Rainy Wednesday

Ben and I are getting a lazy night tonight for the first time in.....I lost count. I started a third job on Sunday, and though I don't work every night, Ben does...since his schedule changed on November 1st. We have about 2 hours awake with each other each day, and tonight we get some of those precious hours together.
Ben was shot down for a promotion at work, and I'm sincerely pissed. I drove home, staring at the rain pelting the road, and just felt defeated. I had a stupid pseudo-fight with a co-worker, and just felt like sighing the biggest sigh. I want to learn this lesson, take my spoonful of medicine and move on. I want both of us to be able to move on. To pay our bills and be able to buy groceries. Both! At once! To stop worrying about whether I disagree with my boss and if I'm going to be able to keep my job.
Here's the bright side: It's 8:24, I've had a glass of wine, and a bowl of ice cream, I hear the hum of our heater, the rain on the sidewalk outside, and in about a half an hour, I'm going to sleep. With my husband who loves me.

H1N1 is a bitch...

Or, Yep, that's what Ben has. Upon finding it out Wednesday afternoon, he remarked "Hey, now I'm historical!" And then he threw up.

This is the drug cocktail he's on. Ok, well, with a few other things that he's also on but for his pinched sciatic nerve. Yeah, there's that too.

But we have some awesome people checking in on him, and I've been out four times today to stock up on Lysol, Kleenex, ginger ale and popsicles. And orange juice.

My take on the Duggars...

I'm obsessed with the show. I would love to have a close-knit, well-mannered family-that's-so-large you don't need friends. But then again, I wouldn't. But that's because I have fond memories of dinners at Friendly's with my sister and brother. While we sat at our own table and laughed our asses off at I don't remember what, my mom and dad would enjoy a quiet dinner and pretend not to know us at the table behind us. That's my family. We'll tease each other about anything, but let someone else make fun? Suckers gonna die that's what.

Back to the Duggars. I watched an episode where the two oldest girls get their wisdom teeth out, and Mom and Dad Duggar went with them to the oral surgeon, and Dad Duggar even walked younger Duggar into the dentist chair and held her hand until she passed out. That's super sweet. Super adorable. Great family support system. They really do love each other.

In the episode previous to that, the Duggars went to visit a local elementary school, and each Duggar was asked what they wanted to be when they grow up. All the boys gave answers along the lines of "a missionary" "a doctor" "a lawyer", while the girls gave answers along the lines of "I want to take classes in photography" "I want to take some classes in...." The boys are encouraged to BE something, the girls are encouraged to DABBLE. The emphasis for the girls is, meet Prince Charming, get married, be a mom and a housewife.

Um. What????

Really???

That's your whole purpose in life? Make babies? Be married? What about going out on your own? Or ok, get married, that's great! Marriage is wonderful. Having a family is wonderful. But what about learning other things? Having a CAREER? Why don't the girls want to be doctors? Or lawyers?

On a related note, every episode I've seen with Josh and Anna revolves around Josh doing something, Anna watching. Josh talking for Anna. Anna not sitting up straight. Josh and Anna kissing in front of their cousin Amy, while she's just stated she's trying to repect their beliefs and not kiss her boyfriend in front of Josh and Anna. Modesty for the girls, but the guys get to drive Jaguars and BMWs. The kids and Mom Duggar have to wake up and get things done, but Dad Duggar is the last to wake up. Sigh. I have a complex relationship with this show.

I'm so tired of Conservative Christians who put girls in a box. What f-ing year is this anyway? Put on some damn pants and stand up for yourself. Just because you want something different from your parents doesn't mean you don't love Jesus. Geeeeeez'm.

The Art of Therapy

Oh, what Shouldn't I be doing right now that I said I'd do on my lunch break? Oodles of things. But I'm inspired. Just came across my friend, Sara's, blog on vaginas, and really I'd love to guest blog. Really. My story with Ben has been fraught with emotion, from me asking on our, what was it, third date? "What would you do if I got pregnant?" waaaaaay before pregnancy was even possible, to my continual fear that each month will bring about that lifelong change that I...and we, are not ready for. Even though we are taking every precaution.

Which leads me to, therapy. Yes! I have started therapy, and though I've only had one session, I feel BETTER. I don't feel like crying or hurting someone in very hurtful ways every day. It's delicious. My therapist explained her view of therapy this way: " I believe in a Wizard of Oz kind of world. We're all either Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man, or the Scarecrow, and I'm the Wizard. And what did the wizard do when they came to visit? He showed them that they ALREADY had what they were looking for, they just needed to know how to use it."

