He commented that he and his wife are probably done with the island. It doesn’t give them what they’re looking for anymore. And, we’re starting to feel the same way.

We’re getting priced out of paradise. And, to be honest, I think I’m OK with that. What’s the purpose of taking a trip if you either need to scrimp and save so much beforehand that you end up spending the week pinching pennies or worrying that you’re having enough fun for your dollar? And, that’s what our jaunts to the islands have become. “To get what we need” is starting to cost more for one week than I can possibly spend in 2 years on other trips. I’ll trade that one week for 4 weeks somewhere else.

Of course, I say all this while, out on the horizon of 2013, the mouse looms. Damn the mouse. But, we’ve been very successful in only having to visit WDW for one day with Shmuppie in her nearly 10 years. She went with my parents last December, but the full trip is due. Moo will be old enough to enjoy it by then. That’s going to be painful.

For now, we’re keeping it simple. Staying closer to home and enjoying the NC coast suits us. There’s no need to complicate vacation. It’s supposed to be enjoyed, not fretted over. And, trust me, that’s a HUGE step towards sanity for me.

Speaking of insanity…we’ve tacked a day onto our upcoming quickie March trip. JewelrySlut joined the Ikea Family Club and now she’s seriously jonesing for some Ikea. Since the Great Wolf Lodge and Ikea are more or less close to each other, we’ve decided to do a day of furniture shopping, stay in Charlotte for a night and then go to the lodge. The parents get to play at Ikea and the kids get to play in the pool the following day. Everybody wins.

We really need some bedroom furniture. We sold our set when we moved here and have been using odds and ends for going on 7 years now. We haven’t bought a new set because it’s damn expensive and we hate everything we’ve looked at. We needed to justify a trip to Ikea to go shop there. I think I found enough furniture to fill the bedroom for under $1000. That would be nice. Having drawers that open and close properly would also be nice. So, maybe we’ll go buy some furniture. It beats the alternative; having to go to a local unfinished furniture store and have me buy like 47 gallons of varnish and an acre of sandpaper. I don’t mind finishing g the occasional piece, but not a bedroom set.

Until then, I’m eyeballing the house we want to rent in April. It went down in price recently and that makes me happy. We’ll be getting a house for a week for less than the price of 1 1/2 plane tickets to the islands.

And you wonder why St John is currently off of our radar screen.

My recent insanity, now that we’re in a New Year and work has slowed down, is travel. Shocking…I know. Because it’s so seldom that I think of such things.

I have a full year to fill with things and 136 vacation hours to burn. What to do?

Last year was my first with 3 weeks…finally lasted at a job past the 5 year mark. We took 2 trips to the beach and I ended up in FLA 3 times. Twice for fun, once for not so fun. I also managed to be off from December 21-January 3. That was fun and re-entry remains difficult.

2012 is posing challenges. It’s supposed to be a St. John year, but it’s just not gonna happen. There are too many boundaries.
1: What to do with the kids. We’d leave Moo at home, that’s a given. She’s NOT coming to St. John until she’s older. That’s a no-brainer. Plenty of people take little ones down there but we are so NOT those people. The thought of it makes me want to poke my eyes out. Shmuppie poses another challenge. We’d have to go in June or September because of her schedule. And, to be frank, we don’t even want to bring her. I know families should vacation as families, but don’t Mom and Dad (and MerlotMan and ChurchBomber) get a little time to themselves? My mother, in a stunning reversal, says we should leave both kids with her and just go.

2: Putting aside the hellbeast that Shmuppie would become, it’s too damned expensive. Delta and US Air seem convinced that we have unlimited funds. Couple that with the jeep, house cost, beer money and planning and St. John suddenly became more task than vacation. I know…cry me a fucking river…it’s too hard to plan a trip to the Caribbean.

3: ChurchBomber and MerlotMan also aren’t sold on St. John this year. They’re going to Ireland for a while and it’s just not meshing on calendars. Until it sinks, St. John will always be there. We’ll be back.

What to do now? My schedule is free.

Here are my plans:
Shmuppie is off for 3 weeks in March. We’ll need to do something to appease her but we don’t want to take a full vacation. We’re thinking of The Great Wolf Lodge. She went last September with my mother for a night and had fun. Moo would have fun splashing around in the kiddie pools and we could limit ourselves to one night there. Add in some coupons and it’s not a bad deal. But, the reviews are mixed at best on it. So, because I’m crazy, I had an idea while running yesterday. I was bundled up from head to toe and had a thought… SNOW! We could go snow tubing somewhere. Moo would have to stay home, but the 3 of us could take a trip to a mountain somewhere and go tubing. 15 minutes of research told me that was a shitty idea if I wanted to stay in state. Yikes…PRICEY! “Hey…West Virginia says they have snow!” I found a resort that offers free lift tickets and has a pool and bowling alley. That could work for a night. Let’s consider March closed; one night somewhere; Great Wolf Lodge for water slides or WV for tubing. 8 vacation hours gone.

