Goodbye 2016 and Good Riddance...

Tonight it's New Year's Eve and I'm spending another holiday without my family.  I never thought in a million years I'd still be hanging on the East Coast alone and it's been a tough pill to swallow.  I only cried twice today and that's pretty darn good if you ask me.  Today is also my daddy's birthday and I'm sad that I don't get to spend the evening with that old grouch.  My friend Alyssa penned a nice post on her blog about how tough 2016 has been.  I was reminded just how awful this year has been for a lot of the people I love in this world and that I am certainly not alone in my misery.  I have friends and family who have gone months and months without a job, a sister with breast cancer, another sister with long standing infertility that has finally given up on another baby, friends having trouble paying their bills...  the list goes on and on.  Life is hard and it sort of pisses me off that it has to be that way. 

To keep my mind off the holiday, I spent the day at the Mystic Aquarium with Renee, her daughters, and her granddaughter.  We got in free with our Lifespan ID badges and then had dinner at Mystic Pizza - yes, the Mystic Pizza from the movie with Julia Roberts...  So, did I have a nice day?  Of course!  Mostly because even when I'm sad, I'm still me, and I like to be ridiculous and have a good time everywhere I go.  Seeing the animals at the aquarium wasn't the best part of my day because I took Renee's daughter Briana on a sled dog ride:

I also took a pic with Santa, who for some reason has not gone back to the North Pole, but is hanging out at the Mystic Aquarium on a big chair instead:

Briana and I also managed to get one of the scuba divers in the fish tank to come over and take a selfie with us - complete with rabbit ears!  I felt like I'd hit the jackpot:

After all this nonsense it didn't take Briana long to figure out that I would do just about anything anyone asked me to - including sticking my head up into this aquarium that only kids were playing in.  I can't help it that most adults are sticks in the mud...

After the day was over and I was driving home, I cried a bit but decided I should follow Alyssa's example and discuss the positives about this last year and maybe even list some of the things I've learned.  First, I've traveled to about a million places since I landed in New England.  I've gone to Cape Cod, the Statue of Liberty, most of the national parks and monuments in Rhode Island and Massachusetts.  I've explored Boston and walked in the shoes of the patriots who founded this country.  I traveled to DC and enjoyed the monuments celebrating our great nation.  I've spent time pondering the ultimate sacrifice that many of my countrymen have paid to bless me with freedom as I walked on sacred ground in Arlington, Virginia.  I've explored nearly all the beaches in Rhode Island (there are 100) and have walked hundreds of miles on nature trails in several states around me.  I've learned all about Rhode Island history and have learned some stuff even the locals don't know.  I've tried hot weenies, coffee milk, frozen lemonade, and ate lobster every payday for the entire summer so that by the time lobster prices started to rise, I was kind of glad to have a break.  This short list doesn't even cover everything I've done in the last nine months because since I left home, I have driven through and/or explored 20 states!  I could go on and on but the significant thing about everything I've seen is that I did it all alone, and that's a huge thing for someone who gets lost everywhere - even in their tiny home town.  I learned that with a GPS, a few bucks in my pocket, and a destination to explore, I could navigate to any town or landmark I wanted to see, and not a single person cared that I was there alone.  Only my own embarrassment or self consciousness can hold me back from anything I want to accomplish in this life.

Second, I learned that I really do love my sexy lover and my rotten kids as much as I thought I did.  Jared and my girls have been my rock this year and have done their very best with a horrible situation.  None of them have made me feel badly about the sacrifice that we are making so that we can have a different life in the East.  There will always be some friction in a family, but I'm proud of the girls for helping each other and their daddy until I can be with them again.  I'm so grateful I hitched my star to the man I did.  Jared loves me unconditionally and completely and has encouraged me to be my best from the moment he walked into my life.

Third, I'm grateful for all the family and friends that I have had the privilege to know in my life.  Their strength and trust in God despite their individual trials has sustained me - even when I have questioned my own strength, faith, or ability to continue on my chosen road.  Some of those friends also deserve a shout out for constantly checking in on me to make sure I knew that I was wanted, needed, and hadn't lost my mind by leaving my family behind. 

Last, I'm grateful to be me.  I'm brave, strong, and pretty darn amazing for everything I've accomplished over the course of my life.  If my daughters can learn that there is nothing they can't do - even stuff that is scary as hell and just as hard - all because they watched their momma live her own life that way... then I will have created my crowning opus.  Yep, I've done a lot of great stuff.  However, 2016 has still sucked some major nuts and I am looking forward to a change of fortune in the coming year.  Goodbye 2016...  Don't let the door hit you on the butt on your way out... 

Merry Christmas

Today is Christmas morning.  It's a beautiful sunny day in Rhode Island and I am trying to feel blessed because of the season but since I am alone, I find it difficult to keep my focus positive.  Throughout my life, I have only missed two Christmases with my family.  The first was during my first year in college when the University of Utah went to the Freedom Bowl and the marching band had to leave early Christmas Day to make the trip to support the football team.  I spent that Christmas with my friend Lynda's family.  It was pleasant of course, but not the same.  This year, I'm spending Christmas with Renee - the frat house owner.  We had a delicious Christmas Eve dinner with her very loud family.  I enjoyed listening to them cackle and tell stories in their Boston accents and I ate lots of yummy food I don't normally consume this time of year.  Look at us:

I have met such wonderful people since arriving here in the East and am amazed at how friendly and kind complete strangers have been to me.  I am trying to remember that despite my loneliness, I have had an incredible nine months here and have accomplished lots of things many people would never have been able to do had they been in my shoes.  It helps a little...  but I find I am still lonely.  I've actually held it together pretty well this holiday season with my first Christmas tears occurring this morning when I awoke.  Jared had awakened early this morning and found that Santa had arrived in Idaho.  He sent me this sweet pic:

That's a Christmas tree that my kind brother let us borrow since mine is lost in a storage shed somewhere.  My entire front room is empty except for the tiny little tree and the presents dear Santa left behind.  Part of the magic of Christmas for me is listening to my children whisper about what might be downstairs, setting alarms to try and catch Santa at his work, and of course, their squeals of delight when they finally see their gifts.  This year, the frat house was nearly silent and the tender beauties of my usual Christmas season were 2500 miles away.  Yup.  I'm still sad.

