Lazy Holiday Weekends....

I love long weekends. It's so nice to have three days to just do whatever you want. Regular weekends are just a little too short especially when you spend Saturday running errands/doing tasks you didn't get a chance to do in the week and Sundays are spent trying to relax or, worse, continuing those errands. The three day weekend gives you one extra day that is pure weekend- time to actually unwind and relax.

My weekend was spent with my friend Saz who flew in from Washington D.C. She was originally supposed to come in February but thanks to the mountains of snow that was dumped on the DC area in February, she had to postpone.

This time, it was the opposite of snowy. It was very hot and rather humid. Nevertheless, we managed to make it work in our favour. Neither Saz or I are what you'd call 'outdoor gals' or, really, even in the realm of being even remotely outdoorsy. Thus, we find our favourite entertainment inside and so the heat of the briskly approaching summer didn't bother us much at all.

It was nice to have a human friend to talk to. I love my puppies but they're not much on conversation. Also, it's nice to have someone to talk to who isn't going to run off with my shoes or try to nip my nose. If Saz did, I'd be worried. Fortunately, she didn't. We spent the weekend just relaxing. We did some shopping, did a girly day with a nice brunch and mimosas, pedicures and seeing "Sex and the City 2."

It seemed like a great idea except that "Sex and the City 2" was pretty awful. It was just a cheap attempt to continue the popularity of the TV show and the first movie. It was full of cheap gags, bad puns and a ridiculous romp in the Middle East that lasted FAR too long and made you cringe. It also made you dislike one of the main characters immensely.

Still, even in spite of the bad movie, we had fun. Saz got along very well with Rory and Sookie who decided that jumping on her head was their new favourite pasttime. I got to cook for a guest which is always fun, particularly when you don't disgust them. I also got to see how it felt to play a hostess in my own home.

I have to say, it felt pretty nice. It's nice to have the space to give guests their own room. It's nice to have a dining room table to set for a nice dinner and it's especially nice to be able to know that it's my house.

It's actually been a year now since I put in the bid on this place. In a week or so, I'll have been a homeowner for exactly a year. In that year, I've learned things about painting, mowing, putting down new sticky floor tiles and growing my own vegetables. I've also learned to cook much better than I ever could, finished a novel and published one. I've also adopted two puppies who have become the centre of my domestic world. I've learned not to despise my job most days. I've learned that while neighbours can be very nice, their yappy dogs make them seem far less so.

Most of all, I think I've learned that owning a house is a good thing. I'm proud to have made the move and I'm proud to be able to have guests and entertain like a real grown-up. The house I bought from the nice old lady last year has finally become my home. Well, mine, Sookie and Rory's home, really.

Now that Saz has left, the house seems really quiet. A little time remains of the long weekend so I think the pups and I will probably grill outside for dinner. It seems like the right thing to do on a holiday and now we have a house, we can grill. I still need to learn how to do THAT a little better but we're working on it. It all takes time...right?

I hope you all had good long weekends. Happy Tuesday to you all!

From a Wendy House to a Real House...

It's a short week at work for many people this week, me included. I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I could use a long weekend. I need time to get things done and get organized. I keep waking up in a cold sweat, thinking of new things I have to do or have to get for the house.

I think I'm taking it all a little seriously and it's time to step back and realize that I'm never going to get the house perfect before I move in so I should just do what I can and shut up about it.

The sad thing is, aside from the house, there's not a whole lot going on this week. I'm not complaining. After last week's conference, it's nice that things are quiet. It's July the 4th this weekend. As a Brit, it's hard to get terribly excited about that. It makes me feel a little guilty because I've enjoyed the hospitality of living in the States for a long time now. However, there's still a tiny bit of me saying, "whatever!" This is not to say I don't enjoy fireworks, hot dogs, and corn on the cob which is pretty much July the 4th to me. Well, it's also in my mind as a holiday in which cakes are baked and are decorated by the U.S. flag made out of berries. Seriously, check out any Independence Day-themed baking/cooking/home magazine. Someone always has one of those cakes and how to make it in there.

