically, the networks bringing them to us. Holy balls. Pick a damn sport and show it until at least that set/match/game is over. I was watching some channel this morning and they switched sports so many times, it made me assume the producer was bipolar. I typically enjoy watching several different sports, but shit. I can't do it this year. The programming is too psychotic.

2. The Chick-fil-A debate. I'm not going to state my personal opinion about it here or anywhere. But holy shit. Don't take to facebook, blasting one side or the other, assuming your friends will magically say, "You know what? After reading this post, I realize he/she is so right. I'm going to change my opinion." And then get all pissy about it when you don't have 100% agreement. On facebook. Seriously?

3. The presidential race. To me, politics and religion are personal. Through my very republican husband, my mostly democratic voting history has been revealed to numerous people. I do not talk about it myself, not because I'm ashamed of it, but because I don't feel there's a need. Bob, along with these numerous people, like to pick on me for the choices I've made. Some of those people (not Bob... he knows better), have tried to get me riled up about this year's race. They try to start a debate and make me get all political. But when I don't participate, they interpret my silence as ignorance or assume I've converted to their way of thinking. I have my thoughts and reasons for those thoughts. Just like the chick-fil-a debate, me speaking my mind isn't going to change yours. Or vice-versa. And I don't typically enter an argument that I'm not guaranteed to win. I'm smrt like that.

4. The Harris Teeter in my neighborhood. Charlotte is overrun with Harris Teeter grocery stores. And when I say overrun, I mean there are 6 in our 10 square mile radius. "Mine" sucks compared to other ones in general vicinity. Although mine is under construction, I don't think we'll ever get all the cool stuff the other ones have. I don't like this.

5. My kitchen. I know, I know. I said I was done. But surprise. I'm not. Robert, my oh so fabulous mold guy, is coming back today. To cut out a portion of the cabinets to a) see how horrific the mold is and b) try to find the mysterious leak.

I may be done bitching now. But I may not. We'll see. Once Robert leaves, I'll probably be all fired up again. Aren't you looking forward to that?

"Rain" my ass.

You know that old saying, when it rains, it pours? When it's an effing monsoon at our house. I preface this rant by saying I may have the cleanest kitchen this side of the Mississippi. Or at least I thought I did.

I got back home today. I've been in Hometown all week "relaxing." And thank gawd I did. I came home to: no husband (he's working until next WEDNESDAY), ants AND mold covering 50% of my kitchen, Jack, the kitty, licking BC powder out of a packet on the floor (which he conveniently knocked off the ant covered counter), and a car that won't start.

Now I'm no expert in mold remediation, but oh how I wish I was. Bob, who right this minute is sitting beside a hotel pool in Virginia (on a layover for work), is coordinating this mass effort to reclaim our house from bugs and germs (which may include Jack, who apparently loves the taste of ground up aspirin). 

So. I sincerely hope your Saturday is going better than mine. This blows.

Losses.

Today should be the day I do a weekend recap. But writing a fun sarcastic post about our family reunion just isn't in me today.

Last Thursday, an old friend of mine was killed. He's not someone I've stayed in close contact with, yet my heart still breaks for his family. And for his new wife he just married this spring. Although I've tried not to, I keep thinking too much and putting myself in her shoes. A new wife. Losing her husband. It makes me cry just to even thing about.

Yesterday we found out our friends lost their baby. A week shy of his due date and seemingly perfectly healthy, Colin came and left this world all in one day. Again, I can't help putting myself in Colin's moms place and it just takes my breath away.

We have been surrounded by so much death recently. We have been constantly reminded that nothing is guaranteed. Everything is sacred. That every moment counts.

SJ Thursday.

Guess what I get to do this weekend? Spend two whole days with this sweet little thing!

Mind. Blown.

So I just posted and viewed. WHEN THE HELL DID WE GET TO WEDNESDAY?! Shit.

Quality Control.

You know how sometimes when you buy a cheap shirt, there's a quality control sticker in there? Like an "Inspected by #437" sticker to show you the supreme quality of the item was verified? Yeah. Well. Just call me Inspector #437.

So I'm painting the living room. (STILL.) Via a (Bob-approved) ladder. While on said ladder taping the crown moulding, I sorta fell off. In my defense, there is NO STICKER THAT SAYS DO NOT STAND ON TOP. (If I were the suing type, you could bet your ass I'd be at lawyers office right now. But I hate litigation.)