April: JewelrySlut and I are convinced that we’re going to take an “us-only” trip this year and April seems to be the time. I found a cute little sound-front house in Emerald Isle that appears to suit our needs. I, obviously, looked everywhere for this trip. I found all-inclusives that would cost like $800 for the 2 of us for the whole week. Then I checked air. I’m not paying $600 to fly ANYWHERE that keeps me in the same time zone. Hell…I’d need to cross many time zones to rationalize such a flight. In the end, EI is close and easy. I’m not booking shit until I see how the next few weeks go. Things could change with my parents in a heartbeat and I don’t need to eat a house deposit because I piss them off by blinking inappropriately. If we go, there go 40 more hours.

June: Shmuppie is off again; for 5 weeks this time. My mother is taking her on their annual “Spoil the Child Cruise”. But that leaves 4 weeks. Last year we went to FLA for the 4th of July. I’m not in the mood to do that again. ChurchBomber and MerlotMan want us to come up to visit. I’m trying to figure out how to get up there while minimizing time off and travel time. We’re not buying 4 plane tickets just to go to NJ. Look at that! $1200 to fly 500 miles. “Sorry kids…put on your seatbelts…we’re going for a ride”. But the fucking ride to NJ sucks such balls. Pretty much the entire trip above Richmond is one potential disaster after another. There’s not a single mile of road between Richmond and Morris County NJ that’s not a potential traffic disaster. 500 miles could easily take 20 hours. Even if I route us west through WV and PA, it’s still a drive. I need to chew on this one. Let’s deduct another 24 hours here.

So far, it’s June and I’m down 9 of my 17 days.

September: I can’t see us all not going back to EI. Shmuppie is off again and we had a great trip last year. The weather is not too hot and the ocean is still warm. I just need to convince myself that I don’t need to go on a full house search. The house we rented in March was great, but, it was a duplex and the main deck isn’t divided. The thought of having to look at people we don’t know does not appeal to us. The one in September would work for us but the stairs were odd. You had to go outside to access the ground level. Said ground level housed the foosball table and laundry. Dock me another 5 days.

That leaves me 3 (maybe 4) days left. I can use them around the holidays and be off again from Dec 22-Jan 2.

I will now argue with myself about all of this. Because, in all this madness, I don’t have a trip to FLA planned. JewelrySlut and Moo will probably take at least one trip. Possibly 2 if Gram gets her knee replaced. But I don’t know when I could make it there AND get to NJ AND get a week with my Beach Baby in April. Because, let’s be honest; that’s the only trip I care about at this point. We have grand plans for the week in April. We plan to DO NOTHING! Sleep, read, eat, have sexy time. That’s it.

Of course, I’ll spend the next several weeks pounding the assorted sites hoping that, somehow, airfares will come down and April will land my ass on an island. But, we all know that’s not gonna happen. And that’s OK…I’ll just need something new to obsess about.

Hmmm…now about that closet of mine I need to reorganize.

February: JewelrySlut turned 40 and I managed to make a nice mid-week dinner for her. Our planned trip to Asheville was scuttled because of my mother’s back, Shmuppie’ s inability to stay at their house without freaking out and my mother and I and the whole not speaking thing. I’m sure Moo did something cute. Work sucked even more. My feet hurt. I needed new sneakers and some $400 inserts. My feet still hurt. I got under 180.

March: Shmuppie was tracked out for 3 weeks. Grr…having her at home for all that time was evil. On a positive note, we took a vacation at the end of the month. We went to WEI and promptly walked into horrid weather. The Wii saved us from certain insanity. We won’t complain about a week off from life, but it could have been better. My feet hurt. I kept running. I got into the low 170s. On a positive note, UConn went on its run through postseason basketball. From a fan’s perspective, it was a joy to behold.

April: Pollen, tornadoes and more suck from work. It really was a horrible year at work. My main account was just terrible; both the clients and my coworkers. I worked way too much in 2011 and am hoping to not be so stressed out from work in 2012. I kept running. I didn’t like it but it was getting somewhat easier. I was up to about 2.5 miles at a time. I stayed in the low 170s.

May: Shmuppie turned 9. I don’t remember anything else happening other than that I’m sure I hated work. I ran some more. IN convinced someone else to run. She became angry with me. She was down nearly 20lbs by now too. I was in the high 160s.

June: It was hot. We had swimming. Swimming sucked. Shmuppie did not take it seriously and lollygagged through the summer. She also tracked out for 5 weeks. My mother took her on another cruise. My parents and I were barely speaking. I was fine with it. Work was awful. Running became infinitely less fun as the temperatures went up. Life was madness. Swimming 2X per week and Saturday meets. It was all a blur of trips to the Y and working on my blackberry late into the night.

