Why I'm on "Team CoCo" and You Should Be, Too

Unless you've been living under the rock that I usually live under, you have heard about the fiasco at NBC over the late night shake up. I should preface this entry by explaining that I love Conan O'Brien. He first came on the air in 1993 as the host of NBC's "Late Night with Conan O'Brien." It was around 1995 that I met this weird, hippie chick in the guidance department of our high school (we call her Bea), and we became immediate BFF. Bea has always been an insane night owl, and she introduced me to the tall redhead whose quirky sense of humor was right up our alley. I've watched him ever since; well, I've watched him every time I can stay up that late. I'm not much of a night owl, nor am I a morning person; I am what I like to call a bed person. All bed, all the time.

Any who, I fell in love with Conan because he is very relate-able: he has always behaved the way any of us would when in front of some of Hollywood's most famous: both awed and respectful with a hint of humor, enough to make the star smile genuinely and relax. He treats his audience like friends, allowing us to see into some of the most personal moments of his life (the show he taped the day his son was born, was probably the most hilarious I've ever seen). As much as I want to say, "Well, Jay Leno just isn't funny" I realize that funny is subjective; while I don't find him funny, I realize others do. So I'll put it to you like this: whenever I had watched Jay Leno, it was obvious he was more of a kiss ass than anything else. His questions seemed to have been written by the stars' PR people and he was just totally fine with it. Even Dave Letterman, who I do enjoy from time to time, isn't as easy to watch as Conan was. With Dave it seems he's having a private conversation with his buddies, their conversations peppered with private jokes and giggles like school girls. Sure that can be amusing, but it gets old very quickly.

I think the reason the public became so obsessed with Conan being 'laid off' so to speak was that he came off as a 'working class guy.' In this economy so many of us could relate to his situation. Sure he was offered a show at a later time, but we've all been there: your job offers to give you a different shift, a lower pay, etc. in order for you to keep your job. It didn't make sense that he would accept that deal. As for the 30 million he received: if I were a smarter woman, or one that wasn't so lazy, I could explain the economics of his pay over the seven year term of his contract, or I could explain the sociological mind of a man, a father, that even with enough money most men have a need to work to provide. Seeing as how I'm not that smart and I am that lazy, I won't go into all that. Instead I'll simply say that entertainers, comedians especially, have a need to perform, to write, to work. Look at Bob Hope. He was probably the richest man in entertainment (thanks, Orange trees) and he worked endlessly, not because he needed to, because he wanted to. Steve Allen, who we all forget was the original host of "The Tonight Show”, worked every day until his untimely death. Think of the myriad of movies, TV shows, hell even Broadway plays about old performers who don't want to "take the money and retire." They want to, maybe they have a need to, perform.

There is also I sense, throughout this whole ordeal, how out of touch "the man" is to us plebes. Conan didn't have the ratings, I'll give you that. But he also didn't have a great lead-in. Even the local news suffered in their ratings because of the "Jay Leno Show." The usual practice in broadcasting, when I typically popular show suffers a ratings set back is to A) change the lead-in show, or B) change the air time to a more "viewer friendly" time (ala "Law & Order"). Conan had a loyal following of viewers and decent ratings during his 16 years hosting "Late Night with Conan O'Brien."

It all boils down, I feel, to the fact that Conan is just a good guy. He showed this time and time again on-air (when Andy left, during Katrina, etc), through the reactions of his peers and colleagues (check out Inside the Actor's studio when Conan was the guest) and especially during his explanation for choosing not to allow the move to past midnight:

"...if I accept this move I will be knocking the “Late Night” show, which I inherited from David Letterman and passed on to Jimmy Fallon, out of its long-held time slot. That would hurt the other NBC franchise that I love, and it would be unfair to Jimmy. "

Then there is his sign off, which summed up his personality exactly: classy, honest, funny, and true to his emotions. I look forward to September and seeing where my beloved late night host will end up.

