What I Want For Christmas On Halloween

During a visit to Toys R Us yesterday, I couldn't help but be in a cheery holiday mood. I even purchased a Holiday CD so that Little E could learn some Christmas tunes in the car as we drive around town. And it was the day before Halloween. Am I insane?

Last year, I was excited about Christmas. Little E was going to GET it! Presents! Oh My! And Fun! Weeee! And Colors and Sounds and, did I mention, Presents?!? And last year was fun. At 1 1/2 years old, he did have fun, though it was a bit overwhelming. But this year...

He knows who Santa is. Does it get any more fun than that? And presents. Oh, he totally gets presents. And I'm like a kid again, going through catalogs and hopping into toy stores with my eyes all aglow with the excitement of it. I can't freakin' wait.

And today, we're trick-or-treating, but I'm really hoping that the day after Thanksgiving gets here fast so I can put up the Christmas tree.

Dude. That Hair is Gray.

Oh. My. God. That hair? That little one? The one that I yanked out of my head right from the front? Dude. That hair is gray.

I'm 29 years old and I've got my first gray hair. Not that you will ever see one again. Because I pulled that one out. And I've invested in Herbal Essence hair dye. So there. Up yours, you stupid gray hair.

Money Grubbers

What is it that makes me so annoyed with the people who walk up and down at intersections, shaking a donation can at cars? I mean, I RUN a not-for-profit, so you would think I would be sympathetic, but I'm not. I'M NOT. I'm annoyed. Always.

This weekend I was driving just .3 miles from my house, and had a can shaken at me not once, not twice, but three times. By two different organizations! And, I was intercepted at the door to Walgreens by some kids selling candy for their school. It's not that I don't give to charity, because I do, and my husband and I try to pick charities we feel are legitimate and do something that we believe in. And when Lions Day comes around, I do throw money into their can, because I know about the charity and we support it locally. But WHY would I throw my hard-earned money into the can of a man wearing a handmade vest with some organization name scrawled across the front? And what other activity makes people roll down their windows to invite a stranger to lean into their car while their children are in the back?

The one charity this weekend was standing at an intersection, no advertising who they were except for a little logo on their cans, which you couldn't read even if you were standing right next to it. They were dressed in some white get-up, and getting dressed right at the corner of the intersection. The one man, unfortunately catching me glaring at him, walks towards the car and I shake my head. Not interested. Instead of walking away, he points to the can, steps towards the car, and shakes the can at me again, like that will change my mind. Again, I shake my head. He stops and STARES at me. How dare I? How dare I not put my hard earned money into the can of a "charity" I've never heard of, never researched, never supported before?

Maybe too many people feel "it's just change", and toss it in to get rid of it. In the day of I-Pass, less and less people use change while driving on the tollways, so maybe it's more appealling than it used to be to give that change away. And God knows, if it's one of those days where there's someone on EVERY corner, I give in, give them some pennies, and get a little trinket to throw onto my dashboard in front of me so that every flippin' person working for that charity knows I already gave them some damn money.

I know this all sounds callous and harsh, as these are hard working volunteers out on the street asking for people's change. But in the era of Do Not Call lists, 2 phone calls each day from political parties, calls from charities we've happened to support in the past, and the bell-ringing of the Salvation Army right around the corner to make you feel guilty for spending all your money on the ones you love, I'm sick of people begging for my money. Sick of it. Send me the information, I will research your charity, and if I feel you are worthy, will donate some money to you.

But for God's Sake, man. Stop. Shaking. That. Can. At. Me. I'm this close to chucking it across the street for you.

Grandma Visited Me In A Dream

I'm somewhere with all of my family and some childhood friends. Someplace warm and happy and upbeat, like on a vacation somewhere. Out of no where, Grandma appears, and she's standing next to me. She is bright and joyous and the Grandma I remember from when I was ten- overweight, full of life, and healthy. She is standing there, and no one notices her but me. She pulls me next to her and gives me a side-hug, and I am suprised that she is warm and squishy, like Grandma used to be. I begin to cry. No one notices.

Then, someone has the idea to go to the cottage, like it is right down the road from this vacationy place. So somehow we all fit in one car and a split second later, we arrive at my Grandma's cottage. There is the usual hustle and bustle of getting situated- someone volunteers to go to the store, someone else goes out to the dock, I begin to get sleeping quarters arranged. Suddenly I am outside, in front of the cottage, looking out at the lake, and when I turn around, Grandma is there again. No one but me sees her. And she is bright and happy and smiling. She looks at me, and I know its her. And she's full of life and happy, wearing her aqua cotton shirt and black polyester pants, her hair done up just so, and her lipstick flawless. And I'm the only one who can see her.

Grandma is ok.

I'm not one to dwell on the the comings and goings of life and loved ones. It's a part of life. I am not super religious, but I believe in God or some other more powerful force than ourselves in this world. I'm not sure I believe in Heaven or Hell, but it is nice to think that there is something more than the brief time we spend in these bodies. It's nice to think there is a place that is a sort of permanant vacation when our bodies expire and we are no more. And I do believe that Grandma's spirit visited me in a dream last night.

I have had "real" feeling dreams before, and when I wake up, it takes a second to realize that I'm in bed, it was a dream, and I'm now awake. But last night was different. In my dream, I knew I was dreaming. Everything BUT Grandma was dreamlike. But when Grandma hugged me, she was warm and as real as you and I, and I began to cry. When I woke up this morning, I knew I had been dreaming, had no doubt that it had all been a dream, but at the same time, I knew it was unlike any dream I have ever had. Because one part of it WAS real. Grandma. And when I woke up, I was crying. Not sad, not happy, but real tears. Every part of the dream is now fuzzy and fading as dreams do, but Grandma is not. I truly believe it was her, reaching out, in some way.