I had chills when she said that. CHILLS.

So, just a few areas in which I hope to apply this newfound wisdom:
my relationship with my parents
my relationship with Ben
how i see myself
my work relationships (can you call them relationships?)
Anger Management

Africa...

The fun thing about having a husband who grew up in Africa is all the miscellaneous and interesting artifacts his family has kept. Gail's been cleaning out her guest room to prepare for a bigger bed, and while unpacking boxes, she came across a few things for us to have. One, a marriage chain. All of the pieces are carved from the same piece of wood, and the head on each end represents the husband and the wife. The significance is, the two are still individuals, yet one unit. I loved hearing her tell me the story behind it, watching her smile at the beauty of the symbolism. Despite everything she's gone through, she has hope, resilience, and a sheer love for life and its possibilities. Which is why I admire her. She doesn't give up.

She also gave us an East African batik, and explained the differences between east and west african art techniques, and a carved candlestick and linens from various countries. It's awesome for me having people who know and want to continue to learn about everything - she comes from a line of travelers who've brought interesting items from every country they've been too, and through her life, was able to provide her kids with the same love of culture and the world.

That's something that's important for Ben and I as we go forward. To, when we have kids, and even before and after they're grown - to TRAVEL. To experience life in other countries, and in our own country too.

Now, if we could master the art of traveling to small Virginia towns without being assaulted by the local police force, we'd be set...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPT_3PEjnsE

The Dining Room

Inspired by Young House Love. Officially the most elegant curtains I've ever had. I have a single tear in my eye.

My favorite room in the house...so far.

Maybe it's the fireplace, or our new favorite thing, the "roman shade". Or maybe it's the delicious bottle of wine, whatever je ne sais quoi the living room holds, it's my favorite room. We wanted at least one room established so we had a place to rest, and the living room is it. I "finished" the rest of the rooms this morning, but they're no where near as interesting.

Yesterday, we got a clean bill of health from Uncle Gerry!! The importance of this commendation cannot be underappreciated. This man, this systems engineer for a major company here in ol' RVA volunteers his free time, taking new Habitat for Humanity homeowners on "tours" of their new houses, teaching them the basics of each system - the HVAC unit, the furnace, the washer and dryer, all the bathroom components, etc... and has a little pamphlet to leave them when the tour ends. He's great. Totally great. Plus, he's a marathon runner who's battled/ing cancer. Seriously. He's amazing. I can't adore him enough.

So for a housewarming present, he took us on our own little tour of our cute little home, and thoroughly blessed it. Even when yesterday morning, our dryer decided it didn't really want to dry the clothes, it just wanted to spin and get hot, but not do shit. I kept running the cycles, I guess partly from misplaced hope, and partly in disbelief. I don't know the first thing about fixing house stuff. Except maybe cleaning out a clogged sink drain. That's the extent. That's like, knowing how to boil pasta; it equals zilch. When Ben pulled the dryer out from the wall, he noticed the botched surgery job done to the dryer (after a little help from the world wide web, we discovered the problem could be a clogged vent hose, which Gerry later affirmed); the previous tenants? owners? had repurposed a PIROULINE can into a connector for the hose to the dryer and had an extra 6' of hose tangled up going into the wall!!!! It was ghetto NOT fab for about 4 hours yesterday.

Gerry swooped in and rescued our nervous emotions by exclaiming, No big deal! Go to Lowe's, get enough METAL hose to connect to the dryer and run it out the screen door. It's a working temporary solution, but I'll tell you, I'm tempted. I'm tempted to keep our makeshift dryer vent. It's kind of charming in a tenement building kind of way. Fits with the peel and stick laminate. YES!

Ben followed Gerry around for the rest of the tour and told me afterwards, He came alive! He was crawling into the attic, walking all around the basement and the half crawl space, checking everything out, and everytime he came to something new, he'd say, wow! this is great, look at this! At the end of the tour, right as he and Aunt Lynn were about to leave, he told us, You guys couldn't have done better for a first home. You could stay here forever if you wanted to. It's a great house. Lynn even told us on the way out, He keeps saying "It's a wonderful house!" I love it.

I love it because it's been an agony the past few months. Up and down with emotions, wondering if we'd find something, if we could afford it, if this really was a step forward or a misguided attempt at adulthood. We want to make it. We want it to be ours, to be a source of peace and calm, and I hope Gerry's affirmation is the beginning of something beautiful.

