Stiletto

Just a mom raising The Boy (adopted from Guatemala) along with my fabulous husband (MFH). I am a shoe whore, especially of the high heeled variety. Hence, the nickname.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

My Fabulous Husband

is 39 years old today.

Happy Birthday, Hon!

I was planning to give you 39 reasons why I love my husband, but I am supposed to be working. Let me just suffice it to say that he is the most wonderful husband, who after 17 years with me still makes me feel like I am the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He spoils me with expensive lingerie and funky hosiery. He encourages me to buy more shoes even though I could not possibly wear out the ones I already own. I could not shop for clothes without him - he has exquisite taste, and he never looks at pricetags. He tries to think of ways that I could stay at home with The Boy instead of being a working mom. He insists that I have the newer car. He listens well. He doesn't overreact. He is kind, probably the kindest person I know. He is loyal. He is my best friend. He is stern. He is fair. He is a good daddy. He always puts his family first.

For these reasons, and so many more, I love you.

When I met MFH, he was in Small Town and I was in Big City. I was a teacher then. As our relationship developed, it was obvious that one of us would move. I was divorced and have mentioned the black cloud that hung over Big City as a result. It made the most sense for me to change venues. Leaving teaching was hard, and is my only regret. I did teach for one year here in Small Town, in the high school Resource Room, but high school was just not my cup of tea. My training is elementary ed with a special ed minor, and I taught the third grade for 7 years. I miss the kids. I miss everything about it. No, the pay wasn't good but I wasn't in it for the money. I have also mentioned that I live in a college town, where people with teaching degrees are a dime a dozen. That is why I don't teach anymore.

So now I am in accounting. I have a strong accounting background, having done this as I went to college and always part time since then for my dad until he sold his business. I make twice as much money as I did teaching, and I am not happy. I am not miserable, but I am not happy. I need health insurance for my family, and I have it here.

If we move I probably would not go back into teaching because it's a tough field to break in to and I've been out of it for a long time. But maybe I could substitute, and I have considered preschool, too. I miss making a difference.

For now, and maybe for always, it will have to be enough to make a difference in the life of one child - my own.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

*Heavy Sigh*

This is the saddest day of the year for me.

School starts today in Small Town.

Last night I took a bike ride down past the elementary school near our house. There were lights on and naturally I had to look. Oh! The rooms! They were all bright and cheery and busy to welcome the children on the first day of school!

I will always miss teaching.

I hate my job now, and the reason is that I don't make a difference to anyone. I don't help anyone, I don't make anyone's life better (or worse!), I don't teach letters or numbers or values. It's not important to anyone but the owner.

Next year, The Boy will be one of those children on the first day of school.

I hope I can help him love school as much as I did; as much as I still do.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

In Da Hood

Young families are once again taking over our neighborhood. The laughter of children playing has replaced the resounding quiet of 13 years ago when we moved into our home.

I welcome the noise.

The Boy and K, the almost three year old girl from right next door, play together almost daily. We have no fences in the front of our houses, so they run freely between the two homes.

K doesn't speak.

I asked about it once, only after her mother brought the subject up. Her pediatrician isn't worried, she said. K is just a late bloomer. I smiled and agreed to that possibility.

But, I'm not so sure I agree. K has a one year old sister who will soon surpass her vocabulary. K only speaks when she's prompted, and even then she is difficult to understand. She doesn't put words together at all. She doesn't appear to fully process language that is spoken to her, either. Twice in the last week I have seen her break down in tears with frustration when her dad tried to get her to talk to me.

I know it would be hard to come to grips with the possibility that your child has a developmental delay. No parent wants to face that. Wouldn't it be best, though, to get intervention early? To seek out a second opinion? To take matters into your own hands before your child breaks out in tears with frustration?

It breaks my heart. I can't intrude. It's not my place.

In the meantime, The Boy doesn't even seem to notice. She is his best friend. To be able to look past imperfections is to be the best kind of friend.

Monday, August 28, 2006

In Training

The Boy has spent the better part of this summer getting accustomed to his new, bigger bike. He tries to pop wheelies. He rides as fast as he can down the driveway, applies the brakes quickly and looks back to see his skid marks. We go for bike rides every night, racing up and down sidewalks, playing Follow the Leader.

All the while with training wheels on the bike.

Last night I was talking to my brother on the phone and stepped outside to see MFH and The Boy coming out to his bike with a wrench. Hmmmm. No good can come from this.

"It's time for the training wheels to come off."

Really? Yes, he races around with confidence, but he does not always look where he is going. And while he is very athletic in most regards, his balance on his bike seems to be a little lacking.

