Not trying to solicit, but if anyone is interested or knows someone who might be, we are trying to sell a piano. This is the craigs list ad:

1981 Yamaha P2 upright piano for sale. Excellent condition. $2500

Just drop me a line if you are interested. We just don't use it enough any more and don't want to have to move it across the country.

R.I.P. Chef Ra

A legend unto himself, I just learned that local DJ and all around friendly good person Chef Ra passed away Tuesday. My encounters with him were almost always at the Esquire and he never shunned a quick conversation, an invite to sit.

Peace out to you. You'll certainly be missed by many in the community.

Whew. Days preparing for, days cooking and cleaning before and during, and days cleaning up after the rush and just like that (poof!) Christmas has passed for another year. I am always happy to have everyone here for the holiday but goodness are my back and feet sore when it's all said and done. Now if I could just manage to sleep in once the hubster gets up for work this week (hard for me) so I can catch up on some sleep, I'd appreciate it.

We are pricing replacement windows for the last in the house not done before we moved in (10 of them) and it's freaking me out. We also started pricing out kitchen remodeling costs, and it's freaking me out too. Never mind the fact that I also need to sod the back yard and reside the garage before the house goes on the market, and nevermind that we have no idea when that will actually be. Where do people get money to do this stuff when they hope that they won't be paying for it when they are (hopefully) not living in this house six months from now? *sigh*

Christmas was nice. I got many nice things from everyone and it was a nice visit from my sister and the 'rents. Much good food and wine was had, many laughs were shared and we made the best we could with the seemingly small space of our house when it holds that many people. I really don't feel like the holidays came and went necessarily, and while I prefer to think it's because of the mild winter weather as of late, my mom insists that it also comes with age. I don't want to think that Christmas stops feeling like Christmas just because you get older, but it certainly was a nice weekend.

Hope everyone else's was survived and enjoyed.

The Mother of All Memes

Wow, who would have thought that agreeing to participate in the Mother of All Memes would result in feeling like I was back in elementary school getting picked last for kickball? Oh well, here's my addition, for what it's worth. I'll bounce it back to it's original founder, Mrs. Chicken after this.

The Mother Of All Memes

(by Mrs. Chicken of Chicken and Cheese)

I thought I saw him at the grocery store. It was raining that afternoon, and he had an umbrella. The red and white triangles that made up his portable shelter partly obscured his face, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes. Those eyes. Huge, blue and empty.When he left me I remember searching their vast cerulean expanse for some sign, some flicker of love. It rained that day, too. Why does it rain when you lose someone you love? My tears left him unmoved. I don’t know why that surprised me.The baby kicked in my cart and I let my gaze fall on her face. Her father’s eyes stared back at me. Green eyes, warm and full of life."Mamma?" she said. "Mamma!"

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(by Binky of 24/7)

The question-turned-exclamation jarred me out of my reverie. There was pressure in my temples and behind the hazel tint of my colored contact lenses. "Mamma's here," I cooed. My voice was a manufactured kind of soothing. I leaned in and brushed a kiss over Bethany's forehead, where a drop of rainwater hung like the tiniest Swarovski pendant. Its chain was made of fine blond locks."What do you think, baby girl?" I asked as I pulled her into my arms. "Is it time to go home?" Her searching legs and center of gravity found all the right contours as she settled atop the jut of my hip. I tugged at her coat until the hood framed her face, then I stepped into the rain. A small deluge of water streamed off the curve of the lowercase "o" on the Save-A-Lot sign and landed at the back of my neck. I could feel the tag from my shirt sticking sharp and soggy to my skin.I sighed against Bethany's face and tried to avoid the bigger puddles on our way to my twenty year old Civic, which was miraculously close. One row over and three cars ahead, I saw a familiar red and white umbrella spanning the gap between an open door and the driver's seat of a rusty 4Runner that had to be as old as my own piece of junk. The guy I'd mistaken for Paul sat sideways and watched the rain as he talked into a cell phone.

