Noted...

In the past five days, I have...

-Packed, transported, and semi-unpacked about two dozen boxes of crap per day from the old house to the new one.

-Crashed my car. Into another. His will be fixed; mine won't.

-Played lunch angel to 27 hyper Catholic school kindergarteners on Pajama Day. Which is like cotton crack, apparently.

-Battled with Lowes over my supposed carpet installation.

-Burned two fingers with my oven rack.

-Made approximately two million phone calls to arrange stuff related to the move.

-Signed approximately two hundred pieces of paper.

-Gone out to dinner with my entire, beloved family instead of waving bye-bye to DH and DS as they headed out for Cub Scout Camp (stupid monsoon rain) and then spent the whole next day with them, oh joy.

-Stepped on more Legos and marbles than I can count, in bare feet of course.

-Edited a truly horrific piece.

-Lots of other stuff, all at hyper-speed.

The point?

Is this.

If a certain little man in a suit rings my doorbell--at either house--one more time in the next 72 hours, Jehovah's Witness is going to have a personal meeting with his Savior, kindly arranged by yours truly.

I'm Catholic, dude. You don't want me anyway. Seriously. G'head. Bug me again. I dare you.

Not to Say I Told You So...

Dear John:

You can lay out all the paths you want, my friend. Sadly, unless we find out the other guy really is a card-carrying socialist, it's just not happening.

Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say on the day you announced your VP pick that it was a brilliant PR move and horrendous political strategy? That it was going to come back and bite you in the butt? That pretty and female made for terrific immediate headlines and long-term election disaster? And I'm just a 30-something semi-working mom with a beat-up minivan, dude. Don't you, like, pay advisers and stuff?

**sigh**

I hope you enjoyed your headlines. Grab your fork, buddy. It's done. And from those of us who believe in the policies and the priorities and the overall messages you claim to back, thanks a ton. (Yes, that's sarcasm.)

Love,

Kim

Sick Day

DD's home from kindergarten with pinkeye today. It's a tough way to spend a sick day--she can't really go anywhere or see anyone, but she feels just fine.

I should be working. Instead, we ran to the Redbox machine and picked up the new Ariel video for later, and we just spent 15 minutes on YouTube learning the Cha Cha Slide. My girl's going to be prepared for the Halloween dance this weekend!

Later, we'll take a load of stuff to the new house and I'll knuckle down and generate some income. But for now, take it back now, yo.

Smallness, Hon

It's been a really bad day so far. I'm taking great joy in a "whaddya know" moment.

I came home from Great Badness to play with Facebook...cuz what else do you do when the world is closing in, right? A Facebook friend had joined a group called "Smalltimore," which is for people from Baltimore. The gist of this is that everybody in Baltimore has a connection to everybody else. As an old boss of mine said, "There are nine people in Baltimore, and they're all related."

So anyway, I'm exploring this group and I click on the page to learn who the founders are. A name leaps out.

Ready?

The guy who founded Smalltimore is the grandson of my childhood next-door neighbors. 

*grin*

Smalltimore, indeed!

Don't Ask Any Questions

Our financial advisor emailed a week ago to tell us he's hosting a client appreciation dinner next month. DH has a business trip that week, so we politely declined.

Last night, DH said the advisor called him. "Don't ask me any questions," he said, "but you have to go to that dinner."

*sigh*

"Is he going to embarrass me?" I asked. DH said no. But I can't think of a reason I have to be there that won't be humiliating on some level. I'm not much for public call-outs. And I can't think of anything I've done that's worthy of attention, at least from the advisor. It's not like we're particularly high on his List Of People With Money. We're pretty average. 

I hate "don't ask questions but" things. I also hate going to public events by myself. I won't know anyone else there except our accountant, and while he's a nice guy, we're not exactly BFFs. So for some reason, I have to go to a restaurant for a dinner thing by myself, and my attendance is mandatory.

Hello, very bad mood. Ugh.

Irritation

Dear Numbnuts:

I don't really care that you hit my car somewhere. Accidents happen. 

But thanks bunches for hitting my car, scraping up the fender and denting the wheel well, and leaving without even an apology. That rocks.

I know it's just a minivan. I know it's not particularly new. I know it has a private school sticker on the rear windshield, and you probably assumed I'm made of money so screw it, right?

I work for my money, thank you. I work really hard for it. I got $5,000 when my grandfather died 11 years ago, and that's the only cash anybody has ever given me since I was about 15. No exaggeration. The minivan, the private school, the house...it's all because DH and I generally live frugally and work out collective asses off. 

I spent four years parking in bumfuck Egypt in parking lots to avoid door dings. Not because I'm vain, but because I plan to drive the minivan into the ground, and I'd prefer to keep it as least-trashy looking as possible for a very long time. I keep it washed and waxed to preserve the paint and my resale value. And I actually do like the car.

So thanks for the dent and the scrape, and for not having the common decency to say you're sorry. Karma's a bitch, my friend. Enjoy yours.

*sigh*

It's So Simple

Foreclosure looming? Just shoot yourself. Problem solved.

*shaking head*

Oooooooorrrr...you could try living within your means (*gasp*) and not signing financial papers you don't understand. 

What have we all come to???

Yay Me

Weeks and weeks of packing and organizing and painting and lugging stuff. Weeks more to come. Ugh.

The lady who is selling us her house moves out Monday.

Today...today...I remembered to call the water, gas, and electric companies to switch the accounts over and avoid being plunged into dry, cold darkness.

Rock on, me...

Chili

A couple of y'all have asked for this, soo...

Crockpot Chicken Chili

3 chicken boobs, cut into bites

1 green bell pepper, chunked up

1 red bell pepper, chunked up

1 sweet onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, diced

2 small cans tomato paste

2 regular or 1 large can of diced tomatoes, drained

1 or 2 cans of kidney beans, drained and rinsed

2-4 tbsp chili powder

1 tbsp ground cumin

1 bay leaf

Plop it all in the crockpot and let it go for 8 hours on low. 

:)

I Like It, I Love It, I Want Some More Of It

Lookie what my mommy gave me for my dirtday!!