2,190 Days

By the time Sam and I pull out onto the highway in our UHaul next week, I will have been a Nashville, Tennessee resident for 6 years almost to the day. That's 2,190 days here or 52,560 hours. I've called Clearview Drive, Central Avenue, Brownlee, and White Brige Road home. I've had only three roommates (plus Sam). I've had four jobs but only interviewed for one of them. I've had one other job interview since I've been here and it involved getting pseudo-kidnapped and taken to Kentucky (I later turned down their offer). I've been through five cell phones. Four of them have been Nokias, and one Motorola. True Story. I've had one car totaled by a sweet lady WWII veteran, and sold another on Craig's List. I've been introduced to Korean food. I've had three dogs and two cats (some for longer than others).

I've been to seven bachelorette parties (really only two in Nashville) and three (only three?) baby showers. I've lost track of how many weddings, but I have travelled to eight different states to attend them.

I've written a feature screenplay and pitched it to a big whig. Discovered my heart swells with excitement whenever I am on set. Acted in a dozen films, ranging from 10-minute student shorts to 50 million dollar disney pictures. Done therapy with close to 50 children, and I hope helped most of them.

I've loved a lot and had my heart broken. I may have unwittingly broken a few as well. I met my husband and had a beautiful wedding. I leave this town with some friendships that have stood the test of time and are even stronger than they were six years ago. Lost some friends and don't know why.

I've learned a lot about myself and about life. I may never like olives, and I have stopped trying. I hope to never return to 9 to 5. The dentist is expensive. So is insurance. People STILL don't get how good the music in Nashville is. Some brilliant ideas that should be making someone piles of money are not, and a lot of stupid ones are making plenty of people rich.

Now that I'm re-reading this it's reminiscent of a chain letter. Which leaves me with only one way to end it....
Pass this letter on if u luv your friendz!
That's something else I've learned about myself. Always trying to make jokes when I start getting sad.
Here's to the next 2,000 days.

Ellie Roosevelt Williamson

I came back from a baby shower a couple of weeks ago and found Sam pouring over the Humane Society website with a mischievous grin on his face. "I've been to the humane society..." he started. "I fell in love with this dog. I almost brought her home but that's not how the Williamsons do things. I hope you say it's ok to get her." The next day we went back and checked her out again. I have to say the people at the Humane Society LOVED her. Every time we would start talking to an employee they'd say in a half-whisper "You know Ellie is the best dog here." She is 10 months old, and fully housebroken. Apparently when she first arrived as a pup she was WILD so that won her a ticket into the PPUPS program, a doggie school in the women's prison here that trains dogs as part of the women's rehabilitation. She spent four months there before returning to the Humane Society, and knows a long list of commands (I'm still trying to memorize them all).

At first I was a little disappointed at the prospect of having a fully trained dog. Being that my work background involves behavior modification, I've been relishing the thought of molding a young pup into a well-behaved furball. But, as I've gotten to know her, I'm seeing there's still things to work on. She's rather skiddish at night and especially wary of bushes (yes, bushes). She gets separation anxiety whenever Sam and I leave for any period of time (which is a real doggie ailment that involves whining, and pacing the house with anxiety). She also loves other dogs and wants to play with them whenever we see one in the neighborhood. She is what I would describe to friends as a "boy dog," ie, she's a little too big to be a lap dog (although she tries anyway) but she can run really really fast and jump really really high (characteristics which I've always found that boys appreciate in dogs more than girls).

A few other things Ellie loves:
Chasing Bunnies
Riding in the Car
Going for Walks
Throwing dog toys up in the air and catching them
Birds
Running like a cheetah

A couple of years ago, I started really wanting a dog. I came up with an imaginary name for her: Eleanor Roosevelt. The fact that her name was already Ellie was funny to Sam and I and of course, as she already answers to it, we'll keep it as is.

On Putting Down Roots

I can't tell you how elated I am at the prospect of being somewhere more than temporarily. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it's all temporary, really, but I can't remember the last time I had all my boxes unpacked and all my pictures up on the walls (I can, actually, it was circa July 2006 in a sweet little house on Central Ave. Mary and I had pooled all our stuff into one charming abode. Since then I have lived at my parent's house, where most of my stuff sat in the basement for about a year, and at Dunham's Station, where our dining room has served as a holding place for our boxes for the better part of six months).

