I Am a Moron, Exhibit 9,872

Dominic and I have eleventy billion cable channels. I'm sure we have this many channels as adults because as children we were television-abused, what with neither us being allowed to watch as much TV as we wanted, which for me at least would have been enough TV to give myself an aneurysm which would have turned me into a drooling, glassy-eyed, bobblehead, and then I wouldn't have read any books, and then I wouldn't have been an English major in college and met Dominic, and then the future would be forever deprived of our little nappy-headed chinese babies running around and confusing people with all their blinding multi-ethnicity. TV, folks. It can be dangerous like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future! It can also lead to mind-blowing stupidity.

Case in point. We have about 20 channels or so of nothing but music. Each channel provides a different genre, like Show Tunes! or Bluegrass. I often like to listen to the Adult Alternative channel. It features a lot of Natalie Merchant and Sting circa 1980. Also, there is a circulation of captions that appears with each song that provides helpful information about the band or singer, like so and so's bassist died of a heroin overdose in 1997 or so and so often likes to vomit live onstage or so and so likes to wear dresses...even though he's a man. Anyway, so I was watching the captions to a Dave Matthews Band song and the captions were telling me that two of DMB's members used to jam together before they were a band, and the names were up there on my screen, and I didn't recognize them, and I found myself wondering, "Hey, what's that lead singer's name again? I wonder if one of those names belongs to him. I wonder...IF I'M RETARDED?"

That is the single most dumb thought I have ever had. That was even dumber than not being able to do 1st grade math. I have hit an all time low.

New House Pictures

I created a new photo album with pictures of our new house. I know some of you are being directed here by Dominic to see them. He's been bugging me for the past three days or so to do this, and I've been like, Okay, I'll get around to it, and he says, When?, and I say, Soon, and he's like, Are you busy?, and I'm like, Shut up, I'll do it. Anyway, here it is.

Even if we are eating burritos, you will always remind me of coffee.

Last night I totally scored a free dinner when my neighbors took me out to eat at a Mexican restaurant I'd been wanting to try for a while. I had the biggest burrito in the world. I only ate a forth of my meal, and--hey--no one has ever accused me of being a light eater, so that's saying something. Also, I kept raving about the margarita I ordered. It was so delicious. And then it occurred to me that I couldn't taste the tequila in it. So, weak margaritas equal deliciousness, but then they become kind of pointless.

This morning I woke up super early, face down in my mattress with something warm and furry on my elbow. I rolled over on top of the Monkey Butt, who had stolen my spot, my blankets, and my pillow during my sleep. She protested mildly, and normally that's when I would have shoved her off the bed, but it was a warm body, albeit a fuzzy one, and I've been missing that lately, so she was allowed to stay so long as she shoved over enough to let me share my pillow with her.

Not very long after, I was up for good, hours before even the sun could begin the day, and I cooked a big breakfast of coffee and muffins and bacon and a hardboiled egg. It reminded me of when Dominic and I were still in college, how we used to cook ourselves hot breakfasts every morning before our 8:00 class, then carry the coffee with us in travel cups. Those were good times, and, though sometimes I have to remind myself of it, times are even better now.

These Things Are Unrelated

Okay, so when the cashier at the local grocery store asks to see your ID upon purchasing a discounted bottle of wine, she does not want a long rambling explanation of how, no, you didn't just drive all the way from Alabama and that actually you've been in Texas for a year now and, anyway, that ID is almost expired because, see, look how short your hair is in the picture, it's short, right?, but it's really long now and, anyway, you're moving to Nebraska in a month and a half and you don't want a Texas driver's license, so you're just going to wait and get a new ID after you move.

The flower shop where I bought my wedding bouquet and, more recently, a flower arrangement for Dominic has closed. This makes me sad, and I hope the lady who owned the shop and arranged my flowers has moved her business to a better location than the tired, dumpy, half-abandoned shopping center where I first found her. I hope she didn't go out of business. She made really nice arrangements at extremely reasonable prices and was always very helpful to me.