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(by Tony of Creative-Type Dad)

Hastily reaching into my purse holding Bethany firmly, I could faintly hear the sound of his voice. His mumbled words were almost too reminiscent of Paul’s. The way he laughed as he said "Gouda" into his plastic phone brought back imagery of the two of us, sitting together last winter on the living room floor, sipping Merlot watching "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous". Occasionally Paul would jokingly burst out vocabulary in his comedic English accent – expressions like "Don Perignon!" and "Caviar Dreams!" oh, how I loved Caviar and that faux bear skin rug.With keys finally in hand, stumbling to open the rusty car door, I could sense this stranger's stare against my cheek. His phone chatter abruptly ended and I could hear the sounds of squeaking cowboy boots crushing the wet pavement.

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(by Occidental Girl of The Occidental Tourist)

My mind was suddenly full of so many thoughts vying for my attention at the same time that I couldn't think straight.It can't be him, I thought, no way. What would I say? What do I look like? What am I wearing???The answers came in rapid succession: It could be him, it's okay if it's him because I'm not angry anymore; I could talk about my fulfilling life that I've enjoyed since knowing him, like this beautiful child I created with someone else, without him; I look like shit but since I'm too hard on myself in general, I probably look just fine; men - especially Paul - don't notice what women are wearing unless it's nothing at all. Then, they notice.When you coincidentally encounter someone you loved once, a long time ago, the traitorous mind tends to retrieve only the good memories and leave the battles and frustrations out of it. This leaves us to wonder what in the world we ever thought was wrong and maybe it was a mistake to end the relationship. After all, doesn't every relationship have ups and downs? Ours certainly did. It was passionate, without a doubt, but in every area: the loving AND the fighting. It was when the fighting overtook the loving that we fell apart. I wonder if he ever thought about all of that, even now. Paul didn't seem to notice many things unless they were stark - naked or otherwise.And yet, here he was - maybe - coming over to talk after all this time. I took a deep breath, then turned around.

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(by Meg of Mainely-Megin)

"Hey." He practically whispered.Oh. My. God."Hi." Was it relief or despair?"I wasn't sure you'd remember me.""No, I..." Not Paul. Not Paul. Not Paul. Who the hell was it?"Peter Johnston, I sat behind you in statistics freshman year."Peter freakin' Johnston. I felt my pulse in my neck, and I focused my breathing the way I had 15 short months ago in labor. Not Paul.Peter held his umbrella over me and the squirmy Bethany. Idle chat. Wife, 3 kids, new job, just moved into town, wife hasn't met anyone yet. Not Paul. Not Paul. Peter was bursting with the need to share his happiness, which allowed him to simply see an old acquaintance, not someone's former lover plagued by mere memory."Dinner sounds great, I'd love to meet Lisa and the kids."With the baby buckled in and my door as close to closed as it got, I watched Peter close his own door. The rain rushed down the window and distorted the images. It blended the head and brake lights of the cars winding their way through the parking lot.

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(by Bethany of mommy writer)

The seven-thirty hour, the one right after dinner, is always the worst. Waiting for Daniel to come home, feeding and changing Bethany for bedtime, cleaning the kitchen. It's a nuisance and a routine all the same.That is, until Daniel comes stumbling into the back door in nothing short of drunkeness."Hi honey," he chirped balancing himself against the cracked linoleum counter kicking off his shoes, "Sorry I'm late."When isn't he late?"S'okay," I look up from the over-used skillet I'd been tackling with a worn Scotch pad for the last 15 minutes, "Had a good time tonight?"Daniel only tripped past my shoulder to the spaghetti, waiting in the stained Tupperware and fixed himself a plate of dinner.It's just as well. I didn't have the energy to congratulate him on an obvious vaccuum sale. Not today. The office post-sale drinks in celebration are too habitual, if not an excuse. And it isn't as if he'd just made a commission worth writing home about. It was more like we'd be able to splurge on groceries. Or buy Bethany the expensive diapers."This is good," he chewed, spilling sauce to the edges of his lips. The edges I used to adore when he spent more time smiling."Bethany went to bed easily tonight," I said more to myself than Daniel. "For once anyway."Daniel shoveled another tangle of noodles into his mouth. He was either too drunk to realize I was trying engage him in conversation, or plain ignoring me.I rinsed the pot and placed it beside the sink where the drying rack should be, the one I was too lazy to take from the bottom cupboard. Patting my hands on the stretched blue jeans that hugged my legs for the last two days, I pecked my husband on the forehead and walked towards the bedroom.Just before leaving the hallway, I called back to him, "Your nemesis, Peter Johnston is back in town. We're having dinner with him, wife, and kids this weekend."