It's weird, I feel like I haven't gotten a chance to have a "home" for Sam and I since we've been married. We've been in this holding pattern of waiting to move and/or putting up with less than spectacular aspects of our apartment (see haikus below) and I can't wait to be somewhere and get settled in. Not to mention being somewhere that not a soul has ever lived in before! A brand new balcony, oven, windows, doorknobs, of our very own!

I really enjoy creating an inviting atmospehere, cooking for friends, and generally opening my crib up to others to enjoy. I feel like Sam hasn't even seen that side of me as a wife yet. It's been a strange an interesting time--giving away or selling a good part of our belongings. Finding out I really haven't missed any of it. It's refreshing, in a way, to not have a bunch of stuff bogging you down, especially as we get ready to start a new chapter of our lives.

Stay tuned as we pack up what's left of what we own in the next couple of weeks and head north! Hang on! It's going to be wild!

Dunham Station Haiku #6

On newly hatched birds that live in the corner of our living room wall

Nest of baby birds
Why must you squawk all day long
Go find a nice tree.

Dunham Station Haiku #5

In honor of our last month at our apartment, I will be writing a series of haiku's that detail some of the Dunham Station's most interesting characteristics. There is a retro charm to the place not found in most modern apartment buildings, and it's small enough that Sam and I have nicknames for many of the inhabitants here ("Firefly girl," "crazy guy," and "redneck dad" just to name a few)...it is a bittersweet parting...but mostly just sweet.


Neighbors

Laughter from below
Cigarette smell seeps through walls
Late night lovers' quarrel

Dunham Station Haiku #4

Crazy Guy

Always arranging
Mountains of stuff in your car
While shouting strange things

Dunham Station Haiku #3

Levi

Your dad yells a lot
You smile, wave to me outside
You need a mother

Dunham Station Haiku #2

Birds

Live in our building
Make nests in our window pane
Sound like dinosaurs

Dunham Station Haiku #1

Laundry Room

fat cat sits by door
a dollar fifty per load
corner smells like pee

Happy Early Easter!

In honor of Easter and the Cadbury egg (my favorite Easter treat) I thought I'd post this for anyone who hasn't seen it. Because it's awesome. http://www.aglassandahalffullproductions.com/

An evening in the Big Blue Twilight Zone

I enjoy the passion with which my husband's family roots for their team. As a transplant Texan in a town where you could be a fan of any number of winning or losing teams (here, VOLS, Commodores, Rebels, and sundry superfans live together in one mega-melting pot of fandom) I can appreciate that in Lexington, Kentucky, there is only one team you watch and one team you root for. There is a simplicity and dependability in this not found in most facets of life. This past weekend we went up to hang with husband's fam, and I couldn't help but be, to borrow my grandmother's phrase-ology--tickled, at the turn of events.


Background: It's the SEC men's basketball tournament in Atlanta, and Kentucky is supposed to play, but due to tornadoes whipping through the area the game has been postponed and everyone's just kind of standing around eating nachos. There's a lot of talk about getting people in and out safely, if the bad weather that's already come through will return, etc. etc. This goes on for hours, and they finally decide to put the game off until the next afternoon. The camera crews literally go around interviewing the same three people for two hours, and they keep saying the same thing. I find this hilarious, but no one else in the room seems to notice the hilarity. They seem to be watching silently a) in reverence to the team b) in hopes that they will catch a snippet of pulitzer prize winning journalism on this subject c) their brains were stolen by aliens while I was in the bathroom.

