Archive for September, 2009

Shopping challenge

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Before I begin…tonight, I bribed Red with Jolly Ranchers to pull out her very loose tooth (as in, hanging by a thin thread, out of her mouth). It took her two hours of fussing about it before she yanked the thing out. Don’t most kids like doing that?

Anyway, I am not a big shopper but I just got a Lucky handbag for $30 at a consignment shop and I am very very excited.

Brand new.

Canvas and leather.

I-Love-It.

I’ve been looking for something everywhere I go, AND online.

It has to be perfect, and I haven’t found “it” yet.

I am looking for a thin-ish nice quality, black, wrap around sweater.

Not some bulky thing. Not the kind that just ties in the front, but the kind that wraps around you elegantly, at the waist, with long ties, once it is wrapped that can be tied at the side..

I can’t find one and if you know what I am talking about and send me a link to something that is under $80 I will thank you profusely.

If you find one that is under $50 that is the perfect thing, I will send you a little present in the mail.

Email me thisnewplace@gmail.com or post in my comments links online.

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Home on a Friday night

Tonight is a crisp Fall night and everyone I know is complaining about being cold.

I’m loving it and love the down comforter and the fresh air without being frozen, baking apple pound cake and roasting chickens…

You catch my drift.

We’ve got the girls with us this weekend and J left for work an hour ago. He has three more weekends of the piano bar here in town, ending on Columbus Day weekend. For some reason, there are only three people in the bar and no one in the vicinity.

So when my phone rang just now, an hour into his gig, I got a little concert via iphone, he played some of my favorites before three more people (who are actually friends of ours) came into the bar.

Perhaps he will come home early tonight if they close early.

Fortunately, next week we have about 25 friends coming and then the following, is closing weekend, the nights where locals and friends and followers all join together for the last hurrah.

I can’t wait, but what lies ahead for us is exciting and unknown.

So far, he is only traveling at the end of October for a weekend for a Florida dueling pianos gig.

After that, no plane tickets anywhere.

We are still planning and scheming for the next step for both of us, professionally and hope to have something in place in a month or so. Or at least have made a sound decision about what we will be doing from here going forward.

Good thing is that we’re together.

On another note, Red got sick this week, but it appeared to be an allergy thing but she was so uncomfortable and coughing so much, I took her to the doctor.

I believe there is mold in the school.

She is now with an inhaler, a nebulizer was delivered the other day, and the poor thing can finally breathe somewhat normally again.

It;s scary, mold.

It’s in the school, other kids are sick and on inhalers. I am about to raise a stink, even if they are making small moves to fix some of the problems, the school should be shut down and repaired. Unfortunately our town has no resources for that.

When I say that, I mean, NONE.

Our town is in dire straights.

Anyone know anything about mold in schools and grants that can be given for such a problem?

So, Red is healing and will go back to school next week.

The doctor is asking me to document how she is feeling, etc, based on when she is in school and when she is not, and if this comes back once she is healed and back in school, we know it is environmental, at her school.

Interestingly enough, I talked to a teacher who told me to do the same thing because no one will listen to her…about how serious the mold problem is.

The most important thing is that we keep the kids safe, even if we have to but them out of district or to another safer building in town.

So on that note, I am off to paint a bit (I have been lagging on the professional front) and watch some tv until I fall asleep.

Sigh.

Friday night.

Hump Day-this post is pretty meaningless

I saw on someone’s Facebook status today, “Thank goodness it’s hump day”.

Whenever I hear that, I think of a dog humping someone’s leg. I don’t know why, but the word “hump” puts that in my head.

Today an old friend from my old life came up to the island for a walk and lunch. I knew her back when I dated the chef, who I was with for over two years right out of my marriage. I haven’t seen her in almost two years but have kept in touch on the phone. We only live 45 minutes apart and I loved that seeing her again and it was as if we’d hung out just yesterday.

J and I had a business meeting this morning beforehand and ran into a friend who runs a local whale watching business who invited us on the late morning cruise.