It is finished, or C'est fini!

And by the magic of the internet, we moved. If you just go by posts it wasn't a harried two and a half days at all! It's still amazing to me that once the new place gets established, the old place looks terrible. I kept moving boxes out of our little Manchester alcove and kept getting angrier and angrier at the neighborhood. I hated the slow drivers, or the fast ones, I hated the sound of those damned scooters' engines getting revved and repaired, I hated the fact that I was tired, hot, grumpy and generally felt terrible, and that the boxes and THINGS wouldn't end. I hated that the hallway light was out, that the banister came completely off the wall and that I couldn't just be at the new place.

But now it's over, we finished moving everything into the house just before the rain began and it couldn't have gone better. I woke up exhausted and nauseated Friday morning, but went into work anyway, thinking I'd put my nose to the grindstone and just concentrate on work. At 10 a.m. I had nothing to do, and just felt terrible and I discovered I lost my wallet. I left and without realizing it, drove to the apartment instead of the house! I sighed, turned around, drove to the house, picked up boxes and scoured the house for my wallet, and Ben came home early and we finished the remaining moving (One load! and that mostly trash) and crashed about 1. And we found my wallet in the Matrix. Yes!

An unnecessary play by play, and maybe I'll post some pictures later on this morning.

And so the packing begins....

As if we didn't move enough, we're adding a new one to the mix. A move into OUR NEW HOUSE!! The truth is, it is very exciting, it has a yard, it's going to add a sense of permanence to our lives, blah blah blah... but we just have to get through the financial shitfall first. Oh, AND the packing. The ever present now in my face in the form of liquor boxes packing.

Yep. I'm either planning for a huge ass shindig or I'm moving heavy stuff. Sigh.

My life in Mix Tapes

Sos, yesterday was my day of birth and since I couldn't afford to take the day off work, I brought all my old mix tapes in to listen to. I realized yesterday that my tapes moreso than cds or records have played important roles in my life, so much so that I teared up a bit while listening to some of the songs on them.

Fall of 1998 - the "Superhappy" tape. Aaron made it for me so I wouldn't be so homesick for my first year of college. It was a smattering of our favorite car songs played to and from high school, and all recorded from WVGO or the Buzz (during its one and only good year) or tapes left home by Jenni. Tear up moment: "Catepillar" by the Cure.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBX8j1lZshE

Summer of 2000 - Innocence Mission "Glow". I listened to it religiously (pun intended) during my summer of Leadership Training in Surf City, NC with my college church. By day, I was a Kroger deli counter girl, and by night, I was supposed to be witnessing to people and turning them towards Christ, but all I remember are really lovely summer moments. My friend, Jody, and I hanging out with the guys downstairs from us (against all rules! As if I needed rules. Like Ben told me today in regards to how i spend money, "Your mother shouldn't be telling YOU to be frugal! She should be telling you to spend!!") sitting out on our little deck sewing triangles into the bottoms of my jeans to make bell-bottoms, learning how to play guitar on one of the worst sounding 3/4 guitars in the world, and generally believing and hoping that this would be the summer I found love. All with Innocence Mission as a soundtrack, that summer remains a dreamy blurry sequence of peoples' faces, silly me moments that I'm embarrassed about publicly, but really cherish that girl with the messy eyebrows and wonky glasses who thought she was every bit deserving of love. Tear up moment: "I hear you Say So". The song I learned on my guitar and wanted desperately to sing well.

http://www.last.fm/music/The+Innocence+Mission/_/I+Hear+You+Say+So

The living room in my parents house - The Cure "Singles" (Side A) Jenni also had the accompanying video cassette. The Cure was my one measurable sign of coolness in high school. I might've just as thoroughly enjoyed the Newsboys, or DC Talk, or the top 5 at 10 on Q94, but I also loved the Cure, and just about anything else Jenni or Aaron would play for me. I loved Robert Smith, and was completely honored by a senior friend of my sister's who dedicated "Bob and the bad boys in black" to me when she graduated high school. Coolest song I know: "10:15 on a Saturday Night".

