Sick Day

It was a loooong night last night, what with Baby throwing up ALL over the bathroom floor, several times in the toilet, and THANKFULLY, not once in a bed, his OR mine. I became an amateur forensics expert, noticing that Baby had apparently eaten fast food recently, owing to the copious amounts of thinly sliced pickles present on the bathroom floor. Twenty questions later we deduced that the offending meal must have been eaten at school, and once his body expelled it all his listlessness seemed to improve a bit. But here we are, home today... doing our best to rest while we watch The Tick on DVD. I'm not complaining... The Tick is my favorite, second only to Superman.

Checking In

The weather has turned a nice blustery overcast sort of raininess that’s exactly perfect for this time of year, unless you happen to need to be outside with a hammer and some nails as Scotty-Do does this weekend. I just want to be inside with some knitting or a book and a fire in the fireplace, but I’m afraid the war with the fleas has escalated, and at this point they seem to be winning. I wish I could tell if I’ve won any of the many battles Scotty-Do and I are waging, because at this point I’m ready to abandon ship and let the fleas take over this place as I move somewhere else entirely. All I want is to know we’ve done at least a little bit of damage – some sort of flea body count or something. The fleas are mum on the whole subject, but the little buggers are popping up more frequently now than in the past, so I fear soon they may be ready to team together to physically throw us out on our ears. This has led to some rather interesting conversations between me and Scott, as we hypothesize the proper way to kill fleas with a miniature machine gun or tiny sword. I can’t understand exactly why this is even happening, as the cats we own don’t even go outside!

The ideas are starting to gather for what to make for Christmas this year, and I can feel the itch that means it’s time to get moving. That’s a good thing. And now for some blurry cell phone pictures taken a week ago on Saturday while Boo was at a skating party.

NOW I Understand!

The mini-vacation was as magicalificent and superfantastic as anything I’d experienced up to this point. I FINALLY understand why people take vacations. This could be addictive.

We drove our four hours to Eastern Washington , which appeared to be an entirely different country from the one we were supposed to be in. The part of Washington I’ve grown up in, I’ve come to know and love really, is GREEN. This Eastern Washington place is comprised of miles and miles of brown, with the occasional yellow thrown in to break up the monotony. We passed some sort of dust-devil-tornado things. We passed wheat. We passed rocks. The music was good, but most of the way I stared at Scott. As great as he is when I look at him from the front, I found that I appreciate him just as much when staring at him from the side. He’s pretty awesome.

We went to a Blues Festival and rented a house with seven other people for four days.

There was lots of alcohol;

There was a boat;

There was cliff diving.

People who have recently been on crutches should not try cliff diving from any point that requires a running start. That sort of thing can end disastrously if you’re not a ninja cat like me. I jumped off this cliff and showed everyone my ninja skillz by turning my fall into a sort of running-down-the-cliff move. I was pretty impressed with myself, but I think everyone else thought I was an idiot. I don’t think we have any photographic evidence of my brush with death.

Scott jumped off this rock (I didn't have a tape measure, but it was at LEAST 65 feet high. No joke),

while I sat in the boat below trying to hide my tears behind my enormous sunglasses. A guy like this only comes around once every 34 years, and I’d really like for him to stay awhile…

We didn’t get home until about midnight Sunday night, and so far the week has been mostly about assimilating ourselves back into normal society. Scott has turned my garage into some sort of organized haven completely void of any boxes of ex-boyfriend stuff, cleaned my toilets and refrigerator, joined me in the war against the fleas, and somehow negotiated a peace between the canine and feline factions of the house. He’s pretty humble and low key about it, but I’m convinced Scott is magical.

