Hot Weather and Missing the Single Life

I really do love my children, usually my stepchildren and mostly my domestic life. However, there are those few times that I miss my old single life. Hot weather in the South, especially during a heat wave summer like this year, makes up one of those times. When I say "hot weather in the South", I am talking about temperatures somewhere between 95 and 102 (our recent highs) combined with humidity anywhere from 45-72% (yes, it really can get that high and not be raining). The combination gives this delightfully oppressive feel, in which you feel as though you will implode upon the merest exertion. The kind of weather where you take a cold shower, and when you step out of the shower you are sweating.

Weather like this reminds me that old Marilyn Monroe movie The Seven Year Itch, a delightful comedy. There is this one scene in which her character explains how she keeps cool in hot weather - she puts her underwear in the freezer. It's not such bad idea, and one that I have actually resorted to using a few summers here and there. That brings me to today's thoughts which are how to keep cool in hot weather. Naturally that turned me to some of the things I used to do but that I can't anymore - they are the types of things that are best done as a single girl.  Here are a few of my favorites:

• Underwear in the freezer: Seriously, don't underestimate this little gem.
• Laying naked under the ceiling fan: This works very nicely, even in just your underwear
• Cold shower and light duster: Does anyone even know what a duster is anymore? Probably not, and I am not really that old myself. But they are delightfully cool. In a temperature way. In a fashion way, you are not cool. You are more Endora from Bewitched.
• A pint of ice cream for dinner: Not exactly the best example for your children, although it does have calcium and meets your daily dairy requirement. 
• Doing absolutely nothing: While this is not necessarily best as a single girl, it's only literally impossible as anything other than a single girl. Children? Heaven forbid a man in your life? You will never know the pleasure of "doing nothing". 

These days? I just crank up the A/C and threaten bodily harm to anyone that dares to leave doors or windows open for more than the ten seconds it takes to in or out.  Yes, I realize I included windows in the concept of going in and out - I do have teens, remember? And in this heat? If they really want to sneak out the window at 2AM? Just be sure to close the window.

I am all moved in... I think...

Hello my friends! (My - that sounds a bit John MccCain-ish now doesn't it?)

I just migrated over here to Blogger from my former "won't reveal name" host. It wasn't bad, don't get me wrong. I just think Blogger fits my needs a little better. Besides, I already had my Fearless Stepmom site hosted here, so what was I thinking going elsewhere? Apparently I wasn't thinking.

I am still working on my layout, graphics, design, etc. so please bear with me. And please feel free to give comments, suggestions, etc. I am using a template, but I am working my way to my own unique design. Just keep that in mind as I wing my way through this project.

I have also put up some pics of the family, which you can see in the slideshow on my sidebar. Now you can start putting faces with the names (well, initials anyway). I'll be adding more so you can see a little more of my Domestic Life and, of course, the Chick.

My eyes are now blurred from staring at templates, coding, widgets, and more all day long. I think I'll go ahead and take a rest tonight. But tomorrow I'll be back with more tales from the home.

Hmm... that sounds kind of like "Tales From the Crypt".

That's probably not too far off a description... but as for describing me as the Cryptkeeper? I don't think so, thank you very much.

Maybe we just need a PO Box... you can't hit those.

I promised yesterday that I would post about the tale of the mailbox. Over the last several years, we've seen the mailbox hit, mangled, repaired, bashed, and repaired again. It's like lather, rinse, repeat.

My first encounter with our mailbox was when I first met my husband, and I visited the house. It was a nice, small, black mailbox - tucked out-of-the-way so it would not get hit by someone in the driveway, far enough off our road to not be hit by random drivers, yet still accessible to us. What could go wrong? Apparently everything.

It was first hit by the friend of my husband's oldest daughter. Her friend, we'll call her S to protect the guilty, was backing out of the driveway when we heard a tell-tale shriek of metal. We turned around to see S stop her car, then get out to investigate any damage... to her car. Seeing none, she hopped in her car and with a cheery wave off she drove. We could see the damage to the mailbox from the driveway - a nice long streak down the side and a slight tilt to the post. DH corrected the tilt, reinforced the post, and tried some touch up on the paint. It worked.

