calm and bright. part 2.

while still sick. and tired. oh so very tired. my night of misery evolved into a morning of joy.

I finally returned to bed sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 AM - this was after having been awake since 3, and could not stop the tears, or calm down to sleep. So I layed in bed, eyes leaking.

Clin woke around 6, and proceeded to lecture me on healthy behavior.... kind of ironic. I know. But in the early morning fatigue we both decided sleep was not an option and went downstairs to watch this - which we've had from Netflix since October 15th. What better time to conquer. Thinking it would force sleep upon me, I was wrong.

I enjoyed it.

And it calmed me down. And brightened my day. Because I wasn't so lonely. And it was the first time we've ever watched a movie at 6am.

I'm thinking we have a new Christmas Eve tradition!

seeing my shadow...

this dragged me out of hybernation; making me feel.

good.

so did the flowers on the kitchen table. surprising me with a card and a small gift of ituneage for my orange pod.

and then. your list. and i saw my shadow.

which means six more weeks. at least.

les mizing part 2.

Goodbye high school musical 2009. And what fun. I get to bask in Clin's glory and credit without having to do a thing.

Except show up for the final product. Smile a lot. And sale tickets. And last night ticket sales were the thing.

People lining up at 5:30 pm for a 7:00 pm show?

Yeah.

And a line for tickets before the ticket tables were even in place.

We sold all 1315 seats last night. 4 cases of water. 2 dozen roses. and lots and lots of cookies.

The cast was hyper.

I missed my favorite line: Le Marque is dead.

But I did see the end. And the audience roared in gratitude.

And I say it's great to get to watch the students improve without having any real responsibility for it.

Which means that I just get to sit back and enjoy.

les miserables.

Millie and Ellis sat through Clin's High School production this morning.

A middle school matinee. The entire auditorium full. And we were surrounded by adolescents. I expected faculty tossing students out, taking away cell phones, sshhhhh-ing, and all of the above.

But alas. It was not to be. My girls were louder than any students. It was as if the middle schoolers were hypnotized (which says a lot to the production quality - nice work there Clin-0). And I was the only one taking people out.

It wasn't that they were crying, or screaming. But loudly asking questions:

Mom, what is happening?

They're prisoners.

Why is there smoke?

It's fog.

Where's the bad man?

Not on right now. He will be back soon.

Why is she dying?

She is sick.

Mom, it's just pretend dying.

Yes. Just pretend.

Why did that cart fall on that man?

It was an accident.

But why did it fall on him?

I don't know. So the large man could pick it up off of him.

What is happening?

Um....those women are trying to get money from the men.....

Millie: I want to sit on your lap.

Ellis: (pushing) No, get off.

Millie: Everytime I sit my underwear goes up my bum.

That last part was screamed.

And by the end of act 1 all candy/snacks had been devoured and the girls were crying hunger. But again - it was boredom.

Although Millie did sit entranced for most of the 2.5 hours. Particularly fond of Fantine, Javert, Master of the House, and One Day More.

Ellis just liked it when everyone was asleep. On stage.

You're invited to come and like that too.

Photo from Here

dividing my time.

So I had every intention of writing lots of really, really interestingly awesome posts this weekend.

I thought about explaining the phenomenon that occurred when a sale, adorableness, whining, and short supply combined to pressure me into purchasing two Halloween costumes instead of the zero that I was planning.

Or the funny sayings that Millie and Ellis threw out Friday night. And in my head I remember saying, I have to get that on the blog. But my head forgot and another moment has been lost to time.

So instead I will tell you that Clin gave me an amazing gift. 9 hours in front of a computer. To write a grant request and grade papers. So that Saturday eve could be spent with my eyes on the TV instead of the computer. Okay, one screen to another. But it's better than most nights when I attempt to take in two screens. At the same time.

photo via dearsomeone

suspect.

At times I think that perhaps we have purchased a money pit. Friday night I flashed back to that movie. (Tom Hanks and Shelley Long. Man I loved it. You so did too.) Home from a much needed night out, and our garage door crashed to the ground.