When it gets interesting: When it's all said and done the 11 o'clock news has become the 12:00 am news, and I'm thinking to myself, finally, some other topics of discussion! There's only so much you can say about a game that never happened and a storm that has done some damage, mostly in other parts of Atlanta. But then a few minutes into the news I realize something: every area of news is revolving around Kentucky basketball. Again I look around to see if anyone is noticing the hilarity, but everyone is just glued to the tv. The news went a little something like this:
Lindy Binderton:"Our top story tonight is on the tornadoes that whipped through Atlanta postponing the game indefinately. Fans are pissed! We're pissed here at the newsdesk! Let's get a look at the weather..."
Weatherman Thompson:"Thanks, Lindy. You can see the path of the storm as it moved through the metropolitan Atlanta area hours ago. There could be more storms hitting the outskirts later on this hour. If that happens it could affect where the Cats play tomorrow. Back to you, Bob" (notice how the weather in the actual city where we are, Lexington, never comes up!)
Bob: "Let's head over to the streets of downtown Lexington, where Lot Smiley has seen how the fans are reacting. Lot?"
Lot: "Bob, you can see the streets of downtown behind me, are not in their usual bustling state (it is a well known fact that the downtown streets of Lexington are never bustling.) When fans in the bars downtown found out the game had been postponed until tomorrow, I witnessed them stare at the television. They couldn't believe it. Some of them were surprised (PS, this would only be news if you are a fan, heard the news, and set yourself on fire or jumped out a nearby window. Continuing to watch the program you were watching is not news.) Back to you Lindy!"
Lindy: "Let's go to a commercial break"
*All of the local commercials feature Kentucky's Basketball coach, holding a sandwich, standing in front of a car, and kissing babies. It's sort of eerie, like that movie where John Ritter is stuck in the tv and stars in every show that's on? You know the one. He (Billy, not John) must make a boatload in promo/endorsement money.*
Lindy: "Now let's go to the director of the tournament, who's standing by..."And on and on for the rest of the newscast.

Postscript: The Cats went on to lose to UGA the following day in a heartwrenching overtime. UGA would win the tournament,
but Kentucky's fans, and the team, will be back. And when they are, you can bet Lexington we'll be covering it, round the clock, in it's entirety, with only kentucky basketball coach (tell em billy sent ya!) approved commercial breaks. That's how they do it up there.

My Friend, Don't Be A Jerk...

My wife and I are nice people. Believe it or not, we don't suplex people for not turning their phone on vibrate in the movies (though we should) or slap a fool for jumping in line on the ski lift or anything ridiculous like that. I'm a firm believer in the good cop approach. But I'll tell ya' it always helps to have that ONE friend who loves to be the bad cop. I don't understand the people out there who refuse to be cool. It's like Desperado, they have to settle the score with someone, anyone, EVERYONE. Which brings me to my current confessional. I have always worked in a business somehow closely related with the very people I'm speaking of. I'll be nice to anyone. I'll try to help you. I'll get you what you want, even if it's incredibly annoying. Are you the diner who wants water, no ice, extra lemons, three straws, plenty of Splenda, and all the free chips and salsa you can eat? No problem! Coming right up! Are you allergic to everything to the point where you really shouldn't have left your protective sweet-ass human sized bubble and venture out but you just HAD to have that specialty dish your way? Hey, it's not on the menu buddy, but I'm gonna make that happen because you're special. And don't kid yourself killer, I'll be happy to talk to UPS because they didn't get your microphone to your movie set in time (even though you gave me the wrong address).
But don't be a dick about it. It's not my fault that the figurative you happen to be high maintenance individuals. I'm a problem solver baby. After kickin' it 40 hours a week, you might be surprised to learn that I don't work a second job because I think it rocks. I have a good time with restaurant folk though and we're a hearty bunch. If you, the diner play your cards right, we're gonna have some drinks, some snacks, and get through this together, having a relatively fun time while we do it. In case anyone was wondering, my sweet wife doesn't slog around at her second job after changing autistic kid's lives so you can be annoying and ugly to her while she makes an hourly wage.
I think people forget what it's like to just be cool. That the working class (and I mean ANYONE who works) is gonna be way quicker to help you the customer out if you're just nice and you smile and don't freak out about little problems that crop up. I read somewhere that it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile. I don't know if that's true. But just remember it's way easier for me to help the nice, relaxed person before I go the extra mile for the jerk off. But if you insist to being THAT guy (or girl) then roll for Initiative, pal. Because I came here to do two things; kick ass and eat Gummy Bears...