And the Good Karma Just Keeps On Coming

Boo had to go to the Pleasantville Urgent Care place yesterday because she had trouble opening her jaw once again. Some mothers might see this as a golden opportunity for a break from their wee ones, but we have enough trouble hearing what Boo has to say as it is, without throwing any more adversity into the mix. The last time this happened the guy at the Urgent Care place thought it might be a blocked saliva gland and prescribed a three-times-daily antibiotic. I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m not organized enough to EAT three times daily, much less remember to administer an antibiotic that makes Boo gag every time she swallows it. And for some reason the more unpleasant I find a task, the less likely I am to perform it to perfection, go figure. So I was not looking forward to going back to the Urgent Care.

After our requisite hour of waiting with people sitting in my personal space bubble, either coughing their death rattle coughs or bleeding profusely all over the waiting room periodicals, we finally were granted access to the inner sanctum of the examination area. I recognized the exam room as the one I’ve been in almost a half dozen times this year already, and I waited patiently until our Doc-of-the-Day came in. You know it’s a bad sign when the random doctor assigned to your wee one’s case walks in the room and looks at you (it’s not your chart in his hand, after all), and says, “I know you!”. What you really want to ask him is if he remembers what it is you came in for, because he’s the doctor that saw you when you had the horrible bladder infection. It’s not so much WHAT you had that is embarrassing, so much as all the details you told him to make sure you ruled out any other horrific girl problems that it could have been, because all you knew at the time was that peeing made you want to cry. A bladder infection sounded like such a normal problem for that amount of pain.

Doc-of-the-Day turned his attention to Boo and pronounced her problem as teeth-grinding related, and suggested Motrin to alleviate the pain. Yeay! And then Doc-of –the-Day took his service WAY past compliance with the Hippocratic Oath and talked to Boo about Harry Potter (which she is completely obsessed with). “Do you have all the books?” he asked my little sunshine of sweetness. “All of them except the 6th one” she said innocently. “Well then let me bring that one in for you tomorrow,” said Doc-of-the-Day, thereby turning himself into a hero for my little Luna-Boo. And can you believe this? I just called the Pleasantville Urgent Care facility, and Doc-of-the-Day DID remember to bring that particular book in today. I’m thinking that the karmic wheel of fortune has REALLY decided to make things easier on us this year, recognizing of course that last year left me feeling particularly beat up at the end of it all. So I am on my way out the door to go pick up one Harry Potter book six from the doc, tonight I need to pack for my trip, and tomorrow after work I will be dropping two children and two bicycles off at Grandma’s for four days of staying up way past their bedtime and eating cereal with chocolate milk on it, all so I can go away for four days with my Favorite Grown Up Person, Scott. We are going to a Blues Festival in Eastern Washington, renting a house with a ton of people Scott knows through work, and enjoying being with each other. NOW do you see why I don’t think things could get any better? This is bliss.

-T

Zen and the Art of Ford Maintenance

Today was supposed to be all about sewing, but instead it turned out to be about getting a new battery and changing the oil in my car.

Which is not that bad, considering I had Scott to help me with it all.

Car problems turn out to not be so overwhelming when you have a reassuring voice to call and calmly walk you through a solution. And when your solution gives you problems, there's nothing better than having someone say he'll leave work several towns away to come and help. Suddenly being stranded in a parking lot with a car that won't start doesn't seem so bad.

So maybe tomorrow can be about sewing...

You Can't Go Back

Me and him, 1993

Lessons for the day:

Your first boyfriend can try to come back into your life and say sorry for the way he treated you, and the only thing you can say is "thank you for that, but it doesn't change anything".

Your first boyfriend can say that it was never that you didn't love him enough, only that he was too foolish to enjoy you, and you can say "I found someone who appreciated me from the beginning," and, "I am so much happier now than I've ever been in my life".

Your first boyfriend can come back and try to tell you all the things that you would have wanted him to say 14 years ago, and none of it can matter. Because sometimes you don't just look like a grown up, you are a grown up.

And at the end of it all when you're saying goodbye and he says "Take care, I love you," you don't have to say I love you back, because you know you don't. It feels good to let go.