Aside from cakes, fireworks and food, the holiday is just a nice day off, I think. It's a time to spend with family being lazy and doing the most summer-y things like swimming, playing baseball and camping. It's actually usually the time in which I would fly home from L.A. every year and spend a week with my family. It was often the first time I'd been home since Christmas and it was always hard to wrap my mind around seeing my parent's house and garden resplendent in summer flowers and trees instead of being barren and snow-covered as it had been when I'd left a few months before.

This year, I'm not going to be spending it with my family. I find that ironic that the first year I'm actually close enough to drive there, I'm not going to go. This is not to say I don't want to but it's just going to be the perfect time to paint my living room, get a lawnmower and do summer-y things around my house. I had a bit of a minor panic-attack yesterday when I realized that I only have two weekends before my furniture is to be moved in which also means I'll be moving in. That's not much time when you want it to look decent by the time things arrive.

I hate having those stress-attacks. They usually result in me calling my mother and taking it out on her. I did that last night and I feel horrible. I'm just so muddled about what I have to do and what I should be doing. Fortunately, upon my realization that it wasn't that bad, I managed to get hold of my stress. I think it came upon the fact that I went to make rice for dinner, only to realize that I had taken my rice tub to my new house and thus couldn't have rice. I realized then that my over-avid packing/transporting of boxes was under control. Probably too under control.

The bottom line is that I knew it was going to be a lot of work to move to my house, I just didn't realize quite how much work the place needed. Fortunately, I have two rooms that I don't need to paint and those rooms can store my boxes for now. I don't have to be unpacked before I officially move in. I have time for that.

I just hate getting overwhelmed but the older I get, the more that seems to be happening. I should be finding things easier, not harder. I suppose it's because I'm well and truly an adult now and the decisions I make are decisions for life. I hate being a grown-up at times like this. Part of me wants to revert back to being a child in which I had the luxury of picking-and-choosing what I did and relying on my parents to fill in the gaps that my choices left. Nowadays, I can't do that and occasionally I forget. Yet, ever onward I move forward and if it means my living room doesn't get painted immediately, so be it. I'm declaring this an Independence Day from stress and I'm going to attempt to not let the burden of being a homeowner overshadow the fact that I own a house and that's a cool thing.

When we were children in England, our classrooms would often have what we called Wendy Houses in the play corner. They were little tents or structures in which we would play house, pretending to cook dinner and doing all sorts of domestic stuff. Primarily the girls played there but occasionally boys would come in and try out the feel for domesticity. I think we all just assumed that one day, we'd have a house of our own and we wanted to practice.

Now, that experience seems quaint but hopeful. To look it at from that point of view means my dream came true. I have a house, not just a Wendy house. So that's the view I'm going to take and let the excitement seep in and not be drowned out by reality-tinted dread.

Of course, in true Monkeypants fashion, I truly used to like to spend my Wendy house time pretending the house was haunted and pretending it was a castle surrounded by a crocodile-filled moat rather than pretend to be making dinner. Now I look back, I realize I probably should have focused more on the domesticity element.

Oh well, at least there aren't any crocodiles at my house.

I hope.

Happy Wednesday.

Monday Musings: Tetanus Shots, Houses and the King of Pop

I don't care if I blogged yesterday. I'm blogging today as well. I want to get back to my regularly scheduled blogs, even if no one is clamouring to read them. I haven't been able to write for a while and if blogging is the only way to fulfill that need in me then so be it.

It's strange to be back in the office today. We were out for the entire week last week. It's almost like that strange week that follows Christmas: You know that the big event has happened and it's a little bit of a letdown at the same time as a bit of a relief.

At the moment, as much as I need that ever-important paycheck, part of me is annoyed that work is interfering with my new house. I want to be down there, finishing up the masking so I can get started on the painting. I want to be taking another load of boxes so I can see that slowly, but surely, I am actually moving.

That'll have to wait until tonight or tomorrow. I haven't decided if I'm going to drive down tonight or wait until tomorrow evening. I think it just depends on how I feel. I managed to have a nice "welcome to your home" event on Saturday night. Even though I had vacuumed the carpet in my family room a couple of times and shampooed the carpet, I managed to find a sewing needle. With my foot. I was barefoot. I figured the triple hoovering plus carpet shampoo would have unmasked all the hidden dangers and rather than risk getting my clean carpet dirty with my shoes, I'd take them off.