Moving: A Timeline

I wish I had time today to write the lengthy article, in the great detail needed, to explain how the move from my in-laws to my own condo went. Alas, I do not have the time to write such an article today, nor may I ever because its content would be both histrionic and loquacious. So, gentle readers I present to you a timeline of events:

1. Thursday: Joan arrives to help with the move. I stay at the hotel that night just to get away because I've been stressed about packing and moving. We have fun; there is an indoor pool and a terrific continental breakfast. Beau and his friend, Spider, have a fit moving and putting together Glowbug's massive new bed.
2. Friday: I take the day off work so Joan and I can get some errands done before the big move. Beau rents a moving van, and he and Spider move what little furniture we have at the in laws into the van. Glowbug stays with Joan overnight at the hotel, I stay with Beau.
3. Saturday (morning): Everyone at storage (except Joan who keeps Glowbug at the hotel so he's not in the way). I start to help pull boxes out of the storage and within fifteen minutes I'm in the bushes throwing up. During this time, Lord and Lady discover that a family of field mice have been living in our storage unit. Also, at some point there was a massive leak and most of our furniture and anything not in hard plastic is molded.
4. Saturday (mid morning): At the new house, we pull everything off the moving van and lay it in our new yard where we pour bleach on mattresses, couches, etc. and wipe down everything else. Once things are dry and clean we move them into the house. Not much is destroyed by the holes the mice chewed into things, but everything has mouse poop in it. Joan is concerned about toxoplasmosis, the fact that I haven't eaten anything that has stayed down, and now I'm getting this weird cramp in my right side. Joan, Glowbug, and myself, go to a restaurant for lunch and then to the mattress store to buy (very) expensive mattress covers and a new mattress for Glowbug.
5. Saturday (night): Furniture is set up and we're starting to unpack. The new place is smaller and older than our previously owned home, but it's cozy and we're (very) slowly finding a place for everything. There is an attic, so we can put tons of stuff that we don't need immediately up there.
6. Sunday (3AM) I wake up to go the bathroom and fear that I'm having a nightmare. Every where I turn I hear scratching, scraping, and weird noises. I start to panic. Wait, no need. We have a squirrel's nest in our attic. Great.
7. Sunday: Nothing too big to report, we clean and unpack, Spider comes over and hooks up my washer and dryer and I get started on the insane amount of laundry that needs to be done. The TVs are hooked up and I'm so happy to finally have my favorite channels back: Comedy Central, Bravo, Food Network.
8. Monday: I can leave almost a full half hour later for work and still get there early! Beau and Glowbug are adorable, helping each other get ready as I leave. I spend the day at work thinking about the big meal I'm going to cook at my own house. I create a "To Do" list of things left to be done, and am actually excited to get cracking on it. I pick up Glowbug from daycare and he's so happy to be at the 'new house' because there are some neighbor kids just his age and they can run around the courtyard without me hovering.
9. Monday 4PM: I begin laundry, and the washer isn't working. I go to the faucet and there is nothing happening. I call Lord (who is technically the landlord of the house) and ask him if he had some people over to work on the toilet that wasn't working properly. "Nope" he tells me, then has to go because Beau is beeping in. Turns out Lord forgot to have the water switched to his name so when the sale of the house went through the water company they turned it off. The water company closes at 4:30 and there isn't anything we can do until Tuesday. Lord says, "Oops! Sorry guys!" and we pack up an overnight bag and stay at their house again. Glowbug is soooo confused because he thinks we're going to live there again. The weird pain in my right side comes back.

Big News, Ya'll

It's been 17 long months, but I am so excited to say that Beau and I (and Glow Bug) are moving out! It's been quite the adventure, but Lord and Lady have bought some townhouses, and Beau and I are moving in to one of them while we save up some extra money for a down payment on an even bigger house than we had planned.
Why do you need a bigger house, Mame? Oh yeah, 'cuz I'm pregnant :-) So uber excited! Just like with Glow Bug I didn't even realize I was preggo until I started to get all weepy for no reason. And, just like with Glow Bug, my morning sickness reserves itself for only one day a week (Thursdays with G.B., Tuesdays with this one).
I've been staying in a lot more and getting caught up on my shows. I've been kicking myself because I missed the last season of The Office, but I got to watch Jim and Pam's wedding! I cried like the fat, pregnant lady I am the entire time. There was the perfect amount of cringe-worthy-ness, coupled with a wedding fit for the insanity that is Michael Scott's office.
Is it weird that I'm announcing such life changing events alongside a television show? huh. Whatev.

Life in an Attic...a quiz game

See if you can match up the synopsis of each story with its title.

1. A young girl is running from her mother's debts and is forced to live in an attic with her brother and younger siblings. What is supposed to be only a few weeks ends up being a few months and then a few years. Over time the relationship between the girl and her brother goes from annoyance to angst to strange lust. Eventually the young girl, now a young woman, and her brother break out of the attic and run off to the sunset. Four sequels ensue.
   
