This Blog Is Closed

You can now find me blogging as Lisa here.

Because I hope you'll join me at the new place, that's why.

Nanny Nanny Boo Boo

The blog world is a strange place. But if you're reading this and you blog yourself, you'll probably understand what I'm about to say next - it is a strange place where I feel I belong. There seem to be as many different segments of the blogosphere as there are bloggers and I'm lucky enough to fit into or, rather, to have wormed my way into a few of those different segments.

Along the way, I've made some great friends, discovered new interests and developed what I hope will be lasting relationships.

When I first started blogging, I concentrated on politics. I tossed in a little sex now and then and even posted a racy picture or two of myself. Over time, I added items about my family that evolved into Adventures in Real Parenting. I posted pictures that I'd taken and music videos. This blog became a mish-mash of things that suited me and I felt lucky to have visitors who read, commented and returned for more of whatever I may be posting.

Last year, in the midst of some pretty intense personal drama, I started that icky relationship blog where I could write about things I thought might not appeal to my regular visitors to PoliTits. I also created Have Camera Will Travel as a place where I could post my photos in some sort of organized fashion. And because I'm kind of slutty like that, I also agreed to blog at other places. I admit, I have not been a faithful team member and have let those other bloggers down. Some days, it was all I could do to keep up with this blog. I know that I have spread myself too thinly.

Maybe it's because it's a new year. Or maybe it's because I really feel like it's time to reorganize my life. Maybe I want to do better quality writing. Maybe it's because it's become apparent that I'm spending entirely too much time online and not living. Whatever it is, it's time for me to reduce my self-imposed obligations. It's time to simplify.

So I'm going to consolidate my blogs into one space. Eventually, I might have another place to write about politics (to be determined). We'll see. In the meantime, I'm going to take a couple of days to set up the new place, get myself organized and recharge my batteries.

Be well, be good, be happy. I'll see you soon.....

Much love and thank you for being here,

DCup

I May Be Live Blogging New Years Day, But That Doesn't Mean I Hate You. It Means I'm Lazy. UPDATED FOR THE LAST TIME.

And so we begin a new year in our very own, special, noisy, vile way. At this moment, we're giving Cheney and Bush a run for their money on torture.

8:30 a.m. - MathMan invited me to start the New Year off right. Hee hee. Day One?

9:00 a.m. - Shower, a music puzzler on NPR (MathMan was very close on his guess), make-up even applied. I haven't checked to see who else might be up. I believe there are donuts in the kitchen.......

9:15 a.m. - Mixing up bird seed, filling feeders. Thank you MathMan for making the coffee and pouring me a cup.

9:30 a.m. - The Dancer is on the sofa watching Leave It to Beaver. Beaver innuendos are made because we are a room full of adolescents. The worst being the alleged adults. MathMan and I are checking our emails. The Actor notes that he hates to hear us talk about Facebook. We threaten to get MySpace pages, too. He rolls his eyes in disgust.

9:45 a.m. - Two donuts consumed. Just what I needed.

10:04 a.m. - The Actor is playing Stronghold Crusader on the computer next to me. Currently, he is setting up his "fear area." He's explaining that it's what you do to intimidate your subjects to keep them in line while you're out on Crusade. Okey dokey.

The kid won't shut up. He loves to narrate his play. I consider a duct tape muzzle. Anyway, his fear area includes three dunking stools - one for anyone, one made especially to frighten feminists into submission and another just for kicks, apparently; a chopping block, four burning stakes, stocks, three gibbets, a gallows which is right next to the Maypole where the children play, a cess pit, pikes for heads and a dungeon.

So it's just another day here at 'Tits HQ.

10:09 a.m. - The Actor just noted that I forgot to mention the stretching rack. So now that's been fixed. Thank goodness.

10:14 a.m. - MathMan notes that he is not wild about the cinnamon coffee we picked up for discount at Publix. Noted. It is pretty strong.

10:20 a.m. - Break to play Rock Band.

12:47 p.m. - Break from Rock Band to get a drink of water.

12:59 p.m. - Damn! I forgot to take my Phentermine! Oh, well.....the lack of speed doesn't seem to be slowing me down so far.....

1:16 pm. - Back to checking my email, reading blogs and flirting with special friends. You know who you are. Oh, and the surface doesn't even have to be flat.

1:23 p.m. - The lazy Actor asks me to make him a sandwich. "Poof, you're a sandwich," I reply. He is not amused, but he makes his own sandwich. Mission accomplished.

1:21 p.m. - MathMan just called me incorrigible.

1:28 p.m. - Give Resident Evil a hard time. She's on highlights.com and wants to do a scientific experiment. Why not? Just clean up your mess when you're done.

1:30 p.m. - The Dancer goes back to playing drums. She's getting pretty good. Her character name is Maynard. That seems about right.