July: We went to FLA for July 4th. JewelrySlut’s father was moved to a hospice facility for a “respite”. He was to stay there for a month. S was at home, mostly trying to regain her sanity and life. She’d been caring for him 24/7 for 2 years and it had taken its toll on her. We had a nice visit, ate shrimp, set off fireworks and drive home in storms. Work, as expected, was beyond bad.

August: Happy Birthday to me. I celebrated by running 3 miles. I was in the mid 160′s, having lost 25lbs and had managed to keep it off. JewelrySlut was also running and was cursing me with every step. Work was…you know.

September: Shmuppie tracked out again and we went back to EI. MerlotMan, ChurchBomber, and us all decided that we needed a good trip down there after March’s misadventures. We got it. The weather was wonderful and we had a great time in our oceanfront house. We played in the sand, ate well, and had a wonderful time. Moo really enjoyed the beach. By now, she was more than a handful. She’s developed quite the personality. Watching her play in the sand or stand in the waves with her mother was among the highlights of the year for me. Work… I went to Cleveland for a few days. I hit 162.

October: I got back from vacation and walked into a tsunami wrapped in a tornado, glazed with a forest fire. I spent the first week back waiting to get fired. My team had fallen apart in my absence and everything went to shit. I realized that there was nothing I could do to save things. I was going to have to accept that I was considered a failure and take my beatings that continue to come on a daily basis. I rode the worst of it for 2 weeks.

Then, one fine Wednesday, JewelrySlut walked into my office with red eyes. “Dad’s dying”. FUCK! We had her and Moo no a plane the following morning. We hoped that they could race Death to Florida. They made it in time. Did they ever. By Saturday, he was still alive and I had gone insane. I jumped on a plane, sending Shmuppie to my parents’ house. In typical NoGoodFamily fashion, we put the shit behind us and rallied. They took Shmuppie for a few days. I got to FLA for long enough to realize that my father in law didn’t plan on dying on our schedule. He was waiting until he was ready. I put us all on a plane and brought us home. We needed to restore some sanity.

The running continued.

November: My father in law passed away early in the month. This time, JewelrySlut, Shmuppie and I all went down to FLA for the services. My brother in law and his fat derelict family showed up. We spent 4 days not talking to one another. A year of calls from their debt collectors had soured us all on each other. The services were what they were. My mother-in-law’s family and kids all came down to FLA and it was good to spend time with our new family. Some people don’t get our decision to keep her in our lives; she is, after all, just a step-mother. We don’t see it that way and are happy our kids have another grandmother…a bonus grandmother.

I went to Lima OH for work.

There was a rash of un-friending on Facebook. Apparently, I’m a tad too much of an asshole for some.

We ran a 5K. JewelrySlut won her age group. We ran WAY too fast.

Thanksgiving was its usual bout of wine-induced fun.

December: Work started sucking a little less. Shmuppie tracked out again but spent a week at my parent’s house. The 3 of us sat around the house and relaxed. We went back to FLA for Christmas. IT was a good trip; filled with the usual insanity, but done while in shorts.

I guess we’re back to normal with my family. We talk now and think we’ve reached another level of d‚tente. It is what it is with us. We’ll never be normal or storybook-looking. Too many bridges have been blown up to ever have that. I gained a few pounds at the end of the year and finished 2011 at 168. I also finished it with a 3.5 mile jog with JewelrySlut. I don’t know who these 2 skinny runners are who live in my house, but I think we like them.

2012:
I need to lose 5lbs.
We will run another race or 2.
JewelrySlut and I are taking a vacation in the spring; just us. We need it and my parents are pushing us to do it.
It’s supposed to be a St. John year, but I don’t see it happening. It’s too much money and hassle. I prefer EI and its simplicity.
Shmuppie turns 10. Good lord.
Moo will turn 3.

I hope 2012 is better than 2011. 2011 goes down in the books as a very bad year around here. The only thing I can say about it is that we got fit. That’s good, but not good enough.

This year, I never seemed to have time to go to the gym unless I was also going to swim practice. Between not having time and the damn Wii, I knew what was coming. I wasn’t happy about it.

The First Step was coming.

I was gonna have to run if I wanted to exercise. If you don’t run and never have, you have no idea how hard it is to take that first step. You know going in that it’s the first step in a descent towards inevitable madness. There’s no avoiding it. Once you start, you can’t stop. I was pained when I thought of taking The First Step. I didn’t want to do it. I knew where it would lead; new shoes, shorts, hats. I’d have to set insane goals, meet them beat them and keep moving onward.

I took The First Step.

