Ego Boosted

What a difference a few days can make!  We have reached the point in this process of being able to contact a real estate agent to start scheduling some showings!  Thankfully, said agent seems to be on top of things.  Within an hour of receiving our list of requirements and the homes we are most interested in seeing, she emailed us back with additional listings to review.  Of course, we looked them over right away, and replied with our ratings of each.  She is now working to schedule showings for these properties next weekend. 

Meanwhile, we are still awaiting the final details on the relocation assistance, though it appears to be in good hands.  Husband Fixture sent me the following email: 

Copied: the response to [Boss to Be] from the girl who is helping with PCS questions….

“OMG...no wonder you guys REALLY want this to happen.  Everybody who's been

involved with implementing [majorly annoying software project] knows of [Mr. Empress]!!!  Heck...I'm excited!!!” 

Not only does this reassure me that this aspect of the transfer is being handled competently, I'm  pleased as punch to hear someone speaking so highly of my honey.  The ego boost extends to me, as well, since I had the sheer brilliance to marry him.   

There's Always Room For Jello!

I dreamt last night that I was trying to cross a sea of Jello.  The surface wasn't solid enough for me to walk across, nor were there any bridges or boats to aid me.  It was too thick and shallow to swim across, leaving me to trudge through the shallow and sticky sludge.  It seems that my subconscious has devised the perfect metaphor for my life these days. 

Husband Fixture was supposed to have a teleconference with the personnel folks in Maryland on Tuesday to discuss the relocation assistance package, but that never happened.  And now that he has been summoned to the Maryland office for a meeting for his current job on the 19th, it would be really nice if we had those details so we could make it a house-hunting trip as well. 

In the meantime, Husband Fixture as been working with mortgage companies to try and secure the best rates for us, and we've both continued perusing house listings online.  WHEN we're finally able to talk to a realtor, we'll at least have a list of homes we want to see and be able to give him/her a clear idea of what we want. 

I  freely admit that I lack patience, and am a total Type A personality.  As such, having my life in suspended animation for this long is making me crazy(er).  The only things I can really do are try to keep packing and prepping our home for showings.  We haven't actually gotten any showings, mind you.   I can't even make plans for watching the Super Bowl (we traditionally host a party).  We keep receiving invitations to events to which we cannot RSVP, because we simply do not know where we will be or what we'll be doing for the next two months.  Planning events is my coping mechanism, so this is really not helping me.  I suppose I could start looking for decorating and organizing ideas for the new house . . .

When life hands you jello, grab some alcohol and make jello shots!   

One Step Closer

Well, it seems that personnel is FINALLY ready to match up Husband Fixture's resume' to the job description so that they can approve his transfer.  And the Boss-to-be says he'll have the paperwork for the relocation assistance ready by Monday, too.  

It's funny how we've waited six months for things to really get rolling, and once they do, it's like a snowball rolling downhill.  I had great intentions for getting a bunch of stuff done today, but none of it happened.  I'm still having trouble getting into the post holiday routine.  Then again, once this transfer goes through, there won't be any routine for quite some time.  I shall begin Phase Two of the packing process this weekend. 

What is Phase Two, you might ask?  It involves a brutal screening of all belongings not yet packed.  I already began the initial packing as part of my preparations for putting the house on the market.  Anything we don't want to find room for in the new house gets tossed or donated.  (Ours is not a good neighborhood for yard sales, especially in the winter.)  Anything that we do plan to bring along and will not be needed over the next two months gets packed (and labeled, of course).   Hopefully, this will keep me occupied as I anxiously await the official start date for Husband Fixture's new job.  

The Empress's Shiny New Year

Hello again!  Yes, I have been MIA from the blogosphre for quite some time.  I could chalk it up to the death of my mother; the chaos of helping my twin with her wedding; a summer that flew by; the fall frenzy that typically occurs in our family; prepping our house to be sold; Hurricane Sandy; or the holiday season. While any and all of those reasons are applicable, the main reason is that I still lacked something to say that I wasn't already telling the folks with whom I keep in touch.  Or perhaps I did have something to say, but did not know how to say it.  Either way, this year will bring some significant changes for our family, and I think it will be cathartic for me to share our journey.