I know all the words to all the songs. Whenever I'm feeling intimidated or powerless to change something, I put on those songs i love and I sing or if I can't, I mime the song. I sing songs in my head to people who annoy me, like Delta 5's "None of Your Business". I used to sing songs to guys I had crushes on (in my head) like Rachel Yamagata's "Worn Me down" or Mama Cass's "Dream a little Dream". I once sang Tori Amos's "Cornflake Girl" to the opposing team in a rousing game of Dodgeball in 8th grade gym class because I was convinced it was an amazing intimidation strategy. That 13 year old is alive and well most of the time.

P.s. Thanks to Gail for recognizing it. Yes, the quote on the bottom of that card says "You are the music" - T.S. Eliot

Sunday morning shenanigans

It's amazing what the lack of toilet paper can do to one's psyche. After discovering post-putting on pajamas/pre-getting into bed that the last roll of toilet paper was just about gone, I spent a sleepless mostly uncomfortable night waiting for morning when I could go get more. The situation was only worsened by two facts, one we shall call a "stomach issue" and one we shall call a "lady issue". Fun.

LandStagers has had an interesting past couple of days. We're working on a tree pruning project that was only supposed to take 4 hours to do, which with a rainy day on Ben's last "weekend" day, and then him returning to work fulltime, has evolved into 4 days, and now we're hauling away brush which we originally didn't have to. Sigh. I knew it was bad yesterday when Ben said, "I couldn't feel my upper body today". Always something you want to hear.

Plus, the housecapades continue. Rule #1: DON"T listen to people when they say things like: Buy a house, it's cheaper than paying rent! It's a great time to buy! etc and so forth. We have so far, (and we've just finished all our inspections and are impatiently waiting to see if the sellers will fix the things that need it) spent over THREE MONTHS RENT and we haven't even closed or have access to the house yet. Three months rent that we don't have and are graciously receiving from my parents. We also have already put in notice of termination on our apartment, and have to be out by August 31st. If all goes well (cross fingers, legs, rope) we'll close on Jenni's birthday (the 25th) and will have 6 luxurious days to move in. If not, well... we'll cry.

BUT, it's not all tears and sarcastic one word sentences. Things I'm really excited about are:
1. THE YARD
2. Walking around Lowe's pricing out dishwashers
3. Screen Doors
4. Not having to walk up stairs
5. Putting up different light fixtures
6. Knocking down a wall because I CAN
7. My very own parking space
8. becoming a DIYer

Generally, I just hope this house is worth it. We didn't and still don't buy into the idea that people HAVE to buy a house. It doesn't always make sense, especially if you don't have the fronting money to finance it. And if my parents weren't such enablers, we wouldn't be doing this right now. But, we're banking on the idea that this is an investment; that we bought a decent house in a great neighborhood, and it's going to be a step in the right financial direction for us.

Cross fingers.

A holster for my boobs

Hey-o, I said it. I've been waiting almost a week for my "Having it All Bra" to come in from Title Nine - this totally awesome catalog found on the back of my mom's toilet. Mom's toilet always has this odd collection of Southern Living and travel/sport clothing paraphenelia. My mother is not an avid sport player, but her exercise clothing collection can rival the Olympian softballer. The ratio of yoga pants to button down shirts is extraordinary, much like the ratio of rednecks to beautiful women in coal-mining West Virginia.

So my bra came with a glow from the heavens today at work, I was so excited. I tried it on once at work, and then put it on as soon as I got home, and am still wearing it. It slips on like a holster, (pun intended) in which to put my seemingly ever growing breasts, and closes in the front. Essentially, my dream bra. I can't wait to start working out, just so I can put this bra on.

This one's for you, Stephanie.

It's a something alright

This past Thursday was filled with some winning moments - from a weaselly man who accused us of tree genocide, called an 80 year old man an "asshole", and told us we were in it for the money (all $40 of it) to the very expensive light we dented with a 50' dead pine tree (though we managed to avoid the other 6 expensive things also in the way)- we were thrilled to be in business! We were so down on Thursday afternoon, we bought ice cream from Bruester's. We felt better afterwards.

We also felt better being able to wake up the next day and to keep working. I'm learning about the world of business "things" - things meaning shit happens. You deal with it, don't let it break your confidence and keep going.

Plus, we have a pretty new red truck, and I get to drive it around. It's huge, at least compared to my Matrix, but it was so cheap! And new... to us.

In the meantime, I finally got to clean the apartment today for the first time in almost a month. Vaccumming is severely underrated. So is laundry. And clean dishes. And Organization.

And Larry King.

Holders of our own Destiny, here we come!