1:41 p.m. - I'm hungry. I know there are cookies in the kitchen......



UPDATE #1 Where I toggle between boring you to death with Rock Band details and obsessing about food.

1:58 p.m. - Rock Band update. (I know, you guys can't wait until the novelty has worn off. I don't blame you.)

Current line up: MathMan on guitar, The Dancer on drums, I "sing" loosely defined.
Songs that we suck at, but still manage to get through on easy:
Mastadon - Colony of Birchmen
We got through this one after four tries on medium. Self-righteous suicide? Honestly.
I am pleased to report that as a singer (shyeah, right) I nailed Pearl Jam's Alive, Bad Company's Shooting Star and Psycho Killer. Qu'est que c'est?

2:05 P.M. I pulled myself away from the computer to do some laundry, pick up after the pig-children, scoop the litter box (no wonder the Pussies for Peace were picketing) and have some lunch, as it were. Mmmmm. Chik Fil A nuggets with honey mustard sauce, homemade corn puddin' and ambrosia salad.

2:15 p.m. - We have finches all over the feeders. Back to checking in with my blog buddies.

2:20 p.m. - Resident Evil on guitar (medium) and The Dancer on drums (medium) just did Chop Suey on the first try. Excellent!

2:30 p.m. - Got an email from Blue Gal containing this link. Pass it on, y'all.

3:10 p.m. - More laundry. It's still there.

3:18 p.m. - Resident Evil reminds us for the 20th time today that her birthday is in six days. As if I could forget that perfect delivery. After shoveling fifteen feet of snow.

3:20 p.m. - R.E. just told MathMan that math bores her and so she hates it. His witty retort? "Math hates you, too."

I think it's time to get out of the house. Or lock ourselves in the bedroom and watch one of the Midsomer Murder dvds we took out of the library.

3:30 p.m. - Cookie break. Snickerdoodles or chocolate chip with milk? Decisions, decisions.

UPDATE #2 - Where I just tell you the stupid, random things going on here. And my feet are cold.

4:36 p.m. - We are now watching what appears to be a Brady Bunch marathon. That Jan Brady. She really is every woman. Or middle daughter. (said the middle daughter to no one in particular)
5:00 p.m. - The actor is outside hitting golf balls. The girls have barely shifted on the sofas as they watch television. I've made the occasional trek to the basement to check on laundry. I'm still going through my rss feeds, trying to stop by and wish my pals a happy new year.
5:55 p.m. - There's a beautiful sunset right now. Time for a turtle brownie. Wow, that Dancer sure is a great hostess. She made turtle brownies, snickerdoodles and chocolate chip cookies.
5:59 p.m. - Now Andy Griffith is on, but they're the ones in color and we don't like those so I guess it's time for The Simpsons. I'm starting to make noises about playing Rock Band again. I want to get a used copy of the original.
6:03 p.m. - MathMan just told The Dancer that she must have fed the cats incorrectly because they appear to be angry. Those cats always look angry. My bra is bugging me. I have three dreidels in my pocket.
6:23 p.m. - Still catching up on blogs. What Zee said.
7:11 p.m. - I made spaghetti for the crew and continue to wade through rss feeds. Dang, I really let them pile up.
9:03 p.m. - Almost done with rss feeds. I think I've watched more Friends episodes this evening than I've seen in years. I've had my fill.
9:21 p.m. - Matty Boy has part 2.
9:25 p.m. - I'm done. I think want to play Rock Band again.
10:00 p.m. - The Actor and The Dancer are playing "Maybe you should....." Have you played it? It's popular with smart-mouthed siblings. It goes like this:
Kid #1 - "Hey (fill in sibling's name) maybe you should not talk. Ever."
Kid #2 - "Well, maybe you should not breathe. Ever."
And it just goes on from there until some parent knocks their heads together.

10:11 p.m. - Okay. NOW I am definitely done.

'night, gang.......thanks for making 2008 the blast that it was through this blog thing.

Adventures in Real Parenting: New Years Done Right

Then........

New Years Eve 1981. I was 15. I drank a lot of Jack Daniels. I got sick. My mother met me at the front door and sent me flying onto my ass into the front yard. The next morning, she came into my bedroom, turned on the television, spun the dial until it came to rest on a parade, cranked up the sound, smiled and walked out.

Now......

New Years Eve 2009. I'm 43. It's 12:30 a.m. The house is full of teenage girls. They've spent the last few hours playing Rock Band. Now they've watched the Atlanta peach drop, toasted the new year with sparkling grape juice and given us all second thoughts about buying those noise makers. There's a certain poignancy to 2009. A few of them will graduate high school and go on to create lives of their own.

The Actor is heaving sighs of boredom and disgust. Can't play video games because the girls are tying up the xBox. And there's just way too much estrogen over-running the house. Yeah, he's really hating that.