This year was a miracle because Jared woke the girls up for presents instead of the other way around.  I was a bit worried about their mental health until the little ones admitted they had checked at 4 AM and discovered Santa had arrived.  Thank goodness some things never change.  This year, I got to experience something I have never tried before:

Christmas by FaceTime.  I've had lots of new experiences this year and most have been wonderful, but I have to admit that I prefer Christmas in person.  Jared has reminded me a lot this year that at least we have the technology to talk to each other face to face instead of waiting weeks and months for a letter to arrive from the ones we love.  He's right, but sorry, I'm still sad and lonely.  The girls had a nice Christmas.  I even had a few surprise presents that made the morning special.  Jared and I read the first Christmas story with the girls and I was moved to tears as I listened to the beginning of the life of a man who spent his entire existence serving others.  I know he suffered all for me and knows how I feel, but it still isn't helping.  I'm still lonely and sad.  However, it was nice to remember once again why we celebrate the day in the first place. 

I'm going to head out for a walk soon and will probably find a beach to comb since there is something wonderfully peaceful about that activity for me.  Renee has also invited me back to her mom's for more food and company.  I couldn't stand to do breakfast and the jury is still out about whether I feel emotionally stable enough to head over later, but it's nice to have an offer on the table.  My Christmas wish for 2016 is that everyone else that might be lonely and sad this year may somehow find peace and comfort in 2017... that, and I sure as heck hope that 2017 finds me together with Jared and his babies again.  Merry Christmas everyone. 

Meet my BFF... TSA

Today I'm headed back to Rhode Island after a visit to Idaho.  As we speak, I'm enjoying a three hour layover in the Denver airport.  I had lunch and dinner dates nearly every day this last week with many of the people I care most about in this world.  I also got this awesome gift from my friend Kareena:

It's a tiny voodoo doll!  The best part of this gift was when I caught Hannah using it...

I thought her evil powers were pure.  Turns out she's as weak as the rest of us and CAN'T destroy people with the energy of her mind.  I stand corrected.

Aside from the constant worry over my house that just won't sell, I had a nice trip.  Nice that is, until I arrived at the IF airport to fly back to the Ocean State.  That airport pisses me off above all others.  I have a genuine distaste and distrust of TSA, but in IF, the agents are a special breed and I believe they exist entirely for my individual torture.  I used to fly out of either Boston and Providence and into Salt Lake City because of how much less expensive flights were.  Four flights ago, I told Jared the flight was so long I was going to spend the extra money and only fly out of Providence and only into Idaho Falls.  I've never had a bag searched until I started flying out of Idaho Falls.  I'm now three for three on bag searches and it's pissing me off!  What sets them off?  The first time it was some almonds in my bag.  The second time I think it was just for kicks.  Today, it was for the really dangerous large size toothpaste and Idaho Spud candy bars I was trying to bring on board.  I knew when I brought the toothpaste that it exceeded the size limit.  However, I wanted to conduct an experiment to see if the IF TSA indeed only hires assclowns, since I have long suspected this to be the case.  As I predicted, they didn't disappoint.  They confiscated my toothpaste tube and told me there were rules I could have looked up.  I told them that my tube had made it through security in Rhode Island.  "Oh really?" they said with incredulity.  I assured them that's why I hated them so badly...  There's no consistency in a screening process that I don't think works anyway.  The lady assigned to piss me off today, finished rifling through my really dangerous candy and dirty underpants, then told me not to be rude.  I snidely informed her I could behave as I chose.  She then told me to go be rude upstairs.  I complied because I wanted to get upstairs anyway since that's where my flight was...  Despite making all my comments in a very calm and passive aggressive way, they called a cop to come and talk to me.  I politely informed the officer I had no intention of talking to him and he could either arrest me or leave me alone.  Lucky for me, he just stared at me and let me walk away.  Passive aggressive traveler one...  but TSA is still the ultimate winner since they got to fondle my dirty underpants.

Am I eventually going to get arrested?  Probably.  Am I going to stop my brazen and saucy behavior?  No!  Try to justify TSA to me all you like, but until the screening process is the same in every airport, I will continue to believe the precautions they are taking probably don't make much difference.  Until people sneaking fake weapons in to test TSA are no longer successful, I will continue to believe that my 5 ounce tube of toothpaste couldn't possibly be dangerous at all.  And until some other airport rifles through my candy and filthy underpants, I will continue to believe that the Idaho Falls Airport is staffed entirely by assclowns...  Can this rant increase my score to two?...  Please?