Thursday marked the first official day of business here in the land of Shirley. Benjamin and Sara, land designers extraordinaire. With another job lined up in two weeks, and a couple bids in the wings, day by day we're making strides to (hopefully) ween ourselves off the financial help of our ever-generous parents, let me clarify - my parents and his wonderful mother and his mother only (oh, I have no strong feelings on this point) and back to the world of being able to pay our bills. Yay! Three cheers.

It's underrated the feeling of being able to tackle any financial obstacle that comes one's way. When lucrative jobs are few and far between, and you find yourself eating rice and beans for the 5th night in a row, just because there's nothing else in the cabinet, the meaning of a dollar is driven hard and fast into your mind, and even that penny on the ground is something to be valued and picked up. A penny saved is a penny earned and we need about a million of them to make it.

The hardest thing about times like this, and who's kidding, it's been going on for a year or so, is the flippant way other people in our lives have talked about money. Gambling it away at poker games, stating boldly the projects they're working on, or the vacations they're taking, the homes they're buying. I don't fault anyone for having more than enough to live, I fault them for flaunting it in the face of people who have cut back on everything, and yet still struggle to cover the costs of everyday life. The undeserving co-workers who get a promotion or a raise, the exorbitantly high cost of repair to a clunker car, the feeling of anger and hopelessness in a present situation. The taking of a step forward and one event pushing us back two steps. It's all part of a bigger picture, and that's the hope to hold on to. The lines aren't drawn, and until they are, things can still change for the better.

Whoa whoa whoa, and wow!

To be serious for a moment....and because I can't log onto Richmond.com to respond to a comment posted after a dry but "gets the conversation going" article, to be a Christian requires only to believe that Jesus was God in the flesh. That's it. It's everything else that can be debated. The comment left that leaves me feeling a bit miffed and ready to talk is (paraphrased) "if you don't believe the Bible is the inerrant word of God then you don't believe in Christianity". Ummm...... no. Truth be told, I did at some point in my life, think and believe this. But not any longer. In that statement I am not denying the sacredness of the Bible, I am acknowledging the bigger point. Christianity is Christ. Christianity = Jesus. Anything more than the cross and you've put yourself in a position higher than Christ. Try it. Just try. Jesus is preaching "I am the way the truth and the light", and you jump in with "and the inerrancy of the Bible. Oh, and while I'm at it, creationism, and pro-life. Yep. Without these things none of you are Christian". 

The heart of those additional defining statements is an honest desire to exhibit and live out a love and dedication to Christ. With additional rules to follow, stands to take and people who support those stands, it's easier to feel Christian. It makes things easier to divide between right and wrong, black and white. But we are each called to work out our salvation through fear and trembling. By blindly following whatever it is that a group decides is right, we each have gone astray from that calling; whatever that group may be. People can not be faulted for wanting to belong, to feel secure, to rest. It's when that people group, or a person in that group, enforces those ideas on everyone not in that group. Or attempts to. Or questions the belief and sincerity of another person, and makes a salvation judgement call. I think, and you can quote me on this, Judgement calls belong to God. I'm sticking by that. 

Here's the article. It's about Homosexuality and the Church, something that's close to my heart these days. I believe if people had the chance to work out their fears, to talk about anything and everything openly, and to appreciate people for who they are, we'd have a lot less hurt in our churches, and raise our children to believe Christianity is open to any who believe:

http://www2.richmond.com/content/2009/may/07/homosexuality-and-church-progressive-view/ 

Oh my modern woes...or My tea kinda tastes like 409.

My hairdryer broke. In proper humour fashion it broke with half of my head done. One side: coiffed, the other side: I woke up drunk. Holla. My hairdryer! What a specimen of early 90's design! Look at how beautifully the wording has rubbed off over the years! I'm reduced to "pony-nub"ing it today -- the faux hawk of ponytails, the "she had to work really hard and thinks she looks totally hard-edge with that ponytail that's been cut off" look. Sigh. See my face. What has 21st century america come to? Oh, the horror. I put black eyeliner on my face because black is how I feel on the inside. today.

In other news, the living room wall is finally something that makes me happy. Love that shelf? I do! I made that lampshade! It was sooooo hard.

My mission today, other than finding a wide brimmed hat and Twiggy sunglasses to shield my disheveled and shameful exterior from the ever hateful world, is to book it to Lowe's and find hinges! I put on doors! I do half my hair! I'm unstoppable. I haven't had coffee.