2. A young girl is running from the Nazi's and is forced to live in an attic with her family and some close friends. What is supposed to be only a few weeks ends up being a few months and then a few years. Over time the relationship between between her and one of the other attic dwellers goes from annoyance to angst to lust. Eventually the young girl, now a young woman, and the other attic dwellers are found out and sent to become part of Hitler's "final solution." The publication of the most widely-read nonfiction book (next to the Bible) ensues.
   
3. A young girl who doesn't like running is forced to live in an attic with her family while waiting for her house to sell, and her new life to begin. What is supposed to be only a few weeks, ends up being a few months and soon almost a year. Over time the relationship between the young girl, now a bitchy woman, and her husband goes from lust to angst to fury over how friggin' long they have to live with her in-laws. Alcoholism ensues.

The Ordeal with the Xbox 360...or how Bea ignores me now...

As I've mentioned about a million times before, I don't have Comedy Central at our temporary home. Beau has an Xbox 360 and we decided to sign up for Xbox 360 Live.
Ah, it was bliss. Beau could play his crazy blow 'em up games with his friends from Greensboro as well as here, and I could watch stupid, frat-boy-style comedies. It was great. We got our Netflix instant queue and Glow could watch silly kid movies over and over without my having to buy them. It was great. Some nights Beau would go out with friends and I would stay up watching stand up comics over and over by way of our Netflix Instant Queue and Xbox 360 Live. We bought a six month subscription and life was good.
Then Lord decided to go with Internet phone service.
There isn't an Internet drop in our "loft"
We can't afford the $100 wireless adapter for the Xbox 360, and we've read reviews that it sucks anyway.
I'm back to being miserable.
*sigh*

Lately....or, how Bea has abandoned our Blog...

As loyal followers of this blog know, in July my dearest (Beau) moved myself and our three year old to his parents' home in order to take a more lucrative job. We put our house for sale and moved three states away. I love the state we have moved to; however, we are still living with Beau's parents. Things are getting a bit out of control and I might soon have to take someone down a la Jimmy Cagney from White Heat. I'm losing my mind.


Problem from the Get-Go:


We don't have full cable. My father-in-law, Lord, pays for full cable, but only gets about fifty one channels. He seems to be OK with this because our pleas for satellite that we'll pay to install are rebuffed: insisting that his cable company is "going to improve." Seriously. I am still without Comedy Central, Food Network, or Bravo, amongst others.


How this has gotten worse:


We really only watch about two things: Mountaineer sports or M*A*S*H. Don't get me wrong, I like a good Hawkeye/BJ prank as much as the next guy, but I've seen about every episode twice. There's only so much good natured Corney-ness I can stomach without wanting to rip the TV off the wall and throw it across the room in an effort to make Hot Lips see how stupid Frank really is.



Problem from the get-go:

Lady's mother, The Duchess (sadly, not Fergie), is also living here. She's 80 and a survivor of three husbands (they all died, not divorced), cancer (breast and colon), and numerous falls which left her with a myriad of broken bones (including her face). She's an amazing woman who educated herself and supported herself and her two young daughters when her first husband died, and carries the weight of both her screwed-up family and her tiny town on her shoulders.



How this has gotten worse:

Remember the great aunt from "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"? Because I live with her. She means well, really she does, but she's going senile and I'm going slightly mad. The other day she made macaroni and cheese which is delicious, then when no one ate the left overs, she made macaroni salad because she forgot that she had already put the cheese in it. So now we have macaroni and cheese with carrots, Miracle Whip, and onions. It's, well, not good. I realize that she doesn't want to be wasteful (she washes Styrofoam plates) but her passive-aggressive comments about how I'm not helping need to stop.

I don't like onions. I've never complained about not liking onions, I just pick them off of whatever food is made with them and go about my day. Well, one time she saw me do that and we talked about it. I assured her that I would always eat anything she made and not to worry about it. Now she dramatically comments on all the things I don't eat. Since then, she watches my plate at dinner and when I don't get a spoonful of something the comment, "You don't eat (that) either?! What do you eat?"

Then she got very mad at me for throwing away my yogurt after it had accidentally frozen in the back of the refrigerator, thawed out, and then froze again. She said I was being ridiculous because we eat frozen yogurt all the time! It's still OK. Dude, the stuff smelled like the wash from last month that you forgot to put in the dryer.