I remember the first mile. Out the driveway, hang a left, run to the end of the street, hang a right, run to Port Royal.

1 mile. I felt as if my inner organs had liquefied and reformed into an angry she-beast. My body, heaving and panting, asked me “What the hell was that?”

I walked home.

The next day, I did it again.

It was easier.

Crap.

I was thinking about this today as I put on my $100 sneakers with the $400 inserts (thanks for the bad feet Mon and Dad!), my lame-ass running shirt, new warm-up pants, silly yellow windbreaker, Nike hat (Quick Dry FTW!), running gloves, strapped my BB to my arm and set my pedometer/pulse reading watch.

What have I become?

I’ve become a runner.

Never have I loathed doing something so much. Never have I thanked myself every day for starting something. It has helped. I haven’t weighed this little or been (what I think to be) this fit since a Bush was President (and I mean the old one…not toe goofy one).

I ran a leisurely 3 miles today. It was the 5th day this week I’d run and the shortest distance by a good half-mile. I was just out for a little jaunt.

You see, the Last Step of The First Step happens on Sunday. My first 5K race is Sunday. I have a goal. I’m gonna beat it.

I fear The Next Step. Running is a series of gateways. 5Ks become 10Ks. They become halves. They become wholes.

It’s got to stop. I’ve been told that we’ll only run one race longer than a 5K, and we’ll only do it because the scenery is nice.

I’m not allowed to buy a bike. She knows me well enough. She sees me eyeballing TheKid’s purple bike (the one with the streamers) and just says “No”. Because she knows. Because now she’s hooked too. And fears the madness.

We’ll be taking this Last Step together.

This doesn’t end well.

I also stole a glance at the big electric roaster thing on the range top. Inside it was a pallid-looking turkey; utterly devoid of seasoning and color. My bowels constricted.

JewelrySlut was put to work cutting cheese. In the spirit of my mother’s kitchen, she was cutting up a block of cheese with a steak knife…and no board. She was cutting on the counters.

“What are you doing? Is that counter even clean?”
“BWAWK! I think it’s clean”
JewelrySlut, just cut away…her lifeless eyes telling the rest of the story.

Feeling off, I went to the porch and was able to lie down for 3 minutes under a fan before the masses came out. Chips, vegetables, dogs…they all came out and disrupted my rest.

“When do you want to change that fan?”
“Ummm…now? Might as well do it now” (Seeing that I don’t know when I’ll be ready to make another trip here to replace a ceiling fan.

Into the garage I went to get the new ceiling fan for their room. My father, watching me walk past him, holding a box the size of a shipping container, flew into a rage. I just continued upstairs. My mother emerged with the tools I’d apparently need; a busted up DeWalt and a set of mis-matched screwdrivers.

I went to work disassembling the fan while they 2 of them swore at each other. I was apparently WAY in the wrong for asking NoGoodFather to cut the power to the room. Silly me…I don’t work hot on ceiling fans. I know… I’m a pansy.

The install went reasonably well. I’ve never worked under suck pressure; NoGoodFather’s thousand yard stare just ripped through me. As we neared completion, a ruckus from downstairs indicated that the “rest of the family” had arrived.

I finished up the fan and joined everyone on the porch. The porch groaned.

I maybe lasted a minute before I needed a drink.

The house now smelled of turkey.

Other foodstuffs were making their way to the counters. Eggplant Parm, macaroni and cheese, the London broil I’d be grilling, and a tray of limp brown things. An exploratory poke indicated that I was looking at previously-fried cauliflower and mushrooms. I could only assume that they needed to be reheated because to serve such food to people would be a crime.

The turkey was proclaimed done. The pokey thing had popped. The turkey was white. We concluded that it had, essentially, been steamed.

Steamed turkey.

Labor Day.

The sides were tossed into the oven while I fired the meat out on the grill.

I still had to contend with the turkey.

My mother does not believe in cutting boards of knives. I bring my own for any occasion when I may need to cook. But, I refused to do so yesterday in protest to the menu’s absurdity.

Meat cooked, I attacked the turkey. Frick and Frack, my less than able bodied assistants, were banging into each other and dropping food on the floor. I managed to send a wing flying across the room where it landed with a satisfying “plop”. Wiped of dog hair, it was placed on the platter. I more or less shredded the poor bird. I had a tiny board and a bread slicer. Not exactly the tools of the trade.

The meat was too rare.

We sat down to eat. The “family” loved the reheated vegetables. My stupid brother ate the turkey.

Later in the evening, there was more polenta cake.

I had the wine instead.

Again, thanks for letting me soil your wall.

Here’s what it comes down to. I needed a place to write this. I could not post to my wall, for obvious reasons, and I needed to find a safe harbor. I looked at friends’ walls and came to the conclusion that a lot of people have nice things on their walls, decorative hand towels, fancy plates etc. Not to say that you don’t have a nice wall, but if I want to take my shoes off, scratch myself and fart, there’s only one place I can go; your wall.