So. I stood on top. And toppled over. And put a knee into the side wall of our World Market entertainment cabinet. I put a knee INTO the wall. Not THROUGH the wall.


Inspector #437 Quality Control Checklist for World Market entertainment center:
-Quality- A+

-Sturdiness- A+

-Thickness of wood- Afucking+

-Reliability of said knee (post-topple)- F- which is down from a solid C+ pre-topple.

Attempt at normalcy.

I have to admit, last night I had a pretty major meltdown. To think of Bob getting in the cockpit of an airplane again did me in (he went back to work today). Luckily for me, I married one extremely level headed guy. I married my best friend who is able to calm me down, make me giggle, and move me forward.

So. Bob went to Chicago today to start work. And I started repainting the living room again (gray.... not blue). I also went to Walmart. How fun, right? Painting and Walmart in the same day. Sweet lord. I'm a glutton for punishment, obvs. However, this time with painting, IT'S GRAY!! Woo hoo! Gray!

And since we've already established that I'm a little sadistic, I've already decided to paint the dining room next. Holy balls. Evidently, I'm one dumb broad. Since the living room/walk through/hallway/whatevs is gray, I'm thinking a yellow dining room. I know, I know. Everyone is doing gray and yellow right now. But I like it. It will look amazing with our furniture. My only obstacle is getting Bob on board with the yellow. Just one small little thing, right? Gray was hard enough. But I think I can do it. Think happy thoughts for me, will ya?

So our upcoming days include (besides painting) work (gross), a weekend trip to Bob's family reunion (fun), and next week, some Hometown goodness for me (YAY!).

Until then, I'm elbow deep in 50 shades of gray. Just kidding. Only two. Supposedly. Well, hell. One blue and one gray.

Rest in Peace.

I've been trying to write this post for the last week. There have been so many emotions... mine, Bob's, all his fellow air national guardsmen. This has been a week of facing reality, a reality where four amazing men are no longer present.

If you google the articles about the crash, you'll read all about how incredible these four men were. How their families, while proud of their service, already miss them terribly. You'll read their wives being quoted saying they were loyal soldiers, but even more loyal dads, husbands, sons, and brothers. You'll read about the memorial service held Tuesday, where heads of state joined in honoring these four men and how they were recognized as honorable soldiers who died doing what they loved... protecting their country. Saving lives. Giving others a second chance.

But you won't read too much about the amazing families these men left behind. You won't read about the incredible wives like Marlo, who tonight told me to hug my husband every day, because I'd never know when it'd be the last. You won't read about the kids who stand proud for their fallen fathers, ready for receiving lines hundreds of people long, putting a smile ahead of their pain, or the kids not even old enough to stand. Instead being held by an aunt or cousin. You won't see articles about the parents who had to bury the sons they never expected to outlive. These are the people we need to remember. Not just the guys who are gone. But the ones they left behind.

In my last post, there was a picture of the MAFFS 7 plane the day it left. The last taxi out of Charlotte. Yesterday, they made their final taxi home. Starting tomorrow, they will be laid to rest. One by one.

May they all rest in peace. 

Remember.

They may be gone, but their ultimate sacrifice will never be forgotten.

Please remember the families of the four very brave volunteers who were lost Sunday night, as well as the two survivors as their broken bodies heal.

Remember the military family these guy left behind... The brothers and sisters who will continue to serve without them in the NC ANG.

Never forget how precious and fragile life is. Always remember.

Son of a Whoo-er.

So. I have a bone to pick with Scotch Blue Painters Tape. Lots of bones actually. Let's say one bone per every spot their shitty ass tape allowed my paint to bleed. That'd be approximately 437 bones. Omg. If somehow Scotch Blue Painters Tape reads this blog, please please please tell me an EASY way to fix all these bleed spots. Without repainting the damn baseboards.

Just last week, I saw a new commercial with their "no bleed" bullshit advertising. Who the eff is able to a) put that tape down, paint over it, and it not bleed through and b) pull that tape up and it not tear the paint. It seems like plain jane old school masking tape would have worked better. Not happy. Hear that, Scotch? NOT HAPPY.

So. Now that I've painstakingly put down all this tape (it almost took as long to put the tape down as it did to paint the walls... I did it that perfectly), painted the walls (a shade of blue that is NOT gray), and pulled the tape up, I have the most monster migraine ever. You may not see me tomorrow. Or for a while. Grrrrr.....