Bad idea. The needle broke off into my foot. It hurt. As much as I try to avoid doctors unless absolutely necessary, the inability to find the needle on my own led to a trip to Urgent Care, a tetanus shot, a course of antibiotics and a rather painful digging out of the needle. Still, it's out. It was a rusty needle, of course, because if you're going to step on a needle in your new house, it's best to make it as dramatic as possible.

I'm very grateful that it went into my heel; it means I can still hobble around. It doesn't actually hurt much unless I try to walk on it. Fortunately, it didn't inhibit my work on my house yesterday. It's hard to keep a determined Monkeypants down.

I think I'm experiencing House Obsession. This means all I can think about is the house. I keep thinking of things I need to do, things I need. Sadly, most of it will have to be purchased in phases since my cute little salary doesn't allow for too many extraneous purchases. Not that I'm complaining. I have a cute little salary. That's definitely something to be grateful for in this economy.

Still, I have to work today so the house will have to be filed away in my mind until I'm ready to pull it back out and afford the time to think about it. It's been a week since I was in the office and what a long, strange week it's been. I'm not even talking about the conference although having seen some of my coworkers in photos, dancing in a cage on the night I missed was a little strange.

I'm talking about the week in which we lost Michael Jackson. I don't think there's a person in my generation who doesn't have some connection with the King of Pop. For me, it was my childhood years. I had a very enthusiastic P.E. teacher who had a thing for dancing. Every school play we did in my junior school years in England had some element of dancing in it. It never really fit but it was there. My year, we were doing "Harlequinade," which was an adaptation of the classic Commedia dell'arte piece. There were ghosts in the play. I think they were supposed to be the classic "boo!" type ghosts but not in my year. Nope, our P.E. teacher took it upon himself to choreagraph a dance to Michael Jackson's, "Thriller," and teach it to us. Because I could actually sort of move to the beat- this was prior to my chair-boogie flail-dancing years- I was chosen as a ghost. We didn't do The Actual Thriller Dance. No, we did a sort of stiff British School Children version in which we tried to do parts of the Actual Thriller Dance but given that we were nine, it wasn't exactly what you'd call....coordinated.

Yet, every time I hear "Thriller," I think of that play. I also think of my neighbour across the street, a year older than me, a year younger than my brother and a friend to us both. He was a big Michael Jackson fan, even having the gloves and jacket. He swore that when he grew up, he'd be Michael Jackson's friend. He had the singles on the day they came out. He knew the words to every song. I haven't seen him in many years and I won't lie and say I don't wonder about him and his little brother from time to time. When you grow up on a suburban street full of kids and you play with them almost every day, they leave an impression.

I think Michael Jackson left a big impression on us all. If we forget the weirdness of his most recent years, what's left standing is a man who could make music that gave us memories. I hear "Bad," and I think of a summer in which my dad blasted the album while we played volleyball and badminton on our garden set after eating barbecued steaks. There are artists that make noise and there are artists that make music. Regardless of his personal choices, no one can deny that Michael Jackson was not a true icon, the Elvis Presley of the children of the 1980's.

Last week was a strange week. This week is just starting. It's hard to tell what it has in store but I'm sure I'll let you know. Thanks, as always, for reading.

Happy Monday.

Sometimes, It'd Be Nice to Have a Husband...

So I decided not to wait until tomorrow to blog even though, typically, I only blog on weekdays. It's been a few days since I had a chance to blog. The conference got the better of me. I did end up being social and going out both Wednesday and Thursday nights but I ended up watching other people drink rather than imbibe too much myself. It's amazing to see how much people let loose and also sort of fascinating in a voyeuristic way. I don't judge: I'm a firm believer that everyone needs to let down their hair once in a while.

The ending of the conference took a bit weight off my shoulders. It's hard to be social for such long periods of time; We started at 8 a.m. and went out until at least midnight. I was pretty exhausted by the time we got back.

Yet I wasn't too exhausted to ignore the fact that my house is now...my house. Friday afternoon, not too long after I got back from Indianapolis, I headed to my house, let myself in the front door for the very first time and took stock of what I had done.

I confess...when I saw my new house, I had a bad case of buyer's remorse. I mentioned that the previous owner was a sweet little old lady. However, I don't know whether she just didn't clean or just couldn't clean properly but I'm telling you, that house looked nasty. The carpets were grey with cobwebs, the walls filthy with stains. There was a layer of grime over everything. I walked through hoping to find something, anything to remind me why I wanted to live there.