Moving Day

Today, the frat house became more like an apartment for me because Renee's brother, his girlfriend, and the girlfriend's son bought a house and moved out.  Since I am a decent human being and a Christian, I decided to help them move.  The only problem is, I HATE moving.  I actually detest it.  Most things in life don't bother me too much, but I don't care how little or how much you have, or whether you are moving your own crap or someone else's, it's just plain horrible.  We got started at about 9 this morning and didn't finish until 4 PM.  That's the other thing I despise about moving - it doesn't matter how quickly you think the process will take - add 3 hours to the worst case scenario and you might get finished when you estimated.  Have I stressed enough that I hate moving?

The day wasn't too horrible because I found a Cumberland Farms in Burrillville, RI where Pierre moved that had Coke Zero on tap.  Highlight one. 

Renee also took me to Wright's Dairy Farm in Woonsocket, RI so I could try their fresh chocolate milk and egg nog.

Was it better than Reed's Dairy?  No.  Was it at least as good as Reed's Dairy?  Not even close.  I am beginning to wonder if the milk that comes from cows outside of the Gem State are even capable of lactating a product that can be turned into something sublime.  My search for perfection continues, but even if I can't ever find a dairy product I love as much as Reed's Dairy's, at least I have a wonderful place to eat when I visit my loved ones in Idaho.  Know what Wright's Dairy does have?  A pastry counter.  And a rather extensive one at that.  I was skeptical at first because I couldn't see how a dairy and a pastry shop were connected.  Turns out it doesn't matter because the pastry shop was absolutely divine.  I had a peanut butter brownie that turned me on and I saw at least 2 dozen other items that would probably affect me in the same way.  Definitely highlight number two.

Since I underestimated how long it would take us to finish moving duties, I didn't get around to showering until nearly 7 PM Eastern time.  I was so sweaty and gross that when I took my socks off to jump in the shower, my toes were wrinkly.  It's been a long time since I have been so disgusted by my personal hygiene but man that shower was the third highlight of my day.

At some point today, Renee offered me the room Pierre vacated since its bigger than the room I'm in...

However, I'm lazy.  Even though I don't have much to move, I made it clear to Renee that transferring my belongings across the hall was more effort than I would ever be willing to exert - thank you just the same.  Yep.  It's quiet around the frat house now.  After gorging ourselves on our pastries, Renee graciously offered to help me move into my new home if I could ever sell my place in Idaho.  Unfortunately, I want her to still be my friend after this whole ordeal is over, so I think when it's time, I'll just sneak out of the frat house so she won't be able to help me.  Have I ever mentioned how awful it is to move? 

I'm Definitely Thifty, but am I Nifty?

I've been in New England for almost eight months and in all that time, I haven't set foot in a thrift store.  I thought for awhile that this could be my chance to get clean...  My one chance to attempt to be classy and NOT get excited about how cheap and wonderful other people's used crap is...  My one chance to prove to my sister Briana that I can SO be normal...  Alas, I needed a rolling pin and two pie pans and since I have all that in Idaho waiting to make the trip over, I just couldn't see spending full price so...  Bottom line, the temptation was just too tantalizing and since I had a good excuse, I found myself wandering into three separate thrift stores a couple of days ago.  Did I find what I was looking for?

You bet I did!  One rolling pin and two Pyrex pie pans for ten bucks meant an awesome bargain with only the loss of my dreams of going straight to show for it.  Since deep down I didn't really want to quit my thrift store habit - just half-heartedly wanted to impress a few people - I felt right at home as soon as I started inspecting the stacks of garbage.  It was heavenly.  I resisted the urge to buy a ceramic bust of Jesus, not because I couldn't have found a use for it, but because it's not good to be greedy.  It's important to spread your oddities out a bit so that some folks (Briana) will stay off your back a little longer.  Therefore, I purchased only what I originally came in for instead of pushing my luck.  I derived so much fulfillment the first trip, that I decided to stroll around again today - just in case I missed something fantastic my first go round AND just in case Jesus hadn't been snapped up by someone else...  I didn't buy anything today but I found this:

I found out this week just how well supported the New England Patriots or "Pats" as they are called really are out here.  I made the mistake of revealing to one of the labor nurses that I could care less about the "Pats" or any other NFL team for that matter.  Let's just say that the remainder of the exchange did not go well.  I called to tell my dad all about it and he pretty much called me an idiot for making such a dumb mistake.  Then he told me not to say anything disparaging about the Red Sox or I might lose my life.  How lucky that the thrift stores out here have ten million hats, T-shirts, and other items imprinted with both the "Pats" and the Red Sox available for purchase.  If I decide that I feel threatened in any way by these ridiculous fans out here, I guess I can go back and purchase a disguise that won't break the bank.  As a side note, I did for one second worry about head lice when I tried on the little number above, but when you shop at thrift stores, you have to leave your pride behind.  You're welcome. 

Just when I thought I had seen every treasure I possibly could, I stumbled on this atrocity:

What in the hell is going on here?!  I can guarantee I would never see such sexual pandemonium at the thrift stores in Idaho!  There's girl on girl action here, heterosexual couples, biracial couples, and a few single swingers fully dressed and waiting for action!  My goodness there's even two babies watching everyone in what I hope is horror and utter disgust!  I guess I should feel grateful that except for male homosexuals, there doesn't seem to be any discrimination on this naked wall of shame, but really people.  Isn't there some Barbie house we can hide these people in?  I bet they'd like some privacy and I certainly don't need to know what dirty escapades the other members of my community are up to!  What if I see them walking around on the street?  I'll never be able to look them in the eye!  See what you're missing Briana?  Thrift stores are definitely nifty!