I took him around the block, and he made very little progress. I know these things take time. But I repeated "Watch where you're going" so many times around that block. Every time I let go, he fell over.

BUT - my legs are sore today. Perhaps I should have been walking him around all summer instead of actually riding my bike, as this seems to do more good.

I don't think he's ready. I talked to MFH about putting the training wheels back on. He said no. Once they come off, they are off for good.

My question is this. How old were you or your children when you learned to ride a bike? The Boy is almost 4.5. I know I was older than that when I rode a two wheeled bike.

I don't know what led up to taking the training wheels off. I do know that every time The Boy fell, he got right back on. And he didn't cry once.

We have made a date to work on it again tonight.

Friday, August 25, 2006

Bed Bugs

Once again MFH is on a long fishing weekend.

Once again The Boy is sleeping on daddy's side of the bed.

At 1:05 a.m. I awaken to a tap tap on my shoulder.

"Mommy, I had a nightmare about ladybugs."

"Really? What happened?"

"There was really big daddy ladybugs and mommy ladybugs on a paper plate."

"What were the ladybugs doing on a paper plate?"

"Sleeping."

"And that's exactly what you should be doing, little one. Goodnight."

I discovered that he whispers in his sleep. And every night he takes a water bottle of ice water to bed with him, which he drinks from throughout the night. Obviously I did not get a full night's sleep.

I feel like we're making progress, though. He didn't lay next to me and stare at me while I was trying to sleep.

That's just creepy.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Playing by "The Rules"

Upon arriving at work yesterday, I was given the new "Employee Handbook and Safety Manual". We have to sign it and get a witness to our signature.

After 15 years at this job, we have rules.

Now, it is true we have grown to about twice the size we were when I started working here. Things have always run pretty smoothly, all things considered. It's great that the handbook addresses things like paid time off and holiday pay, plus the insurance policies we offer and our Flex and 401k benefits. Those can be gray areas and it's explained quite nicely now. Black and white. Since those things are part of my responsibility here, I like that.

It also addresses things like no personal use of the computers and internet (oops). I don't like that so much.

The problem with rules?

Someone has to be the enforcer.

I feel like someone is watching me.

I hate that.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Just Stab Me in the Neck with a Fork

It's obvious that you enjoy your gum.

I, however, do not.

From my office, which is next to yours and separated by a wall, I can hear you snapping and popping away.

Apparently it's an inherited trait, since your very sweet teenaged daughter that also works here chews her gum in exactly the same way.

SPIT IT OUT.

Seriously.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Living Arrangements

Moving is stressful and we haven't even decided to do it yet.

The housing market has flatlined here. Houses around us that would have sold in a heartbeat a year ago have been on the market all summer. The prices are still high, but no more so than they have always been. I think perhaps the market is saturated.

*edited to add - I just noticed that I used the words flatline and heartbeat in that paragraph, and I find that quite amusing. Heh.

We are facing the possiblity that if we choose to move, our home would be on the market for a while. That would mean that we would not be able to buy in Big City right away. Two mortgages = not possible.

My in-laws own an apartment complex 30 miles from Big City where we would have to go to work. They always seem to have an empty apartment, and while they are small, it would do until our house sold. There is the expense of gas back and forth, but I don't think I'd work until we actually lived in the city, so only one of us would be commuting.

My mother lives in a house in Big City that is about the same size as our house. She only has one bathroom. Can you imagine? We had six people in that house when I was growing up. How on earth did we survive! Naturally she offered that we could stay with her. How generous! But? I can't live in a house with one bathroom, and I can't live with my mother. Or maybe it's the other way around. In any case, I love her but I have been on my own for 26 years. A hive can only have one queen bee.

Maybe you can't go home again.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Can You Go Home Again?

I was born and raised in Big City. I left 16 years ago, newly divorced. Every time I returned, it felt like there was a black cloud hanging over the city. I hated going back.

My mom and one brother still live there.

MFH's parents are a mere 30 miles away.

We went back this weekend, as we always do in August, to attend the State Fair. The look of pure joy on The Boy's face as he rides the rides and plays the carnival games is worth walking for hours in the hot afternoon sun.

On Sunday we did a little exploring. We can get a house that's newer and twice as big as the one we have now, on two to five acres, for about the same price our small home on 1.5 city lots would bring on the market here in smaller popular town.

MFH is very schooled in automotive repair, but the kind of good job he needs doesn't get advertised in the paper. I am also quite schooled in a specialized software that would probably insure me a job through word of mouth.

Things are not quite yet falling into place. I am not yet entirely sold on moving.

But, I am getting kind of excited.

And, when we went back to Big City this weekend?

