A Little Slice of Awesome… Follow That Blog!

Hi Everyone! I am going to try something new today (because new things are fun). Over in the twitterverse, for those of you who might not know, they have this whole Follow Friday concept where you give a shoutout for those you think are worth it. I thought it might be fun to try that here. I feel pretty damned lucky that you guys keep coming back to read, and I want to share the love. And who knows? Maybe I’ll meet some more cool people along the way.

So, for the forseeable future, every Friday, I will offer up a new blog that I’ve found (less than 100 followers), give you a bit about them, and tell you why I think they are super rad. If you’re the blogger I’ve decided to share, there are no strings attached. Just keep doing your thing.

 

And now, for the very first Follow That Blog! (cue cheesy, slightly off beat drumroll), I give to you Jaggedy Badness.

As she puts it, the lovely blogger over at Jaggedy Badness is a “27-yr-old mother of one,” who teaches preschool, lives with her daughter, her grandmother, and her baby Bichon Frise, and attends college in all of her spare time (what little there is of it).

Her quick, to the point posts are an excellent mix of geeking out and sass that I can really get behind. Her posts are mainly family oriented, but there is a healthy dose of movie-dishing and geekitude. Oh, and she’s funny. Very. 

Well, now that you know about her, go on and check it out. The url should be linked above, but in case it doesn’t work, you can find her here: http://bee327.wordpress.com/

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If you know about a blog (or have one) that you think is worthy of a shoutout, I’d love to hear about it in the comments. Happy Reading, Friends. 

Grandma and Puppy

I love this picture*. The silence lasted for about three minutes. Then a squirrel ran by the screen and all hell broke loose.

 

 

 

*Sorry for the quality. I can’t figure out how to DL pics from my good computer to the phone, so I took a pic of the screenshot with my other camera. But you still get the point…

Conversations with Grandma

Grandma: “why are all these religious people killing all these other religious people?”

Me:  “I guess they think it’s what they need to do.”

Grandma: “But haven’t these different religions been around since the beginning of time? Why aren’t they used to each other by now?”

Me: “Well, they used to be pretty segregated, but now they are all intermingled with one another, and that’s hard for some people to deal with.”

Grandma: “Why are they intermingled?”

Me: “For all sorts of reasons.”

Grandma: “But if they chose to intermingle why do they still want to kill each other?”

 Me: “So… what did you eat for breakfast today? Did you get enough to eat?” 

 

So yes, parents with children in the “why” phase, I can totally pick up what you’re putting down. 

on the sexiness of contracts

People can get a little weird when I start throwing the word “contract,” around. It seems that a lot of folks assume contacts are for lawyers or overly-controlling maniacs (a la Sheldon from Big Bang Theory), and that by asking for one, you are basically admitting that you don’t fully trust the person sitting across the table from you. 

Well, not exactly. I am here to tell you that contracts – or agreements, if you prefer – are the best thing since individually packed Reese’s peanut butter cups. Especially when you are living with other people (even your parents/family). 

Let me offer up a little story to explain: Mr. T and I had a friend, and he was having a really difficult time with his living situation. So, people the helpful folks that we are, we offered up the basement to him. When he moved in, we didn’t want to pester about things like rent or the future. He seemed pretty damaged. Over the course of the next four months, we tried – repeatedly – to sit down and hash things out. Money. Chores. Helping out. But each time, he sleazed and slimed his way out of the conversation. And all the while, my basement looked like a bomb shelter. Half unpacked boxes, clothes everywhere, everything smelled like smoke, and he slept naked on my couch. Uck. Finally, in a fit of frustration, I went downstairs and boxed all of his shit up. He “decided” to leave a week later. 

If we had made him hold to something before he moved in, I probably wouldn’t have had to buy a new couch. 

Of course, we’re talking about family here. Hopefully, there is a bit of extra leeway. So, parents, if your kids are the squeamish ones, explain that this is a way to be clear about expectations (yours and theirs), and offer up some of the examples that are to follow. And if your parents are the squeamish ones, explain that you want to do this as a way for them to hold you accountable, and as a way for you to make sure you are contributing in the most effective, helpful way. 

