Join Me in Snarkville

There’s no other way to explain the serious issue with vacuums we’ve had in this house YESTERDAY.

As most of you know, there is a trip upcoming and frankly, since I’m insane, I must have a clean home to return to.  Thus, I was running through my house like a mad woman doing something close 9 billion loads of laundry and scrubbing toliets.

(Sidenote:  I totally am a sucker for new, make my life easier, bathroom cleaners.  I drool over the self cleaning shower thingie, but don’t trust it enough to actually purchase it.  But when I saw this thing from the scrubbing bubbles that puts a ‘disk’ inside your toliet and keeps it clean for a week — I had to have it.  Just a note, that ‘disk’ isn’t a disk, it is a giant BLOB of goo.  A giant blob of GOO that you have to explain is POSION and should not be touched ever!!  And it SMELLS — faintly like flowers and cleanser — something my toliet probably ought not smell like.  Fair is fair, I’m happy that my toliet not smell like the stuff that goes IN the toliet — but seriously, I keep waiting for the odor to go away already.  Unless this blob keeps the pottys in this house extra clean and shiny (and maybe wipes down the floor around the potty, I’m doubting that we will be reflling our ‘disks’/giant blobs of goo.)

Duke loves to clean his room if the robot comes to vacuum, so he was set on a task.  He cleaned, puttting things away (or on his bed — whichever) and waited for the robot.  We grabbed the robot set him down on the floor and turned him on - he didn’t move.  A message to tech support later and I’ve had two e-mails from the iRobot people, but not ONE of them addresses the real question I asked in my e-mail.  The best part is that I’m questioning if the person responding can actually read.

So, I vacuum the old fashioned way without a nifty robot.

Then I go to use my handy-dandy Floormate ( you know the vacuum/scubber/wet stuff sucker-upper for hardwoods) in my bedroom.  I put the thing together, though I thought I’m missing a piece.  I try to use it and I made a puddle.  Yup, that’s it.  My FloorMate refuses to suck (not dry stuff or wet stuff).  We are HOPING it is because of this missing piece that Frankenhouse ate.

So, now I’m faced with the horrors of all horrors.  I must sweep, vacuum (with a normal vacuum cleaner) and MOP my floors.  Forgive me while I sit on the couch and eat a bonbon to steel myself up for the task.

This weekend, Duke was playing in his room.  He was building a full reproduction of the transcontinetal railroad with a small reproduction of the Los Angeles highway system.  It was INTENSE.

I’m sitting in my chair in another room trying to decide if I have enough energy to actually vacuum the whole floor or just stare at my naval (It had been a log weekend — we had a garage sale on Saturday and I’m not entirely sure I’m recovered yet).  Suddenly, Duke cries out from his room.

“FIRE. FIRE. FIRE.  Mama, FIRE.”

Prince and I drop everything and head back to his room.  I can’t imagine that there is actually fire, since I’m 90% sure I’ve not allowed him to have matches in his bedroom yet.  But you never know, so we ran.

Prince makes it there first and sees Duke backing away from the bin containing even more track and pointing, “Fire. Fire in there.”

Prince looks.  Nothing is burning. “Could you possibly mean, SPIDER?”

“oh, yes.”

I’m about to admit something that is highly embarrassing.  I’ve not only seen “You Got Mail,” I’ve quoted it.  Yes, I know — it was not a celluloid masterpiece…ok, it was just rather bad.  But there was a line that I was recently thinking about.  Meg Ryan was looking for advice and Tom Hanks quoted “The Godfather.”  The quote doesn’t matter, but what does is that Hanks says, “I think the answers to most questions can be found in ‘The Godfather’.”  He rattles off a few quotes and hilarity ensues.

Well, recently, I’ve been reading a bit more of C.S. Lewis.  (I know this will shock you, but I’d never read the Narnia Series and I’m trying to read it with Duke.)  In my reading I’ve been glancing a few other of his books.  Every so often I make it farther into Mere Christianity.  I’m finding I’m loving various quotes of C.S. Lewis and needless to say I was utterly shocked that even he had something to say about my current problem with turning 35, I mean 34 and 3/2.