Labor Day weekend: my brother and his wife are in town. We’ve been invited over. My mother announces the menu; chicken enchiladas. Come again? It’s Labor Day, not Cinco de Mayo. I’m also instructed to make sangria. Well…at least I know what I’ll have for dinner. We also learn that our former refugees are coming over. so, we’ll get to see them and their child. Plans to be a great day.

I arrive and make sangria…and then pour myself some. I notice a pan on the stove with what appears to be congealed ground beef and red beans. I pour myself another glass of sangria.

We sit outside…but not as a family. Half of us are on our respective phones, iPads, whatevers to avoid conversation. Others drift in and out of the porch to go watch TV or something. A fairly typical family gathering.

the refugees arrive. She’s 8 months pregnant, and as JewelrySlut said, looks like a miniature version of Hagrid…but she doesn’t mean to insult Hagrid when she says so.

Finally…it’s dinner time. The food comes out to the porch. One look at it confirms what I more or less already knew; I’m drinking dinner. I then heard that the enchiladas had a can of cream of chicken soup in them.

I can see that my mother obviously went to Mexico and learned from a weathered old woman from Oaxaca to get this recipe. The motto of any good Mexican meal clearly is “El Campbell’s! Mmm Mmm Bueno!”

What is being heaped onto peoples’ plates resembles a cross between bird shit and vomit. A glance at poor JewelrySlut, plate groaning beneath the leaden quantity of food, only confirmed what I had assumed. My father stood to the side and complimented my mother.

I had more wine.

I was almost ready to go get something when I realized that my mother had set out fewer plates than there were people. Oh shucks. More wine for me. People started realizing that I was drinking dinner. My mother offered me some leftovers from the night before. (She also hadn’t made enough food for everyone, including a pregnant refugee, to eat. I declined; stating that I had eaten lunch earlier in the day (a slice of cold pizza)).

I did manage to find some salad. It was lettuce and tomatoes with taco seasoning on them.

I should have had more wine.

Dessert! My mother made what, I believe, was called a polenta cake. Why? Beats me. I had a slice; figuring that I should put something in my stomach. Immediately, a grain of cornmeal became embedded in my throat. It was like having a hair stuck in your throat (A feeling I KNOW you know). I spent the next hour garking on it. And, the cake was as moist and delicious as you’d imagine.

(It wasn’t)

I had more wine.

We’ll be back tonight when, in the spirit of Labor Day, we’re having a turkey, eggplant parm and some sort of pesto pasta. My mother’s also gone and invited her cousins over.

“Mom says her cousin has some sort of medical condition”, remarked my brother.

“Yea…she weighs 400lbs. That’s her condition!”

There’s more wine and brandy. I’m making more sangria.

I’m not a food snob. I mean, I was drinking sangria made with a double bottle of Concha Y Toro and EJ brandy that came in a plastic bottle. But, for once, can we ever get together and have seasonally-appropriate food? Who cooks a turkey for Labor Day?

At least we’re going out for brunch today. I’ll eat then.

Thank you for listening

But I digress.

Last night, Shmuppie and I were at swimming. She swims, I exercise. Normally, I bike and then run. This allows me to catch up on magazine reading and allows me to convince myself that I don’t need to run as far because I’m up against a time limit to pick her up from swimming.

But, on Monday, I had a horrible run. I had indigestion after eating at my parents’ house the night before (first time we were there for dinner since Christmas Day), I didn’t eat breakfast and it was stiflingly humid. My 3-mile jaunt turned out horribly with me having to walk most of the last mile. I was ashamed.

So, on Tuesday, I decided to run first. I did a nice little 5K and then biked. I was soaking wet but felt OK and had redeemed myself somewhat.

On the way home, I was taking stock of life.
(PS…If you haven’t noticed, the theme here has gone from getting chased by midgets to babbling about health and fitness…sorry)
I had just run and biked. I’d met my latest goal on the Wii and had kept my weight low for the 3rd straight month. The radio was on and I could actually identify some of the songs.

I suddenly felt less than old for once.

Then we got home.

JewelrySlut had assembled dinner.
Moo was running around the house in a diaper. She was holding toy phones to each ear and dancing and yelling. Music was on. It was like walking into a tornado.

My point is…this is my money-making scheme.

I want to sell seats in our house. You can come by between 5:00 and 9:00PM and watch what happens. The target demographic is married couples without kids. If you can survive watching what goes on, you MAY be ready for children of your own.

As I said…we walk into the house:
Shmuppie immediately does the opposite of what she’s supposed to do. She’s supposed to put her towel in the dryer and go change into clothes. Instead, she stands, alack-jawed, in front of the computer, backpack on, staring at Pandora.