Problem from the get-go:

Glow Bug is now living with his mother, his aunt, his grandmother, and his great-grandmother. There is only proverbial Indian and four proverbial chiefs.

How this has gotten worse:

My darling little Glow Bug is becoming a brat. If mommy says no, dammit if one of the others says "Of course!" Beau and I talked about this yesterday and finally had to have a talk with the family about it. When Glow does something wrong, we all try to correct the behavior and he gets really confused. So during our sit down with the fam, we insisted that when he misbehaves that Beau or I need to be the ones to speak and deal with it. Now, we've had this talk before, and it will last for about a week before going back to the aforementioned, anti PC, turn-of-the-century saying about chiefs and Indians.

Things are clearly hitting a breaking point. And by "hitting a breaking point" I mean I'm about to become a scrolling headline on Fox News.

Phase III - Getting Ready

I got a job! Hallelujah ~ I got a job!! The town/school shares its name with a major weather disaster (West Virginia has: Tornado, Hurricane, Flood, etc.), but the school itself is adorable! I'll be teaching middle school for the first time; the students are either on grade level reading-wise or above, and it's the town that my late grandmother-in-law helped to develop so my name is very well known in the area. I'm looking forward to being pleasantly at ease for the first time ever at the start of the school year.

However, I have had this conversation with Bea:
Bea: How are you going to adjust going from an inner-city high school to a small town, middle school?
Me: Easily! I am so excited.
Bea: Or...
Me: Or I'll end up pinning some kid to the wall by October going, "Call me Bitch dammit!!"

So, it could go either way.

We have also found a school/daycare for Glow Bug. He is quickly becoming the outdoors man. He goes for walks with Duke by the river (or 'moat' as I call it), he's learning how to chase grasshoppers with the four-year old across the street, he prefers to pee outside, and has learned to outsmart Dame's mother to open the doors and get outside when she isn't looking. It will be good for him to get back to school and into a routine. As a mom, I am terrified for him to be the "new kid" although 2.5 year-olds generally get used to each other quickly. In my head I know that I've met his new teacher and she's adorable, I know that he is verbal and will tell us of any problems, and I know there won't be any. In my heart I see my little boy sad that we've dropped him off somewhere that he isn't used to, and not knowing anyone. I guess my worry makes me a good mother. Or an obsessive mother, either way.

I've forgotten how much I love the stillness here. It was one of the things I loved more than anything about going to college in West Virginia: at night, even during a crazy party, there was a stillness to the sky and world around you that I just can't describe. I love it here.

Again (partially because it worked last time), in honor of The Secret:
MY HOUSE WILL SELL BEFORE HALLOWEEN!!

Phase II - Settling In

I can't fix the cable. Apparently they are working on updating the system that we run on. They "say" it will be updated regularly and we'll start noticing new channels all the time, but they don't know in what order. Whatever.

I still don't have a job. There are about 85 steps needed to get a job. I am on step, like, five. It doesn't matter that I have experience, it doesn't matter that how qualified I am; if don't go through the 85 steps in the correct order, I won't get hired. I'm working on it, but transcripts cost money, getting finger-printed costs money, ordering my test scores from 2002 costs more money, etc. It's going to take awhile.

Our house in North Carolina still hasn't sold. In fact, it hasn't been shown in about a month. I'm starting to worry. We can check our realtor's website and see how many 'hits' our house gets daily, which means someone had to click on our house to view the details; we're still getting hits which is good, but nothing has turned into an offer yet. Agnes got an offer on her house today. I might be a bit jealous.

Beau loves his job. The base pay is quite a bit more than he was making; however, he hasn't started to make sales which is where the good money is. He's been down in the dumps about it even though we both know that it takes time to get set up in a new sales area.
Glow Bug is officially potty trained. He's too cute about it and it makes me a little sad that he is becoming more and more independent of me and Beau.

More to come later.

I am going to tomorrow to try and circumnavigate the 82 steps remaining and just bombard some principals with my awesomeness.

In honor of the ideas in the book, The Secret:
I WILL GET JOB
I WILL HAVE A BEAUTIFUL HOUSE IN WEST VIRGINIA
MY HUSBAND WILL BE SUCCESSFUL

Phase I - The Beginning

The first phase of our move has gone well. On Friday, July 25 Glow Bug, Agnes, and I loaded up our cars and headed out for West Virginia. Agnes in her car created played show tunes and sang loudly; Glow Bug and I wore headphones and listened to Veggie Tales and Raw Dog comedy, respectively.