Peas = 0, Tomatoes = 1,000,000

Obviously our apartment has an affinity for tomatoes, and is willing the peas to die. Our apartment is Italian. The tomatoes and the basil are the only surviving vegetables from our great urban experiment. A strange and disturbing side effect: fruit flies borne from the soil. Yeahhhh..... I don't think it's awesome either. The tomatoes will be going to live outside at my sister's house. I'll miss their cute little faces.

I am however, looking forward to the new WORKSPACE we'll be building once the vegetables are gone!!!

Having just renewed our lease for the next year, I've reacted in an unexpected way. With previous apartments, I've gone in with a plan, to decorate and execute as soon as I move in. With this one, it was all about making do. Have things in their place and a place for all things. Now, I want to build things! I want to install shelving! I might want to paint. Ben hopes I'll come around to painting, but honestly not there yet. Painting, for me right now, is like an ex-boyfriend I don't want to run into on the street, so I keep putting off frequenting the places I know he hangs out. Maybe with a few more counseling sessions, I'll be ready to confront him again.

So, I'm sketching and perusing the Lowe's and wishing Diversity had a website that updated daily. In other words, feeling a bit home-stuck and unwilling to put on shoes to leave. I did however blow dry my hair, and in moments of losing track of my thoughts, admire my profile in the tv screen reflection.

Army Dreamers

It's official. Like Marianne Faithful, I've tried diligently over the years to ignore Kate Bush. I'm here today to admit and wholeheartedly accept and proclaim my love for Katie. Dear readers, The woman is brilliant, and I can see other female singers' inspirations taken from Miss Bush. She has an unfortunate last name, though I do believe she has redeemed it for me.

Try Army Dreamers on for size.

Wait, even better:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWdHOm256N4

I wanna know what love is...

I've just had a wonderful evening. So wonderful in fact, I can't fall asleep until I have blogged about it. It allllll started with Ben needing a raincoat....

BEN AND SARA'S SUBURBAN ADVENTURE!
narrated by: Sara Shirley

Ben looked up from the rerun of NCIS to ask, "Ready to go to Bass Pro?" Sara ungloriously shoved the last bit of buttery cous cous into her mouth and spurted, "Yeah!" , while adding a pumped fist. After some fumbling for keys and shoes and jackets and credit cards, they were out the door, headed out of their home city of Richmond, and into the vast and wide open lands of suburbia. Atlee, that is.

The night was cool, with the promise of "rasleetow", otherwise known as the Richmond version of a wintry mix. Though the previous days made the blossoms open up on all the pears and redbud trees, the following days would soon be filled with the news of bad drivers, car accidents and the unsteady weather reports that Richmond was known for.

But it was a clear night nonetheless as Ben and Sara wound their way into the Bass Pro shop parking lot and played on the boats for sale, all the while remarking loudly each time a customer passed that maybe "this boat is DEFINITELY the one for us" and "we'll call our broker in the morning to secure the funds".

Bass Pro served as the diversion these two tired youngsters needed on an otherwise dull evening. They stood in awe at the three-story fresh water tank. Sara took the opportunity to press her eye to the glass to star directly into the beady eye of a stationary striper, while Ben commented on the varied holding and floating patterns of fish.

It was after they found Ben's rainsuit and were headed to the checkout line that Ben fortuitously discovered that YES, this Bass Pro DOES have a saltwater tank and there it is! In a restaurant in the corner of the store! Ben and Sara rushed past the hostess and directly to the tank. The fish were beautiful; pink and orange, black yellow and white, polka dotted, and it didn't stop there. Color was not owned by the fish alone, for there was also living coral, growing from a manmade rock in just as many colors and shapes. While families dined, Ben and Sara gaped openly like children in front of a Christmas tree on Christmas morning. "We found a new place to hang out!" was Ben's avid declaration, and Sara wholeheartedly agreed.

Though Sara had poo-pooed the idea of ice cream on the way into Bass Pro, driving away, she quickly rallied Ben's spirits and they took a detour. Headed first for Chick-Fil-A, they instead discovered a place that not only inspired indetermined amounts of giddiness in Sara, but also opened a whole new world that she had previously thought she didn't want a place in - suburbia. So cheapened! So tacky! But yet, like a rediscovered Shannon song, IRRESISTIBLE. A Sonic, in all its newly constructed glory lay between the mall and the interstate, and they pulled in. What strange ways of ordering food! Look how fast! How marvelous! How the caramel sundae tastes strangely bland, but so much fun! Ben and Sara rolled up their windows, preferring jazz to the Sonic music station, and enjoyed the waitstaff on their roller skates, the teenagers out for fatty foods and social intercourse, and thought, "This is GREAT."