A few months later, we came home from an outing. Attack number two had occurred in our absence. This time the post leaned significantly to the side, and the box was hanging partially off the post. Once again, tools in hand, DH corrected the tilt, reinforced the post and this time realigned the box. A few reinforcement screws to the mailbox secured it more tightly to the post.

By this time, we were scratching our heads over the poor mailbox. Then it was attack number three - this time by me. I was backing out of our driveway when I realized what a hazard this little black box presented. For such a little thing, it sure can make a nice long engraved slash in the paint on the car. I didn't damage the mailbox too much, so again DH went out to make the repairs. By this time, he was getting most frustrated and to this day I hear laughter regarding my encounter with our mailbox. My DH loves to say that I heard the shriek of grating metal and continued to drive on with a "What's that noise?" and shrug of the shoulders. Not quite accurate, but can be irritatingly amusing at times.

So, by now, I am seriously thinking we need a new mailbox. DH agrees, since he was actively eBaying at the time and receiving large packages on a regular basis. You know it's bad when the UPS man still asks about the kids and realizes the 7-year old is now old enough to start college in the fall. However we put it off for some reason - maybe our ESP at work? Yes, it was attack number five.

Number five came from a random truck in the neighborhood. We saw the moving trucks come into the neighborhood. We feared. We waited. We finally left the house on an errand. In our absence, yet again, the mailbox was hit - this time mangled. No note. It was as if the driver never noticed. How can you not notice a large post snapped at the top and the mailbox on the ground? I know... rhetorical question.

We replaced it this time with an extra-large box and reinforced post. It was fine for a couple of years. Yes, we actually made it two years. Then, we had this:

 

The local county workers were out paving the main road - the one you see beyond the mailbox on the other side. We live off that road on a side street. Somehow they found a way to mangle the mailbox and knock the post sideways. They did come back later and replace the whole thing - post, larger mailbox, new numbers, we were upgraded.

When we spoke to the driver, he said "I was trying to watch the mailbox when I heard a loud shriek of grating metal."

I looked at DH and said, "I think it's time we just get that P. O. Box. Nobody can hit those, can they?"

It's 4:00 am, I'm up, and good books rock

Today (well, technically yesterday at this point) was rather exciting. Our mailbox was demolished for about the fourth (fifth?) time in the last five years. I have pics and will be posting about all that tomorrow.

Most of tonight has been spent working on my two blogs - yes two. There's this one, which is all about my domestic life. I figured out that it would be best to let this blog concentrate on my love of books, cooking, and general parenting and family life. So, all the little parts of my home will still appear on these pages. However, the part of my life that seems separated - the part of my with a fractured family - is relegated to my other blog: Fearless Stepmom. I started that one back several years ago, when I decided to blog about my experiences as a custodial stepmother. Later, it was those experiences that completely sidetracked that venture into near oblivion. Fortunately, it's still there, and I am now organizing content between the two sites.

The best part has been all the fun I have been having. I have been searching out lovely templates, backgrounds, stock photos and other goodies. There will be changes to both, but hopefully things will be settled soon and then I can really concentrate on awesome material - such as fabulous book reviews.
I have been an avid reader as long as I can remember - which is one reason I chose to major in English Literature in college. I guess I still dream on some level of being a writer - more glamorous to me than being discovered for Hollywood. Most women would dream of being an Angelina Jolie - personally I think Diablo Cody is much more cool as far as Hollywood goes. As far as writers, I think being Kathy Reichs would be about the ultimate. Can you imagine hanging with Booth and Bones for a season?

Right now, I am reading a good book on my Kindle. It was a promotional one, offered for free recently. Let's just say I am now a fan of Steve Martini thanks to the free promotional copy of Shadow of Power. What an excellent suspense story- the only bad part about working on my blog is that it is taking me away from finishing the book. Which would be why I am up at 4:00 am with relatively little complaint. The sun will be coming up soon, but there's still time for me to squeeze in a few chapters after finishing this piece.

