Category Archives: house

Passive aggressive arguing via Pirate…

I have, from time to time, a few bones to pick with the husband. Excusing that he does work 2 jobs, rarely has a whole day off and get approx one morning a week to sleep in, he is a pain in my ass.

Like, I imagine, all of your husbands are. And if they are not, there seriously must be something wrong with your relationship. Even though I am sure they all do awesome stuff, just like mine, I seriously swear they also all have no clue at all.

Mine will literally leave pieces of actual garbage around the house and not notice them. He will walk over them. I have actually seen him walk through a pile of dirt I have just swept up, kicking it as he walks through it. Not noticing at all.

First time (yes, he’s don’t it more than once), I shouted “Oh COME ON!!” You’ve got to be kidding me!!” I mean, its not as if all paths lead right to the dirt. There were other routes he could have taken. He, honestly, just doesn’t notice.

But, I have solved the problem. And I am pretty sure you will be extremely impressed with how I handled it.

Yesterday, Vince and I got home from HomeDepot and Edward had left just a few minutes prior. The house was a disaster. One, I am sure, he hadn’t even noticed. And I had had enough.

After cleaning THE WHOLE ENTIRE HOUSE, while entertaining a 3 YEAR OLD CHILD and FEEDING HIM DINNER.

I very gracefully wrote a note in a sort of pseudo-pirate type language and propped in up in the fridge, next to ‘dinner’.

Late last night, E woke me up on his crawl into bed. He muttered something. I don’t remember what it was, but it wasn’t about pirates. This morning on my way to work, Edward called, asked after how the rest of my morning had gone, arrived at work and did not mention pirates.

Don’t worry, I brought it up.

“Hun, did a pirate leave you a message in the fridge last night?”

“Ummhmm, seemed to be making a good point too.”

“Are you planning on listening to him? He seemed rather forceful..”

“Clearly I do. It is obviously in my best interests.”

It obviously is. Jackpot!! All suggestions will now be delivered via pirate. I highly recommend.

xoxo a.m.

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No Ghetto No More

ghetto-blog

Can I just say that I am a home-owner?

I figure if I write it here, that will help make it a little bit more of a reality. Right?

M and I like to play that game where you think back to when you met that person you married… and then you mentally trace all of the steps that you took to reach the place where you are now.

It never gets old, all of that retracing. I know you play the game too.

So we start back in Japan circa 2002 when we were both young and supple. All fresh-faced and wide-eyed at living abroad.

Flash-forward to 2005, M and I getting married in Florida lake-side (possible gator-sighting in back-drop).

Skip one more year (that year where we were apart as I couldn’t legally reside in the States as I didn’t have my citizenship sorted out) until we hit 2006.

Now that’s where things start to happen.

The first year I moved to Florida, we lived in a teeny one-bedroom apartment in MetroWest. At that time, it was still a nice neighbourhood. And just what out-of-staters think Florida should look like. Right on a golf course, palm trees everywhere, a pool. Ideal.

So small. Although, compared to what we had lived in in Japan, it was a palace. A PALACE. That same year we got Chewie, the needy, love-driven, attention seeking, ‘I hate everyone but you’, angry, super-licky, pain in the ass Chihuahua. That we love.

I still remember the first night we took him for a walk. He was extra little then. We walked him around the complex and just happened to walk near a storm grate.

M said to me, “Do you think he knows not to walk over that?? He won’t fall in, right?”

Me: “Of course he knows and he totally won’t”.

And then he totally fell through the grate. Those little chihuahua legs are not meant to be walking over things like that.

Suddenly that area of town became a hot-bed of crime. Drugs and prostitutes, man… and Jimmy Dime-Bags, our neighbour, smoking pot on the stairs every morning.

And I wanted a baby, an apartment with a hallway (or at least one other room) and somewhere that wasn’t full of prostitutes. And on we moved to Hunters Creek.

Such a good move. Much closer to the parents. And clearly my biological clock liked it too, as I instantly became pregnant the moment we moved in.

And we have been in this apartment for 2 years. And now have a one year old son plus our dog-child as well…

Now is the time for first time homeowners to make a move. And so we did. And are heading over to Lake Nona…

So as we drove to our new townhouse after closing this morning, these are things that ran through my head. We pulled up in front of our building, the birds of paradise were beautiful at our front steps and it was raining lightly.

M and I stepped out of his car, got out our new key on its orange puffer-fish key chain and opened that door. We stepped in to glorious uncirculated air and flesh coloured walls. A few carpet stains, a lack of blinds, some ceiling fans from 1987 and a few other little things to fix. It was gorgeous.

From a one-room Japanese flat, to ghetto prostitute-filled neighbourhood to country bliss in Lake Nona…

How amazing our travels through life have been.

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Memories…

motherhood-blog

I can’t remember a damn thing.

Now. Partially this is genetic. And partially it’s a ‘I’m getting older’ thing. Although, since I am in my early thirties, that excuse might not fly as high as I would like it too.

Lately (and by lately, I mean the last 4 or 5 months), I have been noticing my memory  is severely lacking. Not in the “I am living in this house with….. who?” kind of department, but more like a “Where did this pen that I am holding come from… I swear I wasn’t holding it 5 seconds ago..”.