The moment of zen for the evening came when the radio station was flipped to Liberty FM, and Sara heard the opening strains to "I wanna know what Love is..." by the ever talented Foreigner. As they drove away into the night, back into their beloved city, Sara heralded Ben with the strains of the perfect song to end the perfect evening. *

*As a side note: ever noticed that when crappy bands want validation for their songs, the only reasonable way they seem to achieve it (instead of writing, oh I don't know, a BETTER song) is to pay a choir to sing back up vocals? Look how soulful I am! I bought a choir and they LOVE THIS SONG TOO.

All giddy because Thursday's the new Friday

This one comes to you live and in charge from...my office. Yep, it's lunch break and soon I will be getting up off my duff in attempts to combat my ever-increasing ass.

The Aaron came in town last night, and Ben and I excitedly picked him up from the airport. Ben met him ON the jetbridge and I grinned and waved flailingly from the unsecured area with all the other peons. So, get ready for loads of fun, Horst family!! Party in the hizz-ous.

More pictures. I mean, look at that - it's gorgeous! Back to reality tomorrow however, even though everything will still be icy and dangerous. I've had 5 consecutive days off work, and thoroughly enjoyed this morning. I LOVE the mornings - waking up at 6...:30...5, and though I got ready really fast - I sat back down and watched tv. Got up to make pancakes and "fakon", ironed shirts - just because I had the time, and loved every minute. Mornings are glorious when you don't have to work.

It's Official

Yes! I feel like a kid, all wild and free since I found out today's an official SNOW DAY. My boss called about 5 minutes after I woke up and told me the office was CLOSED today. Not just - make it in when you can, but CLOSED. Poor Ben though, he had to go in no matter what - so he drove my car in this morning, meaning I was stuck at home no matter what which is FINE by me. I'm so flipping excited, I'm going to eat some deliciousness known as waffles and drink a LATTE and put my boots on and walk around in the snow; under the pretense of taking out the trash.

Look at that beautiful snow. All covering the cars and shit. Beautiful.

It's finally SNOWING

I've been reading so many posts from my Syracuse friend, Sara, about snow and now I get to post one. Ben and I decided right before the sun set to drive 30 minutes out to see his mom and have dinner with her. Probably wasn't the smartest thing, but we loved it. LOVED it. Petted the dog, I showed her my design for her courtyard, ate mexican, and drove back through almost blinding snow, following the tracks made by the cars ahead of us. And cursed the trucks and SUVs who zoomed past us (relatively) and shot snow onto our windshield. Richmond is finally being cleansed and the brownness and depressive winter is covered in a sweet white fluffy blanket of beauty. The one freaking snowfall of the year, and it's perfectly timed. If I cross my fingers long enough, there might even be snow delays in to work tomorrow. Unless I can make them myself...

Pork chop Sandwiches

Ben is currently heralding me with G.I. Joe parody videos on youtube. It's the first time I've been able to laugh and or expend any energy due to some mysterious stomach viral thing that's been slowly killing me the past few days. Whew! What a run-on sentence. Other than that silly episode, we're searching for a great "someecard" to send to Meg in preparation for her baby who will be born on the morrow at 7 a.m. Yes! My first nephew. Totally excited to see a fresh baby that isn't mine.

P.s. we staked the peas. And if I weren't so aversive? to anything else besides the color bland right now, I'd be eating a fresh mesclun salad.

Am trying to figure out how to mount a cross-stitch Gail made years and years ago, and in the process keep getting distracted by Saipua's blog, and her links to P.M. Dawn lyrics. The joy I feel in knowing someone else besides my siblings and I who enjoy and share P.M. Dawn with people is inexpressible. I mean, come on - who doesn't love "Set Adrift the Memory Bliss"?

And otherwise, feeling a bit direction-less and uninspired. I used to walk but I don't feel safe walking around my apartment. It's great for gazing out of windows and enjoying RVA's skyline, but otherwise, I have to be alert all the time and aware. Have had a run-in with one sketchy character one too many to be otherwise. Maybe I'll bulk up and learn self-defense techniques. Or just out-crazy the crazies.

Because.