I know I've been absent from the interweb lately. Maybe it's due partly to a slight listless depression from being by myself in Texas for the past two weeks. That first week by myself I tried to at least wear makeup everyday to keep up a semblance of normalcy, but last week I just stopped trying to do even that. I have been able to talk to Dominic on the phone for the past couple of days, so that's something good. I informed him that I do in fact still try to impress him, even after two years. And what I meant by that was that at least he inspires me to wear mascara.

The Little Fingers That Could--Finally (as in it's about time)

Hey Hey Hey Guess What Guess What Guess What I'm Knitting I'm Knitting I'm Kitting!

And I'm purling! I'm purrrrrling! I'm knitting and purling at once! Both! At the same time! I may be slow to pick a lot of things up, but no one can fault me for trying. Except at substituting. I just plain quit that. Oh well.

I'm knitting!

Apparently, knitting is supposed to be soothing.

The good news is that yesterday, Kathryn, our real estate agent, called to tell me the seller of the house we're buying has agreed to fix everything we asked him to, which includes, among other things, putting a brand spanking new electrical box in and fixing the newish dishwasher that was supposed to work anyway. Even though Dominic is more than a thousand miles away, I'm sure we both did simultaneous jigs, because this is really, really good news for us. This means that some major problems with the house we're trying to buy will be corrected for us, and what does that mean? That's right. WE WON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT OURSELVES! Which, if you can't tell, I'm excited about. Or exahhhded, which is apparently how I pronouce this word. Why, people, oh why have you let me go about bragging about how I don't have an accent when I sound like the bowels of Alabama done spit me up just yesterday, and look, and I ain't even got no shoes on.

Anyway, so that was very, very good news. But then the bad news was that I had to go to Kinko's so Kathryn could fax me a copy of the seller's addendum (stating he would make all these repairs) and I could sign it and fax it back to her. Sounds simple right? AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, I was just leaving. How many times during this process did I almost cry? At least three. The hold up at Kinko's combined with a traffic accident at a busy intersection made me late for my knitting class, where I found out I was the dumb kid who couldn't get it. The lady who was teaching was really nice, and as I was leaving she was pleading with me to not give up, that I could do it if I practiced. I must have looked pretty flustered at that point. Also, how many times did I almost cry in knitting class? At least three.

Then I came home and ate dinner and cooled off and tried to knit some more and couldn't get past casting on and got all heated up again and talked to Dominic for the last time until next Thursday because he's being dropped off in the Washington wilderness tomorrow, where he has to pretend at fending for his life and being a POW, and eat a rabbit, among other things. How many times did I cry after all this? Once. Because even though all these great things are happening for us right now, I still really, really miss him.

Happy One Year Kitty Adoption Anniversary

Basically, a couple of weeks after Dominic and I first started going out, I started begging him for us to adopt a cat together. Most men would have fled then and there, but my future husband just told me that we would adopt a cat, and soon, but not right then. A year later, almost to the date, he made good on his promise. The Monkey Butt has held the place of honor in our family ever since. Most of the time she's a very good cat, but right at this very moment, of course, she's tearing around our little apartment like a being possessed. Ouch, there goes a crash.

Anyway, here is the Monkey Butt when we first brought her home.





And here is her highness now.


These days she likes to dress up in her sombrero and Mexican blanket and just lay around the house and chill. She's pretty nervous about moving to Nebraska because she doesn't speak anything but Spanish, and she's worried about fitting in with all the other corn-fed kitties, but I think she'll get along just fine, especially since she's going to be on house arrest anyway, so those Nebraskan kitties won't be able to get to her to make fun of her.

Another funny thing that happened on our recent Nebraska trip.

I ordered a flower arrangement for Dominic more than a month ago, now. I did this because I love him, and I wanted to surprise him on the quasi-anniversary of our beginnings as a couple. Well, what happened was that we ended up making the last minute decision to go to Omaha to look for houses...and we made this decision the day before we were to leave...and that also happened to be the day I was supposed to pick up Dominic's surprise flower arrangement.

So the flowers went with us all the way to Omaha. And they came all the way back.

And they were beautiful the whole time.