My in laws' house (from here on known to all as Duke and Dame) is large and so peaceful. It is located on a lot of land and surrounded by a lake (I call it a 'moat'), so there is a lot of space for Glow Bug to run and play rather than sit in front of the TV. Dame's mother, the Lady, also lives here in her own space and has been watching Glow Bug during the day while Agnes and I drive around trying to find jobs.

Finding the jobs has, of course, been the hard part. My teaching license will transfer to West Virginia, but only after some paperwork, running around the state, calling North Carolina half a dozen times, and paying what seems to be, a lot of money.

It's a crazy long process, but I'm crazy and am used to waiting, so I'll make do. In the meantime, I am also looking in the good ole newspaper just in case. Agnes has become my personal assistant: riding in the car with me, helping me stuff envelopes, etc.

It's been a good move so far. Well, there is ONE bad side, but it is a major downside: there is no comedy central here. The only channel that I watch all the time, and it's gone. I may go crazy in a couple of more days.

Stay tuned.

I need to get this off my chest...no it's not my bra...

I'm so annoyed, that I'm sick to my stomach. Ugh.

As Bea told you all, we are in the process of moving. It has been a ridiculous stresser and brings me to tears literally everyday. I have spent six years building a home only to have to pack up more than half of it and still try to live. Every day I clean my house like it's a hotel, and then sit and wait for someone to come by and want a look-see. I've been living like this for a little over two weeks and we've shown the house twice so far. The comments from the agents that showed the house were, "Well, it's getting there: there's still some de-cluttering and cleaning to be done." You know what, fuck you. I have a two year old, and am doing this alone. Beau is already in West Virginia and comes home when he can (usually on the weekends), so I'm just giving this a go alone. Of course a house across the street that has the exact same floor plan as ours just went up for sale, about $6,000 less that what we're trying to sell for. Of course what buyers don't know is that someone killed themselves in that house and the now owner just wants out of it. They are selling for barely tax value. We're screwed.

Shortly I'll be packing up little Glow Bug and moving to Beau's parents' house where we will stay until this house sells. We'll be there for months. I'm trying to be OK with that; reminding myself that trees that don't bend in the wind will break. I think I am going to look at this move as a clean slate. We'll live with Beau's parents and little Glow Bug will be so happy (he loves it there), we'll save money, we won't have to rush, so we'll be able to find the perfect house. The good thing is that Beau and I will be together again; Glow Bug isn't adapting well to his absence. I'm thinking of trying a new career; letting the youth of America be without me for awhile. If I fail miserably I can go back to education. It's exciting. The biggest draw back is that we can't take our two darling cats with us to the parents' house. Big Beau just had open heart surgery and Old Lady Gran tends to fall and break things like bones, so it was asked that we don't bring our kitties until we have a place of our own. Luckily our neighbor here has offered to foster them until that happens; however, I'm going to really miss the late night back massages from Sidda Lee kneading my back, tripping out the front door in the morning as Bucky runs ahead of me to do his morning cricket chases, and of course I'm going to really miss watching Glow Bug sleep snuggled next to Bucky - we call them Calvin and Hobbes.

*sigh*

So...How've You Guys Been?

Ok, so, we haven't posted in a couple of weeks. Sorry about that, for the four of you who care. We've been BUSY, OK. And seriously, pop culture-wise? This summer's been BORING. So, here's a brief update of what's been going on in Bea-and-Mame-ville...

• I had been visiting Sid and Andie, since Andie'd been having pregnancy complications. If you are so inclined, please keep good thoughts for Andie and little as-yet-un-pseudonymed-baby boy.
• Mame, Beau and Glowbug are moving, so she's been ripping her house apart, threatening people and tearing her hair out. No really, it's fine. She had too much hair anyway.
  
• I've seen The Incredible Hulk and the Sex and the City movie. The former was AWESOME and the latter was fine. (But that naked guy that you've probably heard about? Totally worth the ticket price. Heheheh.)
  
• I'm watching Numb3rs from Netflix. (You have no idea how it pains me to spell it like that. Ugh. Fuck it. I'm spelling it correctly from now on.) I may have a teensy obsession with the math geek brother. WHO KNEW THAT THE KID FROM ADDAMS FAMILY VALUES WOULD GROW UP HOT?!? WHO?!? No, really. It's a very fun show.
  