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(Heather of Cool Zebras)

I paused for a moment just inside the bedroom door. Ahhh. There it was, the choked sputter of breath, then silence.I allowed my thoughts to wander while I pulled on my well-worn flannel nightie.Peter and Daniel had been at odds since they were five. Preschool battles over who got the first cracker evolved into teenage hostilities on the basketball court. B Squad basketball at that. If there was something they could compare, you could bet there would be a pissing contest about it.I’d avoided both of them in high school.I continued my bedtime routine and tried to ignore the clink of bottles from the kitchen. I pulled at the corners of each eye and slipped out my contacts. Even to me my eyes looked tired, my skin drawn. It has been too long since I’ve dyed my roots.The woman in the mirror looked sad, but then one corner of my mouth started to twitch.I loved that Peter had no idea that I married Daniel.

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(by Christy of yankeeinontario)

As I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, I thought about the fireworks that were sure to happen during dinner next week. I wondered about Peter's wife. Would I like her? Would she like me? What would I wear? Could I possibly get myself poured into a pair of slacks without the 2% lycra content that allowed me into my jeans? Would I be able to carry on an intelligent conversation about something besides the newest Fisher Price offering or the latest guest star on Sesame Street?I worried myself into a wide awake tizzy until I heard Peter dragging himself up the steps in his drunken stupor. He slammed the bedroom door against the wall and the baby woke up, howling with the injustice of being awakened. "Now you've done it, you ass!", I hissed at Peter. I hauled myself out of bed, cursing my husband, too drunk to tend to his daughter. He was snoring, face down on the bed, when I returned after quieting Bethany. And here I am, 1 a.m. Still awake.

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(by Tater and Tot of Tater and Tot)

It took 2 full hours before I fell into a deep sleep. My buddy anger had given up and dosed off, but my good friend discontent was up and ready for a party. I tossed and turned while the tides of thoughts surged through my mind. Is this really as good as it was going to get? Was this life to its fullest? This certainly wasn't what I dreamed of when I was a little girl. I never thought to add dirty dishes, laundry, half-nights of sleep, poopy diapers and stained Tupperware to my pretend play. Nor did I think that my thoughts would drift toward a "what if" life with an ex instead of spending time with any of the other 25 letters. I’ve watched enough Dr. Phil to know that I only think about Paul because I can make the pretend relationship however I want it to be.But then there is real life - and Daniel. Complacency is his best friend. He’ll sell Kirbys door to door for the next 30 years and never be bored - or promoted. He’ll have the same celebratory drinks at the same bar with the same guys and revel in the predictability. He’ll be obliviously happy and expect the same from me."If only it were that easy," I whispered out loud before drifting off into a hard, dreamless sleep.But not before I felt the very first quickening deep in my womb. Sixteen weeks. Right on schedule.

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(by Michelle of NewDotMom)

The days of our week tripped by, falling and stumbling over one another like my own emotions. The dreaded sameness wearied me as it sustained me - I could drift on the eddies of the routine without thought. And then, finally, it was Saturday night. Bethany was bathed and fed earlier than usual - there was no way I'd be trying to feed a cranky toddler in someone else's home. It was basically asking for a full-body dousing in applesauce and strained peas. Of course, I thought, getting drenched in baby food might be a step up on the fashion scale if a miracle didn't occur in my closet sometime soon."Daniel!"Silence greeted me from the den, where dual screens vyed for my husband's attention. The television screamed, the XBox roared, and the man I'd pledged to love, honor, and cherish all the days of my life sat openmouthed between the two. "Daniel! What are you doing in here? We need to leave soon, I'm not dressed, and you need to watch Bethany while I get ready." Still, silence. Either he was deliberately ignoring me again, or he was starting to experience hearing loss from all those surround-sound speakers he kept blaring at top volume. I finally stepped between Daniel and the TV, positioning my body so that he couldn't see the game."What the hell!? Laura, move your wide load outta here. I'm trying to watch the Skins.""Look, you need to watch Bethany for a little while. I have to get dressed - and we are leaving in forty minutes. Dinner with Peter and Lisa, remember? We never go out anymore - we are not cancelling this. So I don't want to hear it, okay? Just... here!"I plopped Bethany onto her father's lap, and smiled in spite of myself. Seeing her beautiful green eyes and their older, larger counterparts in Daniel's face reminded me of what was good and right in our house. Maybe not every day, maybe not every minute, but mostly. My hand involuntarily sought out the soft curve of my belly, and I sighed. Then I turned on my heel and stomped up the stairs to wrestle with my clothes decisions. I was going to have fun tonight, no matter what Daniel did or said.