Where the *&$%@ Did They Go?

I make no apologies for my nostalgia. Which is why after my last post (and my unwillingness to admit that legally I'm an adult) I thought of a few more things have just flat disappeared. These aren't in any particular order of time, nearness to my heart, or preference, I'm just wondering what where they went.

1) You Can't Do THAT On Television - Buckets of slime dropping from the sky, kids popping out of lockers, a younger less bitter Alanis Morissette. Why isn't this show on DVD and why did it even go off the air?
2) Colorforms - Somehow, putting reusable stickers on the same background board was hours of endless fun. Cheap, wholesome fun. I will gladly give my remaining 6 1/2 Garbage Pale Kid's cards to the person that finds the fascist that took Colorforms off the market and punches them in the neck.
3) Casey's Countdown - Back when pop music really used to mean something... There's nothing better than Shaggy telling you to "Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.
4) Music Videos - For all you whippersnappers, MTV used to actually play videos. Full videos. I know. Wacky.
5) Craig Kilborn - Mark in Old School? Hello? If you see this guy, tell him to call me. I want to know where he is and what he's doing.
6) Double Dare - There's a recurring theme here. Nickelodeon and Slime. But this was family fun. Now we're subjected to My Dad's Better Than Your Dad. Thanks Studio Execs!
7) Big Wheels - The legit Big Wheel has gone the way of the Dodo. Try to find one with a handbrake.
8) Network Sign Offs - I don't want to buy your shit from 2am til 6am if I happen to be up. Just give me an F-15 and the Star Spangled Banner. We'll call it even.
9) Tears For Fears - (Thanks to Rob for reminding me of this) A mini tour in 2007 was the last we heard of these guys after almost 20 frakkin' years! Inconceivable!
10) High Dives - Public Pools don't have 'em anymore. There's no excuse for this. Now if I wanna do something extreme, I have screw up my courage and knock off a bank.

Thoughts? Discoveries? Emotionally-charged Responses?

The Good Old Days

It makes me sad that things that used to be so very awesome when I was just a squirt are nowhere near as cool, or delicious, or fun now that I'm "all grown up". I'm wondering, is it me? Generally being a glass half full kind of guy however, I've found there's still quite a few things that are just as badass as they were when we were younger. But the bad news first;
First off is Cereal. Several blasphemers recently tried to convince me that Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch was the real McCoy of breakfast delights when they were kids. This was apparently the best dessert cereal that God gave to man. I was always a sugar cereal fan when I was a kid, and I was a HUGE fan of the OG Cap'n Crunch. I figured maybe the PB version was worth checking out. I did, it sucks, stick with the red box, you'll thank me later (if you the cereal makers can't even shape your peanut butter wannabe puff like the standard Crunch pillow, we have nothing to discuss in the breakfast department).
It pains me to say that next on the list is Saturday Morning Cartoons. Namely because landmark programs like GI Joe, Transformers, Looney Toons and Gem aren't on anymore. And don't think that I don't check often to make sure. Shows like He-Man aren't the cream of the crop anymore, but we still get valuable lessons at the end of every episode like "Skeletor lost because he was a fascist". Where'd the values go? Bring back the shows that made us procrastinate doing our weekend chores!
Driving is also on the list. Remember just counting the days til you got your license? And how awesome it felt to grab the keys to the Mazda 626 and hit the road? Well those days are over. Somehow between 1996 and today, EVERYONE forgot how to merge, learned how to text on the road, and bought Hummers. Lindsey and I are counting the days til we sell our cars and hit the Subway in NYC!
So is this just because I'm getting older you ask? HELLS NO! I have irrefutable proof that I can still appreciate some good stuff from our youth;
Like Pudding Pops (when you can find them). Pudding Pops are still the most excellent of frozen treats. You can argue, but I'll sic Bill Cosby on your ass. Caprisun is awesome, just ask my wife. She loves the astronaut drink pouches! The Rocketeer is still a movie that makes me feel magical. I saw it as a kid, bought it as an adult and it holds up. Even now I want to get a rocket pack and kick some Nazi butt. Lego's are just as awesome as you remember (but now they have Batman, Starwars, and Indiana Jones sets). And regular Nintendo will still bring a smile to the most sour of faces (until I smoke their ass in Tecmo Bowl--hut hut hut hut hut hut hut!)
I'm not jaded or overly cynical. Sometimes I just miss those days when everything was equally awesome under the less harmful sun in a cell phone free world where my Knight Rider big wheel was gettin' 40 miles to the gallon of grape Kool Aid. Oh yeah!

