Halloweentime

So, I've been totally wrong about ignoring a blog. Oops.

But I am resolving to be better about posting. Whether or not anyone is reading is unknown, but I will keep typing away.

Halloween is upon us. I am SUPER excited about this. I am taking off early from work so I can see all the adorable little trick-or-treaters. I'm absolutely sure that this excitement will fade once we are away from our first year as homeowners, but for now it's the bees knees.

Speaking of homeownership, we had a housewarming party this past weekend. I was pleasantly surprised to see that we can draw a crowd. To be honest with you, I wasn't completely convinced that we'd have that many people show up, seeing as we normally lead the life of recluses (the weirdos, not the spiders), but we did and it was a great time. Plus, we got presents.

Being the dunces that we are, Brian and I didn't even consider that people would buy us stuff. We just thought it would be fun to have people over and get to show off our new home. The presents were just a bonus I suppose.

So that's all I've got really. I am slowly (ok...not so slowly) getting excited about Christmas. I love all the fall/winter holidays, but they are all overshadowed by Christmas. I want to start looking at ornaments and decorations and maybe even listening to Christmas music, but in my heart of hearts I know that I need to wait another month before I do.

Or at least until it snows. Or is November. Which is tomorrow. :)

So, it has been a while since my last blog. Apparently, it is really easy to get sidetracked, especially if there are shiny objects around.

Big news...we actually bought the house! Very exciting. The whole thing was a nightmare come to life. When Brian and I left work to go sign the closing paperwork, we still had no confirmation that it was actually going to go through. All I have to say is that short sales are designed to make you crazy. If you want a house that is up for short sale, just resign yourself to the fact that you are going to be unhappy for several years to come, whilst living in a sub-par apartment or second choice home. You'll thank me. And so will your therapist, to be sure.

At any rate, we are homeowners. Again, I feel like at any moment someone is going to pull me aside and ask me just what I think I am doing. I am in no way qualified to make such huge decisions. Just a few days after we closed, I had a mild freak out while thinking about the responsibility that comes along with a house. I mean, right now I could rip the ceiling fan out of the wall and with the dial of a phone number get it fixed for free. I have never even given thought to a water heater before, nor do I particularly want to. But I must. And this, in a very small way, makes me sad inside.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally excited about this home ownership thing. Can't wait to move in. But, it does sort of make me realize the weight of adulthood. I don't know how my parents did it without killing one of us for bitching. I really don't.

On a lighter note, I have started to think about the decorating possibilities. I have never been able to decorate a dwelling to my exact specifications before. I've always lived with the parents, or with someone else, or something. But this, this will be my baby. Of course I will consult Brian, but in the grand scheme of things, he doesn't care. He has his lawn.

So, I have started to look at decorating books. Color schemes are fascinating. Making this home a place of our own is almost surreal. This? This makes me very happy inside.

So, I've discovered that keeping a blog is a little bit harder than I thought. Although, to my credit, it has been an especially busy few weeks.

First, we thought my mother had a heart attack (she didn't), then there were birthday parties for my grandmother and my brother-in-law (80 and 31, respectively.) And finally, it was me and Brian's one year anniversary. All very exciting.

Even more exciting is the fact that we put an offer in on a house on Sunday. We like to make all of our big decisions in the month of June (wedding, potential house purchases...look to the future for more wacky June-based decisions!)

The best part of the day was when we took my sister Jessi and her family out to see the house. We are driving by and there are several cars out in front of it. Sure enough, there is an open house. How fortuitous! We can go inside now, instead of crawling around outside like none-too-smart burglars in the middle of the day.

We walk in the door, and who do we lay eyes on? My dad and step-mom. A family affair! Adorable.

It actually was kind of nice to have everyone see it, but then I immediately felt like we were jinxing ourselves into having our offer rejected. Also, I did not appreciate the fact that people other than my family were there as well. How dare the realtor try to sell the house. She has a perfectly good offer. I think they should take it. Only time will tell.

Of course, we know that in the end things will work out as they should. But filling an open house with several family members to scare off other buyers never hurt anything.

The birthday came and went. I don't feel much different, I have to say. Although it is sort of strange to be 25. You wouldn't think so, but it feels much closer to thirty than 24 did. Clearly, it is technically closer, but I just mean mentally. I feel like any day now I'm going to be issued a cane and a subscription to the AARP magazine.

No, no. I exaggerate. But 25 appears to be a big birthday for many women. I've been told by at least 3 women that they had mild nervous breakdowns on that birthday and all of these women are over the age of 30, which I find interesting. You would think that 30 would freak you out. But I guess not. I will discover this for myself one day.

It actually turned out really well. Some of the ladies I work with gave me gifts and brought in lunch, and my nephew brought me not only a Happy Birthday balloon but slippers as well. He apparently thought this up on his own. Adorable.