Shades of gray. Or blue. Whatever.

So last weekend, I tackled the flower boxes. The flowers are somewhat still alive, so I thought I'd move on to a bigger project. Painting. Inside. Holy. Balls.

Like everyone else in the world (and on Pinterest), I'm on a gray kick. I adore it. I know it's a fad, but it's classic too. Plus, we won't live here forever. Gray now. Something else with a new house maybe. Who knows. I may carry gray over to a new house too. I'm a risk taker like that.

So gray. I've spend countless minutes at Lowes searching for the perfect shade of gray. Not too dark, but dark enough to not look like a big dingy ugly wall. While there buying paint yesterday, I switched colors at the last minute. I thought the other would be too blue, so I went with a darker, greener shade. Guess what? It's still effing blue. Shit.

As you can see from the first picture, the house is currently a lovely shade of buttercup-ish yellow/beige/crap. I hate it. The ENTIRE effing house is this color. Omg. I'm drowning in this shitty shade of paint. It seems like a rental house. It's not. But technically, Bob hasn't really been here for the last 4 years because of his job. Now that I'm here, shit is changing. Quick. And Bob's on board. Thank gawd.

So here's my progress so far. Only one coat. And it's a weird time of day. All the light is coming from the back. And it's a shit ton of light. But as you can see, it's still effing blue. Now that I'm thinking about it, painting our little archway may not have been the best idea. There's no direct sunlight. I probably should have painted a living room wall first, which is where I primarily want this color. Crap. Oh well. We'll see what Bob thinks when he gets home.

SJ Thursday.

Since I missed last week, you get two pics today. Mainly because I couldn't decide between them.

She's making ALL the men in her life proud with her golfing skills!

Jeggings? Omg. It's no secret one of the main reasons I want to have a baby is to dress them up. 

I hope mine can be as stylish as SJ in her JEGGINGS! Omg.

New career: Gardener Extraordinare.

So I decided to test the old brown thumb. Mine is DEF not green. I mean, obvs if my inside plants are suicide/dive bombing me. Right?

Bob has lived here for 4ish years. He has a long standing argument with the homeowners association about the window boxes. Per the agreement, they are supposed to maintain the front and back of the house/all landscaping. Bob thinks that includes the window boxes. The HOA does not. Soooo.

I HATED the way they looked. So I did something about it. I went to Lowes, found a nice worker lady, and begged her to tell me what to plant that a) the sun wouldn't fry and b) I wouldn't kill within a weeks time.

So here we go. Before and after. I planted these on Sunday afternoon, went to Chicago Monday, came home yesterday. They were already dead. I'm not posting dead pictures, because I'm still hopeful I can revive them. Wish us luck. And by us, I mean me. And the plants.

Before

 

After

Holy balls. It's Tuesday again.

So apparently I haven't been here all week. Yeah. It wasn't too bad of a week. I mean, our air conditioner died a-freaking-gain. Not happy. Bob and one of his super awesome friends fixed it. Something about a compressor/capacitor/something? It was working by the end of the day, so I don't care.

To celebrate the handyman skills of the boys, we went to dinner (Bob and I, Mat, the skillful a/c repairman, his wife Eliz, and their baby Ben). While there, the fire alarm in the restaurant went off. Guess what? They make you evacuate restaurants even if it's a false alarm. But no worries. We just moved outside to the 90+ degree patio. Yay.

Yesterday morning I went to Chicago to meet Bob. It seems like I've been gone for days, but in reality, it's been a few more than 24 hours. When we got his schedule for the month, we realized we'd be apart on our one year anniversary. (Our technical dating anniversary... today.) This time last year, I drove over to Memphis to hang out with him. And that was it. Done. And then it was more firmly cemented the following weekend when he came to Hometown with me. I remember biting my tongue to keep from telling him I was going to marry him. I mean, how crazy girl would that have been? Not very, apparently. He'd already come to that same conclusion on his own as well.

So anyway. Chicago. I went yesterday, we caught a Cubs game last night, and I came home today. Bob-less (but he hid a super sweet amazing happy anniversary card in my purse before I left, which I found while on the plane). He finished work yesterday morning and went back on another trip today. I'm so glad that boy busts his ass (especially since I STILL haven't started my efffing job yet). I miss him terribly, but I'm so glad and happy and proud to have such a hard working man. I lub him.