It didn't hit anything. But the ground.

Saturday morning we learned that our garage door does not stay up on its own without a working door opener. And I became the early morning opener as Clin drove away to rehearsal. And that door is heav.vy.

Clin slow poked it to the car. And I yelled. Yeah. Unheard of from me. But you would have too. With both hands above my head.

Leave. Get in the car and go. I'm about to vomit.

I should have. I should have let it all out. To help emphasize the weight of that 6:30 AM weekend door.

So I returned to bed to think upon the pit. And noticed a cold. And quiet. As in no heat.

Which launched me from bed to find what I feared. Thermostat blank.

Money pit confirmed.

celebrating his 34th.

Happy birthday Clin-

For you I pledge to not be annoyed, or rather, not share such annoyances with you all day long. Because I'm selfless like that. Right? But feel free to be annoyed with me. Because I kind of deserve it right now. And you should tell me all about it too. That would make me feel better.

And yesterday, my gift was breaking my personal goal and eating:

popcorn,

bread, and

pound cake, strawberries, brownies, rice krispy treats, marshmallows, cheesecake and bananas all dipped in cookies and cream chocolate fondue.

It was good. But it hurt.

All for you.

Happy Birthday.

Thanks for being a year older with me. Really. I love it.

selfish. again.

Um. I know. I have a problem. But they were on sale. A really good sale. So I bought.

And then got home and realized that I didn't even buy one case for Clin.

It being his birthday month and all.

I feel guilty. About my continually forgetting. everyone but me.

And now that I re-read yesterdays post it sounds like I'm taking pride in my generic, boring, low-maintenance ways.

I'm not.

sunk.

So remember this? Thanks to a neighbor, one YouTube video, and a few phone calls to Papa Eaton, Clin was able to fix a sprinkler valve.

I know! Handiness does run in the family. Just not much patience. To get to the needed result.

But we didn't have to hire. Nor do we have dead grass.

What we do have?

Sinkage.

So now, we need some dirt. A whole lot 'o' dirt. To stuff under the sidewalk. And build back up our flower bed.

Any recommended dirt shops?

mean.

I'm not very nice. right now. And I haven't been since last night. The weather's grey, houses are flooding, and I might loose my job(s) at the end of the month. But it's only a might.

Clin is getting the brunt of the mean.

You want specifics?

He did the wash today. Nice. Except two pieces of clothing went through wash and dry without being spotted for the ginormous stains on the fronts.

And yesterday, I flipped because he flattened the boxes that I was going to use to re-store shoes. and then flipped again when he hung the tool organizer so far from the garage door, that I will have to walk down the steps to get the broom. Instead of just opening the door and grabbing.

The house isn't quite where it needs to be. I don't know what to store in the garage vs. the basement. I don't know how to organize my laundry room, or shoes. And I'm up at night, dreaming that our basement is flooding. Because it applies to me now. Since there is both rain and basements in my life.

I also worry about the length of our grass. We have a bagless lawn mower. For mulching. And it works great if we mow more than once a week. But we don't. And we live in a neighborhood where grass clippings are no where to be seen.

Serious. If I have to rake the huge field in back, I will loose more than a job.

dreaming.

Maybe it was the batch of no bake cookes that I ate. by myself. (and no, Amy, I'm not talking about the healthy kind). But I've been having crazy dreams.

In one prominent dream from last week I caught Clin holding hands with Tanya.

Who's Tanya? A friend from the high school years. Who still lives in Oregon. The only contact I have with her is through Facebook. And this past week I was impressed when she reported that she ran 16 miles. At one time. Awesome.

Back to the dream: They were sitting across the room from me. Clin was caressing her right hand with his right hand underneath his left arm. An attempt to hide it from me. So I speak up, "Hello. I see you. You're holding her hand. I'm sitting right in front of you."