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(by Kristi of A Beautiful Mess)

Wiping away my tears of frustration, I pulled my tousled hair into a clip. I walked over to the small closet that Daniel and I shared, and picked out the newest outfit in my wardrobe, which was hardly new at all. It didn't matter; the night was destined to be a failure anyway and whether I looked good or bad wasn't going to change a thing.My stomach began to flutter, reminding me of the growing life in my womb. The innocent baby that would be born into this miserable marriage. I sat down on the unmade bed, the tears flowing, my thoughts racing. How did I get here? I'm not in love anymore. Was I really ever in love with Daniel in the first place? Something needs to change; I just can't do this anymore.Simultaneously, the chiming of the clock and the cry of a neglected child snapped my mind back into focus. Bethany stood in the doorway, tears staining her cheeks. I hollered for Daniel, but was met with only stiff silence. Already knowing what that meant, I went to check on him anyway. Of course, there he lay, passed out on the sofa, with cold bottle still in hand. There would be no waking him. I was all too familiar with this routine.Stoically, I collected Bethany and my purse and headed out the door alone.

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(by Desitin's Child)

In the car, I had time to take stock. To my credit, I was not late. I had planned ahead and had a fed, rested, clean child; and a diaper bag with everything she'd need in it. My clothes were presentable, if not fashionable, and there was even gas in the car. I am a competent person, I reminded myself. Then I remembered Daniel on the couch, and thought, I deserve better than this.I turned onto Arrowood, deliberately taking the slow route to give myself more time to think. Crazy scenarios hummed in my ears like movie music, simultaneously seductive and ridiculous.Peter and Lisa and I will become really close, and when they hear about Daniel's habits, they'll insist that I leave him and come and live with them. Our kids can all share toys and clothes, and... No, what would I do for money? I'm pregnant and have a toddler.Peter and Lisa will propose a menage-a-trois, and then... No. With all those kids around? that's just impossible.They'll be so taken with my level-headedness that they'll make me their business partner and... Come on, I can't even balance my checkbook.This dinner is just an elaborate ruse. There is some dramatic surprise waiting for me. There's somebody they want me to meet, a handsome widower, or - maybe it's actually Paul. Okay, stop it already.I forced myself to turn off the movie music and think like the serious scientist I used to be. I had a phone, a change of clothes for Bethany in the trunk, and $40 in cash. And I had just turned onto Peter's street.

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(by Mrs. Maladjusted)

As I tumbled awkardly out of the car door in front of Peter's house, I cursed the forgotten clumsiness that comes with pregnancy. I already felt many more months pregnant than I was, but that was all too much to think about at the moment. All I wanted was a nice glass of Chardonnay to settle my nerves, knowing full well that regardless of recent studies about a glass of wine or two being okay during pregnancy according to some doctors, I wasn't willing to risk the stirring and developing life inside me. Not when there was the chance it could come out much like the amazing child currently waiting suprisingly patient in the back seat for me to rescue her from the cage of her car seat.

I pulled Bethany out, along with my bag of tricks as I liked to think of it, containing all we could possibly need to get through the evening (you know, aside from a new husband, a new situation, a new life...). "Stop that!", I told myself.

I tucked her onto my hip and headed for the door, ringing the doorbell of the gorgeous and impressive two story cape cod in a neighborhood I dreamed of living in my entire life. Complete with white picket fence and playset off to the side yard, Peter and Lisa appeared from the outside to have it all. Fancy home, expensive SUV parked in the drive. Such lucky people in such an unlucky world it seemed. How could I have possibly have anticipated the very different story waiting to great me once I walked through that fateful door.

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Back to you Mrs. Chicken.