Seriously? Where are you Sarah Richards?!

Today I traveled to Worcester, Massachusetts to try and find that darn missing relative of mine.  I figured out that the public library happens to have a book with some of the vital statistics for Islesboro, Maine where Joseph and Sarah Hardy used to live.  Naturally, I jumped at the chance to avoid a long drive and toll roads in the hope that I might find information to make my eventual drive to Islesboro more fruitful.  Know what one of the best things about Worcester is?  The name!  When I first arrived in the East, I went around calling it "war-chester" like a Western idiot.  It wasn't long before I figured out that the locals call it "Woost-er."  I love that!  Every time I see the name Worcester now, I say out loud over and over, "Woost-er.  I'm in Woost-er - Woost-er Mass"...  I don't care what you think of me, it's a cool name and I will allow myself to feel as giddy about it as I choose...  I digress... 

Along the road, Bubba Facetimed me.  I stuck the phone up so she could see my face while I drove.  She said, "I wondered if you would be in your car driving around, but I just wanted to see your face."  I'm not exactly sure when my five year old started talking like a grown up weirdo, but I like her and I like that she would rather look at my face while I talk instead of just listening to my voice.  We chatted along as I drove and when she got sick of me, she told me she had an important video game to get back to and promptly hung up on me.  She wasted about 15 minutes of my drive to "Woost-er - Woost-er Mass" and that was nice. 

Know what SUCKS about Worcester?  You have to pay to park at the public library.  Just how "public" can a place be if you charge people to get into it?  I personally think all this paying for parking nonsense over here is ridiculous, but since I really needed to get into the library, I paid the tab and wandered in, but not before I took a Snapchat detailing how I felt about my experience...

Did I find Sarah?  Yes.  But I only found out what I already knew - that she died in Camden, Maine.  However, it looks like some idiot might have her death date wrong so I guess that's something.  Unfortunately, I still haven't seen actual proof of her body anywhere, nor did I find anything substantial about her jerk husband, so I guess the search continues. 

After spending a couple of hours in the "public" library, I decided that I deserved some ice cream from another Massachusetts town that I like to say - Swansea.  This one sounds pretty close to how it looks but the locals say it "Swanzee" and again, I just like the way they say it.  I was nearly to "Swanzee - Swanzee Mass" when I realized that it had been raining all day and that I probably needed a real umbrella more than I needed an ice cream cone.  I detoured to Target in Lincoln, Rhode Island and purchased a pretty, pink polka-dotted number.  I've owned a few umbrellas over the years, but we just don't get the rain in Idaho and Utah (my main residences) that they get in the East.  I've been through quite a few rainstorms in the last seven months and they can be quite impressive.  I derived no small amount of joy from my new umbrella because I LOVE umbrellas and know that it's going to get a lot of use.  I wished I had a nice pair of rubber boots to jump in puddles with, but had to be content looking down with disdain on all the umbrella-less fools getting drenched as they ran from their cars to the stores I visited today.  Amateurs.

After getting home, I showed off my umbrella to the frat house residents and they all pretended to give a damn, which I appreciated.  Then, we scarfed some delicious buffalo chicken mac and cheese that I made and now I'm sitting around waiting for my moron brother to call me so that I can complain about how I'm sick of trying to locate Sarah and Joseph when they obviously prefer their privacy and maybe we should just leave them in peace....  Not a bad day I say.  The only downside?  I'm now wishing I had gone to "Swanzee - Swanzee Mass" with my new umbrella so that I could have used it to keep the ice cream that I didn't get from the Ice Cream Barn dry...






 

2 "All the Way" and a Coffee Milk Please...

I flew into Rhode Island early this morning after a wonderful two weeks with Jared and the girls.  It was wonderful to just be able to be completely present in my children's lives.  I was so stressed out at my old job that I couldn't breathe and my children never had my full attention.  It's been a long time since I've been able to just enjoy everything about each of them and it was heavenly.  What did I do?  Well, for starters, I went trick or treating:

I love the tradition of the picture out in front of my folks house.  Whether our numbers be large or small, it's still fun to watch as everyone grows.  I also got to watch this lunatic hand out candy:

He was a little disappointed this year because he wasn't as busy as in years past.  My mom didn't manage to buy cheap, crappy candy this year, so it was only a two tiered system:  Regular candy bars for kids dad likes and mini candy bars for everyone else.  However, since it was slower this year, plenty of strangers got a regular sized candy bar when they probably didn't deserve them - lucky bastards. 


For a few days, I thought Halloween was going to be the highlight of my week until this happened:

That's Count Chocula on sale and since I wanted to save lots of cash, one box just wouldn't do so I purchased six.  Judge if you wish, but if you tell me that Count Chocula is disgusting, then I accept your letter of resignation because this friendship is over.

Count Chocula didn't even end up topping my vacay because I also got to soak at Lava Hot Springs which I LOVE to do in the winter.  The day we went was wonderfully warm and pleasant and I only managed to soak for about an hour instead of my three hour record.  I was really missing my brother Jameson and sister Briana, because they are champion soakers and yell at my kids more than I do when they whine to leave.  Idaho will never be the same without them unfortunately.