• Also? I watched The Mist, which is an adaptation of a Stephen King novella. I'd liked the novella, DID NOT LIKE THE MOVIE. But hey. Don't listen to me. If you want to watch a movie that's really boring, has stupid special effects and then has an ending that made me yelp, "Oh, FUCK YOU!" then by all means. Watch it. JUST DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU. Mame, warn Beau. You know he'll try to watch it. Ugh.
• My reading of the Avonlea series is going...slowly. Mame's reading of the Little House series is going...less slowly. She's actually kicking ass with it. She'd like me to compliment her excessively and perhaps talk about how she's better than me. That's not going to happen. She should know that, frankly.
  

Day Three...argh...

Day Three - Wednesday
Wherein the plan changes dramatically.

If you suffer from migraines, then you know the suffering I have been going through this past week. That’s right: week. For whatever reason, the Furies have deemed that this week I will suffer through one long, blinding, migraine. How delightful that this is the week of the grand move to prepare for the piano, et al.

Tonight the plan is to “catch up” move our computer hutch, rearrange the playroom, and take down the rigged shelves in our nerdery to prepare for a guest bed and an actual shelving unit (not made of press-board and a prayer from Walmart).

Whatever.

Here is what we were planning to do:
Take apart the computer, dust the hutch, slide it across the room, set it back up, correcting and organizing the wires behind it.
Here’s what we did:
Unplug the two major power cords, slid the hutch across the room (full) and plugged it back in. We decided that since the new furniture would not affect the playroom too much it could wait to be cleaned and rearranged.
Here is what we were planning to do:
Take all our books off the shelves and box them up, label the ones we wanted to keep and load up the boxes of those we wanted to sell back to Ed McKay’s or donate to the cause. Then we were going to take apart our shelves and take the pieces to the curb for trash pick up. We were planning on taking down the shelves that we had screwed into the wall, patch up the holes, etc.
Here is what we did:
Dumped the books on the floor in barely recognizable piles, decide that we would wait to take apart the shelves until we got the new ones, the ones in the wall remained up and loaded (why take them down when they would just take up more floor space?).
Here is what I did immediately after halfassing this project:
Took some more intense medicine and passed out.

Day Two of the Auntie Mame Move Around

Wherein no moving was done.

This is part a continuation of yesterday’s move around, and part update as to what was [not]done today.
If you read yesterday’s blog you know that Beau and I moved a lot of junk yesterday, and also fixed the upholstery on our dearly broken sofa and loveseat. Tonight (5/1/07) we were going to move our computer hutch, and take down a set of shelves (OK, more than a set, more like a small library – we’re nerds). On top of all that, Shaman is moving and Beau agreed to help him empty out his house and load it into the truck as long as Shaman agreed to help him move that dang piano on Sunday. Sounds good, right?
Queue to 2AM Tuesday morning. I am awoken by a scream that I think is from my dreams of Leland Chapman, but alas, it is my dear Beau screaming not in pleasure but in excruciating pain. He could not move his legs without a pain shooting up his torso and down his legs. I got him a heating pad and some Tylenol-3 (you know, the good stuff, with Codeine), but nothing worked. He was up all night.
In the morning, he called our chiropractor and set up an appointment and called Shaman backing out of the help with the move. God love our chiropractor because he reset Beau’s back and set him up for a massage (that’s right – a massage that insurance pays for!) and Beau could move again.
We both go and pick up Glow Bug from his daycare - a special treat we both love; there’s nothing like walking into his ‘class’ and having him drop whatever he’s doing and run to shower us both with kisses. For some reason my stomach is churning, perhaps because of the lack of sleep, perhaps because I’m stressed about letting Shaman down and hating my job, so Beau takes Glow Bug outside so I can take a nap. The nap is short lived because a migraine ensues.
I take the first step of my four-part migraine medicine, which makes my stomach churn even more. Then it happens: Glow Bug takes my hand, reaches for Beau’s and leads us both upstairs. He’s ready for bed. If I was in my right mind I would cry because he’s so adorable and starting to grow up so much. He gladly gets in his PJ’s sings along with the Veggie Tales lullaby CD and kisses us both goodnight. It’s seven in the evening and Beau and I both lay down now that Glow Bug is asleep.
Now it’s my turn to wake us up at 2AM. My head is throbbing because I fell asleep before I could take steps 2-4 of my migraine meds. I start to cry, and Beau being the great guy he is, went to get my big time meds. When he brings them to me, he realizes that he can walk – his back is better! I take the meds, and go back to sleep. In the morning, Beau is whistling that he is no longer in pain and is so excited that our chiro is the god that he is. I am, however, in the haze that is my meds and have the cold sweats (a side effect). Beau is excited about getting caught up in the move process, Glow Bug is toddling around playing with the cats, and I am wondering how much money is my ‘allowance’ account so I can get the extra large coffee at Starbucks.