I will paint that ceiling full of naked people.

So today, among other things, I got out all my old nude drawings I made when I took a couple of art classes my junior year of college. And what I have to say now simply cannot be made to look like anything other than what is, which is a brash mixture of inflated super ego and narcissism, but I ROCK AT DRAWING NAKED PEOPLE. Yes, people, I rock. And as soon as I can afford to frame some of these drawings, they will grace the walls of our new house, and those naked drawings will make conservative people everywhere feel nervous upon entering our future threshold, but this cannot be helped because I'm like a second Michelangelo, except without the talent and stupider. Yes, you heard it here first. I'm stupider. But talented at drawing people without their clothes on anyway. Trust me.

Anyway.

Today, I dropped the Blazer off at the body shop that fixed our Z. You see, I didn't tell you folks this, but almost two months ago I REAR-ENDED the Blazer into a car on a rainy day in stop and go traffic on highway 410. It was all very confusing and tragic: made a little more confusing because the car I rear-ended fled from the scene, made a little less tragic because the car fled and I didn't have to file an insurance claim and instead can just fix the Blazer out of pocket. Still, that means that with Dominic gone and the Blazer out of commission until Friday I have to sit in this apartment with my cat for the next two days, with no hope of doing anything except watching TV and maybe getting really excited about my email correspondence with UNO.

Also my neighbors invited me over for dinner tonight, which was really nice of them, but then they got me really drunked up, so I forever hereafter absolve myself from all responsibility of this post. Amen. I mean, The End.

Bestest Sister EVAR!

My sister is a literary genius, and she doesn't even know it. Carrie, give up becoming an accountant, and just keep us entertained with your blog, honey.

What they said about you can't take the South out of the girl--it's true.

Hey, remember that post I wrote about being so cleverly debonair about muting my Southern accent? That post wherein I sound like a jackhole for being all like, "Yeah, my roots are Southern but I can totally trick people into thinking I'm a normal American from, like, Idaho or Illinois and not some barefoot redneck from the dirty South because I can take away--just like that-- the twangy accent the wrath of God did instill in me once I first opened my eyes as a tiny babe in the Russell Hospital in Alexander City, Alabama?" Remember that?

Well, guess what, when Dominic and I went to Nebraska a couple of weeks ago to search for a house I found that I cannot, in fact, take my accent away, that instead my accent actually compounds within itself to create what I discovered to be a full blown "Hey, y'all Ahhm frum Alabayma!" Southern twang. It was a truly distressing revelation, especially when I caught myself saying, "Yeah, I'm so excahhhded about moving here," to a woman who had just let us into her house to check it out, and she looked at me like I had just uttered some alien language she had never before heard in all her life, and I thought, "Okay, God you won. I'm Southern and it ain't ever going away and I'm just going to have to deal with it because never again can I believe that I'm deceiving anyone," and then I wished the ground would open up before me so I might just jump right into it and disappear forever. The End.

And on the second day

So apparently all it takes is two days by myself for me to unravel Lord of the Flies style. Chaos reigns in the apartment. The cat races madly to and fro as I sit on the couch watching marathon VH1 Celebreality shows. The pan of brownies dwindles in front of me as if black framed bespeckled Piggy himself has gotten his chubby hands on them. Will there be brownies for breakfast tomorrow? Probably. Because left to my own devices I devolve into a three year-old within a time-span of 48 hours. Or a nearsighted (or was Piggy farsighted?) fat kid stranded on a deserted island.

This is why I'm not allowed to eat brownies when Dominic is home.

Haven't heard anything from our real estate agent about our house since Dominic left. Which bothers me a little. We've been doing nothing but breathing and eating the house-buying process for two weeks now, so two days of silence makes me feel nervous. I mailed off a big package of application papers to our mortgage company today, and I fully expect them to call me on the phone and berate me for not completing it right. Dominic and I tried to fill out the application correctly, but it was really extensive and confusing. Hello, I'm stupid. I'm still not sure I know what escrow is. This is why most 23 year-olds don't buy houses.