Mo is still running in circles yelling at her phones. She’s also trying to jam one into my pocket and swap it for my Blackberry. She wants it so she can see “BABY!” (Her as my wallpaper).

I’m holding my gym bag and sweating. All I want is to change shirts (I take 3 to the Y) and eat.

We get everyone to the table. Moo wants everything on the table and nothing (at the same time). She’s rejecting food left and right while asking for it 2 seconds later. Mostly, she wants “beeboos” (strawberries). She lets us know this by yelling “beeboo” over and over again while doing the sign for them (in case her dipshit parents can’t understand).

I relent and get the beeboos. I plop 2 on her tray.

“Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet”
“Yes…the beeboos are wet” Now she starts crying for her wet beeboos.
“Teeshoo Teeshoo Teeshoo Teeshoo Teeshoo Teeshoo”
“Your beeboos don’t need a tissue. You’re fine. Eat”

“I have a social studies quiz tomorrow” (JewelrySlut and I exchange horrified looks)
Oh…what’s it about?
The regions.
The regions?
Yea…the regions.
The regions where?
In North Carolina. (Duh)
Oh…what are they?
Coastal Plains, Piedmont and Mountains (I knew this and was testing her)
Oh…what about them
Well…we need to know what jobs people have in them.
Like what?
In the coastal plain, people fish.
That helps…seeing how it’s near the ocean
In the Piedmont, people make furniture and work for banks.
Oh…I guess I’m not doing it right then seeing that I do neither. What about the mountains?
I don’t know. I think they work at places where they use wood to make paper.
Paper mills?
No.
Well…I don’t think they call them “places where they use wood to make paper.” They call them paper mills.
We have to write a paragraph and say where we’d like to live, in what city, and what job we’d want.
OK…where do you want to live?
I could live in the mountains and whitewater raft (a kick she’s on lately. She wants to go whitewater rafting)
In what city?
Boone.
OK…so you’re moving to Boone to be an outdoor guide of sorts. Can you name any other cities in the state?
Raleigh?
Yes…that’s one. Any coastal cities?
We don’t know any Pacifically
JewelrySlut: That’s good, but do you know any Atlanticly?
(Blank Stare)
Raleigh is in the Triad
No it’s not.
Yes it is.
No it’s not. Raleigh is in the Triangle along with Durham and Chapel Hill (We do love us some shapes here in NC). The Piedmont is Greensboro, Winston Salem and someplace else.
No it’s not.
Trust me.
Beeboo Beeboo Beeboo Beeboo Beeboo Beeboo Beeboo Beeboo
NO MORE BEEBOOS!

Shmuppie now sulks because we’ve shattered her perception of North Carolina.
Moo is yelling for fruit but is ever so sad that it’s wet.
JewelrySlut is drinking wine and crying.

I finally decide that dinner’s over. Moo has been released from her chair and has managed to bring every toy she has to the table. She’s also banged her head on the table 47 times and fallen down 13 times. She’s howling in pain and asking for teeshoos. All I want to do is get the 2 of them to bed so I can shower and wrap things up at work. JewelrySlut is eating still. If you ask me, she’s dawdling over her salad to avoid the chaos.

Shmuppie is sent upstairs. I start clearing the table. Moo is now climbing the furniture. I just start yelling at everyone. I’m now pissed off and want the night to be over.

10 minutes later, we get Moo moved upstairs. She barges in on her sister. Shmuppie is in the shower. I happen to notice that she’s also completely dry. In the shower. 10 minutes after we sent her upstairs.

*SNAP*

There goes my sanity. Moo has managed to run into the tub and is howling again. JewelrySlut is only now making it upstairs, having SLOWLY eaten her salad.

I grab Moo and pull her from the bathroom.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HOW CAN YOU BE IN THE SHOWER AND BE DRY? WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING ALL THIS TIME?

Booboo Booboo Booboo Booboo Booboo Booboo Booboo Booboo Booboo
Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet Wet
SHUT UP YOU! (To the 2 year old)

I slam the bathroom door before Shmuppie can answer. I don’t want to hear the excuse. I don’t want to know what she had been doing for 10 minutes that didn’t include showering. (She claimed the water was too hot).

JewelrySlut now appears and is yelling at me.
Moo is trying to pull her diaper off.
The bird s flying in circles in her cage.
We can her Shmuppie form the shower cursing my existence.

All I want to do is get them to bed.

See…if you had bought a seat to this and could survive it, you’d know if you had what it takes to be a parent. Because, that was not abnormal. That was Tuesday. Today will be just as fun but for a host of different reasons.

I need a vacation. Not any vacation. As I tell JewelrySlut, I need a vacation where she and I can go to a nice hotel, stay in a room with a king-sized bed and lower the A/C to 68. We’ll sleep all weekend. That’s all I want.