That's the beauty and magic of a good book. Sometimes it can lull you into sleep, other times it can keep you awake with no complaints at all.

Magic.

As Tired as a Dog on a Sunday Afternoon...

I am so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open, must less type. I am working on my next blog, which is about my favorite past-time: reading! I love good books, and I will read nearly anything I can get my grubby little paws on. I will go into more detail on that in my next post, which will be up sometime tomorrow.

Night all. Sweet dreams.

I'm in iLust

I was in Atlanta (well, close enough) this past weekend visiting my mother-in-law. She's a delight, and we always get to shop while I am there. This time, DH went along and we hit the Best Buy (larger than the one closest to our home). I was meandering around the store while DH shopped with MIL. My teens were looking at cell phones and MP3 players (should I have guessed anything else?), so I took my four-year old (who was happy behind the wheel of her race-car shopping cart) and browsed around. Then I saw it.

The display.

A large table... a large gray board behind it. One white logo - an apple.

And on the table was my virtual playground - the iPad. I fell in lust immediately. For anyone that has just crawled from under a rock to read my blog - you can go here http://www.apple.com/ipad/ to learn more about it. Here's a nice little picture:

There were multiple iPads for customers to touch, feel, play, caress... oh I am getting carried away. Suffice it to say, after a few minutes whipping around that touch screen I was hooked.

Now, for most of you this could be "so what?". But you do not understand the full significance. The last time I touched an Apple was as an undergraduate (we won't specify just how long ago that was, but the comparison between a newly launched Windows and the Apple was the hot debate). When I say Windows, I mean a version prior to 3.1 - which itself was long before Vista. I had eschewed all things Apple and starting with an "i" before the name. I kept thinking how nothing is compatible with a Mac platform - I would never find programs, I wouldn't be compatible with any of my friends, and so on and so forth.Then there's the DH - a computer geek that has spent many an hour (even day) building and rebuilding all the computers in our house (do you know how frustrating it is to turn on your computer only to realize you must reload all your programs because your loving husband just upgraded your computer for the eighth time in one week?). Talk about having an iAttitude. I knew I had a greater chance of sailing with him on the Titanic than I did taking home an Apple. We all know the Titanic is a little less than seaworthy these days, so that should clue you in to my chances of success. So, compatibility with the DH would reach all-time low should I even consider an Apple.
After today's date with an iPad - I don't care who or what I am compatible with or what programs are available. I found plenty on that little device to keep me happy for a long time. And if I get bored? There are about a million more applications that I could download from iTunes.

I am a good little iSheep... I have been assimilated.

And that was before I found the grandbaby of them all. A nice 27" Mac... it had a gigantic screen. So glossy. So high-def. It was gorgeous... then I remembered. The screen is the hard drive and is the whole computer. No bulky box at my feet. And then there was that straight from the Enterprise deck keyboard and mouse - totally wireless, sleek metal gray. It was beautiful and bliss all packaged right up.

So I was still worrying about compatibility (the way I consoled myself since I was already reconciled to the fact I would not be driving away with one of these beauties).  DH was still wandering in other parts of the store but headed my way - so compatibility was definitely a concern. I still had a two-hour drive home with him in front of me. Like magic, there was the representative. And guess what he could mind read? You got it - and he erased all my concerns about compatibility.

Did you know today's Mac can run Windows programs?

Did you know it can even let you view Windows documents and spreadsheets and all that jazz?

Let me just put it out there, since there are some things you can't view.... Did you know it can even run Windows?

Yes, why yes it can. I am there. All I need is the Mac, the Mac Book and the iPad, and I am a happy little momma at home.

Fortunately, my DH loved the sleek design too. He said we would see what we could do for Christmas.

I love that man.

Mom vs Mouse - The Bloody End

I took a little time away from the computer for the Fourth of July so I never got a chance to update on Pierre, the aggravating mouse. He finally met his bloody end on Saturday morning.