Resident Evil is tagging along with the grown girls. She wants desperately to be their peer, their equal. I just want her to stay little for a while longer. It's an emotional tug of war that will continue for.....forever.

MathMan has alternately remained visible and then retreated to the bedroom for some semblance of peace, if not quiet.

12:45 a.m. Most of the girls are gone now. The rest of us will slowly slip off to bed, bidding each other another happy new year and a goodnight. Tomorrow, we'll wake up late, be glad for no hangovers and no angry mothers, and start another day, another year.....

May 20009 bring us all peace, happiness and health........

Chocolate Chess Pie

Chocolate Chess Pie is a southern favorite that this Midwestern family discovered before we moved to Georgia. I checked this book by Robin Gourley out of our Illinois library and stumbled upon a recipe for chess pie and its cousin chocolate chess pie.

Now it is a family favorite.

Fast forward to a couple of days ago. Bob mentioned that he'd gotten his mother's recipe for chocolate chess pie and those of us who have access to Bob via the gchat status window, went wild. Like jabbering monkeys, we clamored for information. Bob, kind, gentle soul that he is, shared. And now he says I can share with you. As long as there are pictures involved. Of course!

First, the crust.

Pastry dough from the Better Homes and Gardens "New" Cookbook (1962 edition)
For a single pie shell, one 8-inch double crust pie or 4 - 6 tart shells:
1 1/2 cup sifted all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup shortening
4 to 5 tablespoons cold water

Directions below.

Add salt to flour before sifting, sift together

Cut in shortening with pastry blender until pieces are the size of small peas
To make the crust more tender & flaky, divide shortening in half.
Cut in first half until mixture looks like corn meal, then cut in remaining half until it looks like small peas.

Sprinkle one tablespoon of the water over part of the flour-shortening mixture.
Gently toss with fork; push to one side of bowl.
Sprinkle next tablespoon of water over dry part; mix lightly; push to moistened part at side. Repeat until all is moistened.

Gather up with fingers; form into a ball.

On lightly floured surface, flatten ball slightly and roll 1/8 inch thick. If edges split, pinch together. Always roll spoke fashion, going from center to edge of dough. Use light strokes.

Transfer rolled dough to pie plate, fitting loosely onto bottom and sides. Trim and fix splits.

I'm lazy and use a fluted edge. Trim pastry 1/2 inch beyond rim. Fold under to make double edge. Use a knife handle or your index finger to make the indentations. The thumb and index finger of your other hand are the wedge to push against to make the scallop around the knife handle. Or you can use your knuckle. See below.

Feed scraps to the vultures.

And now for the Chocolate Chess pie filling.....yum, yum, yum......

MOMMA R'S CHOCOLATE CHESS PIE
1) Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2) Gather your ingredients

• 1 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 stick butter
• 2 tablespoon of cocoa
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon vinegar
• 3 eggs

You can make this using one bowl. Very easy for clean up later. (Try not to spill the cocoa like I did. That's a pain to clean up.)

Chop butter so that it melts easier in the microwave.

Add cocoa to the butter, place butter & cocoa in the microwave, heat on high for one minute. Keep an eye on it so the butter doesn't burn.

Melted butter and cocoa mixture.

Add sugar to the mixture. Stir until well-mixed.
Add in vinegar and vanilla. Stir until mixed.

Add eggs one at a time. Mix each in before adding the next.

Pour mixture into unbaked pie shell and bake in preheated oven for 25 minutes or until done.

Remove the delicousness from the oven. Let cool briefly before serving.

Pie! Thank you Bob.
And, please, thank your mother.
This recipe got great reviews from our family.

Oh, But You Must

I really try not to be Mrs. Bossypants on the blog, but sometimes I feel like I have direct you to something very important. So please, do what I tell you or I will be forced to take drastic measures. Don't ask me what drastic measures are. I make this shit up as I go along.

(1) Please join me in congratulating our Blogmother Blue Gal for being nominated for the Best Liberal Blogger Weblog award. No one I know does more to encourage and promote we smaller bloggers and I'm glad to see Blue Gal receive the recognition she deserves in the blogosphere.

(2) Go read Matty Boy's post about impeachment and the Constitution. I'll know if you don't. I can tell by your eyes when you're lying to me, you know.

(3) Forgive me about the pie. I had difficulty uploading the pix for the post and have to go back and adjust some things. Seriously, when I deliver it, it shall be piping hot and delish.

(4) Tell me that you got a giggle, like I got a giggle, out of the story about teen virginitly pledges being a sham coming out at the same time eighteen year old Bristol Palin gave birth to a son. Timing is, indeed, critical to comedy.

I now return you to our regularly scheduled porn surfing and cookie eating. And if you don't plan to do either, I have some laundry that needs to be done.....

Oh yeah, one more thing while I'm being all bossy - Hey you dumbasses in the Middle East! Knock it off already!

Because I say so, that's why.