Of course, I’m a parent so that’s not always an option. Especially in 2011. Shmuppie no longer permits us to do anything without her. We can’t get a babysitter and go to dinner and we certainly can’t send them to my parents’ house.

2-3 hours would be nice.

We get to do it all over again tonight at 7:30. I can’t wait.

We?re on the edge of needing help.

There must be a support group we can turn to for our problem.

No, asshole, it?s not the drinking. We?ll drink as much as we damn well please. Do you really want to get to know me when I don?t have a liter of wine in my veins? I didn?t think so.

No?we?re almost becoming healthy people. The people who rail about how unhealthy most people are.

We need to stop.

Know what was the worst thing about our recent drive to FLA? It wasn?t 10 hours in the car with a young child who hates the car and spends all of her waking hours whining. It wasn?t the fact that NC and SC offer you only 2 lanes on 95. No?it was the food. We knew that, at some point in the journey, we?d need to eat. And that upset JewelrySlut and I greatly.

We?ve always been dead set against fast food. Face it, the shit?s horrible and isn?t good for you. It?s loaded with a bunch of crap that was never meant to be ingested and considered food. Of course, we?re reasonable people. We let Shmuppie have the occasional Happy Meal or some crap from Chik-Fil-A. It?s not right to impart all of our insanity upon her.

But, the damn Wii had pushed us over the edge. Ever since I climbed on the balance board and it made a sad face at me and told me I was fat, we?ve been committed?and should be committed.

2011 has become the ?Year of the Salad? in our house. Because of our schedules, we never seem to be able to get to the Farmer?s Market to buy fresh produce. As a result, we?re left trying to buy produce in a city that considers fried chicken to be a vegetable. Our local grocery stores plain suck. We make the best of the situation and spend way too much money on fresh fruits and vegetables. The people at the register?the people who are supposed to know all the produce codes, often look at us and have to ask what things are.

?Um?that?s broccoli?
?Oh?what do you do with it??
?You cook it and then eat it??

This goes on every week. But, despite our struggles to find food that hasn?t already rotted, we?ve made progress. We?ve nearly convinced Shmuppie that eating fast food will kill her and Moo can?t be far behind. We?re proud that our kids recognize vegetables in both their raw and cooked form. It?s wonderful to see Moo signing for her food and not have it just be ?cookie? or ?wine?

Yes?she knows the sign for wine and often asks for it with dinner. We oblige and give her 3 drops. It?s all in good fun.

She?s leaving for detox this afternoon. I?ll miss her.

The probable highlight of our summer happened last weekend. We didn?t have swim meet for the first time in a few weeks, didn?t have to be at an airport and weren?t in FLA. We were home and had nothing to do. With much excitement, we set out for the Farmer?s Market to load up on veggies. All we wanted to do was buy some good stuff and then sit at home and eat it.

And eat we did.

Tomatoes, peppers, onions and yellow squash got tossed with some oil and vinegar and made into a salad.

Tomatoes and peppers went into another salad.

Bread (bought from the black guy in crazy chef pants) got sliced, grilled, and topped with grilled green tomatoes and cheese.

Boneless pork chops from The Piggy Store were brined and cooked.

To top it all off, we made a pizza. My new pizza stone was tested out on the Compensator (the name for my too-large grill). Basil, more fresh tomatoes, chunks of mozzarella cheese and diced onions made for one of the best pizzas ever.

Add beer and a few bottles of wine, and you had a Saturday. The weather was unseasonably awesome (by comparison, it hit 107 yesterday) and we had a wonderful day.

Sunday involved more vegetables and some nice steak that I managed to find at the store. The remaining basil was sacrificed to make a lovely pesto. More bread and tomatoes were grilled.

The weekend was heaven?and neither JewelrySlut nor I managed to gain any weight!

Because we?re obsessed like that. She?s fighting to lose 2-3 more lbs. to get down to a level she hasn?t been at since before Shmuppie was born. I?ve been holding for the past 3 months. I lost the weight quickly?maintaining it?s been the challenge for me.

So?bringing me back to where I was originally (I?m so happy to have not lost my touch. Who says less with more better than I do?) was?we hate fast food because it?s bad for you and makes you fat.

End of story.

JewelrySlut told me someone had recently posted to say “Where have you been”. Shit…it’s been a while.
What’s happened, you ask as if you care?