2nd Anniversary of Being Not Alone

Valentine's Day IS fun when you've got a Ben. Every Valentine's before him, I'd morph into this very girly girl, and dress up to the nines - did my hair, put on makeup, wore a fabulous outfit and just live it. I never failed to get asked where and with WHOM was I going out with that night, and I'd always have to admit, "no one". I think I was a glutton for how miserable can I make myself, but damn it, if I'm going to be miserable, I'm at least going to look amazing doing it.

So, today, in stark contrast to V-Days past, I'm in jeans and a tshirt, flat hair, makeup-less and loving it. I cleaned furiously, and even rearranged the bedroom. AND, just stopped to pull the chocolate cake I'm making out of the oven.

Vegetables - Part Deux

I finally dug out the camera and took pictures of el vegetables. You get to see a progression from pre-tupperware storage container to post. We've also...well, Ben, has made self-watering containers for us to transfer everything to once they've grown to adult height. Right now, they're preteens - starting to take on their adult characteristics, but only slightly. They're all like, "We want to go to the mall!" and stuff.

In other slightly more domesticated news, I've checked out www.subversivecrossstitch.com and was inspired to create something of my own...to grace the home of a dear friend of mine....who doesn't know it yet. Ssshhhh. Loves it.

Yes Aaron, your sister does blog.

For rizzle, naysayer.

And we shall call him Barack

Waiting for this orchid to bloom was like waiting for Barack Obama to finally become president; it seemed to take forever. But look! It's bloomed and isn't he gorgeous?? I am absolutely in awe of the growing world, and I don't even have to smoke pot to be completely serious about that statement.

Ben and I have reordered everything to be able to embark on this great experiment we like to call "self-sufficiency" , or i.e. indoor farming. Above are our first mesclun plants, sprouted and transplanted today to a larger windowsill container. Ben looks admirably on. Our peas, tomatoes, and basil finally sprouted, and Ben planted our carrot and broccoli seeds this morning.

I, to speak for myself, have been inspired as of this weekend. Thanks to a friendship with two great people, we've met another kindred spirit in Richmond, who gardens in a street median! Our great search for land is back on, and if the indoors don't work, we're posting a want ad on Craigslist for unused land. Or guerilla gardening behind Legends. Or on the roof...

Boobs

One thing I never want to forget from spending time with the WHOLE family at Grandma's funeral:

My cousin, Anna: "Yeah, I sent a Christmas card to Grandma with a picture of me on the front doing this (She pushes her boobs together and up) and wrote on the inside, 'Thanks Grandma for my boobs!'"

Which was greeted by an overall consensus that yes, my grandma had a set of knockers on her to rival any playboy, and wasn't it funny, we all inherited them?

I, however, thanked my grandma for her love of polyester.

New Beginnings

Here's a breakdown of last week:
- Grandma passed away
- I got a cold and couldn't sleep all week
- Work went south; two people laid off as well as my boss's wife.

Hellish week. On the bright side, we've just rearranged the living room and "library", and Ben is currently wandering around me puttering with potting soil and newly purchased mesclun mix, peas and tomatoes for the beginnings of our indoor garden. Who needs land when you have a 3 x 4 window that gets great sunlight? Oh yes!

I'm lounging in our "Man just walked on the moon!" chair found at the now defunct EQ3, and basking in the sound of Nick Drake, my favorite sensitivo. The house is clean and really feels good. The kind of good where I visibly feel myself sigh and think, "ok. Things are possible." It's always the small but very important things. The I-can-make-it-when-the-world-feels-like-shit good. We can make food! I can wash clothes without shrinking them! We can pay our bills!

I don't ask for much.

Playing hooky from wanting to poke my eyes out

Yes, I am. I went into work for a couple of hours, and due to a slight throat pain, and lack of work available, I came home. And what glorious things I've to do here!

Cleaning is my escape when things suck. And for when they're good. Instead of a compulsive eater, or drinker, I clean. Double-fisted with 409 and Windex. While pushing a vaccuum cleaner. Hell yeah.

And rearranging. Ben and I are on a great urban experiment. Armed with a fabulous book I bought us for Christmas, "The Urban Homestead", we are bound and determined to grow vegetables using only the windows in our living room. I have visions of stepping the 5 steps from the kitchen to the living room in a search for the newest argula leaves for our Giada de Laurentis style salad, or plucking green beans for steaming. Yum. We'll see. Ordering seeds will come once I figure out when it's good to start them here....