Yet it was too late to back out. The house is mine. With a heavy heart, I finally plugged in my vacuum cleaner and went over each room multiple times. Three hours later and three vacuum bags full, the house suddenly looked different...better. The carpets were blue again and spending that much time in each room began to help me feel like it truly was my house. I moved on, throwing out many of the items the old lady had left behind. I couldn't decide if she forgot to pack them or she thought she was doing me a favour. For example, the fridge was still full of old mayonnaise, pickles, ketchup and cheese. Sadly, much of it had expired and what was left just didn't appeal so I did a thorough purge. At first, when I opened the freezer, I was excited. There was an unopened filet mignon in there, wrapped in bacon, ready to grill. Then I checked the date. It's "sell-by" date was July of 2005. Now, I'm a believer in freezers providing a way to preserve food but, well...that...was a little beyond preserving.

I spent the rest of the weekend shampooing the carpets. I love doing that, I've decided. Though the grime that came out of each room when I emptied the bucket of the Rug Doctor machine was disgusting, there was something very fulfilling about seeing it. I scrubbed down the walls and scrubbed the kitchen. I think the house is finally looking good. I'm going to paint next and have already begun putting masking tape down. It's my house and I'm planning on making it really mine.

It's been an exciting, if exhausting, weekend. I realize that, as a single woman, it's probably a little harder for me to get everything done. I don't have assistance when I'm doing anything. This makes the smallest things difficult. For example, I rented the carpet cleaner and brought it home only to discover it had a three-prong plug. The outlets in my house are primarily two prong. Back I went to Lowe's to buy outlet adapters. If I had someone to help me, they could have done that for me. When I was done cleaning the carpets, I had to run the carpet cleaner back. Again, an errand that I could have sent someone else to do while I started cleaning.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. I pride myself on my independence. I'm used to it. It's just hard sometimes when all the people who know I bought a house will tell me things I need to do and make me think of things I never would have thought of without them bringing it up. It's nice to have that type of help but sometimes, there are things I just can't think about because I simply don't have the time. I'd love to be able to get a lawnmower and mow the grass. I know it'd be cheaper to buy a used mower. However, that would entail finding the time to search Craigslist for a mower, arranging to see it, going to look at it and then buying it. I'd like to do that but, alas, I'm trying to move into my house and get it fixed up. I have to weigh my priorities. I have enlisted my sister and brother-in-law's help with that, asking them to keep an eye out.

I'd like to be able to do everything by myself; I'm just not sure it's possible. There are only so many hours in the day and with the house being 30 minutes from my apartment, the drive is a factor. On the plus side, there's a huge, lovely Lowe's store five minutes down the street. That's going to be useful. Well, actually, since I went there four times in two days, it's already been useful. Trouble is, each time I go, I realize just how much stuff I'm going to have to learn.

Still, it's all experience and learning and knowing how to do things is half the battle. Going it alone is always hard but there's something rewarding in knowing I found the house and bought it by myself and I'm going to get it fixed up just the way I like it without having to bounce paint colours off someone else. It'd be nice to have a husband to help with the hard stuff but, at the same time, he might not like the cranberry-sage colour scheme I'm going with in the living room.

There are some advantages to being a singleton.

Happy Sunday.

An Agency to Help you Cheat on Your Spouse; Whatever Will They Think of Next?

So I bought a house last night. I have the key and everything. After about 45 minutes of signing papers to the point that my hand ached, I was handed a stack of papers and a front door key. The little old lady from whom I purchased my new home will be leaving as of next Monday at 3 p.m., much earlier than I'd expected.

Of course, given that I have a conference at work from Monday to Friday out of town, I'm not going to get in there until the following weekend. Timing in life is always interesting, isn't it?

Still, it's my house now, for better or worse. Nine months after moving across country, I'm a homeowner. It's a scary thing to say. Yet it's also growing on me. Give me a month of driving backwards and forwards between my apartment and the house and I'm going to be ready to be settled in. I can now do things I've always wanted: Doing my laundry in machines that don't take quarters but actually belong to me, owning a grill that I'm allowed to use, not hearing the sounds of vigorous sex coming from above me, parking my car in a garage that will release me from the nuisance of having to scrape it when it gets icy out. It's a beautiful thing, at least for now until reality sets in.