Flowbee stylee or, how to give your hubby a haircut

Sam refuses to pay good money for a haircut (we'd rather spend it on stuffing ourselves with sushi whenever and wherever possible) and since his mum isn't around the corner anymore to work coiffing magic with her Flowbee, it was time for me to step up to the plate. I have to admit, I was kind of avoiding his haircutting pleas for a while there. Shaggy as he thought his hair was getting, I was terrified, that, like the scuba-diving incident (see honeymoon blog for details), I might unwittingly do something to put his life in danger or seriously and irrevocably maim him. I couldn't live with myself if I maimed him or his hair irrevocably. Even if I didn't maim him what if I did a general piss poor job and he had to walk around with bad hair for several weeks? Oh the horror. The horror!

He sat a chair down in front of the bathroom mirror recently and said, "It's time." I gulped. But, I knew I couldn't run away from my conjugal duties forever. I opened a new package of scissors and swore I'd give it my all. I covered the bathroom floor in plastic trash bags. I pulled up my sleeves and touched his tender follicles one last time. After a quick tutorial on how to use his trimming gadget, we were off to the races! I was a little tentative at first (the aforementioned intense fear of maiming), but after Sam reassured me about 25 times (I wasn't sure if I should believe him the first 24 or so) that there was a safety on his trimming contraption that prevented me from killing him or even having the ability to cut him, I was free as a bird! I really like this haircutting gig, it's a lot like painting. In the end, I gave him a stand up haircut. I think he was even surprisingly impressed with how well it turned out. Maybe I should add barber to my ever-expanding list of part-time jobs! For now, I suppose I will continue cutting his hair free of charge.

One more note: Look how elated Sam looks in the picture! He has wild, happy, love-my-new-haircut eyes. That one piece in front looks a little wonky, but I assure you in real life he was an absolute vision!

Ode to the BC

I don't know if there's anything that defies logic quite as much as eating a little pink pill that prevents you from having babies. For the first couple of months after Sam and I tied the knot I was convinced that I had a rare disease that would prevent Birth Control from having any effect on me. I seriously thought I was pregnant for like three weeks based on my huge levels of paranoia and several pregnancy signs that seemed to have grabbed me. It's also possible that some of these things happen to me from time to time anyway and I just was paying a lot closer attention. Like boobs hurting. Which never happens to me. Unless I'm pregnant. Or think I am in my imagination. And for a couple of weeks there, my boobs hurt for no apparent reason other than there was a little human growing inside me. Turns out they were just hurting.

I can't tell you the kind of silent horror that goes on inside your mind for those couple of weeks that you've convinced yourself there's an embryo in you. I couldn't decide whether to let Sam in on my fear, but then if I was wrong I'd really feel ridiculous for making him worry. So I just whinced every time I had a boob pain, and obsessively checked google for early pregnancy signs "Excessively tired. Am I excessively tired? I'm tired. I wouldn't say excessively. I had a nap yesterday. What does that mean?" and on and on.

You hear those stories about people who were supposedly taking birth control, and accidentally got pregnant, or people who were taking antibiotics with their birth control and they cancelled each other out. You wonder if these people really did get supremely unlucky or were very negligent. I almost hope it was the latter so something like this never happens.

It's so strange 'cause I love children and hope to have lots. It's just the idea of this enormous thing happening to that you weren't ready for or hadn't planned for. Like tornados. Or housefires. Or other natural disasters.

I'm much better now about not obsessing over my imaginary pregnancy. I mostly trust that the little pink pill is going to work as long as used correctly. At least, they say it does 98.99999% if the time.