WZB (in the vein of weekly dog and cat blogging)

You know, you'd think that by the time I reached thirty I would stop having to worry about certain adolescent type things. While this has been the case somewhat (best friend of the week is no longer an issue and I couldn't care less what people think about my off-brand clothing) I have not been lucky enough to outgrow zits. I currently have one that is painful as all get out, the kind that is deep under the skin and you can't seem to get rid of it. This one has resided on the right side of my chin for weeks now, I kid you not. Soon it's going to require it's own zip code (zit code?).

For this reason, I invite anyone to join this week's Weekly Zit Blogging (WZB). I'll post links to your entries if you do them and let me know. Welcome to the club. At least maybe it means we are still young at heart. Riiiiiiight.

This is the second year that I will be having Christmas proper at my home for the family. This creates an extrodinary amount of work to get ready (all of which will not get done, and much of which will not get done to the satisfaction of my ultra-clean freak mother). So far I have purchased all presents and wrapped most of them (just waiting on a few more to come in the mail). I have baked four kinds of cookies (to supplement the four kinds mom is bringing with her), baked the Christmas morning chocolate chip banana bread and had the kidlet make candied pretzel wreaths. Last night I drafted the Christmas Eve menu (tapas) and I think the Christmas Day one is fairly set at this point (with pie crusts, homemade applesauce and the ham purchase assigned to my mother). I am paying the kidlet a decent amount of money to do the things that only get done when mom comes to visit (wipe out insides of kitchen cabinets, dust baseboards, clean fridge) and she's doing it like a champ. Merry Maids comes Thursday to clean for the holiday weekend (too early, but that's the day they come). The house is as decorated as it will get and most things are almost done for visitor purposes (soap in guest bathroom, clean towels in there too, beds made fresh, etc.).

I think I'm in really good shape for the holiday. For those that know me, my family is the most important thing in my life and I'm always happy to see them. My folks and sister will arrive Christmas Eve and stay until the day after Christmas and I know it will all go buy quickly. I just have to do a grocery shop Thursday or Friday I think for stuff for the weekend and hit Friar Tucks for a beer and wine selection.

Here's to the holidays. I'm really looking forward to this one being the last in this climate!

CBS sucks

I HATE CBS. Why, you might ask? Well, there is this whole football watching thing for me, to say nothing of the smathering of rediculously inane shows they play otherwise. See, in my house, we BLEED black and gold. The Steelers are our religion. So, we do what we have to in order to see them play, good or bad, playing well or crappy, making us cheer or cringe. Most weeks in central Illinois this involves going down to a place like Jillian's and catching the game via Sunday NFL Ticket (which we can't get because we don't have dish). I'm pleased to spend three hours watching "my boys" on the big screens, eating nachos and sipping a few cold ones to pass a Sunday afternoon.

Now, every once and awhile we are lucky enough to get the Bears on one channel so we get a shot at a game we want to see on the other (Fox also plays football games on Sunday afternoons). Twice this season we have been blessed to have CBS pick the Steelers game as the alternative to the Bears on Fox Sports. AWESOME. Except....

At a point in BOTH games, CBS decided that the Steelers game wasn't worth watching any longer (because we were up greatly in both of them) at at the beginning of the fourth quarter they SWITCHED THE EFFING FEED TO ANOTHER GAME. Now, I know that for some people watching, they could care less what other game is on if the Bears are playing on Fox but you know what? People watching the scheduled and advertised game on CBS on Sundays usually make a conscious decision to stay home and watch that out of town team play. We decide that maybe we don't want to sit in a bar and spend money to see our favorite team plays for TWO OUT OF THE SIXTEEN WEEKS of football and opt to stay home and watch the game on TV, a rarity in itself. So as you can imagine, especially when your team hasn't exactly been playing well this season and you're FINALLY getting the chance to see them kick some butt, the sudden unannounced switch to another random game nearly means my television is destroyed.

If it weren't for football on Sundays, CBS would never be on in my home. Ever. And after this football season is over, regardless of where we end up in the country next year, it will NEVER be on in my home again. I even sent a nastygram after the first incident to the CBS "tell us what you think" email address. I didn't even get a canned "thanks for your input" response.

Screw CBS. This is one person who is going to go out of their way to never watch their stupid channel again. I don't care if I have to get dish and Sunday Ticket, or go spend too much money for crap food in a bar to see the games. I will get through the playoffs and Super Bowl and then CBS is never getting my patronage again.

Don't fuck with my football. Period.