Anyway, so there's really not much to say about that until I'm actually in my house. So I'll babble about other things. Something, in particular, actually. This morning, I was lying in bed and my radio went off. I'm back to listening to the awful Gamble and Finn in the mornings because the little high school station I found is no longer pick-up-able. All I get is static. I turn them off pretty quickly and put the TV news on instead but they do wake me up.

This morning, I happened to catch a commercial that, for a moment, I thought was a joke. Then I realized...it's real. It's for a dating-type agency called Ashley Madison. I say dating-type agency because it's more of a...hook up agency than traditional dating. You see, it matches up married people or people in relationships who are looking for a fling.

The agency makes a very big point of stating they don't promote infidelity but the fact of that matter is that married people get bored and rather than start having an office affair or an affair with someone single that could get hurt, why not match them up with other bored married people.

I realize now that I'm a bit of an old fashioned Monkeypants because there's a voice inside my head shouting "WHAT. THE. HELL?" Ok, so I get that people get bored in their marriage. I get that sometimes the sex blows and that people are looking for something more lively. I get that sometimes people wonder if they did the right thing and want to make sure they're happily married.

I'm sure I'll probably come across as rather dull and clearly never been married but there's a reason I've never been married: I haven't found someone I could marry yet. Don't get me wrong, I could probably have been married a couple of times by now. The closest I came was probably in college and he was a great guy but I was just too young and wasn't ready to settle down. Yet the mere fact that I'm not married pretty much should prove that I'm not about to make a choice that would lead me to, say, the Ashley Madison Hook-Up agency because I wasn't happy in my marriage. I'd rather not be married than have to deal with that idea.

The fact of that matter is people have affairs. I think part of the attraction is the illicit nature of them; they're covert, they're sneaky...they're hidden. Part of the allure is the danger in having the affair. I think there's more sexual attraction generated because it is an affair rather than the fact that there's a man and woman with undeniable chemistry. I'm not advocating marital infidelity either but the sad fact is that people cheat on their spouses. I'm not encouraging it, just stating the obvious.

It's never ok. I don't think that someone should cheat on their spouse or significant other. In a perfect world, people who realize they're not happily married should realize that early on in the relationship, try to fix it and if that doesn't work, move on. Yet it's not a perfect world. Cheating provides an ideal way to deal with an unhappy relationship, make yourself happy and no one gets hurt.

Except they do, every day. Sooner or later, the spouse/significant other will find out and it'll be ugly. There will be confrontations. There will be distrust and nothing can be done to fix it. No matter how many times the cheater apologizes, even if he/she breaks off the affair, the damage is done and no amount of concealment can truly get rid of the scar.

And now there's Ashley Madison, an agency for the sociopaths among us. Are there really couples who are completely ok with the idea of cheating? Is it supposed to be an agency for the more 'modern thinking,' people who swing, who don't mind a bit of casual sex? Or do these people have the affair, become riddled with guilt and doubt that they're doing something wrong? Does it become a relationship outside of the person's marriage-relationship? In which case...what if they get bored with their Ashley Madison hook-up? Does the cheating circle continue?

I guess I just don't understand it. If you get married, you get married. There's a commitment to honour, no matter how boring or bad it seems. I get that some people don't believe in divorce but, then, um, shouldn't they not believe in cheating either? I get that some people don't have the courage to get out of an unhappy marriage but is it really better to pay an agency to help you cheat? How do you explain that to your kids? "Sorry, darlings but your daddy and I are staying together because we want you to be happy. However, every now and again, you might see one of us with an Auntie Ashley or an Uncle Madison. Just ignore that, ok?"

Yes, because that's SO much better for the kids. Yes, I know that Ashley Madison probably also promotes discretion. Yet does that mean if you don't get caught, it's ok?

Don't misunderstand me: I'm not talking about sex and being a prude about that. If couples want to swing, power to them but at least let it be a joint discussion. No, this isn't a blog about the immorality of sex, it's a blog about how flabbergasted I am that in a world where gay couples still can't completely be together because the law says so, it's ok for married couples to pay an agency to help them cheat.

There seems to be something a little upside-down about that. Feel free to disagree.

Happy Tuesday.