And a One, And a Two....

I am not what you would call an early adopter. I just got an iPod a few months ago and it's an old, white, chunky, refurbished one. I couldn't tell you the first thing about World of Warcraft. I use a PC, not a MAC. I don't have an iPhone or a Blackberry. I can text doing 85 mph up I75, but if you gave me one those new-fangled telephones with the keyboard, I'd probably kill myself. My GPS system consists of luck, a print out of google maps and caffeine.

And I don't know where the term FAIL originated, but I think it's from a video game or something.

I'm not quite a techie, not quite a luddite. Clearly, I am solidly and squarely square. Middle of the road.

We've had video console games in our house for a couple of years now. I did my best to keep them from invading our lives. I didn't want the kids blowing things up or killing people. Even fictional people. Eventually, I succumbed to peer pressure and the units and games slowly trickled into our home.

I would walk by The Actor's bedroom door and see him, Resident Evil, sometimes The Dancer, sometimes MathMan and even, occasionally, one of the Pussies for Peace engaged in driving race cars, playing some sport, bumping off pimps, flying fighter jets, being Sims characters, hanging off the feet of helicopters or tossing grenades. They would invite me to play. I always declined. I didn't need something else to interest me and distract me from the have to things that fill my day. And for goodness sake, I didn't need another addiction to compete with blogging.

And so it went for quite some time.

But now the kids have Rock Band 2 which allows for multiple players. One can play the guitar, another on drums and another sings. You don't have to have all the roles filled to play , but it's more fun when you do. They got the gift for Christmas to share and they've been having fun with it. Again, they've asked me to play and I've declined. Repeatedly. I was happy to sit at my laptop while they had fun together. MathMan would join in, but they couldn't get me to budge. This is a familiar dynamic in our household.

Until yesterday. I announced that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. They started me on drums. I mostly sucked. Then I got moved to guitar and got that hang of that more quickly. Apparently, The Actor has the best hand/eye coordination and rythym in our family. MathMan and Resident Evil sang.

I have operated for years under the assumption that I couldn't sing. I don't know what pitch and tune mean. I sing when I am alone. A lot. I used to sing to the kids. I would take the poems from a children's poetry book and make tunes for them and sing them to the children when they were little. As they got older, I became more self-conscious and stopped singing to them unless it was goofing around singing like the Al Franken song we all burst into whenever we hear his name. (You have to be an old Air Ameria's Morning Sedition fan to know what the Al Franken song is......)

Anyway, Resident Evil got tired of singing last night and I was drafted. I was so afraid to open my mouth in front of my family, but I sucked it up, grabbed the microphone and launched into Alanis Morrisette's You Oughta Know. With each song, it got easier. Both MathMan and The Actor expressed surprise that I could sing and that I wasn't the suck.

No one was more surprised than me.

So we played again tonight and it's nice to be part of the family activity for a change. And it's nice to not be so self-conscious, to just cut loose and have fun. I realize now that my reluctance to share my voice has rubbed off on The Dancer and The Actor. Both will tell you that they can't sing. I'm not so sure about that. Someday......

In the meantime, I'll have to strike a balance between the have to stuff, blogging and Rock Band. The kids are already taking bets that I'll be working on my drumming and guitar skills when I'm "working from home" on Tuesdays. Let's just say I plan to master my share of songs before I'm through.

Tomorrow night, The Dancer is having about ten friends over to ring in the New Year. I'm sure they'll take their turns at Rock Band.

So which song do you think I should sing for them? Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer or Joan Jett's Bad Reputation? Either way, I'm sure The Dancer will want me to do an encore....

A Brief Grovel and A Promise

This blog will be undergoing a slight interruption today. Apparently there is a big world outside this house and it wants to see me. Or something.

Normal, obsessive operations will continue later today. Unless, of course my new addiction won't release me from its grip.

Seriously, come back later. I love you. And I'll have pie. I promise. (She begged, pitifully.)

Oh, and the other blogs I maintain or write on have been woefully neglected, too. Sorry about that.


Please check out any of the more dedicated bloggers on the sidebar. They won't let you down.

Note to self - Speak to the therapist about this need to please people when you see him today.

Dutifully yours,

DCup

No Work Monday

Yes, it's come to this, the writer's block is that bad. I don't feel like I can add anything political right now. And I have the day off, so.....