I did have a low spot when I got sucked into an adventure with my brother Jeff.  I have an adventure with him every time I see the moron but each one is delightfully different and memorable in its own right.  Since you never quite know what will happen when he calls, it is impossible to be adequately prepared for his lunacy.  This time he called and asked if I would help him move the chicken coop he inherited from his wife's aunt.  I had heard a rumor that the coop was large, so I offered my truck for the job and foolishly thought I would avoid a fiasco.  Wrong.  Turns out he forgot to mention that we needed to dismantle most of the gigantic chicken run which consisted of a large, traditional coop plus a converted dog run.  BTW the dog run was filled with hanging perches as if the avian residents were eagles or parrots instead of just stupid CHICKENS!  He also neglected to mention that we would need to wrangle the chickens and secure them in the coop somehow.  Thus, upon arrival I immediately realized that the flip flops I wore were going to be poorly suited for chicken chasing.  Here's my sweet hubby (also in flip flops) standing in wet chicken crap since it had also rained the day before we showed:

Jeff also neglected to adequately prepare me for just how large the main coop was.  We ended up having to hoist it up intact on the top of the truck and scraped the paint job down the length of the passenger side of the truck bed.  Thank goodness I have a POS truck or I might have murdered him.  Unfortunately, loading the main coop was only the start of my torture because we had to borrow an additional trailer from Jeff's father in law in order to finish loading the rest of the dog run part of the coop.  This was AFTER I had to stand on the bed of the truck and load the 10 stupid chickens in the main coop as Jared and Jeff caught each one and handed them on up:

And here are a few of the starring idiots that I wanted to choke to death by the end of the day:

By the end of the adventure, I had a large amount of chicken crap between my toes and my whole truck smelled like chicken poop for several days.  However, the upside was that Jeff got poop in his eyes and on his face when the little chicken jerks tried to flap away from him, squawking their fool heads off the whole time.  It was a Karma miracle.  Just how ridiculous did we look as we drove around?  Judge for yourself:

My wonderful two weeks ended with my dad showing off his guns to my friend Alyssa and her hubby Chris.  Here are just a few of his handguns (yes my mom is posing with one) but I didn't get a pic of the rifles and shotguns...

Why does he have so many guns when he rarely shoots them either for hunting or for target practice?  Everyone in the family has a theory, but I like to believe it's just because he's an eccentric weirdo.  I love him no less for it in case you were wondering and nothing about the guy ever surprises me.  That's the beauty of eccentric weirdos - they always keep you guessing.

What was the most surprising thing about my trip?  Turns out that when I left Idaho I realized that it was the first time that I didn't cry in the airport when Jared dropped me off.  Also the first time I had no anxiety about landing back in the Ocean State alone.  Come to think of it, it was also the first time that I felt glad to arrive back "home."  Something has happened to me and I feel peaceful for the first time since my April exodus to the East.  My house still hasn't sold, but I like the beauty over here, I've enjoyed all the people I've met, and feel like I belong in New England.  I'm not saying it wouldn't be wonderful to have my house sell, but I'm finally letting go of the West and embracing my future in the East.  Yep.  Pass the coffee milk people.  I'm here to stay.

Home Sweet Home

I landed in Idaho Falls about four days ago for a visit.  I was supposed to fly in so that I could drive my family to our new home in Rhode Island, but since the deal on my Idaho home fell through, it transformed into a vacation... at my empty house... that I can't seem to sell...  Thankfully, I love Idaho Falls and I love my empty house that I can't sell.  In addition, I love Jared and his horrible babies, so my vacation has really been quite pleasant.  The best part about vacationing in the town I come from is all the familiar things that never seem to change.  Take it from me, stability can be quite comforting and wonderful - for instance, good friends.  I don't have many, but the few I have are supportive and kind.  I can always count on at least one of them begging for a visit when I come home and it's nice to be liked and loved.  Here's my friend Cynthia who just had her appendix out.

We have quite a personal history together and it's always nice to see her.  I have a few more friend visits as my vacation progresses and I'll enjoy seeing each of them just as much as I enjoy Cynthia.

What else can I count on?

My lovely daughter Hannah telling me she hates me at least once.  She's apologized twice for being a brat so far this trip  and I'm counting on at least two more episodes.  I don't enjoy her nasty side, but there's something comforting in being able to practice my mom lectures about respect and dignity.  We all have a purpose in this life and mine is to deal with Hannah - I'm truly blessed.

I also cannot come to Idaho without a bit of this:

Yep.  Reed's Dairy.  I'm especially psyched because eggnog is in season right now.  I've had a waffle cone already plus I paid nearly 10 bucks for one quart of eggnog and one quart of chocolate milk.  It's darned expensive liquid, but worth every penny.  I have tasted some decent ice cream in the East but have yet to find Reed's Dairy's equal.  We may not have much in Idaho, but the stuff we have is top notch.

My final tradition?  This little weasel:

My baby Bubba is a blabbermouth, a bully, and a diva, all rolled into a tiny blonde frame.  She's spent my entire vacation pestering to play on my phone, bullying her sisters, and tonight, played her most annoying card.

She's a MAJOR tub crasher.  She crashed Emma's tub earlier this evening, then crammed into mine.  Even if she sat perfectly still she'd annoy me, but add in her splashing, gossip, and rude commentary on my jiggly body, and she's downright intolerable.  Why don't I kick her out you ask?  Because.  She's my baby, she still likes me and my fat stomach, and it's become tradition for her to crash my tub.  The day she no longer fits or no longer asks, a part of me will die.  At that point, it will take at least 20 dollars worth of chocolate milk and/or eggnog to take the edge off my grief.

I have over a week left to hang in the Gem State and I'm grateful for the chance to be with my family for awhile and just enjoy all the bliss my hometown has to offer...  Whats that Hannah?  You hate me again?  That's fine but can you bring me some chocolate milk?  Just follow the sounds of Bubba slapping my fat gut because I'll be drinking my bliss in the tub tonight...