I noticed that the black cloud had lifted.

Friday, August 18, 2006

This Pretty Much Covers It

Thursday, August 17, 2006

11/13/60 - 08/17/02

For some reason, we stayed home that Saturday night. A rarity in and of itself, since we were in adoption limbo at that time, and kidless. There was a street dance in the Dutch community eight miles west of us to celebrate potato harvest. We never missed it, but on this day we decided not to attend at the last minute.

The phone rang. It was my older brother telling me to come home. Our brother Daren had drowned. He was on life support in order to confirm or deny brain activity. It was 8:30 p.m.

The baby of our family. There was sixteen months between he and I.

He loved to fish. He had also inherited my father's frugality. He, along with his best friend, had constructed a raft of sorts to fish from instead of buying a canoe. It was a huge innertube with a plywood platform attached to the top of it. They used it all the time.

We are not really sure what happened, but somehow the innertube popped and the platform broke. My brother fell through. His friend made it to shore.

Daren didn't.

A recreating group of athletes from the local college formed a chain and felt along the bottom of the pond with their feet until they found him. They got him to shore and tirelessly fought to keep him alive until the paramedics arrived.

It was hot and the water was warm, and he had been under too long.

He was a swimmer, but there was a lot of blood. I have to think he hit his head when the tube popped and he lost consciousness.

My mom made the decision to let him go minutes before we arrived at the hospital. I didn't want to see him. If I didn't look, he couldn't really be gone.

Could he?

The college students were present at the funeral. They were racked with the guilt that they didn't reach him sooner. They assured me that he didn't struggle or suffer. Whether or not that is true doesn't matter. It's what I needed to hear, and I am thankful to those young people for realizing that.

He was never a husband or a father.

He was my brother, my playmate, my friend.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

I'm It

I'm doing this for Michelle, who tagged me, and I must say I found it to be quite difficult. Apparently I don't know me as well and I thought I did.

Here goes.

I am...witty
I want...to be able to face change head on
I wish...my son would not grow up an only child
I hate...that I am bored at work
I miss...my dad and my brother
I hear...voices. Not really, it's just the air conditioning
I wonder...what my son will be when he grows up
I regret...when I lose my patience
I am not...shy
I dance...whenever I hear Silver Wings
I sing...Sweet Child O' Mine at Karaoke bars
I cry...more internally than externally
I am not always...a good listener
I make...great lasagne
I write...less letters than I should. I know - what's a letter?
I confuse...wants and needs
I need...more shoes
I should...definitely not buy more shoes
I start...Christmas shopping on Dec. 26
I finish...everyday being thankful for my family

Thanks, Michelle, for giving me a blog topic for today!

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Status Quo

I do not deal well with change. I am in accounting. I like certainty, black and white, routine. I am not a risk taker.

MFH wants to move. To a new town.

We've only been talking about this for a few days. His reasons are valid. Recently, we were voted the #1 Dreamtown in the United States. Once upon a time we were just a small college town and I don't think anyone expected to ever be anything more than that. But it is a beautiful valley here nestled amongst the mountain ranges, and we have been discovered. Thus the traffic problems encountered here. There are just a few major routes through town and they are always under construction because, well, it's not really possible to build new routes through town. You know, the buildings would probably get in the way.

Tourist season is a real drag. Tourist season lasts all year.

The return of the college students is even worse.

Property is high. We cannot afford a bigger house, or even a small house with a little property. I love my house, but the point is we cannot better our lifestyle here. Our house is 945 square feet on the main floor and 900 in the basement.

My nephew lived here for a year while his wife was in med school. Then they moved to the Seattle area. He told me that groceries and other staples were higher here than they are in Seattle. My brother visited us from Des Moines and? Same story.

Most employers here have a line your own pockets mentality. The cost of living goes up and up, but the wages do not. MFH has not had a raise in 4.5 years. Yes, you read that correctly. MFH is miserable at work. Life is too short to be miserable for nine hours a day.

BUT

We live in a safe neighborhood. It's a great place to raise a child. We are within walking distance to every school The Boy will ever attend before college.

I just got new carpet.

I just replaced my range hood with a microwave! That matches my new stove!

In eight years our house will be paid for. As in no more mortgage.

It's beautiful here. Beautiful. It's home.

I don't know what to do.

I am a nervous wreck.

Monday, August 14, 2006

Take a Hike!

We had our annual company picnic yesterday at a lake resort. Normally my boss, who is somewhat of a physical fitness sadist, combines the picnic with a hike. I don't hike. That's too much like work. There is nothing enjoyable about that on a weekend that is only two days long to begin with. Usually we don't attend. Since it was at a lake with nothing physical required, we decided to go.