Today's to do list:
1) Get up too early to go with MathMan to deliver his car to the collision repair place. (Remember to take book to read while he is inside doing paperwork.) DONE! I EVEN REMEMBERED MY BOOK AND SHOWERED.
2) Put the pile of receipts into Quicken and reconcile the bank statement. IT'S STILL A PILE, SISTER!
3) Deflect children starting sentences with the words "Are we going to...." and "I want...." and "When can I......" ONGOING, SO FAR SOMEWHAT EFFECTIVE
4) Teach The Actor how to properly clean a bathroom. It's time he gets a taste of that woman's work he's been taunting me about. HAVEN'T SPRUNG THIS ONE ON THE LITTLE JERK, YET.
5) Get out the Rook cards and try to figure out how to play the game. (I'm not sure about this one at all) THE WAY I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW ABOUT FAMILY INTERACTION AND THINKY THINGS? NOT BLOODY LIKELY.
6) Answer emails. THEY'RE STILL SITTING IN MY INBOX, UNANSWERED.
7) Supervise vacuuming (yes, supervision is required if I want it the whole carpet, and not just two strips, in a room done. FUCK IT. I DID IT MYSELF. TRY NOT TO DIE OF NOT SURPRISE.
8) Read more of this library book because it's due on Saturday. ONGOING
9) Play restaurant with Resident Evil. IN PROCESS
10) Drink more water. SPEND MORE TIME IN THE BATHROOM SO I CAN GET SOME OFFLINE READING DONE.
11) Laugh at MathMan's inappropriate jokes. ONGOING
12) Watch Hercule Poirot mysteries until someone makes me stop. ALWAYS
13) Get through the day without responding nanny-nanny-boo-boo to someone. GOOD LUCK!
14) Rearrange computer files and do some photo-editing. SOUNDS TOO MUCH LIKE REAL WORK.
15) Upload pictures to Flickr. FLICKER? I DON'T EVEN KNOW HER! UPLOADS BETTER WORK TODAY OR I'M GOING TO KICK SOMETHING.
16) Make a pie shell so I can try Mama R's Chocolate Chess Pie recipe I got from Bob. THANKS, BOB!!!

Okay, I'm going to stop now or you'll hear about each scratch, poke, nibble of my fingernail. Neither of us deserve that. Let's just enjoy a song instead, shall we?

Amy MacDonald. This Is The Life.

Because there's something clogging up my blogging, that's why.

The Year of Clean Living

I was getting ready to do a post to evaluate how I did on this - The Year of Clean Living. I was reminded that a year ago, Saturday nights were for taste-testing MathMan's latest concoctions and smoking as many clove cigarettes as I could in a four hour span while I read blogs and surfed vintage porn.

It's a year later and I'm spending Saturday night hanging out at home. Not smoking (a good thing), drinking water (another good thing) and taking occasional breaks from the computer to do wild and crazy things like separate paper plates so that the lazy Spawn don't use three or four each time they mean to grab just one.

Jump back - it's everything I thought life would be. And then some. Take away the laptop and give me a crossword puzzle and I am my mother. The utter horror.

Back to the Year of Clean Living. So how did I do? Well, first, let's quickly revisit just what Clean Living meant to me at the end of 2007.

The real point of The Year of Clean Living wasn't to give up everything I enjoyed. I'd forgotten that. I was prepared to write a post listing my failures. Instead, I'm probably more like a C+. My goals were more achievable than I remembered.

Here's what I wrote a year ago:

I have a family history of diabetes, hypertension, heart disease and pernicious anemia. So a smart DCup would give up the ice cream sundae dinners with the cake mix chasers. I've never met a trans fat or sweet I didn't like. So this is a no-brainer. A little moderation will do me good.

In fact, that's the secret. Moderation, not gluttony or sugar comas. Moderation, not drunkenness and hangovers. Moderation, not sleep deprivation. Moderation, not 24 hour news channels, 24/7. Moderation, not sex with strangers on every business trip.

Moderation, not always on the verge of madness, about to speed over the cliff while taking a last drag, a last swig, grabbing that last bit of ass on my way down.

Moderation.

I also wrote that I would eat more healthfully and that I would start exercising again. And that I would let some things go, rid myself of things that were causing me stress.

So how did I do?

Not bad, actually. I've shed thirty pounds. I've entered into therapy. MathMan and I have taken positive steps with both our marriage and our finances. I might be eating a little healthier, though the truth is that I'm just eating less. Significantly less. I could exercise more, but I'm getting there. I haven't had a cigarette in a year. Oh, I still think cake is a perfectly fine choice for my main meal of the day, but at least I don't have cake for three meals in a single day. I don't remember the last time I drank alcohol.

As for stress, this has been a year where I hit the wall, bounced off and managed to find my way upright again with the help of family and friends. I've had a chance to recognize what really matters and to be a more thoughtful person.

Now in case you think I've gone all soft (and may I just add here that when I went back and read last year's posts, I became afraid that I had gone all soft), never fear. I still have rousing conversations with the voices in my head. My inner dialogue is still nasty and petulant. I still pepper many of my conversations with the word fuck and I continue to enjoy porn and erotica. I still eat chocolate every day. I just eat tiny bites of it.

So here we are at the close of 2008 and I'm happily awarding myself a C+ on my goals. I could do better. I could have done much worse. I could be sitting here sucking the martinis out of olives like I used to, but that's not where I want to be today.