I'm grateful for all the right things: the man I really do love with all my heart is spending time with his daughter, and even though I miss him like crazy, I know he's happy. Next week is our vacation, and for the first time in my life, I will have a vacation that is all about relaxing with the person I love. The kids are starting school this week, and they couldn't be happier. I have the best life I could have imagined right now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Making Magic

Yesterday I posted Best Guy Ever's self-portrait of himself from the front of my 8-Days-After-My-Birthday card and then he left some comments which he signed with his name, so I feel it would be pretty okay to just use his name now. Best Guy Ever is known as Scott. Scott... meet everybody.

And now that we have that all taken care of, I wanted to share just a tiny piece of what it has been like for me to have found a great guy like Scott, without really knowing how to act when you have a great guy. Sometimes I mess up. We try to talk about it though, because communication is good. We talk; in person and on the phone, and we email through regular email and myspace. Sometimes we do a combination of three at the same time. That's what happens when you really like someone, you just can't get enough of them.

From: Tasha
To: Scott
Date: Aug 24, 2008 5:33 PM
You're the greatest human being who has ever lived. I know some people would say Gandhi, or Mother Teresa, or Jesus... but for me, it's clearly you. Those other people never would have known the words to the Monchichi song.

From: Scott
To: Tasha
Date: Aug 24, 2008 10:54 PM
Love you babydoll. (Remainder of message edited to protect the innocent)

From: Tasha
To: Scott
Date: Aug 25, 2008 8:21 AM
I like "babydoll". In the history of the known universe no one has ever called me babydoll, and there's something just right about that.

"When two people meet and fall in love, there's a sudden rush of magic. Magic is just naturally present then. We tend to feed on that gratuitous magic without striving to make any more. One day we wake up and find that the magic is gone. We hustle to get it back, but by then it's usually too late, we've used it up. What we have to do is work like hell at making additional magic right from the start. It's hard work, especially when it seems superfluous or redundant, but if we can remember to do it, we greatly improve our chances of making love stay."
-Tom Robbins,Still Life with Woodpecker

I don't know much about magic since I've never had any before, but I promise not to eat it all up without figuring out where to get more first.

I love you.

From: Scott
To: Tasha
Date: Aug 25, 2008 9:32 PM
Let's keep makin' magic and I love you.

So now we work on the making magic part. We're not really sure how to do it, but I think we do a good job of trying. We have our own Mission Statement, we apply teamwork to the things we do, we have a mini-vacation planned together for next week (with pictures, I PROMISE), and we send messages like this:

From: Tasha
To: Scott
Date: Aug 28, 2008 9:37 PM
You are the greatest combination of skin, bones, blood, guts, and all that other stuff, that has been put together into one person, ever.


From: Scott
To: Tasha
Date: Aug 28, 2008 11:06 PM
I may frame this and hang it on my wall.

I'm glad the people who told me my standards were too high were wrong. I didn't want much really, all I wanted was someone who thought I was amazing, and who I could think was amazing in return. And here he is.

And next time I PROMISE to have some sewing done. I mean, I do keep saying it's a craft blog after all...

Argh!

I think the children’s beloved cats have organized a mutiny, and they’ve got the fleas in on it.

Let me go back a little farther.

We have fleas. I thought I had annihilated them all with the small arsenal of almost nuclear weapons that I unleashed on them, but Dog One and Dog Two have come back for a visit and fleas have again been spotted. These new fleas appear to be of the juvenile persuasion (teenagers I think), so they are not thought to have survived the original blast, however their continued presence in my life is causing me a great deal of consternation. I have flea nightmares, I have phantom fleas crawling on me at all times, and I imagine flea parties occurring in my carpets without my knowledge. I don’t fear bugs, but I fear the fleas. They don’t leave, they have

nothing to do all day but go forth and multiply, and they’re too fast to swat, slap, or smash properly. I imagine if I were to be the sort of person who lived alone in an apartment and it were just me and the fleas, were I to die the fleas would band together and carry my body off somewhere for their own use. And usually that's the part of the flea nightmare that ends with me being stuffed into a giant cannon at the flea circus...