Girlfriend in my pocket

Sometimes I wish I had a girlfriend (a friend who is a girl) to pull out of my pocket or beam onto the couch with me. Most of the time Sam and I think the same things are important, get just as excited about LOST premieres (finally!), just as upset about bad actors and unpaid writers and daft leaders, just as tickled about Dane Cook and Craig Ferguson's jokes. And there are lots of great things about living with boys, like they're really strong and can open jars and packaging. They're really good at fixing stuff that leaks or breaks, and also can kill bugs and other vermin without batting an eyelash. And boys are super talented at setting up stuff I can't live without now even though I never knew these things existed as a single person, like surround sound. It sounds like those horses/machine guns/waterfalls are really in the room with you! But every now and then, I must confess, I get really excited about ridiculous girly things, like Eva Longoria's hair is fabulous! and I've decided what shoes I'm going to wear on David Letterman! (no there's no scheduled appearance at this juncture, but it's a probable theoretical) and when I make these kinds of declarations, I usually get a "hmm," or an "ok." Not that it would make much sense for him to get excited talking about some of these topics, but I need someone to commiserate with here. A lady friend to pull out of my pocket who will also get very excited about this probable theoretical David Letterman appearance and the shoes that I will wear.

Outtakes in Wedding Portraiture

Our photographer from the big day finally has all our pictures up on his website. I was relieved to find they capture the occasion perfectly. I was a little worried since our brilliant photographer claimed to have food poisoning and spent the better part of the evening on the floor, literally, writhing on the ground. I think we were all a little worried. But, somewhere between the writhing he got a lot of great shots. Instead of putting the most picture perfect selections up, I wanted to share some that are a bit more off the beaten path:
Here are two of my beautiful bridesmaids at the wedding rehearsal. Are they sad because the rehearsal is a bit chaotic? Their hunger is about to get the best of them? They've lost the group and can't find their way back through the wilderness to their car? I love this because whatever they're pretending, it's actually not a face I ever see them make. So I feel like I'm getting to see another moment of the weekend I otherwise would have missed out on.

Here bridesmaid Cindi and I are on the wedding day. I love this because it almost looks like two separate pictures that got photoshopped together. I look like I'm about to kiss her and she looks like she just ate some bad tuna, but we still both look glowy and fab. So it's an oxymoronic wedding moment.

Mary and Drew the graphic designers! They look very dapper first of all, and also like they're about to take off into outerspace. The effect of seeing them clearly and everything else is a swooshy blur is mucho fantastico. Plus everyone else in the background looks especially ghostly, which is fitting since the whole wedding thing becomes another fleeting moment before you know it.

I am dying to know what was happening in this picture. My Mom and Will the curly haired brother are both making faces like "This is so bizarre," and Hunter the brother on the right looks like he is trying to laugh something off but he thinks it's strange too. This was right before they walked down the aisle. I have to know what caused these facial expressions.

My new husband is licking the cake off my thumb. You never get to practice for that kind of stuff. Cutting a cake and feeding it to someone with dozens of onlookers. It's weird that my thumb's in his mouth, but I think we kind of make it work.

This picture proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that my mother is a diva, and a rock star.

I'm so happy Rory got this picture. I keep hearing about how Sam's brother was in rare form, dancing, and enjoying his birthday and our wedding, which happened to be on the same day. All the women around him are clapping their hands and looking gleefully at him as if to say, "more! don't stop there!" It looks like he's just in between dance moves. I hope they got him dancing on video.

This was an out of body moment. Walking to the car with everyone waving and making noise. I couldn't stop smiling or waving, like I'd just seen all my favorite characters at Disney World. I love this pic because it looks like Sam and I are a museum exhibit, caught frozen and smiling behing the glass. You can see someone is waving back at me in the window reflection (probably because I had been incessantly waving at them).

Adventures in Part-time Jobbery

**About this picture: This Nashville woman on Craig's List will let you have her desk, but you must take her printer, baby food chopper, and other bag of crap, or no deal. People kill me!**

For the past couple of months, I have split my time between doing therapy with autistic children, working at a high end retail store, and looking for potential writing and/or acting gigs in New York. One nice thing about having a couple of different jobs is you're not at any one place for long enough that you can really loathe it with as much passion as a full-time position affords. By the by, there are some wacky goings on in the world of part-time jobs...