Today - tonight - this moment - I'm happy to be moving in the right direction. Forward. No garnish required.....

Thanks to BAC for making these logos!

Set Free

I have reached the time of day
when I think
If I don't get this bra off,
Something
is going to be broken or burned.


And what do you think at this time of day night?

If Only She Could Keep Them Little

Even privileged mothers have their issues.

Where I Am Not Yet Obsessed with Collecting Boxes. Yet.

MathMan spoke to our attorney earlier this week. We still had some questions about the bankruptcy/foreclosure and we needed some answers because pesky details like when will we have to surrender the house and my car.

I'm not interested in any avoidable surprises like coming home to find a note telling us that we have 24 hours to vacate the premises tacked to the front door.

According to the attorney, we have until approximately April first before we have to move. So that's good. That's three months of rent-free living so that we can save money for a rental deposit, get some much needed work done on the other cars and set aside money with which to buy me some kind of vehicle to replace the one I'm giving up. We are glad for this, of course. And Citi should be glad that we will continue to occupy and care for the house for now because empty houses fall into disrepair quickly.

I've been thinking about the implications of our next move. MathMan and I have moved around some in the last twenty-one years. We started out in Indiana, moved back to his native Chicago, and eventually bought a house in an older suburb after living for a year and a half in his sister's basement. We lived in that house for ten years off and on. Once in 1997, we moved briefly to Indiana. When my job there fell apart and our house didn't sell, we returned to the little house in Illinois and stayed another six years. In 2003 when we picked up and moved to Georgia.

Did I ever tell you about the move to Georgia? We moved here because I was offered a job with the Georgia chapter of the international organization I worked for at the time. MathMan secured his teaching position without ever visiting the state. I came down once for an interview with my new employers. Beyond that, we just winged it. I guess you could say we have a pretty high level of risk tolerance. We just knew that we couldn't afford to live in Chicagoland anymore because housing costs were skyrocketing and we are both in relatively low-paying careers, despite the investments we'd made in our educations. Bad choices? You bet. Hindsight truly is 20/20.

We closed on our house on July 22, 2003. We'd already packed our worldly goods into a moving truck that would deliver the trailer to our new residence. The truck was already on its way to Georgia. The Actor played one last baseball game with his all-stars team and we climbed into our car and van and headed south.

I'd checked out a couple of real estate investment companies that would show us homes they had for sale. We checked into the Cartersville, Georgia Knights' Inn (hey - if we'd stayed somewhere really nice, we might not have been so compelled to move quickly) and I called the investors for their property lists. They were happy to oblige. Most of the houses were sitting empty and unlocked so we simpy had to just go and look and pick one out.

It was getting late so we did some drive-bys to see which we'd like to really consider. We even attempted to see the house we ended up buying, but we didn't make it all the way out here that first night. It was extremely dark and we weren't used to total darkness anymore. We'd lived for years in the glow of O'Hare Airport so as we made our way along the curvy, unfamiliar country roads, one of the kids started to freak out so we turned around before we reached this house. As it turned out, that wasn't such a big deal. When we got here the next morning, the house was, in fact, locked and we had to wait for one of the investor's employees to come out and show us around.

So we put our money down, signed the papers and called the moving truck to let them know where to deliver our things. At first they told us they couldn't deliver out where we purchased the house, but MathMan convinced them to bring our things to us. We spent our first night in this house on July 24, 2003. Done and done. We may not be strategic, but we can be decisive when we have to be.

To be honest with you, this house turned out to be a rather impractical choice. We didn't know at the time that things we took for granted - cable, trash removal, high-speed internet - weren't available out in the middle of nowhere. But we adjusted. We paid the higher cost for modern day necessities. Yes, I said necessities. We also didn't foresee the huge increase in gasoline prices coming.

When gasoline prices shot up, we were very sorry about our choice to move to the country. As we struggled to make our monthly payments and to cover the increasing costs of everything else, we realized that we were fighting a losing battle.

On the one hand, it's a shame that Citi wasn't willing to work with us to renegotiate our mortgage. On the other, they are doing us a favor. We're getting out of an upside down mortgage. We're now free to move closer to town. We can now approach our housing situation more strategically. We can take our time, save some money and try to figure out what kind of situation would best serve us in what is bound to be a transition period. (The Actor and Resident Evil are both a year and a half away from having to change schools anyway, so do we really want to make them change schools now?)

And then there's the question of what might happen with my job. In August 2009, the office is moving and will be two hours away from Cartersville. We either must move further south so we're closer to my office and to MathMan's school or I need to find a new job, which I really don't want to do.

So now we know how long we have before we have to move and that knowledge is just what I needed to feel like I could handle what comes next.

Onward......

Have Yourself a Merry Little..........