It was a beautiful day! The temperature was just right for being out in the sun all day. The kids played in the water all afternoon, and we had boats for skiing or wakeboarding. The menu was BBQ pork ribs, which were delish.

The wasps are thick this year. THICK! I hate critters that sting. I run. I know, I know - they just follow me. Anyway, I am very careful to cover my drink because I once had a friend get stung by a bee that had crawled into his open soda can.

One of our employees had that happen yesterday. He got stung right inside his top lip. He came in to work this morning and he looks just like that kid from Mad Magazine. Seriously, his top lip was HUGE. Of course we sent him home and hopefully he'll go to a doctor for help.

Would you have even come in to work? Me neither! Thankfully, we were all able to contain our laughter until he had left the building. I know it's not funny. I'm sorry. But, man, it was HUGE!

Friday, August 11, 2006

We really know how to have a good time!

It's a big weekend here in the Gallatin Valley. Go here to see what I'm talking about. People literally come from all over the country to run this race.

Now, I know you'd all like to participate, but as you can see, it's full. Even the waiting list is full. Mark your calendars for next year, and be aware that it fills up fast.

Can you think of a better way to spend a Saturday?

We host the sign up party here at our store. It's really quite enjoyable if you like people watching. There are any number of physically fit men that attend, as well as women who don't shave their armpits or legs. To be fair, some of the women do shave, and some of them are quite fit as well.

The race starts at 8:00 Saturday morning. They get 8 hours to finish, which not everyone is able to do. Understandably. Then they come back here to the store where we have ice, cold, warm, and hot soaks set up for everyone's enjoyment. And aching muscles and tired bones. And cuts and bruises and blisters. They have a huge potluck and awards banquet.

Torture, Montana style.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

True That

Your Brain is 80% Female, 20% Male

Your brain leans female
You think with your heart, not your head
Sweet and considerate, you are a giver
But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!


It's no secret that I'm definitely feminine. I'm the one that wore mascara even when I had pink eye. How I look is probably too important to me.

The last line cracks me up, though. I was married in a previous life, and my ex used to say to me, "You have three brothers and you are the only one in your family that has any balls!"

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

Shag Me

We hired a new salesperson and he's been here about three weeks now. He's a very pleasant guy, an ex-cop from Arizona. His wife was born and raised here in the valley, and like most people who at one time or another call this place home, she wanted to come back.

The other day I was talking to Holly when he walked up and handed her a sticky note. Then he walked away.

"Wow!" I whispered. "Did you notice how hairy the backs of his hands are?"

Remember, we are gossipy bitches.

Then I said, "Can you imagine what his back must look like?"

"Shag rug," she replied.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Unveiling

The green carpet is the old stuff. We are really bad at time frames, but figure we had it installed about 9 years ago.


I really like the new tan carpet. It is a sculptured carpet so I guess kind of a combination of low shag and berber. I am a little concerned that it is too light for the boys and a dog, but I was told it would wear well and clean well. The Boy had an incident with some blue kool-aid on Sunday, and yes, it came right out. We now only allow clear drinks in the living room.


Here are the cabinets. MFH is finished with the top row, so the bottom row is "before". I am very pleased with how they are turning out. I love love love the new sage green cabinet pulls, and I found them at the first store I shopped at. The black/stainless stove is new, too, and I need to find a matching range hood. I just now realized how bad that looks!

Please don't look at the clutter sitting at the far left of the picture on the cupboard. I wish I would have cropped these pics a bit. Is it just MFH, or are all men like this? You know, needing cupboard space to put stuff on that should just be thrown away? (Sorry, hun. Don't mean to rag on you in public.)

Monday, August 07, 2006

One Ply, Two Ply

What a great title for a Dr. Suess book.

Last night, MFH came out of the bathroom and asked if I was angry with him. It caught me off guard, and I replied, "Of course not! Why?"

"Because you bought one ply toilet paper."

I couldn't have! I made that mistake early on in our relationship so I've been very careful never to do it again. Lo and behold, I got the package out of the closet, and it was the same brand I always buy, in the same package even, but it was indeed one ply.

So what do I do? There are 12 rolls in that package, for cryin' out loud.

Would be wrong to put it in the basement bathroom for Hockey Player and buy us new stuff? Or should we buck up and just use it?

I wish I had a house full of teenaged girls. They could use it to stuff their bras. Not that I ever did that.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Pain Therapy

Say it with diamonds
Say it with mink
But never, ever say it with ink.
(I saw this on a tshirt on a guy in Vegas. Bad experience, perhaps? For the record, our friendly neighborhood tattoo artist would never ink the name of your significant other on your body, for obvious reasons.)