Because a contract lays everything out on the table. It gives you a chance to think about all the awful things – like money, chores, who is going to be the one to stay home when the cable guy comes out – all at once. And other people are going to think of different things than you will. Your brain might go towards money right away, but maybe your Dad only cares that someone remembers to water his prized vegetable garden. 

 

You can also include working. Many parents are leery of their kids staying at home and not working. So you might agree to work somewhere – any where – for a specified # of hours a week. Or, instead of working, you might agree to keep a certain average while in school. Or maybe you are just going to be Mr./Mrs. Fixit around the house, and earn your keep that way. 

And yes, having this piece of paper means you are going to be accountable. If you sign up to wash dishes every morning, and you don’t – you can be damned sure you’re going to hear about it. 

But a contract gives you a chance to make your responsibilities fit your lifestyle. If you don’t want to wake up before 11am because you work until midnight, then volunteer to take the dog out in the evenings. Or promise to load/unload the dishwasher when you get home. If you are afraid of loosing your personal space, or your me time, write in there that one weekend a month is yours to do with what you will. No questions asked. 

Now… let’s get back to that whole lack of trust issue. Trust has to be earned, and maintained, and I don’t care how close you are – if you are just moving in together, you are going to be nervous about some things are so are your new roommates. Maybe your mom is nervous you’re just going to sit on the couch and eat her favorite potato chips (the ones she hides from your father). Or maybe you’re nervous they are going to expect you to pay half the rent and work 70 hours a week. Well, I hate to break it to you, but being nervous comes from a lack of trust (even if it’s really, really small). 

And that’s okay. 

 

 

 

Happy Friday, Everyone

Reasons why I am feeling particularly chipper on this Friday morning:

1. For the first time in a long time, I don’t have to actually work tomorrow

2. Next Tuesday, I get to watch Mr. T walk across the stage because he is GRADUATING

3. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary

3A. We are going to a beer festival

3B. Anniversaries mean you get to talk about all the stupid/funny memories you have

Like that time I set the toaster oven on fire with a poptart

Or the time the dog set the couch on fire with a cellphone

Or the time we accidentally set a cat’s tail on fire with a candle, and then had to chase   him around the apartment to catch him, then hope that his owner didn’t notice he was slightly less fluffy around the edges. (don’t worry, Stryder is fine. No animals were harmed in the making of that memory)

Or the time we went to the beach and my pale as the dark side of the moon then-fiance forgot to put on sunscreen and managed to get burned from his knees to his ankles on the backs of his legs. And while the rest of us felt really bad for him, we couldn’t stop laughing because how the hell do you get burnt there?

Or when we tried snails and realized that they really do taste like chicken.

Or when we had our first fight in the new house. I believe it was over where to put lamps in the basement. And he started yelling, and I started yelling, and then we had this total sitcom moment where we both started laughing and got all gooey because it was our very first fight in this new house all of us living together.

Or that time – way back in high school – when we were playing Truth or Dare and he made me eat soap.

Or that time that Grandma found dirty pictures of him, and told me not to tell him because it “made my day, dear.” But I had to tell him just to watch his face turn the exact same color his knees had turned a summer before. And then, five minutes later, he got goosed by another old lady in the building.

Of course, anniversaries also give you a chance to think about all the cock-ups you’ve made, and all the scary things you’ve been through. And, truthfully, the list might be just as long. But when I think about us, my brain doesn’t automatically gravitate towards bank accounts that refused to add up, or a business that we just couldn’t fix, or the bankruptcy lawyer, or the few hospital trips we’ve had… or those fights that make you think “well, it’s been a good run.” Nope. When I think about us, I think about our very first vacation at the beach. In just a short 4 days, we managed to:

set off the fire alarm (because we forgot to open the flue to the chimney),

get the cops called on us (because we forgot to disarm the alarm on the condo),

have the cops called again (because my phone got stuck and called 911 on repeat without my knowing it for 5 minutes straight),

get so drunk on this awful orange creamsicle mix that we couldn’t leave the couch for one of those days,

watch all 3 Rush Hour Movies,

eat the best tiramisu I’ve ever had,

and spend so much money on crappy trinkets that we barely had enough for gas to get home.