UPDATED: Scroll down, please

We don't have any obligations today, so why not live blog the most boring family Christmas ever?

I know, right? I'm an ungrateful (fill in favorite derogatory name for a female) for not enjoying this more. I mean, I could be rushing through a meal I just helped prepare so that I could clean up after while the menfolk sit on their asses in front of the television. That was Christmas past. You know what? You're right. This ain't half bad. Noisy, but not bad. I'll take Christmas present.

Speaking of Christmas presents......

One of my gifts from MathMan.
And I quote "I thought you'd rather have a photo taken by me than a picture of me...."

It is a beautiful photo of the willow oak that stands next to our house. I love it and the Ray La Montagne cd he gave me. I also learned yesterday that the next time he tells me that he got me a gift, I'm not supposed to respond "Why?" Noted. In fact, I announced this morning that I will be expecting gifts just because and will only comment on the giving of them if I feel like I haven't had one recently.

So let's begin the half-dead live blogging. (We were up way too late last night.)




1:00 a.m. - MathMan and I finally closed our Facebooks, shut down the computers, turned off A Christmas Story and went to bed to (what else?) watch Hercule Poirot solve a mystery. (Talk about hot married something!)
- - - - Thanks, MathMan, for finishing the wrapping and for setting out the gifts. - - - -





1:55 a.m. - The Dancer knocked on our door and woke us to tell us she was sick.
2:00 a.m. - Finish watching The Dancer throw up, go back to bed. Scratch and kick around a lot, keep MathMan from getting comfortable with all my flailing about. He accidentally hits me in the ear as he jiggers his pillows around.
2:15 a.m. - Finally settle down for a long winter's nap.
8:20 a.m. - Half wake up. Begin composing my own version of 'Twas a Night Before Christmas in my head.
8:36 a.m. - The Actor knocks on our door and informs us that everyone is up.
8:40 a.m. - MathMan and I stumble around the bedroom, getting dressed, brushing our teeth and thanking the heavens that it's 8:30a.m. and not 5:30a.m. like when the kids were really little. MathMan instructs someone to feed the singing Pussies for Peace. Those are cries of hunger, not carols, people!
8:50 a.m. - The one-by-one opening of gifts begins. Must drag it out for full effect.
9:00 a.m. - All gifts are open and everyone is pleased.
9:05 a.m. - I begin thinking about taking down the decorations, but decide to settle for putting away wrapping and boxes for recycling. Pick up bits and pieces of trash and disappear to clean while MathMan oversees the assembly of electronic console games and starts breakfast.
9:15 a.m. - I check my email. MathMan downloads 600 plus photos. He's enjoying his gift.
9:30 a.m. - We sit down to enjoy French Toast and bacon. (Thanks, MathMan!)
10:00 a.m. - The Actor and Resident Evil discover that their singer (MathMan) is a total diva. I'm invited to be a roadie. I opt for groupie. I'll put out. I mean, I already clean up after them.
10:40 a.m. - Receive holiday text message from Lisa. Respond in kind.
11:00 a.m. - I'm asked about when we will go out for Chinese food and answer snippily. We just had breakfast!
11:20 a.m. - It's definitely short attention span theater in here. I'm listening to my new cd through headphones while reading blogs and dropping comments on Facebook. The Dancer has now joined the band. Their lead singer continues to be a pill.
11:55 a.m. - I do some multiplication flash cards with Resident Evil. The Dancer lists the names of her friends who will be attending a New Years Eve shindig at our house. I promptly forget the list of names.
Noonish - FranIAm calls. We have a nice chat.
12:30 p.m. - The Actor wants to use the xbox 360, but the girls are on it. I encourage him to kindly shut up about it. I'm still reading blogs and leaving dumb comments.
12:45 p.m. - The Dancer escapes to go shower. I'm glad that whatever made her sick last night was so short-lived. She seems fine now.
1:00 p.m. - People are hungry. I'm asked by another person when we're going for Chinese. The restaurant opens at 4:00 p.m. We'll leave the house at 3:45 p.m. Don't ask again.
1:15 p.m. - From my vantage point in the dining room, watch people drift in and out of the kitchen to forage for food. Go sneak a couple of chocolate covered pecans for myself.
1:26 p.m. - The band has reunited. They need cheat codes. When will they be able to try Pinball Wizard.
1:35 p.m. - MathMan and I discuss the pros and cons of going to a movie today. What to see? Before or after Chinese? Hold off and go see a movie another day so we're not getting cabin fever and driving each other crazy?
1:39 p.m. - We decide to go out for dinner today and see a movie maybe on Sunday.
1:45 p.m. - MathMan decides to have a salad and some tangerine. He eats at his computer and announces,"One must eat healthily when one is thinking about the properties of zero." Indeed.
2:00 p.m. - Resident Evil is farting alot. She is also eating left over French Toast. She needs to get offline or she's going to blow our limited bandwidth for the day. I don't want to contemplate being without internet access for the rest of today. MathMan gives her a five minute warning to get off her online game.
2:10 p.m. - I decline to look at the photos MathMan has taken of me because he tells me I am bending over in them. I do get up and go look at the photo he has of The Actor imitating Mick Jagger's strut.
2:18 p.m. - MathMan tells Resident Evil that her five minutes on the computer were over five minutes ago. She tries to change the subject by farting some more. MathMan and I share a look that says "And to think - we have ten more days of this family time to enjoy!"
2:29 p.m. - I am now caught up live blogging.
2:30 p.m. - I ask MathMan if he's doing okay. He responds that he would be better after a nap. "And I mean a real nap, not all that sex stuff that you like." Killjoy.
2:32 p.m. - We can hear The Dancer's music coming up from the basement. The Actor isn't fond of Taylor Swift and so proceeds to drown out the music with the sound of killing via the xbox. I may have to put my headphones back on. When should I have a shower, anyway? I guess I better get ready to go to town soon. At least before the next person asks when we're having Chinese.
2:50 p.m. Facebook chat with James who wants to come play with The Spawn's toys.
2:56 p.m. - Someone is whining in my ear about someone else hogging the xbox. Is it time for Chinese yet?
3:03 p.m. - A bird just flew into the window. What kind of bird was that?
3:09 p.m. - Okay, time to get ready to go.
3:18 p.m. - I'm still not in the shower and now someone new is bitching about the xbox. This time I'm really going to get ready. Now.