Exhibit 1. Craig's List run-ins. Since my schedule is different all the time, I'm often around during the day and gone afternoon/night, which makes me the ideal candidate for meeting up with potential craig's list buyers. Our first official buyer came last week to grab an extra table we had. I'd ignored some of the first few responses, based on the fact that they seemed possibly crazy and/or they wrote like this: Wud u tk 30 for it. I lke fxn stuff. tks... Since when did long words like "you" and "thanks" become too tedious for middle america to type out? So this one lady seemed really nice and we planned a rendez-vous at our apartment. After we'd set up a meeting time, she wrote back one more email that said, "Do you have any side tables?" What is this, Wal-mart? I don't think so. I was really nervous before she showed up the next morning. What if she tried to pull the "I only brought 30 dollars with me?" scam, or she was a lunatic posing as a normal person. She finally showed up, we chatted for a few minutes, and then she launches into her life story:
"It's kind of funny how I have a daughter," she starts. "Oh yeah?" I ask, innocently. "I had a son that I gave up for adoption but I was still allowed to see pictures of him until he turned 5, but then we he was about to turn 5 I got really sad. So I decided to have another baby!" Which, naturally, would be most normal people's response to that kind of situation. WHAT? And then, "I didn't like the guy who got me pregnant though, so I had to get rid of him." Good move. But wait, there's more: "But then I met my first husband at the hospital. See, I'm diagnosed with bipolar. And he's schizophrenic. I knew it wasn't a good idea so I tried to wait but then I married him anyway. But it turns out he was no good so I had to get rid of him too." Zoinks! We've got a live one! She ended with her goals for the year: "I'm still technically married to him cause I couldn't afford a divorce, so I'm hoping for a real good tax refund this year so I can pay for a divorce and marry my boyfriend, who's in jail." Oh my. The thing was, she was so genuinely grateful to have furniture. She said, "This is so much better than paying 9 dollars a month to rent a center" (I'm not sure why people use that by the way. Can't you just get a temporary one from a garage sale or something? sheesh) and didn't try to give me less money or anything. I decided that sometimes the kooks are the best for doing business with.

Finding Simplicity

The Samster and I are settling in for the coldest winter months ahead (err, it's 70 degrees outside right now) and lately he's been reminding me how to relish in simple things. My personality is one that tends to try to complicate, add on, and reinvent, which can be a good thing too, under the right circumstances. But Sam reminds me that sometimes there's nothing better than an everything bagel with plain cream cheese, no fancy fixins or makeovers, just the bagel and the cream cheese and your mouth. And pillows: he's right, not every piece of furniture needs an extra three or ten throw pillows. I'm willing to confess that some chairs work better and sit more comfortably without any extra cushions at all. Just chair. I just like to throw cute graphic, sparkly or sometimes witty pillows around because I'm a girl and sometimes girls like to do things in the name of aesthetics that may seem silly or complicated to the average hetero male. I wonder how long this compulsion to make things "pretty" has existed in woman: was there ever a time in history when she wasn't adding flowers to the corner of the room, or hanging a piece of art on the wall? Or adding too many throw pillows to the sofa? Like I said there's something both camps of thought can bring to the table, but I'm glad Sam's around to show me how he savors a bowl of plain ole mac n' cheese hot off the stove (notice how all my food examples involve mucho carbs, that's because I've got the SAD, man. I'm like a carb monster in the wintertime) I've tried to jazz mac n' cheese up with extra spices (rosemary! dill! a dash of paprika perhaps!) sausages, and a myriad of veggies, though I have to say that after all of that, plain ole mac n' cheese tastes the most delicious all by itself. I'm not the kind of person to make new year's resolutions like "I'm gonna lose 85 pounds this year," or "I'm going to walk over hot coals while beating my chest" or "I'm going to run 800 miles every day" but enjoying things at a more minimalistic (if that's a word) level is something, with the husband's help, that I hope to strive for in the coming months.