It was epic. (And now, if you’ll pardon the cheese and resist the urge to vomit at the excess sap I’m about to toss your way). Like us.

game night

In case you’re a new reader (and HI by the way), you’ll need a little catch up. About a month or so ago, it occurred to me that I needed to look at my role in the crazy household like a manager so I could get this ship organized and feel comfortable telling people what needs to be done.

And because I had no idea what that looked like, I did what I always do when presented with something unknown; I went to the library. I tried to find books on house management, but that was a fail. So, instead, I picked up business books on managing workflow and cultivating productivity and all that MBA crap. 

One of the things that the books harped on was this idea that you have to build a little fun into your day. Well, I’m sure they said something much more MBA-ish, like incorporating recreation into everyday activities, but it essentially meant fun. I thought about it and decided it might be something good to try. So I declared we would have a monthly game night. 

I must confess, I was a little nervous about it. After all, people can get ruthless and rude when it comes to games, and the whole point of this was to get us to hang out where we weren’t trying to ring one another’s necks. But Mr. T really likes games, and so does Dad, so it seemed like the perfect thing to try. 

I decided that one person would pick for each month, that way if we ended up playing something lame, we’d be assured to try something else the following time. Mr. T picked this go around. We started with Zombie Dice, then, Fluxx (pirates and cthulu), and then progressed to Smallworld (I got to be pixies and ogres). And, by the end of the game, it was four hours, a couple of pints of ice cream, a few beers, and lots of smack talk later. 

Mission Accomplished. 

Now, you might be skeptical of starting something like this in your own home, but hear me out. If you are having trouble with the people around you, kicking their asses at monopoly might be just what the doctor ordered. Having a safe place to smack talk can be really soothing. If I called Dad a “rat bastard” under normal circumstances, it would be – well – inappropriate. But within the context of game night, everyone gets a laugh.

If you have someone in the house who just won’t let you help them, playing some sort of cooperative game (Mr. T tells me Arkham Horror is good for that) might be great. Or, just relax the rules. I love when I am just learning a game and can turn to the person beside me and say “hey, what the hell do I do here?” 

If you have really competitive people in your house, you can do what Mr. T does with his friends. The first go-through of any new game is to be considered practice, and people should help one another understand. Then, on the second turn, everyone can be out for blood.

Or, just pick really ridiculous games. Fluxx, for instance, has no strategy because it’s all random. Gloom is pretty fun too; there is story telling built into it if you have any creative-types in your home. 

Whatever you choose to play, the point of getting together is this: so often in multigenerational homes, or in homes with boomerangers, the only time the whole group gets together for an extended period of time is if something bad has happened of if you have to attend some god-awful family function. This, in my opinion, leads to a weird conditioning; no one wants to get the whole group together because they get that pit in their stomachs like something bad has happened or they are about to spend 5 hours with Aunt Mildred and her sixteen cats. 

BUT if you set aside some time every week, or every month, to hang out under warm and fuzzy circumstances, then maybe you can undo some of that conditioning. Instead of a group of people trapped together on a constantly-almost-sinking life raft, maybe you can get back to being family. 

That’s what I’m attempting to do. 

To check out the games, go here: 

Gloom: http://www.atlas-games.com/product_tables/AG1250.php

Zombie Dice: http://www.sjgames.com/dice/zombiedice/ (really easy)

Fluxx: http://www.looneylabs.com/games/fluxx

Smallworld: http://www.daysofwonder.com/smallworld/en/

Arkham Horror: http://www.fantasyflightgames.com/edge_minisite.asp?eidm=6 (more complicated)

the math

I am 15 papers, 14 portfolios, 5 attendance sheets, 5 gradebook import/exports and 2 trips to different schools to drop off misc. paperwork away from being done with all my teaching for the semester. 