Air Force Wife

I dropped Dominic off at the airport around 7:00 this morning. It was a quick goodbye; I only had to pay a dollar on my way out of the parking lot. The cat and I have been sitting around in our quiet empty, apartment ever since. It's been raining all day so I didn't want to take the Blazer out and go anywhere. I'm scared of slick highways.

I called our friend Dale, whose life in New Orleans has been put on a temporary and surreal hold ever since the hurricane, and he's up in Jersey now with Brooke, being taken care of for a while. I'm sure he needs it.

I'm taking a knitting class next Friday. For serious. I might as well be moving to Antarctica as move to Nebraska. Knitting will come in handy. And keep me busy. I need to be busy right now.

So bring it: the mortgage dealings, the reading, the writing, the watching of TV's and movies. Let's fill up all these empty hours.

Finally...FIGMO!

For those of you unfamiliar with military jargon I'll say "FIGMO" means "Forget it, got my orders!" However for those of you who have been around a team of salty crew dogs, you'll know there's an expletive in that acronym somewhere. Anyways, salty crew dogs aside, after thirteen months of training, sacrificing, whining and moaning I have graduated from Combat Systems Officer school and become a professional military aviator. I earned the shiny silver wings on the left of the board in the picture. I could not have done it without the the undying support of my wife, Kate who endured countless hours of me griping about my workload, kept me fed, and also from becoming the smelly kid at school. Thank you so much Kate!


We've been so busy these past couple of days as I prepare to go to survival school for twenty one days, straighten out a mortgage, and deal with our accident that often I don't think it will all come together. Then from out of the blue, like something floating down from the heavens, comes a gift from the personnel office, permission to leave Randolph AFB. That's right, orders. If you don't know what I mean, they're just a peice of paper saying that I am in fact leaving my current base and proceeding to the next. However, for someone in a flying training program they're like parole papers for a hardened criminal. If you can't tell, I'm ready to get the hell out of Texas. It's hot here.

By Popular Demand, Pictures Of The House!

Well I thought I would post a few more pictures of the house to satiate the appetites of all those interested in the world of Kate and Dominic! First is a picture of Kate sneezing in what will soon be our living room. Kate and I like the fireplace, but not so much the dark brick. It's definitely growing on me though. This room is adjoining the foyer and the sunroom pictured below.



Kate won't be happy that I used this picture! Bless You!



The Sunroom
The sunroom is really cool, but the carpet needs to be replaced eventually. A good steam cleaning will be good for now though. However, there is some pink carpet upstairs that Kate and I both agree has to go right away!


The Master Bedroom
This is one side of the master, and what Kate and I really enjoy about this room is the cedar lined window seat/chest. It overlooks the backyard, and what Kate and I are certain is the largest tree in Omaha.

Overall though, Kate and I are super excited about our new old house. It was built in 1921, and has all the character and quirks that go along with a house that old. We're certain there will be troubles along the way, but we'll always work them out. We are on a beautiful old street lined with tall trees that will be wonderful in the fall when we get there. Kate will definitely get tired of raking leaves though. We're in a cool old neighborhood called Dundee and can walk to some of the local pubs and cab to downtown for under ten dollars I'm sure. Everyone say the sense of community in Dundee is great and have been very welcoming. Kate and I are so excited! Hopefully we'll be able to move in on Oct 31 and pass out lots of candy!!!

A Whirlwind of A Week!

This has been a hectic week and this post will be no different. We cancelled a trip to visit our friend Dale in New Orleans for obvious reasons, and thankfully he had the means to evac early with his visiting parents! Unfortunately, his home which is a couple of blocks from the end of the Canal street trolley, is possibly still under water. He is safe though, and hopefully he'll be coming for a long, stress free, well-deserved stay with Kate and me very soon!
Instead of the trip though we went to Offutt AFB in Nebraska to look at homes. This is what we bought:


This is what it cost:


We are both very lucky in both cases though as the accident was incredibly my fault and we avoided being T-boned by seconds in a very little car! We are both fine and we were able to drive the car away in not one, but three peices. Kate will have more later!