Side note-- there is a conspiracy to keep me addicted to sweet carbohydrates. There was, of course, the mandatory birthday cake, and lady at work made me gigantic cookies (which I still have yet to finish), my sister-in-law sent me some cookies in the mail (delicious), and the kicker--the security officer at work bought me a German chocolate cake from a heaven sent bakery that is probably made directly out of lard. Delicious lard, though.

To combat all these triglycerides, another lady at work gave me gardening supplies. I have been told that when done right, gardening is actually a pretty good workout. Never mind that I don't have a yard. I have a balcony. I could probably plant things on it.

So I bring all this home to show to Brian. He is perusing the gifts while I'm making dinner when I hear, "Well, we're throwing this away."

I wonder to myself, what could he possibly want to throw away? Is he looking out for my health? Trying to rid me of some of these delicious, yet artery clogging, treats? No. He is holding the gardening hand rake thingy and shovel.

On the back of these tools there is a warning: California Health Warning--this product contains chemicals known to California to cause cancer, birth defects, and to cause reproductive problems.

Excuse me?

So we threw them away. I don't know why California is in the know and the rest of the 49 states are left in the dark, but we listened to them anyway.

We kept the cookies.

Happy Birthday to Me...eventually

Soon, I will enter the land of mid to late twenties. I suppose you could say that I'm already there, but why would you? It's such a weird thing to realize you are getting older. Of course everyone knows they are getting older, otherwise the world would be populated by really weird babies and toddlers as we reverse aged. Let's not think about that.

I can tell I'm getting older, as I frequently talk about things like mortgages and potential spawning. Only but a few years ago, I would have run screaming in the other direction had I met the current incarnation of myself. Now though, it just seems like the right thing to do. I pass "For Sale" signs on houses with my neck craned for a better look, and my uterus pretty much tries to accost every child it sees. It is all very disturbing.

How did this happen? Parents never really warn you of this stuff. Sure, sure. They say stuff like, "You have to learn responsibility," or "You will have to clean your own house one day so you better get off your rump and clean mine right now so you know how to do it." Like we didn't get the basic concept of washing dishes. Yeah, I get it. I don't need to do it a million times to learn. This whole "clean your own house" thing is crap--just have kids and they will apparently do it all.

So you see, my concept of growing up was a little warped. I figured you got a dog for responsibility, and maybe eventually got one of those kids when you were tired of doing your own dishes.

I was very disappointed.

But only for a short while. Now I'm married and happy and discussing mortgage options. Scary. I will never cease to amaze at the wonder of human biology. It surely has to be involved somehow. How else did I learn all this? And, how did I get so far in life without purchasing a ill-advised dog? And, most importantly, what lies about adulthood will I eventually pass on to my own children, no matter how accidentally?

Maybe I'll just start off with the dog, commit to paper plates, and hope they turn out a little more normal then myself.

A time for writing

Well boys and girls, welcome to my blog. Some of you may be wondering, "What is the topic of this blog," or "What words of wisdom might you impart to the world, considering you spend most of your time indoors, amongst the strange and bookish?" To these people I say, "Absolutely nothing." I might also add a "Geez, harsh."

But no, no topic to speak of. I'm just really, really, really bad at communicating. So, naturally, like all people who are bad at conversation with actual human beings, I enjoy writing. It's like having a conversation, only more sad, lonely and without anyone getting in the way of my genius. Or something along those lines.

Also, on a more realistic note, there is absolutely no way this blog will repeatedly go to voicemail, allowing the concerns and questions of good hearted people to go unheeded week after week. At least this way, people will know I'm alive. Inconsiderate, but alive.

So there you go. My vast thoughts on the universe. Well, the universe of writing, or blogs, or whatever noun you so choose.

Now, a tale.

In recent days, I was conversing with a teenager who is nearing voting age (no, it is not weird to be talking to a teenager. Everyone needs a role model. You weirdo.) He is smart, well-spoken, and in the top of his class. A real go-getter. I took a shine to him when I realized he was going places, and maybe someday he'd thank me in the dedication of a book.

Things got around to politics. Being a fledgling in the political arena myself, I felt the two of us were an even match for debate. He is pro-Clinton and, for the purposes of the debate and as devil's advocate, I took the stance for Obama. The teenager was really defending his candidate. I countered, and all was good. I was never so proud. I was contributing to the youth of America! Here I was, helping to mold the cognitive mind of young people, when he hit me with the full brunt of the social experiment gone wrong: public schooling and moronic adult behavior.

The trump card. The teenager said,

"But his middle name is Hussein. Come on. You gotta admit, that is a really good point."

Well. Clearly, I was defeated.

Never was I so sure my own children would be educated by nuns. Sister Mary Hussein, no less.