There are all sorts of religious beliefs out there, and many beliefs do not encompass the fact that one belief may not cover all the mysteries in this world. Many beliefs do not even allow you to question that there may be flaws in the religious system. I was lucky enough to be raised in a Christian church by a very modern and open-minded pastor who allowed us to question and doubt and contemplate and reason. He used to say "the Bible is more of a reference book- God gave you a mind to reason and think about things on your own as well." I think that this world is big enough to encompass all ideas about life, as no one person or entity has the answer, and more than likely, never will. Maybe that open mindedness allowed my Grandma to visit. She knew that my mind would allow her in, remember her, and accept her. Maybe. Whatever the reason, I am blessed by that dream last night. And I know my Gram is out there somewhere, smiling and happy again.

Fat-Ass Going On Hippo

Ask me how I feel about my body today. Go ahead.

Mundane Monday

It's gross and dreary out, and it seems like the weekend was waaay too short, and here we are back at a Mundane Monday. Days like today suck. It's too cold and drizzly to play outside, and it's dark and dreary inside, so all the lights have to be on. I could clean out a closet, or dust, or something somewhat constructive like that, but all I want to do is eat chocolate chip cookies and watch tv with the kiddo.

Money is tight right now, so joining an activity like toddler time at the YMCA is out, so I'm brainstorming to figure out ways to have fun as the long days of winter draw near. The basement is still out of commission, so it's making it much harder. I'm thinking we may make sock puppets today and build a stage out of a box. Or paint. But then what do we do tomorrow?

I borrowed a few toddler activity books to get my brain in gear, but it's hard to think when all I want to do is curl up on the couch and hibernate. It's just that kind of day.

When is it spring again???? Sigh.

Dogs Days of... Winter?

Wait? It's snowing? Isn't it still summer? Indian Summer? Please, somebody tell me those white flakes piling up on my deck are not snowflakes. Really, this has to be a joke. It's only... October.

Damn. I hate winter. Ah, and it approacheth with a reckless momentum.

Sticky note to self: Move to California, Arizona, anywhere that snow is a momentus occasion.

Stinky Shoe With A Touch Of Fish

That's what my house smells like. Two days since the storm and my house smells like something died. I have every window open and am wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and my fingers are fairly stiff with cold, making it difficult to type. In addition to the windows open, I have every different scent of candle burning, have lysoled the carpet in the basement, and bleached the floor where we were able to pull up the padding. There is black mold growing under and on top of the carpeting. That can't be good. And I have a dozen garbage bags full of soggy, smelly carpet padding in my basement because I'm not allowed to throw it out until the insurance guy gets here. When will that be according to the message on my answering machine? "Shortly".

When It Rains, It Pours

(Or Alternately Known As: "The Mother Fuckin' Basement is Mother Fuckin' Flooded")

People, the week has just gotten worse. Not Hurricane Katrina worse, but death of a grandma and flooding of a basement while your husband is out of town worse. What's next? Don't answer that, please, don't answer that.

About 3 hours ago, the phone calls to my dad and my brother-in-law went something like this: "There is a FREAKIN' WATERFALL COMING OUT THE BOTTOM OF THE WINDOW IN THE BASEMENT. No, I'm not kidding. I'M NOT KIDDING! Water. Is. Pouring. Into. My. Basement. NO A TOWEL WON'T WORK! POURING, IN A CASCADING SHEET OF WATER DOWN THE WALL ONTO THE FLOOR!!!!! Yes, I'll get a bucket... Ok, bucket is full. HELP!"

So, while my two year old thought it was just another day of fun and games, his mommy, laughing with pure hysteria, is trying to soak up muddy water from our backyard that is coming through the bottom of our window well, through the bottom of the window, and eventually, out little holes in our drywall below the window. All over our carpeted basement.

Dad arrives. Brother-in-law arrives. I think they find my laughter uplifting, as neither feels the need to curse, as I am curiously in good spirits, despite the thousands of dollars in damage mounting by the minute.

Oh, but wait! More good news! Though the water is coming through the window well, it is also discovered that our back-up sump pump is not working. NOT WORKING. So if we get pummeled again, not only will the water come through the water well again, but it will back the fuck up and flood my basement through the sump pump. Excellent. Wonderful. Please, tell me more!

The window well is cleaned out, the drain plunged, the neighbors downspout splash thingamajigger turned away from our part of the townhouse, and the back up pump is removed. After all, it wasn't doing a damn thing anyway, right? The carpet is vacuumed with a shop vac and a carpet shampooer, but if we kept at it, we may be done getting the carpet dry by March or so. So we pulled up the carpet, removed the padding as far as we could, and called it a night. What a fucking night.

At least my dad can replace the sump pump, saving us some much needed bucks for replacing the rest of the freakin' crap we need to replace. So that will be done in the morning. But that leaves the carpet, the drywall, and possible the window and the window well, all needing to be replaced. Seriously. I quit.

As the water was seeping in through the window, I thought Is this how it started in New Orleans?. People thought, Oh, this sucks, but it's just a little water. And then KABOOM! I can't even imagine. I mean, this is just a little carpet and drywall, not my whole house, my whole town. At least I know that there will be no KABOOM! for me. Sigh. It still sucks, but not as bad as it could. But the MFin' basement is still MFin' flooded.