Now I had been falling back on that old ‘I have mom-nesia’ thing. BUT. THEN. I read an article in a parenting mag that states that there was a ‘study’ done, indicating that parenthood/mothering is not related to memory loss… or something to that effect. I always believe what I read in magazines. Or, at least I do for about 30 minutes, then get annoyed…
And so I was like “WHAT?!?! It’s not?!?! Huh. Wonder why I can’t remember anything?…… wait a minute… Parenting magazine does not speak the truth all the time… Bastards. “(Bastards is my current favorite word)

Anyways, so for about 30 minutes there I wondered what really was wrong with me. Then at the 31 minute mark, I decided it really was just parenthood. Oh, and combined with first-time home-buying as well. The nastiest of all nasty concoctions. Yuck.

So it is ok that I am holding things in my hand and I am not sure where they came from.

Also it is ok if, at work, I pick up and put down things at a dizzying rate all over the office. And then suddenly run out of pens (that’s what I pick up and put down). Or buy fish and then forget it in the fridge at work. Or day after day walk out of the office, drive half way home and then realize that I forgot all of those boxes that my co-workers have been saving for me at the back door.

And there are a million things more. I just can’t seem to keep my head on straight. I drop things. I knock things over. I enter rooms. Stop. Wonder what I am doing, walk out of them and then 1 minute later walk back in and grab my cell phone.

It is a truly sad state of affairs right now. Punctuated by a continued lack of caffeine (for health purposes).

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Apron…

Heading out back to the patio...

Heading out back to the patio...

Things going on in our life.

I haven’t been to Bikram yoga in about a month….. I feel tremendously guilty. Luckily I don’t drive past the studio on a regular basis, because if I did I would feel extra extra guilty. I feel bad enough with my pants a little snugger right now. I think my body craves a good sweat-out. Or more running. Probably I should run more. And probably I need to buy new shoes. Every time I run I feel like I am getting shinsplints…. clearly I need new shoes.

But…..should not spend money. Just bought house. Dilemma.

Probably really should buy shoes though… Shinsplints suck…. if you run, you know that. And if you run, please don’t nag me about running in crappy shoes.

We bought a house. Well, a townhouse actually. Four bedrooms of total awesomeness, and 3 bathrooms of huge radicalness. 2 floors of total awesome radicalness. A 2 car garage of extreme amazing super radical badassicalness.

In summary, it is awesome.

And in Lake Nona….even better! We bought and are closing at an exponential rate. Way sooner than our lease on our current apartment is up, in fact. As in, we close next month. But our lease is up the end of the following…. shoot….

This is the first time that I get to paint. Apart from that time in High School when I convinced my mother to let me paint my bedroom orange and blue. It was awesome. 3 orange walls, one blue one, orange and brown curtains (ala St Vincent De Paul society), my mattress on the floor in the centre of the room (what you ask? It was high school….) and some groovy iridescent lamp with fake flowers that we picked up at the Sally Ann (the Salvation Army, for those not in the know…)

I will not be painting anything orange or blue. Except V’s room. Which apparently is going to be ‘NY Giants’ blue. Which I am ok with. Not sure why, but I am ok with that. Just means that since I agreed to that, M has to agree to more of my painting ideas…… *rubs hands together gleefully*

I am so excited about this place. Especially the lovely brick courtyard that opens up right off of our kitchen. Pretty much my idea of a selling point on a place. My mind has moved into 1950’s barbeque mode and I even have a new apron to wear (thanks Tams!!).

I just need a jaunty ponytail and a spatula…. and a perky grin (and a barbeque actually…)

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Backyard

backyard-blog

As I try to think and write this evening, my mind is filled with  a million wandering thoughts. Most of which revolve around things like ‘What colour will I paint my bedroom/living room/other bedroom and that other other bedroom” and ‘painting’ in general. And moving.

M and I are now homeowners!

Holy freaking holy! Awesome! Exclamation point!!

About 10 days ago, I fell in-love with a townhouse.  It is just perfect. I then preceded to mentally move myself and family into it. Just in my head, mind you…. And before I had even told M anything about it.

I redecorated the upstairs rooms. I ripped up the laminate floor in the kitchen. I purchased furniture for the diningroom. I decorated the back patio with twinkle lights, cosy tables and one sweet barbeque. I made it ‘home’ in my head.

AND. Then  I got mad at M when he confronted me about being a little ‘over-the-top’ in-like with this place/neighbourhood/lifestyle etc.

Could I be any higher maintenance than I am already?!?! Ha! Seriously I am not.

But sometimes love just happens….. and love is what happened with me and this place when I opened that front door. Watched Little Man crawl up and down those few steps in the living room… and scootch across the living room floor at a neck-breaking speed. Leaving him for a few seconds, I wandered out into the back patio and mentally turned it into a gorgeous floral grotto, draped with heavily scented greenery (jasmine), the sound of falling water tinkling away in the background (kiddie pool) and a cool beverage in my hand under the umbrella (lemonade….ish…).

I then wandered back in, headed for the front porch and imagined our street at Christmas-time… Then I mentally painted the whole inside.

I might, just might, have gone a little over-board. Mentally, that is. In a non-mental way.

Which, of course, all makes sense once you think of it properly…. just like I suggest you should. Whole-heartedly. With all of your heart. With everything. All imagination. All mind. All everything in that scented, green bower that is my future back courtyard, filled with jasmine creeping all over the place….. with the sounds of V splashing away in his pool adding gorgeous watery sounds, filling the yard with the most delicious of all noises.

Family.

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