He acted like he couldn't see or hear me. And everyone else in the room (did I mention that the room was full of people?) tried to ignore what was happening. After I spoke up he didn't move his hand. And so my volume grew louder as I continued to speak and wave my arms at him.

And I felt angry. but empowered that I was calling him out. and standing up for myself.

So. What does it all mean?

photo via h.koppdelaney

planning retirement.

When I retire, I request that Clin play the sentinel who led the princess meal. Singer, welcomer, and schmaltzy, schmaltzy songs. Perfect for Clin!

And I want to portray all the creepy mean characters. Cruella De Ville. Malificent. The only evil character that I saw was Cruella. And she got to be mean to everyone who came her way. I could handle that.

facebook again.

Clin's on Facebook for 1 week and almost has more friends than me. He also has a prettier profile picture. But who's comparing?

me.

And then women write things on his wall, like:

Hey! Where you been all my life? Or at least the last month?

Who writes things like that to a married man? I mean, yes, I'm reacting to current hormonal changes pre-menstrual style, but it totally sounds like flirting. Right?

So I'm trying to find some women to write things like that on my wall. Any takers?

in love.

1997 - sophomore year at college. hours spent on my bed listening to the Willie Nelson version. crying. thinking of clin.

singing this song is synonymous to having me at hello.

missing...

Dear Clin,

How are you doing? I thought that perhaps we could open a new line of communication via blog. That perhaps it might make up for the amount of time we are not seeing of each other. You know, the few minutes between your after school rehearsal, 30 min drive home, quick dinner that flows into bathing of the girls before you speed off to performance, or I run to rehearsal.

I saw you for a few minutes last night, in the shadows of the bathroom light, as I washed the stage makeup from my face. You were asleep.

But we connected somewhere around 3:00 AM when I heard a noise and asked if it was Millie. You grunted a noise that I took as yes, and it was nice to know that we were thinking the same thing.

Jackie

partying.

Happy New Year's Eve. Not usually an eve that I celebrate. I'm not one for partying. Not really my thing. So no real traditions.

When I was little my brothers and I would eat chips and homemade onion dip. And stay up all night watching Marx Brother movies. I still like chips, onion dip, and Marx brothers. But I don't like staying up all night. And I don't have any brothers around.

But tonight I have plans. I get to see what my husbands been doing with his evenings the past two plus months. And I'm looking forward to laughing. Eating. And laughing some more.

What are you doing?

apologizing...

Dear Neighbors -

I apologize if we woke you up Saturday morning. I was cozy in bed too. Until Clin came running in screaming that the sky was falling. In other words, his car was stuck in the snow.

As you know, we live in a culd-de-sac that does not get plowed as frequently as the outer streets. But this past week a miracle happened and they plowed the sac. And left two large piles of snow strategically placed so that we have to maneuver very carefully around them.

Clin decided to tempt fate. Decided to see what our front wheel drive 4 door could actually do. You know, cause he's reckless like that. And he drove it straight into the largest mound of snow. And instead of getting out the shovels, ran for me to drive, thinking his push could get us out. So did not work.

So I'm sorry for the loud engine noises. the grinding of the wheels. the smoke emanating from the vehicle. The stressful voice from Clin as he loudly wondered what the car was stuck to, and my angry reply: snow! But we completely deserve props for not swearing. That's right. We retain that for inside the house.

Sincerely-
Us

We had such great momentum. When did it end? I'd say somewhere between yesterday and the toilet. Today's advent was intended to include Clin, since he was to be home tonight.

Day 5: Address and mail Christmas cards. I included this as motivation. Even if we haven't written our cards yet, I thought that we could at least address the envelopes and then we would have to get the cards together so as not to waste the stamps. That should work. Right?

Clin decided a date would be a better celebration of the 5th. I didn't challenge that request.

We ate pizza. Real pizza. As in really good, real pizza. If you are in Orem/Provo area - go there. Now.

And then we attempted to see a movie, but missed the beginning of what we wanted to see - so we headed to Toys 'R' Us, purchased the last gift for the kids, and came home.