So since I had some girl time planned, he went off on a three hour whale watch.

He texted me just now.

I think he might be bored.

Not sure if he has seen any whales and not sure if he did, what kind.

Perhaps humpback…on hump day?

I also think he’s freezing his ass off.

We attempted text-sex.

It’s not quite as good as Skype Sex.

Or real people sex.

I’m pretty certain he was sitting on the deck drinking coffee and snacking on Doritos from the snack bar, while he was texting me.

I highly doubt he was doing anything else other than that.

I was eating dried cranberries while texting him and sitting on the front stoop in the sun.

Ah.

Hump day.

Piano-bar-ing with Vinnie

The last few weeks have been hectic.

We finally bought J a car.

Wanted a Prius.

Got a Toyota Corolla.

After two full weeks of mommy-hood, the girls went to their dad’s tonight for the weekend.

I am leaving in a few minutes to go to the piano bar to meet my friend, Vinnie.

I love Vinnie.

He and his partner bought my mom’s condo across town, three years ago, and that is how we met.

Vinnie drinks ALOT of Vodka and is one of the funniest people I know, even when he isn’t drinking Vodka.

Last month, he and his partner came to the piano bar for the first time, and they had not yet met J. As a note before I tell this funny short story, I will say that J plays piano while sitting in a rolling office chair. A really nice one, with a high back. It’s turned into a part of his show, he’ll roll around to people’s tables to get requests, he’ll spin around if no one claps or responds if he asks a question through the mic. It’s pretty entertaining. He mainly uses it just because it is the most comfortable thing for him to sit in while playing for five hours at night.

At any rate, Vinnie comes to the piano bar last month for the first time and sits down with me, we start our drinks and he finally leans over and goes, “OH honey, I thought he was in a WHEELCHAIR, and I’m thinking, ‘oh, how sweet, you are in love with a shaved head, piano playing man in a wheelchair!”

Vinnie thought the rolling office chair was a wheel chair and J was doing tricks on the floor with it.

Not that there is anything wrong with being in love with someone in a wheelchair, it;s just that Vinnie was a little confused and had wondered why I hadn’t mentioned it before.

My other favorite Vinnie story at the piano bar was when I was called up to sing and when I sat back down, he goes, “Oh look, someone thought you were so good, they bought you a beer!”

And sure enough, there in front of my chair was a new beer.

I looked around and go, “Oh really? Who thought I was good?”

And he grinned this grin that you’d see on a three year old and promptly squealed, “ME!”

I am raring to go, I checked my outfit, made sure my deodorant is working. (because Vinnie is very outspoken and will tell me if there is something wrong, and even though he is gay, I find this immense need to impress him, even though he isn’t the kind of friend who needs impressing, I still love impressing him…you know, I get some sort of validation when he tells me my ass is looking good or my boobs are perky today).

And now, I am out the door.

Name Calling

J is refinancing his house in Texas and the last thing to do was to file his taxes, since he filed an extension due to being out of the country in April.

We were just told by our mortgage guy that he had to either mail it in and wait a few weeks for confirmation before they could let the refinance go through, or we could just go to a local irs office, give them the goods and the check and have them stamp a copy for us for the underwriter.

So today, we drove 40 minutes to the closest IRS office.

They close from 1-2 for lunch and we got there at 12:30.

We had to take a number and waited until 12:50 for our number to come up.

When it did, the snarky IRS guy behind the desk told J, “we are closing for lunch.”

And J said, “the internet as well as the sign on the front door says you are closed from one to two for lunch, it’s ten til right now and we’ve been waiting since 12:30.”

Snarky IRS man told him he was working on something at his desk and wouldn’t be able to help him until after lunch, at 2:00.

J explained that we drove from far away and had to go before two so we could pick up children from school.

Snarky IRS man didn’t seem to care and told J to come back another time.

Now, I am not an advocate of name calling or confrontation, but by the time we walked out of there, J had called the guy an asshole, oh, about a half dozen times.