Day One of the Auntie Mame Move Around

Wherein Beauregard has to go ask Shaman whether or not he ‘sees bone,’ and Auntie and Nessie touch inappropriately.

We are getting a piano. Beauregard (Beau for purposes of my having to type out Beauregard every time I mention my husband) has inherited an upright piano. This is wonderful news. Beau loves to play and had already been talking about when Glowbug would begin to take lessons/play. We got the news about a month ago and because I am such an overly organized procrastinator, we have waited until the week before we are to get the dang thing to rearrange our 1400 square foot town home that’s more of a row house.
Today is our first day of moving things around to make space for the thing. It is Monday. I hate my job. Glowbug is in a cry-ie-I-just-want-Momma mood, which I normally adore, but because I am already in a foul mood because of my depressing job, makes me feel, too depended on and I sigh all evening.
Beau is wonderful and takes my little Glowbug up to bed so I can relax a bit and talk with Shaman our neighbor who is in the process of moving across town. Why? Because his landlords are mean and he can’t afford to outright buy the place. To be honest, had I known then what I know now I wouldn’t have bought this place either, but I digress. Shaman is our regular dinner guest/TV night partner/Xbox enthusiast. He and I are talking away about how much sucking is involved with moving when Beau comes downstairs and asks if I’m ready to get started. I’ve already forgotten tonight’s phase of the move due to the previously mentioned sighing. So Shaman leaves and promises to make many breaks to see our own progress and I go and get changed.
Whilst I am gone, Beau decides that part of moving the furniture around includes fixing our ridiculously broken sofa and loveseat. Knowing that I would tell him that is a dumb idea, he already has the sofa pretty much taken apart by the time I come downstairs from changing. I sigh some more, move to the computer and begin a conversation with my sister, Dolly, about our usual topic: our insane parents. Of course this is peppered with random Instant Messages from Bea.
While I’m sitting there, typing away, Beau mentions that the fish tank needs to be cleaned out to prepare for the slide it is about to make across the room to its new location. OK, I have cleaning the fish tank down to an art form, but Beau tells me that it isn’t good enough to just be cleaned – it also needs to be about half emptied. We have a 35-gallon, tall fishtank with four fish and a bottom feeder thing that started out the size of a broken crayon and now is about the length of my forearm (apparently we have a lot of food on the bottom of our tank). At this point Shaman comes over for a break and I put him to work talking to Bea. Meanwhile I am debating within myself the best way to start the hose on the fishtank that will suck the water out. I know that I am going to have to put my mouth on this hose and there is a damn good chance I will taste the fish water, however I cannot bring myself to do this. I plead with Shaman that he was in the military he must know of another way, but he doesn’t. So I do what I have to and almost throw up in the process. I’m gagging away, about to throw up in the bucket, Shaman is laughing with Bea, when all of a sudden Beau yelps like a small dog. I don’t pay much attention (because I’m about to blow chunks) when I hear “Dude, is this bone?” Apparently Beau was using a flathead screwdriver to pull up staples from the upholstery of our sofa when it slipped and he cut a chunk out of his thumb. Shaman laughs that it isn’t, and notes the chaos that is reigning at my 1400 square foot home. I calm down long enough to ask Beau if he is OK, and despite the blood dripping from his knuckle, he says he is. I return to my ‘vacuuming’ of the bottom of the fishtank when Nessie (my darling bottom feeder) gets upset that there is something doing her job and attacks my hand, smacking her way up my arm until she is out of the water then dropping back into the water. I am screaming, Beau is cleaning up blood, Shaman is telling me that Dolly is yelling that I’m not talking to her, and Glow Bug wakes up.
This night was chaotic and not happy; however, we got everything downstairs moved. Glow Bug went back to sleep almost immediately, Beau’s thumb stopped bleeding long enough to get our work done, and Nessie lived through the ordeal. I, on the other hand, may not; after all, this was only the first day.