“Thirty was so strange for me. I’ve really had to come to terms with the fact that I am now a walking and talking adult.“

Wow, how true is that.  Maybe my biggest problem is that I’m forced with coming to terms that I’m an adult.  How truly funny.  We spend our first 18 years trying so hard to be an adult — to cease to be under the control and direction of our parents; to stand on our own two feet; to prove the metal we are made of.  Then we spend the next years ‘playing’ at adulthood.  Then we wake up one morning and realize, we aren’t able to play any more and then spend many, many years begging for someone to take all this horrible responsibility away from us.

I guess it is hitting me that I no longer can claim, “oh, I’m just young.” or worse, “If this fails I can always start over.”  Instead, I get to say, “that’s a young man’s game.”  I’m getting older and it has weight to it. And what a pain in the butt.

So, while I contemplate my naval and try to pull myself out of the funk that is the approaching 35.  I thought You’d enjoy some other answers to life’s problems, compliments of Mr. Lewis.

On Love: “This is one of the miracles of love: It gives a power of seeing through its own enchantments and yet not being disenchanted.“

On Starting Over: “We all want progress, but if you’re on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive.“

On Death: “Has this world been so kind to you that you should leave with regret? There are better things ahead than any we leave behind.”

On Life Enrichment: “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival.“

On Friendship: “Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.“  (think about this one, folks — take this one to heart and you will have more love with your friends and more friendship in your love.  But this is a HUGE risk — but I think I’ve only recently realized that real friendship is more dangerous than love.)

On Writing/Speaking: “Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say “infinitely” when you mean “very”; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.“

On Life being fair: “The real problem is not why some pious, humble, believing people suffer, but why some do not.“

Finally, on faith: “A man can no more diminish God’s glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, ‘darkness’ on the walls of his cell.” “I gave in, and admitted that God was God.“

Yes, my birthday is less than a week away and for the first time in a long time, I’m not all giddy about it.  Frankly, (and I do hope this isn’t a sign of growing up) I’m sort of not all that interested this year.

Oh sure, I told myself that since I’m going away soon, I’m postponing my celebration.  (Oh, how I hope that is the case.) But as my brithday is fast approaching, I’m realizing how few times I’ve mentioned it.

(At exactly this point, Prince is kicking himself for even bothering to buy me a gift.  He’s thinking to himself, “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t with this woman, someone shoot her and put her out of my misery.”  He also might be thinking I’m using too many parenthesis.)

I woke up Wednesday morning and realized that I’m going to be 35 in less than a week and I’m not ready.  No seriously, I’m not ready to be 35 yet.  There is so much more I have to do before I turn 35.  Since naturally, being in one’s mid-30’s means I should have finally pulled it all together and stop living like at 20 year old, right?  Of course, right.

The problem is I still do live like a 20 year old*.  For example, I make convenience foods. (There are days it is sheer force of will that I don’t live on Brown Sugar Pop-Tarts — ok, as I’ve aged, they give me heartburn, but that’s only a secondary reason for my not buying them.) (Oh, my word, I just talked about heartburn, I’m getting OLD people.)  I thought by the time someone was 35, they be eating real dinners nightly — like maybe I’d figure out how to shop for more than 1.34 meals at a time and make a dinner (consisting of meat, veggie, starch, and maybe a dessert) nightly.  (I’d also have more than one serving bowl — no need to gift me bowls people — remember I don’t cook nightly.)  Somehow, I also thought I’d be serving food family style by the time I was 35 too (thus the random bowl thoughts); but no, I dish everyone’s plate up from the stove — because why dirty another bowl just to serve pasta with butter and cheese?

By the time someone is 35, they ought to dress like a grown up.  Do grown ups wear jeans and tees every single day?  I look around at the mommies who drop their darling children off at school with me.  I see women who are pulled together with hair done and make-up at 8am; I see 20 somethings in their PJs pants (ala my college days); and I see the late 20’s-early 30’s in their tees and jeans.  I’m thinking I missed the memo that I’m supposed to be buying grown up clothing.  I mean a wardrobe that isn’t remarkably dressed up with a fleece jacket.  Apparently, I have clothing shopping to do.