Stellar celebration. Much more joyous than addressing envelopes. So if you do not get a card this year, you can blame it on Clin. Blame it on pizza. No, blame it on December 5th.

sitting in.

Friday night. calm. Ready for the simple ease of sitting at home in quiet. Maybe watching a movie. Maybe eating Cafe Rio. Maybe not doing much of anything.

And then came the call.

I'm kidnapping you tonight. Clin called me last night and asked that I kidnap you.

How many of you have husbands that try to get rid of you, the wife?

How many of you have wives that then have anxiety attacks upon finding out that they are going to a nice dinner with 3 strangers and 2 friends? All of whom are the beautiful, happy, trendy, fun-loving, polar opposite of said wife.

And the emotions from the shock of realizing that this wife had not showered in how many days (we may never know), or worn much other than jeans in months, and has eyebrows that grow down and out and cannot be tamed. Even with glue.

And said wife tried to call the kidnapper in an attempt to get out of the forthcoming humiliation. And did not get anywhere with such arguments. Except for the release of more tears, a soggy puddle on the carpet, and the offense of a friendly kidnapper and the scheming mastermind husband.

The Weepies tried to calm the wife as three lanes of closed freeway traffic caused her to arrive late for the birthday dinner. A stranger's birthday dinner. Yes. Cause for more shock and awe.

Huddled in the corner was a group of intimidating, beautiful women. One wore an orange coat (of which the wife's dreams are made of), another had glasses that shined with trend and without dirt, a third sat spouting words full of dry humor and whimsy, and a fourth stood against a wall with a down to earth manner, fabulous haircut, and willingness to greet the woman with a handshake of welcome.

Eventually they ate. And they laughed and smiled, moving with life. A feeling of hope. A sense of future. Abounding in joy. Toying with the waiter, speaking with neighboring customers. The women squeezed into a booth - birthday stranger elevated halfway off the seat - all to allow the wife to be kidnapped.

They recommended food. They shared an appetizer. They discussed and laughed on topics familiar and strange.

And in the end the wife smiled. Enjoyed the slice of happiness shared. Found a diaper where a wallet should be. Echoed with a twinge of regret for sitting in on anothers' celebration. And marveled at the ease for which the women included the old soul that she has become.

Here's to friends willing to kidnap wives.

And here's to husbands who track down those friends.

hate.

So this is a post that I created one week ago. I was a bit raw and couldn't bring myself to actually post it. Now, after a week, I feel that we can all enjoy (chuckle? clear the air? find humor in?) my tantrum.




Hate, hate, hate. Anger, anger, anger. Swear, swear, swear.

Which is what I did a million times over last night. As Mr. Police ticketed me in the short maybe 5 minute drive from church to home - as I sped up in a 25 mph zone to 43. And he followed me the entire time. Didn't warn me, or try to get me to slow down.

He pulled me over before I even had time to look at the speedometer - that is how long I was driving. Because who looks at the speedometer when they first hop in the car? And on a dark, poorly lit road? I don't know about you but I prefer looking at THE ROAD.

And I cried during my entire conversation with him. And forgot that I'm supposed to give him registration and insurance. And I gave him my 2008 insurance, and then found the 2009. Why did I forget? Because I haven't gotten a ticket since 1997. Or was it 1996? And in Oregon. And that was just wrong. But another story.

He came back, and I thought my record might make him merciful - or my tears. But he gave me a ticket. And even admitted that he could find nothing on my record and asked if I had ever even gotten a ticket. To which I replied, "not since college" and I think that should have warrented a warning. Because I'm the type that doesn't break the law on purpose. I mean, I would skip classes in high school only if there was a substitute, and only if we were doing nothing, and only if I had homework that I could be completing in a different place. See? I just am not the type that the police should even waste their time on.

And, I'm married to a teacher. Policemen should understand our finances. But he didn't know that. But I blame that too.

So I came home and swore at Clin and told him he's a crap driver and now he hates me.

And I hate myself.

photo via Dystopos