We signed up for Netflix
I started running
My mother stopped talking to me
My father stopped talking to me
JewelrySlut turned 40. We spent it at home. I made a kick-ass osso bucco for her so that made it a little nicer
We went to Emerald Isle and it rained a lot
Shmuppie turned 9
She finally learned how to ride a bike
I lost somewhere between 22-24lbs depending on the time of day and how bad of a crap I still need to take
I got a raise and a promotion
JewelrSlut lost nearly 20lbs
I had to buy new clothes
Shmuppie finished the 3rd grade
The state has decided that she’s academically gifted and talented
It became summer
We went to FLA for a few days
Shmuppie started the 4th grade
For some reason, I’m still running because I apparently haven’t realized how much it sucks
The wee-un will be 2 in a few weeks
A week before that, I’ll be 37
I’ve lost more hair

Wrapped around this has been my work schedule. I’ve been working anywhere between 50-60 hours per week all year. The only good thing about it is that it’s all been from home. No more travel for me.

I’d love to offer a good excuse, but when I close my laptop at about 8:00 every night, I’m too tired to do anything but sit on the couch. I type emails to drooling chimps all day. The last thing I ever want to do it type some more.

But I should. And, if we all now me, I’ll get into a surge of writing, bang out a few boring posts about the color of my bowel movements or my boss’s horrible typing and then vanish again.

But, I”ll try. I do have some amusing things to say…I just need the strength to say them

For months now, my mother’s been complaining of back and ass pain. She was convinced it was a muscle pull in her ass. The rest of us were convinced it was her back. Of course, she did not seek medical attention for this.

You see, my parents have some sort of fucked up frontier mentality when it comes to seeking medical help. They’ll more or less let themselves get to the point of collapse or loss of limb before they go see a doctor. My brother and I, on the other hand, go see doctors when we’re sick. As a result, we’ve been labeled as weak and this is brought up as yet another reason why we had daughters; I’m not man enough to raise sons.

At times like this, JewelrySlut likes to remind me that nothing about my family or my upbringing was normal or healthy. I used to laugh comments like that off, but I now realize how right she was. My family is a mess.

Back to my mother’s ass:

So, by last week, it was so bad that she couldn’t walk. She was in serious pain. In addition, she had a lovely stomach virus that’s tearing through the collective asshole of The Triangle.

By Wednesday, my father got her an appointment with an orthopedist. Said doctor would review the MRI taken on CHRISTMAS EVE!

Yup…seriously fucked up disk. Surgery time!

So, on Friday evening, my mother had back surgery and wouldn’t you know it, but her ass and legs and back feel better.

So, the good news is that my mother’s going to be able to be more or less pain free now.

Here’s the bad news and how it impacts us.

We’re fucked and I’m pissed about it.

**Momentary background**
JewelrySlut and I are tired. We’d like just a few days, or even a few hours, away from the kids. As she says “For a little while, I’d like to be someone other than Mommy”. We haven’t had any time to ourselves in nearly 6 years. I know that this is a part of parenthood, but everyone gets a little time, don’t they?

Shmuppie was home for 5 weeks and was cranky for 4 1/2 of them.
Moo got sick right after Christmas.
We had last week’s puke parade.
I was sick on Thursday and Friday with the stomach flu.
Last night, Shmuppie broke out in hives and swelled up like a balloon. The por kid is missing her 3rd day of school in 2011 today.
It’s supposed to ice tonight. This will cause another 3 weeks of school cancellations.
The whole “father in law’s health is deteriorating” thing is really kicking into gear. It’s not “if” he’ll move to a facility at this point; it’s “when”.
JewelrySlut is turning 40.

The last one isn’t a bad thing, but it’s an event. Her birthday trip started out some time ago as a week in Aruba. Then, we had Moo. Then, it became a long weekend up in NJ with ChurchBomber and MerlotMan. Well, we killed that 2 weeks or so ago because we could see all the shit that was heading towards our fan.

We’d decided to go to Asheville for a weekend, stay in a nice hotel, and just chill.

Well…now that’s not happening.

Now, am I mad because my mother had surgery and can’t lift Moo? No…that’s not it. I’m happy she had the surgery and will be getting better. Am I FUCKING FURIOUS that, a few days after we would have gone away, she’ll be well enough to get on a plane for 2 weeks in Maui?

You bethca.

We need to save our strength and heal up for our vacation. I’m not sure how one can be well enough to sit on a plane for the better part of a day and not be well enough to care for a grandchild, but that’s the case.

So, JewelrySlut and I will be home…yet again. Yes, we’re acting selfish, but dammit, we want a weekend away from the mess. We’ll try again in late February, but I’m sure that will also fall to shit when one of my parents’ dogs gets a hangnail and needs full time nursing care or some bullshit.

PS: Before I posted this, JewelrySlut and I had this very discussion. It’s not that we’re pissy that she had surgery…it’s quite the opposite. We’re pissy that every effort will be made to ensure that she can go to Hawaii (Even if, as JewelrySlut said, she needs to be administered epidurals on the tarmac at RDU and upon arrival in Maui) because, in the end, that’s what’s important.