Where are You Sarah Richards?

My father has this ridiculous idea that the reason the job in Rhode Island seemed right to me, is that we have ancestors in our family line that we cannot locate.  This thought is supported by at least two other lunatics, one of whom is my brother Sam.  He is on board because he has caught the genealogy bug and has been trying to trace a few souls for over a year now.  Turns out my father's line hailed from New England many generations ago.  When they traveled west with the Mormon pioneers, I guess all the posterity but me decided to stay.  Whatever the reason for my move East, I have been sucked into my brother's nefarious plans to locate with certainty what has happened to our ancestors.  I traveled to Camden, Maine for some investigating rather early after my move to Rhode Island, and that trip yielded more questions than answers.  As such, I agreed to head back yesterday for some graveyard reconnaissance.

The first problem I encountered when I arrived was my bladder.  I had to pee so badly and there were no public restrooms anywhere close to the cemetery.  What was a girl to do?  Well, this girl found some bushes, crawled in deep, said a prayer I wouldn't pee on my pants or shoes or get caught by anyone, then I shared my shame with everyone on Snapchat.  See:

 

I felt slightly ashamed for being willing to drop my knickers so fast, but was appreciative of the relief.  Note to self:  bring TP and a TP disposal device for future reconnaissance because waiting for my labia to dry after urinating really wigs me out....

My second problem arose immediately after I drained my bladder because the map for the cemetery on the city of Camden's website is from the 1940s and did not really match the present day cemetery.  I have zero sense of direction and when you add in a bad map, I am absolutely useless.  My solution was to call my idiot brother who sent me on the body quest in the first place.  I would stand in front of a headstone, give him name and date of death, he would search for the plot number on the website, then try to navigate me with the bad map.  I spent 3 hours in the burying yard trying to triangulate my location in this manner.  Did I find any family bodies?  You bet I did:

But...  Not the main one I wanted:  Sarah Richards.  Round two lost apparently.  This woman continues to be an enigma for my brother and I guess now for me since I've been sucked into his nonsense.  I suppose the disappointment over not finding Sarah was my last problem of the day.  Having nothing more to do, I headed home to Rhode Island and even though I was lucky to find an extra cemetery to search on my way, I still wasn't lucky enough to find my missing body.  Despite my multiple problems, I did have a victory in New Hampshire:

This is where I got to use indoor plumbing again and properly wipe my feminine regions and wash my hands.  A thing of beauty I must say.  I may or may not have also purchased some Smoked Gouda and Chives chips at that stop which I nearly finished on my own prior to arriving back in Rhode Island.  I'll let you draw your own conclusions just for fun.

Where are you Sarah Richards?  You were supposed to be in Camden, Maine but I was just there so maybe we missed each other.  Don't worry.  I haven't given up and neither has my brother because he wondered if I was close to another place that may hold some clues about you and your husband:  Westerly, Rhode Island.  Stupid non Rhodies.  They just don't understand that you can drive to ANYWHERE in Rhode Island from ANYWHERE else in Rhode Island in no more than 40 minutes as long as traffic is good.  I only teased him a little and then assured him I'd love to travel to Westerly.  I've already checked out Misquamicut State Beach there and find it quite lovely.  Maybe if I can find a clue about Sarah I would deserve some Del's lemonade afterward...  Hang on Sarah, here I come...

Roller Derby Anyone?

Earlier this week, I heard something about roller derby on the radio and decided to find out if Rhode Island has any teams.  In fact, they have a whole league!  I've never been to a roller derby match but have always wanted to watch one.  I bought tickets and convinced my frat house owner, Renee, as well as her daughter, to join me.  It ended up being a championship bout with 4 teams playing for the title.  I naturally felt lucky because I figured I'd get more for my buck than on a normal derby night when only one match would be played.

They held the championship near West Warwick High School in a basketball type arena.  Renee and I were surprised to find that the track was just pasted on the floor with colored duct tape.  After we got comfortable, I spent the next 20 minutes wondering just how long it took some sucker to construct such an elaborate track.  I had to admit I was quite impressed.  I can barely wrap duct tape around something in a straight line if I'm fixing it - let alone try to make huge ovals on a gym floor with various markings on it to boot..

After I got over my duct tape awe, I turned my attention to the chicks roller skating around the track.  Know what one of the best things about Roller Derby is?  The names!  You had broads named "Smashley Olsen" and "Shreddy Roosevelt."  How about, "SmackGyver" and "Elbowya?"  I could go on and on.  Just awesome.  As I sat admiring all the names on all the different teams, I noticed a particularly ridiculous name:  "Nutritional Beast."  Excuse me?  Of all the threatening or hilarious names you could have chosen, you went with "Nutritional Beast?"  I wonder if her own teammates beat the crap outta her for that gem.  I'd like to say that she won back some of my respect when it was her turn to be the Jammer, but unfortunately, she wasn't anything close to a beast -  nutritional or otherwise.  Here the Old Money Honeys are getting ready to go up against the Boston Commons:

Boston came over from... well, Boston, but still, I'm sure the Providence Roller Derby League was happy to have some extra meat for the championship.  Boston actually lost to the Old Money Honeys in the first match.  I don't know if I should be happy or not about that since I'm so new to roller derby, but I guess since I'm a Rhody now, I probably should be glad anytime anyone from my state beats someone from Massachusetts.  Have I mentioned that many Rhode Islanders call them "Massholes," because they are such crappy drivers?...  I digress...