Traditionally, as you may well know, I hate math. But these numbers I can get behind… if all goes according to plan (and when does it ever) I will be done with everything but the trips by this evening. 

If you are out there struggling through finals, teacher or student, it’s almost done! And if you have a teacher or a student in your house, please be kind. Gifts of vodka and ice cream will make this process go a whole lot smoother for everyone involved. 

 

a shiny new award!

warding the people who live in the moment

The noble who write and capture the best in life

The bold who reminded us what really mattered

Savoring the experience of quality time

 

So, I probably shouldn’t be excited about this, but I am. So get over it. The CrankyCaregiver, over at Grandma Says… was kind enough to send this my way, and hopefully you will pop by hers. She is funny and sassy and just the right amount of sarcastic. 

Of course, I must comply with the rules of acceptance to truly be able to be worthy of this honor.  The rules are quite simple:

1. Create an acceptance speech either by video or a written speech post
2. Pass the award on to 15 other bloggers

 

While I have just cut my hair, and would love to show it off via video, I find myself a bit pressed for time today (yey, grading finals), so my meager words will have to do. To CrankyCaregiver, and everyone else out there who reads this thing, I think it is wicked cool that you are out there. I didn’t realize how much I needed this project until it was underway, and you badasses keep me up and running (and coffee. lots of coffee). Thanks for reading, responding, liking, and following. 

To my nominees, I will tell you that I give you this award with the standard “No Strings Attached.”  If you want to, pass it on..if you don’t want to, just take the award and know that I think you deserve the recognition for your great posts!

Here’s my list:

1. Australian Cat Ladies 

2. Keeping it Real  

3. Pee in the Beans

4. Latte Issues 

5. I’ve Become My Parents 

6. Gin and Lemonade 

7. The Broke Girl’s To Do List

8. Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

9. The New Money Blog

10. Stay Home PaPa

11. OhMyGawd… Just Do What I Say

12. The Siren’s Tale 

13. Becoming Cliche 

14. The Good Era 

15. She’s a Maineiac 

 

HAPPY READING!

 

 

 

family meetings and doggie baths

First things first… our very first family meeting went off without a hitch. The menfolk were in total awe (i.e. a little terrified) of my excel spreadsheet mastery, and after showing them the chore chart that I was going to use to keep track, they both asked me if there would be “any punitive measures,” for not completing a task on time. We all laughed, of course, but I feel like this is a good sign.

We discussed some upcoming special events: Mr. T is graduating! Gma is turning 90! Our 5 yr anniversary is next month!

We also discussed upcoming maintenance projects and home improvement projects. We’ll be painting the kitchen, powerwashing the siding, and wd40ing all the locks/doorknobs in the house (just to name a few). I know… it’s a glamorous life we lead over here at the HNTKYP household.

The whole thing was a little uncomfortable, but good. About halfway through it occurred to me that we have never sat down like that – the 3 of us – unless there was some sort of crisis at hand. Normally, a financial crisis. And for those of you who’ve been reading this, you know that those are just my favorite kind EVER. So, after realizing this, my feeling instinctively uncomfortable seemed understandable. I stopped feeling bad for feeling nervous and just focused on the 3 of us around the table.

After the meeting was over, Mr. T and I got ready to bathe the dog. It’s a two person job and a bit of a production because Ludo, who is 65 pounds and very stubborn, is completely terrified of baths.  He likes water, but not baths. Frankly, my cat (now deceased) took them better than he does. As we got Ludo into the bathroom and started laying down the towels, I told Mr. T about my discomfort. Here was his sage advice:

” It’s like bathing the dog, babe. We bathe him every month, and every time we do it he shakes a little less and it takes him a little less time to calm down. Eventually, he’ll get that there’s nothing scary about a bath. In fact, it’s a good thing.”