I think the guy totally deserved it.

I listened to the whole thing and totally agree. I was appalled that the guy was so unhelpful and wouldn’t just take care of a customer. I was also slightly appalled (but proud) that J spoke that way to the guys’ face.

But then, it was the IRS, right? They don’t make things easy.

Unfortunately, J still needs to file his taxes and it means he drives alot further to get them filed at a different IRS office, he has to file online and wait a few weeks, or he has to go back to asshole snarky man and hope he gets waited on.

Right now, he is off on his bike, cooling down from a very stressful day. His car broke down for the final time two weeks ago and because I had jury duty on Monday and needed my car, couldn’t get up north for his Monday night gig. We spent most of the morning chasing down a few cars we found listed online that he was interested in, and after a wild goose chase between uncommunicative dealers, found neither of them.

We accomplished very little today other than putting miles on my car, eating a really good steak and cheese sub, test driving a couple really crappy cars that were NOT what we thought they were, and J called the IRS man an asshole, many times.

I’ll be picking the girls up soon from school and considering pancakes and bacon for their dinner since I didn’t make it to the market and the fridge is fairly empty.

After they go to bed, we’ll be cracking the bottle of wine.

What to call him

I was sparked  by something I read on Memoirs of a Single Mom about calling the man she is seeing her “boyfriend” at a party, for the first time.

It made me smile because the first time I heard J call me his girlfriend, he actually introduced me as his “girl”.

Funny enough, I love it, he says that at age 47, the term “girlfriend” seems immature.

But I joke, “it makes me sound like your servant.”

And funny enough, I tend to call him my “guy”.

On the girls’ emergency form papers from school that we have to update every year, there was a space to add J as someone they can call in the event of an emergency, mainly because he lives with us and we also live two blocks away from the school.  I also added him as someone who can check them out of school and pick them up, especially knowing I am up for jury duty on Monday (gah) which kind of fouls up our schedule.

At any rate, on the form to sign him up for “able to call in an emergency and allowed to pick them up from school when I cannot” priviledges, I was faced with filling in the space that said “what is this person’s relationship to the child?”

I showed it to him and joked, “do you think I should just write in, ‘my mommy’s boyfriend'”?

In the end, I wrote “stepdad”, because that has been the role has has fallen into so graciously, immediately, respectfully and with so much love on both the giving and receiving end.

We may not be married, but as he says, “it’s like we’re married, but we’re not.”

End of the season

photoThis is me and my bottled water.

Araugh.

The boil order was lifted in our town, we are personally deciding to continue to drink bottled water until the pipes and systems are flushed out, but I am no longer boiling water in order to wash the dishes, which was getting pretty annoying.

****************

The end of the piano playing season here at J’s local gig ends Columbus Day weekend, if all goes as planned.

Labor Day weekend was absolutely nuts, the piano bar was packed to the gills.

Lots of fun.

On Saturday around 5pm, J says to me, “let’s do that song you know.”

And in about ten minutes, he learned “Make you feel my love”, a song I know the lyrics to.

Written by Bob Dylan and sung by many, some know it as a Garth Brooks tune.

I love it as the Adele tune.

So, I sang it and it went off without a hitch.

Hilariously, some guys at the bar knew it from “Hope Floats” and it makes me laugh that they had seen the movie.

At any rate, the end of the “season” signifies something I felt last year at this time when I knew he’d be gone for six months gigging out of the country.

Oh my, that was brutal.

So far, he hasn’t scheduled anything and yesterday, out of the blue, he got a call from a booking agent (who has booked him other private gigs in the last few years) who has tentatively scheduled him in four dueling piano gigs. Four of these combined, pays the equivalant of a month of take home pay of his overseas gigs.

And he’s only going to be gone overnight for each of them, over the span of four weeks.

One of them is local and my girls will be gone with their dad, so I get to “go-with”.

WOOT!

That still leaves the rest of the winter to plan for.

I will not stress or worry.

It is what it is.