The journey of which I speak began over the summer.  The Husband Fixture and I had decided some time ago that as the responsibilities of his job increased, so did the need for us to reduce his (almost ninety minutes each way) commute to work.  We began making preparations to put our house on the market, and had even begun visiting potential new homes.  Unfortunately, the taxes in our target areas are ridiculous, and put many of the homes in which we'd otherwise be interested out of our reach. 

At that point, I asked my husband whether there was any seriousness to some of the job offers he'd received at other facilities.  Husband Fixture travels a lot for work. While visiting other facilities, he has been told they could use him at their locations if he were ever interested.  One location is a mere 3 hours away. As it turns out, not only were they serious, Husband Fixture was interested.  But he did not think I would be okay with moving out of our area, so he declined to mention it.

He was partially right.  It was not my first choice to leave behind our friends, and the only home Princess Gingersnap has ever known.  I know it will be a major upheaval for the kids, especially the Prince of Distraction, who just started at a new school this year (we put him in private school after major bullying issues came to a head last year).  I do not relish the moving process, either. But Husband Fixture's commute would be significantly shorter, the schools are MUCH better there, housing prices are more reasonable, and the taxes are significantly lower.  There's also much more to do in the area. 

And so, in August, the long, drawn-out, painstaking process of applying for the job transfer had begun.  We are still awaiting the FINAL approval and an official start date, as well as the relocation assistance.  We were hoping to have everything signed and sealed by Christmas, but we're still only 98% there. 

Our hope is to be moved before the end of the third quarter in the school year, so that we can get the kids settled into their new schools before the end of the year.  I think it will be to their benefit to have time to make new friends before summer (so they're not sitting around bored for three months) and to try out/get registered for any extracurricular activities they may wish to pursue in the fall. 

In the meantime, I get to juggle keeping a house ready to sell, two kids, a dog, and a part time job (I've not gotten a lot of work subbing this year).  Wish us luck!    

Things That Make My Skin Crawl

A friend was telling me about a new lotion she was trying. I replied, “Goodness knows, I need to find one that works. My skin gets really, really dry over the winter--to the point that putting lotion on it burns . . . "

"It puts the lotion on it's skin!"

Of course, just thinking about that movie reminded me of how much it freaked me out. In fact, it freaked me out to the point when I saw Ted Levine years later as Captain Stottlemeyer on Monk (I love that show.) I freaked out all over again. This, of course, led to another twisted conversation with my hubby.

Husband Fixture was like, "What is your problem?"

 I said, "That's BUFFALO BILL! I'd know that voice anywhere!!!!"    

Hubby shook his head. You're being paranoid. He's just an actor. Probably not even the same guy.

Me: How much do you wanna' bet? I. Know. That. Voice. And. It. Creeps. Me. The. Hell. Out.

HF: Whatever.

Me: I am so looking this up . . . (rushes to computer) SEE?!?!? Ted Levine is totally Buffalo Bill! I love Tony Shalhoub, but I don't think I can watch this.

HF: Why? He's a totally different character.

Me: He's an ACTOR. He could totally be acting NOW, but Buffalo Bill is what he's really like. He might try and make a skin suit out of me. I'm not exactly a petite girl, you know!

HF: Uhm, Buffalo Bill died in the movie, remember?

Me: Oh yeah. So now I just have to worry about Hannibal Lecter trying to eat me.

HF: With some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

Me: I hate you.

**********************************
By the way, Jason Gray-Stanford who played Lt. Randy Disher on Monk is a lefty.

The Nuts Are Taunting Me . . .