Okay, Pido, this one is for you. See the tiny Christmas tree behind us? That's pretty much the extent of our decorating this year.

UPDATED
4:05 p.m. - MathMan, The Actor and I are in my car listening to Vanilla Ice's Ice, Ice, Baby. We turned off Burl Ives for this?
4:30 p.m. - Arrive at the Chinese restaurant. Cartersville is so quiet. It's kind of odd to all the parking lots completely empty.
5:30 p.m. - Finished eating. The consensus is that the Mongolian Beef didn't taste like it usually does. We ordered too much food. MathMan will be eating Chinese leftovers for the next three days. My fortune - "Your curiosity will lead you to great achievements." Good thing I'm not a cat, I guess.
5:34 p.m. - Dinner ends in an exchange of ugly words and pleas about who gets the xbox first when we get home. MathMan puts a stop to it by announcing that he and I will be playing NAKED Rock Band. Thank you, MathMan.
6:00 p.m. - Driving with MathMan and The Actor who is doing his best to get on my nerves by making sexist comments from the backseat. "Did you ever guess that you'd raise Andrew Dice Clay?" MathMan asked me. Dear internets: If I brain him, he deserves it.
6:10 p.m. - I get a text from my niece. The Facebook status message I thought I'd sent actually wen to her. Good thing it was unoffensive.
6:30 p.m. - Back home and the band is back together once more. They've compromised and are playing together again. MathMan is drafted to sing White Wedding and Spirit in the Sky. Nicely done.
7:04 p.m. - MathMan leaves the band. The Dancer joins the line up on guitar. Resident Evil is now the singer. She's not bad, actually.

LATEST UPDATES
7:35 p.m. - I am in my pajamas already.
7:47 p.m. - We light the Hanukkah candles and sing the prayers.
7:50 p.m. - Resident Evil announces that she's been eating straight from the mint chocolate chip ice cream carton and thus has claimed the ice cream for her own. I mutter an oath under my breath. We have failed to domesticate these animals.
7:54 p.m. - I am blogging. MathMan is leaving comments, The Dancer is on Facebook. The Actor is playing a killing game. Resident Evil is watching the Disney Channel. We are all within twenty feet of each other. This is my kind of non-interactive family time. Except The Actor doesn't understand that his activity can be solitary. He continues to give us a play by play of the carnage. Help me, Rhonda.

LAST UPDATE
8:57 p.m. - The Dancer is done for the day. Kisses. Goodnight.
9:00 p.m. - Dang it. I shouldn't have had that ice cream. Blech.
9:15 p.m. - Resident Evil is playing an online game, The Actor is still playing Call of Duty. Where did MathMan go? I'm almost done with all the rss feeds in my reader.
9:35 p.m. - MathMan returns to the dining room looking as if he's been snoozing. "I'm done for the day," he mumbles and shuts his laptop. Goodnight.
9:40 p.m. - I start haranguing the last two children to close down the electronics, brush their teeth and go to bed.
9:46 p.m. - Resident Evil kisses me goodnight. Goodnight.
9:47 p.m. - The Actor bids me a good sleep. Goodnight.
9: 48 p.m. - MathMan returns again, this time more awake. Are you going to bed or not? I'm going to bed. I'm wiped out.
9:53 p.m. - Goodnight all. May the visions of sugar plums continue to dance in your heads......