By this time, he was venturing into other rooms. As a result, the mousetraps stalked him about the house. On early Saturday morning I heard a loud snap in my daughter's room. A quick check revealed an upside-down mousetrap inside the basket. Because I didn't want my hyperactive four-year to accidentally - and literally - run across the mousetrap, I placed it inside a shallow basket. With very slick plastic walls. I then baited a trail with birdseed and sunflower seeds - they love those - to the basket and inside. He climbed the wicker outer shell, fell into the basket and snapped the trap. I win!

I got DH to check the trap because the only thing worse than a rodent is a bloody rodent. No rodent in the trap but his bloody remains had been launched to the other side of the basket. So DH disposed of the mouse.  Despite his objections that we could clean it up (after all, it was "just a mouse"), I had him also dispose of the basket.

End result? Mom - 1 and Mouse - 0. Life is as it should be.

Mom vs Mouse: Day Two

Here it is just past midnight and a few minutes into Saturday morning. My goal of posting daily has officially been shot down upon my second real post. Which brings me to Thursday's post about my furry friend Pierre - the house mouse squatter. It was only yesterday (it still feels like Thursday is yesterday so just bear with me) I battled with Pierre at 5 in the morning.

Two mousetraps, cheese and birdseed bait, and much frustration later it's been a two days since I have seen my furry friend. He disappeared sometime mid-morning on Thursday. All stayed quiet through the remainder of  Thursday and most of today (Friday). Until a few minutes ago.

Yet again the little beast chooses to wait until I am stressed to my last nerve before popping around to let me know he's still stalking the household. I was mentally preparing today's blog about the stress of having a tween and teen, both girls, living in the same house. Between their typical drama (which reached heights exceeding the entire soap opera industry today), I dealt with a hyperactive pre-schooler that is too smart for my own good. It's probably fine for her own good, but I can foresee her dancing circles around me by the time she makes it to the teen years. Heaven help me now.

After surviving the two girls getting to the point of strangulation with one another, neither completing their daily chores, the pre-schooler finding a new obsession with balloons that go POW! when you pop them (this happening repeatedly), a husband who had a bad day, an aunt who broke her ankle, and the oldest stepson (OSS) dropping in at the last minute with his former girlfriend who is back as his girlfriend because she got pregnant with what they think is his daughter who also came and is adorable, and feeding all these crazy people a decent meal... I was ready for a long hot shower, a quick blog and good book. Not so fast.

Before I can say "hot water", my oldest stepdaughter (OSD) has a meltdown of Three-Mile Island proportions. Let's just say bad day at work for DH now equals bad evening at home for OSD. And more stress for me, because really, is anyone ever calm after the firestorm? Nah, didn't think so.

OSS then calls back. He's at his apartment that he shares part of  the time with the girlfriend and their daughter but also apparently his mother (DH's EX) although she also lives part of the time a couple of cities away with her boyfriend that nobody claims is her boyfriend but is the same place that OSS lives when he's not living in our town with the girlfriend. Got that? Don't worry, I stay confused too.

So OSS was in the dark - literally. He said they had to catch up on the power but his mother didn't pay her part before she went to jail (she has more tales for titillating posts than this place has room) so now they are stuck with no power. Well, they could have power if they had the nearly $1000 it will take to turn it back on again. Don't even ask. He asked if he could come spend the night with us, since his girlfriend went to her parents' house to spend the night. One former bedroom, waiting and ready.

By that time, I am living the brief sanity a shower will bring because I dare DH to join me. He will get the pleasure of holding down peace in the Middle East while I take a shower, thank you very much. If I can do it for the 12 hours he is at work, he can do it for the 30 minutes it takes me to shower. Until, that is, Pierre makes an appearance. Everyone is getting settled down for the night, when pitter-pitter-pat his four little paws scurry across the floor of our living room and into DD's bedroom. I guess he fears a pre-schooler the least - oh little does he know. I think we've already established he's not the smartest mouse yesterday, but this was the final exclamation point of stupidity. It would have only been worse had he run towards the fire-breathing drama teen OSD.