Yesterday was my day off, and I was rumbly in the tumbly. So I grabbed a can of mixed nuts. They're the store brand, and in large print, the can proclaims, "Less than 50% peanuts." I don't know why they feel the need to inform consumers of this, since people with peanut allergies wouldn't buy them anyway. We hope . . .

Anyway, as I was noshing on the lightly salted goodness of said mixed nuts, I noticed the mix included Brazil nuts. I happened to be chatting with a friend at the time, and the following conversation ensued:


Me: Couldn't they come up with a better name than Brazil nuts? And they're not exclusively grown in Brazil, anyway.

Friend: Well, Hazelnuts probably don't come from a chick named Hazel.

Me: Probably not. But that makes it more original.

Friend: Or Peanuts...

Me: Yeah, but that at least has the comical homonym of penis*

Friend: Great. I'll never eat a PB&J again...

Me: Well, most penises aren't spreadable. But maybe if you stick with the chunky kind . . .

Want my can of nuts?

I need to get it away from me, but just staring at the can hasn't worked.

Friend: "Want my can of nuts?" That sounds way, way more fun than it actually is.

Me: Yeah, I know. But they're lightly salted. And really tasty.

Friend:(bites tongue)

Me: I think there's only a 1/4 can left, anyway. But I don't wanna' actually pick the can up and take them to the kitchen. If I pick them up, I’ll likely open the can and eat more of them. And I’m supposed to be on a diet.

The nuts are taunting me . . .

Friend: Uh... huh. Well, guess I should hit the sack.

Me: What if there are kittens in the sack? You could hurt them.
And then PETA will be all over your ass, throwing paint at your house and shit.

Friend: My weenie dog will be my protector

Me: Hmm . . . maybe I should piss people off and invite them inside my house so they can throw paint.

Correction: PETA . .. not random people. ‘Cause that would be bad.



*Yes, I do know that "peanuts" and "penis" do not actually rhyme, but they do sound a lot alike when a kid says them.



I also asked my husband the question about Brazil nuts in my daily nag email to him.
His reply: What’s the problem with Brazil…it’s hot and there are a lot of topless women…why shouldn’t they have nuts named after them!

And THAT is why I love my husband.

I have some amusing friends, too. But my husband has to live with me, and still manages to be funny.

=)

Hello, yeah, it's been awhile . . .

I confess that while there have been several goings-on in Brewmeisteria, it seems that as soon as I would catch my breath long enough to consider posting here, that something else would crop up—thus banishing whatever tendrils of thought that had begun to take root. Today’s post shall be a summation of the past few months’ events.

The Husband Fixture had a successful hernia operation at the same time a dear friend was having a cancer biopsy done. Thankfully, our friend’s operation went well, too. He still awaits conclusive results, though.

Princess Gingersnap began her youth cheerleading season in August, which involved five nights of practice per week until school began. Practices were then reduced to two nights a week, plus games on Sundays. Her last game was this past Saturday, and her team won the league championship for their division—happy days all around. She also enjoyed holding court at her annual birthday slumber party, which was an homage to her Glee obsession. I have to admit I was rather impressed with myself for pulling off the decorations and slushie cupcakes.

Prince of Distraction lived to see his twelfth birthday, though I would not place any bets on his continued existence. He remains unconvinced that his homework is important and will substantially impact his grades. Husband Fixture and I are, of course, working to disabuse him of these notions.

Other festivities of late have included the Halloween themed game night party I hosted. After several months of denials, I finally got selected to host one of the Houseparty.com parties. This one involved trying two (new to me) board games, Quelf and Logo. I must say that both were fun, though Quelf was definitely more fun to play while intoxicated.

And this weekend shall see me hosting one of my biggest events of the year. It will be my third annual Murder Mystery Event, about which I shall post separately. While I had hoped to have enough time this Thursday (my scheduled day off) to make final preparations, it seems I have more time on my hands than I could have anticipated. Poor Gingersnap has been ill for the past two days, so I took her to the doctor today. She has strep throat, so I’ll end up home tomorrow, too. Either way, I’m still counting down to the weekend.