The puppy came through surgery ok, though it will be almost two weeks before we have biopsy results to make further plans for treatment. At least step one went smoothly.

I also had a positive talk with my boss about my letter, and have some real closure in my mind now for this job. They know I'm unhappy and that I truly don't believe anything will change. They know that I am looking for another job so there is just a lot off my shoulders with that all out in the open.

The only thing they don't know as of know is shortly after lunch yesterday I had a phone call to arrange a phone interview for a school in NC. Woot!

So yesterday afternoon after a long period of suffering, I finally lost my mind at work and wrote a (hopefully fairly professional) serious and out on a limb letter to my boss about being miserable in my job and office and telling her that I am looking for a new job. I will surely suffer the fallout today, and while I'm more than justified in having these feelings and expressing them and I did it in a fairly respectful manner, I can't remember the last time I've been so terrified to go to work.

And my puppy (ok, he's four, but he will always be a puppy to me) is going in today for tumor removal surgery for a tumor that may or may not be something very serious (about a 50-50 shot depending on what the biopsy reveals). This kind of tumor has four typical kinds of types associated with it. One is benign and no big deal, pretty superficial. One is serious, but if caught early and totally removed with safe margins the dog has a good chance of survival (but if it's caught late it's very bad). The other two are very serious, and usually mean a short time of survival with poor prognosis no matter what treatment. My poor baby. Cross your paws that the surgery goes smoothly for the first step, then that it's the best of the four options.

I'm also exhausted because we stayed up late watching last night's meteor shower (the geminid shower). It was worth it, they were bright and long lasting last night and it wasn't nearly as cold as it's been watching them in previous years. You may still see a few tonight, but last night was the peak. They eminate from the north/northeast quadrant of the sky for this shower, but by 11:30 or so last night we saw them almost directly overhead. The hubster is the only person ever who has wanted to stay up late (or get up in the middle of the night) and freeze our behinds off to see meteors. I sure do love him.

On days like today I kind of worry that my contacts might very well freeze right to my eyeballs.

We've all been sick this last week or so but yesterday saw the first day of everyone feeling a little better, thank goodness. I lost my whole weekend to all three of us being ill and lying on the couch and complaining all weekend. I hate that. I live for my weekends.

So we've finally had all we can stand of CU, central Illinois and the midwest in general at this point I think. We made the decision over Thanksgiving to go ahead and start our push to head back to the east coast (I transplanted from there about 13 years ago and NEVER intended to stay this long). I've applied for jobs in PA, NC and VA thusfar. No real rush (though sooner would be better than later for my mental health) because we have to figure out how to sell our house (I have never done this before, and last time I made a move halfway across the country I had nothing... no home, no kidlet, no hubster, no possessions, no debt... I literally got on a plane with everything I owned in a backpack).

There are certainly a few things I will miss about being here, most notably a few people I'll miss terribly, my house that is perfect for us, the memories of kidlet's childhood, falling in love and getting married, developing myself into an adult (of sorts anyways). But overall, I'll be thrilled to return to a land of warmer temperatures, little snow and ice, southern accents, ocean with beaches, mountains, trees, etc. (even if the cost of living might mean I get to buy a shack to live in).

Stay tuned for updates on it all.

Hey, the day just got a little better. I just won some holiday cash on from Lite Rock 97.5. Go to their website and you can sign up too. They give away $1000 a day and if the "anti-luck queen" I am can win, you can too!

Yes, I know this sounds like a solicitation but I am in no way affiliated. We listen to this station at work and all signed up and I just want others to know since I actually won.

Snow Day? Of course not!

OK, has anyone looked outside at the near-blizzard conditions this morning? For the life of me I don't understand why the safety of kids (some of whom, by the way, are supposed to walk because they are "too close" to the school at a mile and a half away to ride either a school bus or the city bus arranged for some children) comes second to not having to make up a snow day in June (when they already get out weeks before most of the country and rediculously early).

Growl.

Now I wonder how many parents whose kids went this morning in these conditions will have to go back and get their children in a few hours when they declare early dismissal because it just keeps getting nastier out.

On the good and bad side, my kidlet is home today. She was running a fever last night (poor bubs, just had this cold the hubster and I are suffering from last weekend). At least she gets a legitimate reason to stay home today. Wonder how many parents call their kids in "sick" today.