So, mousetrap is now moved and placed in a place that is hopefully pre-schooler proof. Yeah right, in my dreams, and all that.  It's freshly baited. It's got a trail of breadcrumbs (not too much, not too little but juuust right for little Goldimouse). I am waiting. And yet, I still watch my door carefully because I have this odd feeling he will manage to eat his little delights, avoid capture and come mock me yet again outside my door.

Have I mentioned how much I hate mice?

I hate cats, but I hate rodents more.

I think I need a cat.

He's no Stuart Little...

So, I was awake almost all last night - it's been a stressful week and yesterday just capped it off with a bang. DH left for work around 5:00 AM, and as I was still awake I put on Hell's Kitchen that I DVR'd recently. As I lay in bed, relaxing and about to go munch on some Doritos, I glanced toward the bedroom door that leads to the kitchen (yeah, yeah, idiotic layout). About that time, I see a furry nose - a tiny, brown, floor-level furry nose. It poked rather curiously around the corner, but disappeared before I could react. Well, other than to fly up to a sitting position. It was a house mouse - a field mouse until he apparently moved in with us.

The little nose poked around again, this time more boldly sashaying into the room as I instinctively tried to scare it. I barked - like a dog. (Hey, it was 5:30AM and I hadn't slept all night, okay?) He just waddles on in, cockily looking at me while he hugged close to the bookcase. Then disappeared - oh lovely. I suddenly thought "Wait! These guys are supposed to be timid. The old "more scared of you than you are of them", nocturnal, dark and quiet loving kind of creature." So, why was this little guy running toward the light, noise and big mean dog (that would be me, since I barked). Apparently, I have not only a house mouse, but a moronic house mouse.

At this point, I yelped. To my utter humiliation, I sounded like some helpless female from a bad romance novel.

What would a heroine do in those books? Well, definitely nothing heroic or brave - that's what her hero is for, right? So, I called up my local hero - that would be DH - for him to race to me in his chariot - that would be our ancient Toyota Camry.  Being the 21st century and all, I paged him. My knight in shining armor (aka clueless husband) laughed at me. He said, get this, "It's just a mouse."

Just a mouse?

Excuse me?

That's what they said in the Dark Ages about those little rodents of death carrying bubonic plague. Rats - mice - all carries of the Black Death. Today, they are still germ-infested, probably rabies-carrying, filthy vermin. If that things bit me, my needle-phobic body would have to endure multiple shots over multiple weeks. Not. Gonna. Happen. I wouldn't even feel clean after a full Silkwood shower.

At this point I am weeping. I have a cheeky mouse, a DH lacking empathy, and a body that has at last reached critical mass from all the stress. So, while DH laughs at me, the mouse doesn't go hide. No, he has to peek, run and cheekily turn and moon me while he whips his tail into what I swear was a rude gesture. Dh didn't believe me, so I hung up on him and called my mother. She has empathy. She told me to name him so I would feel better. I immediately thought, "dirty. cheeky. rude. French. His name's Pierre." (No offense to the French, well, okay - I used to live in Europe and was married to a Brit, so yeah, I guess there is some offense there.) So, I named him "Pierre", the cocky, cheeky, stinky mouse with the "Screw you, you dirty Ameri-cain" attitude. He was no Stuart Little, and there was no way I was adopting him like a son.

In the end, my knight bailed on me to stay at work. After having a hearty laugh at my expense. He didn't help by speculating on how Pierre got in the house - apparently through our back door. We would have to have the Michael Jordan of mice, so I felt better. Until DH politely corrected me by saying mice can jump quite high. As well as climb walls, kind of like Spiderman. Thanks DH. I am thinking of changing that D to an A.

As it turned out, my father (my original knight in shining armor) came to my rescue with mouse traps, bait and even a pellet gun in hand. It was better than the ballpene hammer he originally got - I put that idea to rest rather quickly. The only thing worse than a live rodent running around spreading germs is a dead rodent lying around spreading blood and brains all over your wood floors. We set the traps, I hid them so I don't see them - no sense actually watching the death sentence carried out.

I'll update tomorrow on me versus the mouse. Hopefully the new score will be me-1 and mouse-0.