“But Ludo is almost four years old.”

“Well, I didn’t say it was a fast process. But hey – you’re not Ludo. You should catch on to the whole this-is-a-good-thing faster.”

Gotta love that confidence, ladies and gents.

 

On a side note, we had a major breakthrough with the whole bath thing. There is a footstool in Dad’s room that Ludo sits on so he can look out the window. For this bath, we tried something new. We brought the footstool in and set it right against the tub. For the first time ever, instead of hauling Ludo’s ass up and in, we were able to coax him onto the footstool and then into the tub. We went through half a bag of treats, but I will take the win.

Maybe next time we’ll be able to get him to stay in the tub without me in there with him. Maybe. Somehow, I have little faith in Ludo ever wanting to hop right in to the bathtub. I imagine our people-doggie conversations are going to go something along these lines…

risky business

Sometimes I think it’s pretty damned funny that my name means “brave.”

I consider myself many things, but brave doesn’t usually rank high up on the list. For instance, I am terrified of all flying insects except for ladybugs and stinkbugs (because they fly in drunken circles instead of straight lines and who can take that seriously). You might notice, though, that butterflies were not taken off that list. That’s right. Moment of truth. I think butterflies are sort of terrifying. 

The truth is, I freak out pretty easily. Maybe it’s because I have a really great imagination, so when I notice that it’s really dark in the basement, I can easily imagine the robber waiting in the corner or the ooze that has mysteriously crept up through the floor. Or if the car starts making a funny noise, I can easily imagine my own firey end. 

I guess that’s what years of writing will get you: an imagination that’s just waiting to do you in or send you to the nuthouse. It’s a glamorous life, right kids? 

But today on my way home from work (teaching college), I realized that I actually take some pretty big risks for someone who has the emotional stability of a wet pile of laundry. 

Sure, I take risks in the classroom. That’s what keeps things fun, but this blog isn’t really about that. I’ll just say this… today we discussed Paul Celan, and listened to it in the original German, and it was a great experience. And last week, when we listened to Patricia Smith’s AMAZING performance of “Skinhead,” that was pretty rad too. 

But I also realized that I take risks at home. For better or worse. After all, this whole thing was my idea. I was the one — way back when — who said, “you know what would be great? If we all lived TOGETHER!” No, seriously. I campaigned for this. Think about that for a sec.

I campaigned for this.

 Upon getting engaged, I could think of no better thing than to live – all of us – in commune-type fashion. It seemed terrifying but perfect. Unlike so many other bloggers out there who are bitching about living with family, this was never my plan B. It was plan A. Perhaps, some might say, A like “are you out of your goddamned mind,” but A, nonetheless.

So, I convinced Dad, and then I convinced Mr. T. And, then, of course, later on they both had to convince me that this craziness had been my idea in the first place… but it was a risk. A big one. When I say that Dad and Mr. T are different personalities that’s a little like saying guacamole tastes slightly different from sushi.  

And then Grandma… that was my idea too. Well, it was also money’s idea, but I was the one who went all full steam ahead on the plan to move her crazy ass in with us. And if Dad is guacamole… well… what really irritates guacamole and left it with all sorts of trust/abandonment issues? Whatever it is…  That’s Grandma. 

And yet, here we are… 

Today I just finished prepping for our first family meeting (in the spirit of management), and as I look over the agenda, I know that we are going to have days where things go according to plan, and we are going to have days where it all goes to hell in a pretty handbasket. And, to come full circle, I have a lot of fear about the later. I can’t help but imagine the worse case scenario from time to time (will they one day figure out that I’ve duped them? Will they both, in a fit or irritation at my maniacal-compulsive-organization ways, leave me? Will Dad and Grandma finally kill each other?) After all, sushi and guacamole don’t always go very well together… even if it was my plan to put them on the same plate.  

It’s a risk. It’s a risk I’ve been taking for the last (holy bajeezus), 7 years. And, as long as it’s okay with them, it’s a risk I’ll keep on taking.