I had an appointment for some pain therapy Tuesday night. Both MFH and I have wanted to do something in ink dedicated to The Boy becoming our son for a long time. For the past few months I've been working on a design, and had the artist work his name into the picture. I then had it tattooed on my lower back.

It's exactly what I wanted.

I have taken a picture of it and fully intended to post it here, but now I am hedging. I'm not sure I want to publish his name. Is that weird?

Anyway, LOOK! I got a picture to upload into my profile. Over there! On the right! At the top! For you, DD, one of my luscious shoes. And, appropriately, my nickname tattooed on my ankle.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Better Late Than Never?

I am a planner. I am not a spur of the moment kind of gal.

On Saturday afternoon I received an invitation in the mail for a bridal shower. For tonight. We've known about the wedding that takes place on August 19 since sometime in mid-March. Sure, there were apologies and all, but still. We are having carpet laid tomorrow instead of next week like we had planned, and tonight all the stuff needs to be moved out of the living room and hallway to accomodate the guy. Who, by the way, has VERY nice arms. Big. Muscles. I may have a hard time tearing myself away. Ahem. Anyway, the bride-to-be was so supportive during the wait for The Boy (she was the bartender at the place we went to kill the pain of waiting), that I have to attend. But I hate this kind of stuff during the week. Doesn't anyone else have laundry to do? Meals to cook? Flowers to water? etc., etc., etc.?

Late last night I checked our email at home. There in the incoming mail sat an invitation to a hockey booster picnic. Saturday at 1:00. We are supposed to bring dessert. Tomorrow night we have an alumni hockey game/fundraiser for the new rink the club is building. We've known about this alumni fundraiser since mid-June and they plan a picnic at the last minute? And I have to bake a dessert?

Guess what I'll be doing Saturday morning, bright and early, while the hockey player and MFH are moving all the stuff back into place in the living room and hallway?

Yep. Shopping at Costco for a dessert to take to the picnic.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Home Sweet Home

We bought our house 13 years ago. An old lady lived there that had apparently been on a shoestring budget. We fondly say that she liked to paint, unfortunately, with anything she could get off the clearance rack that had been badly mixed. We had salmon, plum, turquoise, mustard - yes, lovely all of it. She hadn't updated the carpet or any appliances since sometime in the 70's.

The market was right at the time, and we got the house for a good price. We painted and updated, but like the previous owner, on a shoestring budget.

We've redone some things over the years, but this is the summer of my discontent, and we are redoing in a major way.

We picked out new carpet last weekend. We lived with the wood floors for awhile, and then carpeted about 9 years ago. This is a project we wanted to put off as long as possible because we are messy. You know, a boy and a dog? And a hockey player? Waayyy too much testosterone. But it's time. And, Hockey Player is coming to visit for two weeks! We are using his brawn to move heavy stuff to lay new carpet. How convenient was that?

Our kitchen was ghastly - dark cabinets with years of grease embedded into the finish. Years ago we sanded them to bare wood and whitewashed them. It was nice but I didn't put any finish on the whitewash. Who knew? I didn't want them to get all sticky with grease again, which didn't happen. See how smart I am? They got stained instead. This week we are sanding them, whitewashing again, and using a clear satin finish. They look brand new! MFH is so wonderful - he doubles as a handyman and a mechanic.

My MIL is the queen of painting. She loves it. Me? Not so much. MFH? Not at all. It is time to freshen up the dining room walls, and I am going bold. Thanks to Michelle, who wouldn't tell me where she lives so I could steal her stuff, I am going red. I heart red. The Boy says red is mama's favorite color.

My kitchen and dining area are decorated with chili peppers and wine, red of course, which I collect. If you have any of either you'd like to part with, send em my way.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Inconvenience

I'm sorry it's such an inconvenience for you to use your turn indicators, but since I'm not a frickin' mind reader, and your car is equipped with the little buggers, could you just humor me a little????? Oh, and Missy? They are also good for letting me know you are going to change lanes and whip in front of me in traffic.

I am bigger than you, and I probably have better insurance.

My Yukon is in the body shop to repair that little fender bender issue. I am currently driving MFH's '81 Chevy Shortbox pickup. There is something empowering about driving an older vehicle, albeit a nice one. I feel braver, like "Oh hell no, you are not going to pull in front of me like that! I am driving an older vehicle and I'll just run your ass over!" Of course I wouldn't cause then we'd have two wrecked vehicles, and this one would be my fault, but it is fun to think it. And maybe even act like you'd actually do it.