***Can I interrupt for a moment here? I'm sitting at my computer desk and I just happened to look at the back of a brochure from work (remnant from preparing for last month's staff meeting), and I just saw the faint pencil marks of the word "uterus" written across the back in all capital letters. It takes me only the briefest second of hesitation before I realize with relief that ahh yes, this is a word written by Him, and it makes me smile. This was done while he was making my birthday card (8 days late).

Who else in the world is lucky enough to have a birthday card made for them by the Best Guy Ever, complete with the anatomically correct drawing of a uterus?!***

Now back to the mutiny...

The cats are apparently not happy that Dog One and Dog Two have been visiting, and that Boo and Baby have also decided that, much like their mother, they prefer the company of dogs to cats. It's not that the cats have been neglected or mistreated in any way while the dogs have been here, it's just that the dogs have been more fun. Maybe we should have done a better job of hiding our glee at having dogs in the house when the cats are around, and maybe we should not have looked at the cats reproachfully and referred to them as "those things". In any event, the behavior of the cats has been downright disgraceful.

Codysaurus Rex made a poopie on my 401K statement.

He looked right at me when he did it, and I know he did it with malice in his kitty heart. He didn't stop there either, Codysaurus Rex has poopied in undesignated pooping areas three more times since the 401K incident. I also have it on good authority that Cody has organized the remaining fleas and pointed the dogs out to them, so that the dogs are mercilessly attacked immediately upon entry into our domicile.

Whatever can be done with Codysaurus Rex?

And that's all that I have to say about that.

I'm grateful that Best Guy Ever has left behind his carpet shampooer, even if it does leave telltale clean spots on the rug; that the mutinous cats are at least no longer pooing on the stairs so that Lunaboo steps in it, flings it onto the wall, walks down the stairs, and then wipes her foot on a white towel (all for Best Guy Ever to clean up so I don't run late for work); that Best Guy Ever is the Best Guy Ever, and that Sara the Dirty Smelly Pirate Hooker has slapped sense into me once again. Life is GREAT.

And the Award for Zen Moment of the Day Goes To...

I'm taking a moment to breathe a little deeply right now, because I have my oven door hanging open downstairs with an entire pizza's worth of hot cheese currently gobbing up the space between where the door meets the oven. There's a stinging burn on my right arm where I singed it on the top of the oven while attempting to remove the delicious pizza, which is either the cause or effect that made the pizza end up all over the bottom of the oven. Despite all of this, somehow, I feel peaceful.

You see... the Best Guy Ever is already on his way over with Dog One and Dog Two, Luna and Sol's new favorite friends. So all I had to do to repair the mess made of dinner was to call Best Guy Ever and ask him to get another pizza.

I could cry at the simplicity of it all.

The week since my birthday has proven that fairy tales don't always end at midnight and dream guys really can get better and better. When I say I adore this guy, I really and truly mean it. Did I mention that the week after we go on our four day mini vacation he has offered to help me clean my garage (once and for all purging my life forever of horrible ex-boyfriend's useless belongings!) AND change my oil?! I think somehow every single relationship I've been in to this point has earned me enough karma points for this relationship right now. If that's how it had to be... well I'm pretty much okay with that. Which brings me to my interesting coincidence of the week:

Of the four relationships I consider myself to have had in my life, I've had emails from three of the exes this week. I'll be honest; obviously interaction with the kids' dad is pretty normal, since he talks to the kids on a daily basis. And my first ex-husband has been known to send me a message or two once every three months or so, so that's not that unusual. But the other one... my first love from 1991-1994, well that's different, since I hadn't actually heard anything from him since 1994. And he found me on myspace, which I don't make easy since my profile is private, my name has changed twice, and my profile picture is just of my eye. But somehow, he found me. And his message? THE message he decided to send after 14 years?