How was it?  It was ok.  I looked up the rules online and then asked the dude next to me what was going on anytime I got confused.  He was more than happy to help and mentioned that it took him four years to figure it all out.  Four years?  How much roller derby do you watch dude?  Are you here for "Nutritional Beast" because for some reason that seems to fit.  I wish I could say that it was so enthralling that I stayed for all 3 matches.  However, my frat house mates and I bailed after the Honeys won and finished the night out at Chilis.  We let Renee's daughter choose the spot and for some reason, eating at Chilis after roller derby seemed right too.  And in case you were wondering, I did not see "Nutritional Beast" there. 

Will I go again?  Probably.  Especially if it's a night where only one match is being skated.  Do I love roller derby now?  Will I eat, sleep, and dream about it?  No.  But it was a fairly inexpensive way to kill a few hours.  Despite the fact that it was less exciting than I thought it would be, I have to admit that watching those skating babes smack their ovaries on the floor whenever they took a tumble was almost as fantastic as their awesome names.  Well, everyone that is except "Nutritional Beast"...   





   

Frat House

Yesterday, I had to move into a new apartment because my lease was up on Joe's place and I haven't been able to purchase a house yet in Rhode Island.  I've been worried for weeks about where I was going to go, but one of the ladies I work with, Renee, let me move into her home until I could finalize my housing plans.  A few days ago, she warned me that her brother, his girlfriend, and his girlfriend's son, also needed an emergency place to crash, and so would be moving in along with me.  My first thought?  FRAT HOUSE!  Unfortunately, Renee is kind and also a grownup, so there were no beer kegs, coeds with their boobies busting out of wet t-shirts, or the smell of vomit on the air when I showed up last night.  I have considered that Renee is saving the frat house scene for later because she's worried about what I would think about her initially.  Either way, I am grateful to have somewhere to go, so I really don't care how it all plays out...  as long as I continue to have a place to sleep.

 It would have been nice if my only worry yesterday was moving but I also had to work.  This meant I would spend my day being busy in the office,  then I would have to go home and do my laundry, then finish cleaning my old apartment before I could vacate the premises;  I felt like I was back in college.  I moved so many times through my single college days and it never bugged me.  However, I'm an old married lady now and I like stability.  These last six months have been anything but stable and I'm sick of it!  I moved to the East exactly six months ago today with nothing but two suitcases, a small cooler for my snacks, and a few new appliances to put in the house that I would buy some day.  Literally everything I owned fit in my Honda accord.  Guess what?  Everything I own still fits in my Honda and it was easy getting it all over to Renee's.  Ease aside, I'm still sick of this nonsense and want a place to put down my roots again.  Even this Snapchat pic my friend Alyssa sent at the beginning of my crappy moving day didn't help my stress:

She's pretty funny - but not funny enough to make me stop feeling sorry for myself!

Last night, after getting everything crammed into my Honda, I decided I was hungry and against my better judgment, decided to try Chipotle for the first time.  All I ever hear is how great Chipotle is, but most of the folks telling me how great it is are white, and most white folks don't know anything about good Mexican food.  How was it?

Big.  The end.  Sorry people.  I've had too much excellent Mexican food both here in the US and in Mexico and Chipotle ain't good Mexican food.  I knew from the moment I walked in I'd be disappointed.  For starters, it was filled with these types of folks...

Stupid white Millenials.  It was also too sharp and clean.  No obnoxious Mariachi music playing...  No gaudy decor...  Worst of all?  No brown skinned folks to be seen.  You gotta pick ethnic restaurants filled with ethnic people.  If you don't see the race of people who belong to the food genre you're sampling, I can guarantee your meal is going to be watered down American slop.  Hate me if you wish, but I know I'm right.

After the Chipotle debacle, I finally made it to Renee's, unpacked in a flash because I don't own anything right now, and settled into my new digs.  Here's proof:

Renee's home is comfortable and it's nice to have my housing shortage solved for awhile.  However, I'm feeling really sad that I don't have Joe to spy on anymore.  Gail the landlady stopped by as I was finishing cleaning my apartment and I told her to tell Joe goodbye and that I would miss spying on him.  She laughed because I think she was thought I was kidding, but I know the real truth.

I'm grateful for generous friends.  I'm glad I never have to be traumatized by Chipotle again.  I'm also on high alert so that I don't miss any frat house activities Renee may be planning for me.  Don't let my positivity fool you though, because I'm so ready for this to be over.  I want my husband...   I want my kids...  I actually want the opposite of a frat house...  Yep.  I want my old lady life back...

Booty Call

My house in Idaho was supposed to close last Monday, but there's been a problem with my buyer's appraisal.  As such, we found out it might take another month to find out if the house is finally sold or not.  I've been feeling pretty depressed about how long this process has been taking to sell my old gal and when you combine that with how lonely I feel without my lover and gremlins around, well, let's just say I'm pretty miserable.  I've been listening to a lot of Sam Smith lately because his mournful crooning seems to match my ugly mood.  I even downloaded "Make it To Me," and have been playing it over and over as the mantra for my solitude.  I found out recently that Mr Smith is gay, which means he's begging for Mr. Right to find him.  Interestingly, I am also begging for my Mr. Right to find me.  For a while, I felt sorry for both me AND Sam Smith until I realized that Sam can't ever find true happiness because I already found the sexiest Mr. Right there ever will be.  I then decided to feel sorry for just Sam Smith and his horrible loss.  Good luck finding someone perfect to "Make it to You," buddy, it's just not going to happen with Jared off the market, and that's truly a tragedy my sad little friend...