A 35 year old would have a liquor cabinet.  Ok, so this one may seem odd.  But think about it, I think an adult should be able to mix some basic drinks for those fabulous people who come over from time to time.  Basically, one would like to be able to say, “Can I offer you some thing to drink?” and one of the items listed not be a juice box.  (Is this a growing up thing or a mommy thing?)

So in addition to a new 35 year old wardrobe, a menu plan (shopping/making/serving/cleaning…); I also will be scrubbing my house because a 35 year old probably ought to be able to have a clean house — or at least laundry done and beds made.

See I have too much to do before I turn 35.  Thus for the first time in my entire life, I’ve decided that I can not deal with turning 35 — since postponing my birthday will be far easier than becoming an actual grown up — in under a week.  Thus, (I’m also incapable of actually ignoring my birthday) I’m planning on not becoming 35 — I shall be 34 and 3/2.  It will be stated as “Thirty-four and three halves.”  Just like my five year old who wants to be six and thus counts his 5th year in months, “I’m 5 and a month.  I’ll be six soon.  Then I’ll be seven.”  (Perhaps teaching him to count wasn’t my smartest move.)

Oh and just so I can feel even better about my new age.  Duke declared that he has to be 43 to get a driver’s license, but that you can get a license at 33.  So Prince asked Duke (while I was driving mind you), “so how old do you think Mommy is?”  Thirty-three.  With new math, I’m technically, thirty-three and four halves.  I can work with this.

*in some ways — in other’s I’m about 92, give or take a decade.

As of this typing, I’m serious when I say I have no idea who will receive my highly valuable vote.

(Please note that I happen to vote in a swing state.  My vote can (and has) swung elections.  Now, as much as I feel that the thought that someone’s vote isn’t as valuable makes me sick to my stomach, I know that you blue dots in red states (and red dots in blue states) feel that way.  I’m just saying the state I vote in is neither a red or blue state.)

But (and my dad is going to be highly pleased by this) I have now watched both of parties conventions in a hope of forming some real opinion as to who can have my vote.  I’ve long since realized that I will not (as i feel I have never) be voting *FOR* someone as much as *AGAINST* someone.  So, since I have no love for either of our canidates, I feel I must find something to grasp to that will be the defining issue I will make my decision on.

Until I figure it out, I give you a few things that will not sway me to one side or the other:

1. I just have to get it out there, I will not vote for McCain because he has a woman as the vice-presidental  candidate.  I’m sorry, if I’m failing the cause of women everywhere, I’m not swayed to one side because one of the candidates gets to wear a skirt.
2. To that end, please stop sending me all the e-mails about how Obama isn’t a ‘natural citizen.’  I don’t care and firmly believe that the powers that be have vetted that part too.
3. Having a war record doesn’t make you powerful and not having one doesn’t mean you can’t lead.  But frankly, I’m at a point in my life that I don’t care what you did years ago, as much as I care who you are today.
4. Hardships growing up, rising above the cards you were dealt doesn’t move me to think you can lead me.  Let’s face it, no one gets to run a national campaign who doesn’t have more priviledges in life than I have.  You can talk all day long about being poor, struggling and whatever — you have to admit that you didn’t pull yourself by your own bootstraps.  You got there with help — you can admit it.  (And um, more than your grandmother, k?)
5. Your spouse, children, family, whoever, no matter how cute, will not sway me.  Though, as a mother, I have to wonder and feel sorry for all of those children under 18.  I may just be a wee judgmental (though I support any mom’s right to do what she needs to do) that there is a mama who has a YOUNG child, with Down’s, who is in essence leaving her family.  Try to tell me that the US needs her more than that child.  Try to tell me that Palin’s 17 year old pregnant daughter doesn’t need her mama more.  But, I assure you that I’m not voting against McCain because I think she needs to be home with her family either.
6. Your suit, lapel pin, bracelet, tattoo.  None of these matter to me.  Yes, I am willing to admit I want you to be clean cut, have a nice suit on, and look decent.  I do not think you need to match the flag. And in case you, like me thought that Palin and Cindy McCain were wearing the Israeli flag pin, after MUCH research, I found out that they are wearing the “Red Star Mother’s Flag” — for family members of active duty members during wartime.
7. Pat answers to hard, probably unsolveable problems.  I don’t believe that there are easy answers to the housing situation, taxes, failing schools, or even gas prices.  I firmly disagree that any of those issues (failing schools being the one that moves me today) are going to be easily solved.  I want my canidate to step up and say, these things will be HARD, it will take bending on both sides and here’s what I think can be accomplished in the short, middle, and long term.  But that’s not good politics, good politics seems to state that you promise people the impossible and then blame the other party when you won’t be able to deliver.
8. Pandering to a canidate who I happen to strongly dislike, doesn’t help.  Yes, I make no secret that I strongly dislike Hilary.  I can’t help it — as much as I don’t want 4 more years of a Bush presidency, I don’t want 4 more years of Clinton either.  While I get that there’s a need to unite, extolling her as the be all and end all of women in politics is an insult to politics and women.
9. Don’t promise me that you’ll bring our men and women home without any explaination of how you aren’t going to create a state that hates us more.  Someone with some idea, figure out how to stand up and say we should have never gone to war in Iraq, but now we need to fix a few of the problems we solved.  Someone find Charlie Wilson and give that man the $1 million for schools that could have perhaps prevented the rise of the Taliban in Afganistan.  Just saying.
10. A balloon drop or fireworks.

Ok, so I know there is more, but the reality is that after two conventions and more speeches than I care about, I am still stumped.  I know that I need to figure out what will be my defining issue.  Here’s hoping a debate or four will shed light on my decision.

Proof #1:

If you happen to be standing in a line (let’s say a grocery line) that has a balloon tied to it and there may be something close to 5 children under 7 in line, the cashier from three lines over has NO right to seize the last balloon and not call for more to be made.  In addition, the lady in the line I was standing in only was able to check out TWO people in the time the guy next to her checked out 7 (yes, I counted) but we were only in that line because it held the promise of a balloon — a balloon that, as Duke sees it, was ripped out of his waiting hands by the cruel inhuman cashier.  Fortunately there was another cashier (not *MY* horribly slow, not very bright, and incapable of doing two things at once — like counting single dollar bills), saw a kid in his line and called for more.  The mom of that kid, who’d seen my child, who was kind enough only to ask LOUDLY, where that guy was taking the balloon, gave the nice cashier the heads up for the need of another balloon.  The fact that we had to wait for it is merely a secondary joy.

Now the balloon, that balloon that we had to have, floats ignored in my kitchen.

Proof #2:

Picture it, I’m walking down the LARGE center aisle of store, say Target — just for example.  I’m walking appropriately on the right, but sort of in the middle, because they are restocking and taking up the right side of things.  Out of nowhere, ok, truly from the aisle I’m about to pass, this woman (who frankly looked like she was overdue for her methadone treatment) comes barrelling out of her aisle and cuts me off.  I stop and give the appropriate “You aren’t authorized to drive that cart” look.  She looked right at me (or through me, who knows) and kept on going.  OK, strike one.  Then she pulled to the absolute center of the big aisle allowing no one to be able to pass her (on coming traffic really liked this move) and then pulls a HARD right directly in front of me again.  I repeated the LOOK.  She then says (as if she’s a ditz, but frankly isn’t pretty enough to pull it off) “Oh, I keep pulling out in front of you.”  I’m speechless, mostly because what I want to say isn’t fit for my Duke to hear.  However, Duke can always be counted on, “Mama, why does that man keep making you stop?”  “Buddy, I don’t think they know where they are going.”  “Oh, there’s a map, right?”

I do love that kid.