"I never said I'm sorry for having hurt you chica. Gary."

I just thought it was funny really. Obviously the universe wants to show me just how amazing and wonderful Best Guy Ever is, by reminding me of what there has been. And there is something truly great about that. Thank you universe!

And now I have some cooled down cheese to scoop up, because the replacement pizza is here...

-Tasha

Birthday Weekend!

As promised it has been a weekend packed chock full of fantastic and wonderful things, all contributing to make this one of my best birthdays ever. The Best Guy Ever sat down to watch my favorite movie of all time with me, Better Off Dead, while eating pizza from Papa Murphy's, and laughing at all the right parts. The movie itself was a gift from my dear friend Sara, who almost made me cry because it was so damn perfect (did I mention I'm not really very complex? It's the simple things in life that mean the most for me dear reader(s), and a friend remembering your favorite movie is better than a truckload of diamonds and/or pearls, know'm'sayin'?). Afterwards we went out for ice cream (we put the tip in the jar and then ran, absolving us of any responsibility. Knowing they had to sing because of the tip, but not being present as actual witnesses...), then to see Tropic Thunder, which I think is one of the funniest movies of all time. The movie theater was packed (I couldn't even have my one-open-seat buffer between me and the nearest stranger!), but at some point I noticed that while Best Guy Ever and I were both laughing so hard tears were streaming out of my eyes, other people weren't finding the guy trying to shove fake innards back into his open stomach quite so funny. I don't really know why the whole movie theater full of people was wrong, they just were. That scene was hilarious, no doubt about that.

On Saturday, Best Guy Ever and I took the kids to Grandma's and drove my mom's convertible out to my hometown to visit a friend I've only seen once in the last 10 years. Cassisita was 1/3 of the troublemaking trio that moved from Smalltownville to Alaska 14 years ago at the ages of 18 (me), 19 (Krispity Krunchity), and 20 (Cassisita), and although we lost touch for awhile, I love my ex-roomie dearly. Cassisita's husband's 40th birthday was the same day as my 34th, so an enormous backyard BBQ complete with live band and bonfire was held at her brother in law's house next to the air field. Best Guy Ever was brave enough to climb a ladder 32 feet into a tree and try the zip line, but I missed out on my big chance. It was only after a lengthy discussion later that I learned how much Best Guy Ever weighs, thereby assuring me that his going first down the zip line would have been an adequate test of weight capacity. We also momentarily ditched the BBQ to drive down to the beach and sit in the open car, listening to music, talking, and maybe a little bit of making out. I think making out with a hot guy in a convertible with the top down is one of my new favorite things to do, and I'm not even going to lament the fact that I'd never done it before now.

Today I'm looking forward to a day spent with my kids, my mom, my nephew, and (maybe) my sister; celebrating for the third day in a row the fact that I was born. It feels like this is the universe's way of apologizing for that whole last year of bad luck; saying sorry for putting me through the ringer but giving me a wink and a high five for making it through it alright. The universe can be a pretty big jerk sometimes, but in the end I think his conscience does catch up. I've had enough of drinking from the tainted glass of Karmic Kool-Aid, and I think I'm going to take some time now to go back to enjoying a plastic wine glass full of the best apple wine that can be bought with a five dollar bill. Life is great, and THAT is what I want to swim in until my fingers get all pruney...

I am grateful for EVERYTHING.

-Tasha

Yippee!!!

It's 92 sweltering degrees here in what used to be known as Pleasantville, and even though we all KNOW that I'm really not built for this sort of heat, absolutely NOTHING can temper my super mood today. First of all, tomorrow is my birthday. I happen to have a whole weekend full of plans that I'm sure will help make this my favorite birthday ever; starting with a half day at work, a haircut (its been 6 months), and a picnic dinner date with the best guy I've ever known. Saturday is a barbecue at the house of a friend I roomed with upon first moving to Alaska, but have only seen once in the past 10 years. The best guy ever will be attending the barbecue with me, so of course it will only be the best time ever. Sunday will be celebrating the birthday with family, surely eating more than we should and laughing until we pee our pants. Isn't that what family is for?