In the midst of my disappointment and with too much Sam Smith on replay, I got to go to a conference in Atlanta, GA for work this week.  Guess who flew in to spend time with me:

Yep.  That's me and my sex riding on the MARTA just after he flew in.  I'll spare you the gory details about all the naked time we may or may not have spent together and instead discuss that this was the second time Jared and I have visited Atlanta, and I have decided I like that city quite a bit.  For starters, they have a fabulous public transit system that is inexpensive and convenient.  Jared and I rode all over that muggy town and did the other main thing we like to do together...  EAT!  As proof, here's the fat man enjoying an Arepa.  They were delicious BTW...

We also paid a visit to Martin Luther King and his lovely wife Coretta this visit.  I'm ashamed to admit that I did not know that MLK was buried in Atlanta.  Nor did I know that his church was the Ebenezer Baptist Church.  Nor did I know that he also has an eternal flame like JFK near his grave that I missed despite standing by the tomb and which my jerk lover didn't point out to me!  Know what else?  He sits on a pool of water.  I was kind of jealous, but then remembered that he was sort of a big deal during the Civil Rights Movement and probably deserved something a little special for his resting place.  Here the love birds are...

And the original church MLK gave sermons in:

We also walked around the museum where some of his artifacts are housed and enjoyed the AC because man - Atlanta sucks worse than Little Rhody for humidity!  I love the National Parks!  Mostly because I forget stuff about our Nation's history and it's always good to remember the sacrifices others have made to make our world a better and more interesting place.

Know what else made me love Atlanta this time around? 

I didn't know how much I loved fountain soda drinks until I moved to the East and found a dearth of good soda flavors in the state God intended them to be consumed in.  Rhode Islanders are so busy drinking coffee like a bunch of lunatics that they have overlooked the finer things in life...  AKA Diet Dr. Pepper.  I went back to this lovely fountain on the day I flew out and was in pure heaven.  Thank you Atlanta.

I'm back in RI...  Alone again...  but trying to be cool about it.  I have some other irons in the fire if my house deal falls through so I'm trying hard to think positive things about my future.  I will admit that I listened to "Make it To Me," about five times on the flight home tonight and fantasized about being back together again with my lover on a permanent basis.  It was a nice fantasy.  I also found myself hoping that Sam Smith had a good booty call this week like me.  Sometimes a good booty call is the only thing that keeps a person going...  Even if the best man is already taken.  Sorry Sam... Again...

Semper Fi

A few days ago I stumbled on this movie titled "Taking Chance."  It was all about a marine that volunteered to escort the bodies of soldiers killed in the Iraq War home to their families.  I was absolutely astounded at the level of respect with which the armed forces treat our fallen vets, and I bawled like a baby through most of the show.  I have been meaning to drive down to Arlington National Cemetary since I landed in RI, but the movie made it feel more urgent.  Through my ridiculous tears, I booked a hotel room and drove down to our nation's capital on September 11th, which was touching all by itself.

I've been to DC and Arlington several times but it never gets old.  It is such an amazing, peaceful area, and I feel lucky to be able to just pop down like its no big deal.  It cost me 75 bucks in tolls round trip, and though that part pissed me off, here's a bit of what happened:

I got skewered by the Wahington Monument...

I found RI at the WWII monument which was awful close to Idaho..

I need to google this monument because RI does NOT belong on the Pacific side, and it certainly doesn't belong so close to Idaho.  I must be missing something.

I also tapped Abe Lincoln on the head and thanked him for his service:

After bonding with Abe, I read the Gettysburg Address and got extra chills because I was pondering it on September 11th, and it's a darn fine speech.  Here it is if you're a slob and haven't read it...  You may have to use your zoom...

In case you've never gotten the view of the Washington Monument from Abe's perspective, here it is.  Jared calls it, "America's most famous Phallis..."

I did some other stuff on the mall but to keep you from getting bored, let's skip to the purpose of my visit; The Tomb of The Unknowns:

Isn't it lovely?  Know what's even better?

This is a tomb guard.  They are a special group of the armed forces and they guard the tomb 24/7 and 365 days a year.  They take 21 steps each way and at each pause of their watch they wait exactly 21 seconds.  Every time.  You can time them if you wish.  I always do and they are always perfect.  It is humbling to watch and I love this spot more than just about any other place on earth.  They also have a ceremony every 30 minutes or hour depending on the season where they change the guard in front of the tomb.  This time around I sat and watched two revolutions.  If you've never been, you should make it a point to go.  The US armed forces know how to honor their dead and it is a thing of amazing precision and beauty.  I didn't record it because I wanted to be in the moment, but plenty of other jackasses have, so just go to YouTube if you want a taste of how fantastic it really is.  

I rounded out my day checking out Arlington House:

I just learned about a year ago that this used to be Robert E Lee's home but when he surrendered, the government stole his house and made the grounds a cemetery so he could never come home.  Years later, the government gave his family some pitiful amount for their illegal seizure, but what could they do about it then?  Note to self:  Don't lose the Civil War...

I'm so grateful to be living in one of the states where our nation was born.  I'm so grateful for our vets - especially those that have given their lives to defend the freedoms I enjoy.  I'm grateful to have come from a family where so many members have served in the military and have taught me to love my flag, my country, and my fellow man.  I'm truly blessed to be an American.