Cheerleader Zombie Hunter. Uh...

Have ya'll seen the commercials for Lollipop Chainsaw? Apparently it's some sort of new game. For some sort of game console. If it ain't N64, this girl doesn't give a good got damn.

So I had to use The Google to see what this Lollipop Chainsaw stuff was all about. To save you some time, I'll just tell ya'll what is says...

Via wikipedia, "It features Juliet Starling, a cheerleader zombie hunter fighting zombies in a fictional California high school." Oh and apparently while she's fighting zombies, she carries around the severed (yet still living) head of her boyfriend, Nick. Yeeeeeeah.

Riddle me this, batman: Who the balls are they targeting with this game? What demographic is going to play that? 16 year old female cheerleaders? Probably not. I remember being a 16 year old cheerleader, and I sure as hell wasn't interested in playing shit like that. MarioKart on N64? Hells yeah. But only if it was raining outside. On a Saturday. When no boys were around to flirt with.

So who then? If any of you peeps out there find this answer, please gawd let me know.

Mother Nature hates me.

So yesterday was interesting. Mother Nature had it IN for me.

As I was leaving our house to go run errands, a bug buzzed past me. I did a little bit of a dance on our front steps (our neighbors needed entertaining obvs) and then moved on. I assumed it just flew away. No harm. No foul.

I went on to Michaels to drop off some stuff to be framed. As I was standing there, I subconsciously ran my hand through my hair. And. I. Found. The. Bug. Oh. My. Gawd. So, right there in the middle of Michaels, I completely spazzed out. COMPLETELY. The framing lady and I then shared our stories of bugs, spiders, and crawly things. I joked that I needed to go home and take a shower, because I felt gross.

Fast forward about an hour. I was in the kitchen unloading the groceries I'd just purchased. I walked past the fridge and the potted plant that had been sitting on top, fell on my head. Uh, yeah. Thank the sweet lord it was a plastic pot. It had been some sort of tall-ish plant that I apparently needed to replant. It was a smidge lopsided. So it fell. On my head. Oh gah.

Yeah. Hopefully today will be better.

Daddy's girl.

To the coolest guy I've ever known, my Daddy. 

Happy Father's Day!

Word cheaters.

So now that I'm an itelephone user, I've started playing Words With Friends. I much prefer scrabble against the computer, but oh well. I've only played Bob and one other person so far. I let the itelephone work it's magic and produce a random opponent. Well. "Keith" cheated. A lot.

Now I'm not generally a sore loser. I know when my skills are outmatched. I accept it. I also know that "Keith" was cheating. Things started off even, then took an ugly turn. I like to think my scrabble skills are pretty amazing. WWF is not scrabble, but I still know me some good ol' words.

However, my 13 years of private school, 4 years of college, 2 years of graduate school, and 31 years of being did not prepare me for words like horal, zeins, yar (even despite it's regular Philadelphia Story reference), and intron. Now maybe "Keith" is some sort of super scientist and uses words like zeins and intron on a daily basis. However, I suspect he's a big fat cheater cheater pumpkin eater. Using those words, "Keith" won 427 to 277. Really? Wtf, over?

If "Keith" tries to play me in yet another game, I WILL find the space and letters to use the words "fuck" and "off" and "Keith" in some sort of succession.

For the record, blogger spellcheck doesn't recognize horal, zeins, yar, or intron.

So there, "KEITH."

Denim jeans and shaving things.

I'm bored. And when I'm bored, I think about random things that I overhear and/or see and/or realize.

For example, "denim jeans" is redundant. If you don't agree, look up the definitions. They're basically the same word. So why do people say denim jeans? What else would jeans be made of? Linen? I think not.

Also, I'd like to let you know that I royally suck at shaving my knees. No matter what razor, what shaving cream, or the condition of my skin, I still suck at it. I'd love to know the shaving secrets of other grown ups please. Because my knees look like those of a 14 year old girl. Not very hot at all.

On a similar note, I can't operate a weedeater either. That magical height above the grass where you're supposed to hover? I can't physically do that. I either smack the ground or do nothing at all.

So. Since I can't shave my knees or weedeat, I think I'll go get a pedicure.

SJ Thursday.

I very seriously think this could be a catalog ad. She's so damn cute.