(What's that... did she say something about a guy?!)

She did. Not just any guy, but the Best Guy Ever. And so it is written. I've answered a couple of questions for myself that until this point in my life I had no clue on. Life is great. I don't know how long the Best Guy Ever will be in my life, but I do know this: if every single relationship pain I've ever gone through brought me to the moment of meeting him, then it was ALL worth it.

Dating questions I've answered for myself this month:

• So how does it work? Do I meet someone and not hate them, and then eventually grow to like them and then love them? -

No, that's stupid. You will read something written by a person that will make you want to meet him come hell or high water. When he is slow to ask you out, you will jump the gun and tell him it's time to ask you out. The day of the first date you will spend six hours making something to give him when you meet him, because you know he will understand. When you see him your heart will do flips. And you will lose sleep that night because the thought will not leave your head that you have finally met your other half.

• Will I agonize over whether I'll ever hear from him again?

Of course you will, because you're a dork like that. But he's great, and you WILL hear from him again because he's exactly as great as you think he is. And when the day comes that you tell him you're not sure how he feels about you, he will want to throw up his hands in disbelief as he reminds you that he has called in sick to spend time with you, showed up to see you when it is not convenient (since he lives a few towns away), emailed you, myspaced you, spent precious cell phone minutes on you, went to your employee picnic when he only knew you... and all of this within the first two weeks.

• Will I ever meet someone I can be myself around?

Oh yes, and you will remember how much fun you are when you can just be yourself. He will laugh at all your jokes, he won't think you're retarded when you write him a rap, and you will spend the time you aren't with him smiling every time you think about him.

• Will I be scared?

Terrified. Because you've always just waited for someone to like you first, and then convinced yourself to like them back. For once you will be with someone who is an amazing and complete and WHOLE person all on his own. He doesn't NEED you, he honestly likes to be with you. He isn't broken, and he doesn't need to be fixed. It feels great to know that you're not taking on a new project, this time you just get to be. And sometimes just being can feel kind of scary.

Right now I'm re-reading one of my favorite books of all time, Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins.

“Who knows how to make love stay?


Tell love you are going to the Junior's Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if love stays, it can have half. It will stay.

Tell love you want a memento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a dime-store incense burner with yin/yang symbols on three sides. Face southwest. Talk fast over the burning hair in a convincingly exotic language. Remove the ashes of the burnt hair and use them to paint a mustache on your face. Find love. Tell it you are someone new. It will stay.

Wake love up in the middle of the night. Tell it the world is on fire. Dash to the bedroom window and pee out of it. Casually return to bed and assure love that everything is going to be all right. Fall asleep. Love will be there in the morning.”

I don't think we should make love stay. I think love should want to stay because there's nowhere else love would rather be.

“We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love.”

New Things!

Okay, I've FINALLY started sewing again. Nothing finished yet mind you, but between Baby wanting me to sew him a robot, and my experiment at doggie portraiture, I think we're well on our way to finally mending the damage done by last year's horrible-terrible-no good-very bad run of luck. So without further ado:

This magazine came in the mail and got me to thinking about branching out a bit...

I particularly liked the idea of making a doggie, but the mutts of all my family members are of the curly haired variety, which I thought might be a bit too challenging for my first attempt.




Then lo and behold, this dog came into my life. And of course he has the most perfect face ever.

So I've started. And a start is better than a poke in the eye, wouldn't you say?
I am grateful for deciding to close the book on last year and begin a new chapter (FINALLY!). I'm grateful for time spent with family last week, and for choosing not to ignore someone who is amazingsuperwonderfulfantastic just because feeling that way about someone scares me. I am grateful for my amazing kiddos, and everything else that makes life pretty great. I AM happy.