Old Time Memories

The boy is half-Italian, half-Irish. So, of course, we had to join in on the St. Paddy's day activities...to celebrate his heritage an all. Not because we just wanted an excuse to get hammered on a Wednesday. Not us.


The boy and I brought along one of our good friends, R brought along one of her good friends, and along the way we made a couple new good friends. After a few beers and some amazing crab dip, we started sharing. Sharing about bar experiences, ex's, and anal (don't ask). All the talk of old memories brought back one very fond V-day memory that is still funny, almost 7 years later.


It was Valentine's day circa 2002. The boy planned a very special dinner out but unfortunately, I came down with a nasty stomach bug. Our hot steamy night out turned into a rather dull, sleepy night on my mom's couch.


Let me interrupt my own story for a minute to give you an idea of the boy's choice of apparel back then. He wore basketball shorts over his boxers and under whatever type of pants he chose-every day. He also corresponded his shirt with said basketball shorts. He claims it was because his boys used to pants him...I'm not sure his excuse for the matching shirt...


Anyway, at some point (prior to the boy's redic early curfew) my dad called and asked us to come over. The boy had stripped down to just the basketball shorts so we could comfortably lay under a blanket without feeling like we were in the Middle East. I groggily respond "Sure Dad, as soon as the boy puts his pants back on".


Yeah, that wasn't an uncomfortable visit at all.

A Visit to the Homestead

After a hard day at work yesterday and a couple more hours spent at the new house painting and unpacking, I came back to our rental and had a few brewskis. What seemingly was a brilliant idea, had one obvious flaw. I hadn't had a bite to eat since noon and it was pressing on 9 o'clock. The first blue moon went straight to my head and well, so did the second and third...

I drifted off to a cozy beer induced sleep sometime after midnight and woke six and a half hours later. I'm not quite sure how it happened but I swear a sweater was covering my tongue. I dragged myself downstairs and poured a glass of water down my throat and then dragged myself back upstairs for a piping hot shower. This early morning hangover would've been irrelevant had I been able to sit anonymously at my desk for a couple hours while my body decided to stop hating me. However, I had an early morning meeting at my alma mater with the Bossman himself.

I arrived at campus early, mainly so I could sit in the car and pray to the higher powers to miraculously cure the stirring in my stomach and pounding in my head. With ten minutes to spare, I made my way to the classroom written out on my briefing to set up the powerpoint. 5 minutes later its show time. The Bossman speaks, my Chief of Staff speaks, and I managed to say a few words without spewing on anyone or anything.

I telepathically bonded with a chick sitting in the corner of the room dressed in a blue hoodie, a high messy pony tail, and yoga pants. She looked like I felt and fortunately for her she was probably able to meander back to her dorm room and plummet into a nice, warm bed.

Oh, how I miss the days of rolling out of bed, sleepy eyed and hungover only to walk several hundred yards to campus to expel the entire contents of my stomach on Burdick Field. Visiting the homestead brought back a lot of good memories.

Not So Random Anymore

Last Friday, after waking from a wonderful slumber, taking a very sleepy shower, and putting together an outfit that had the least amount of wrinkles I could find, I made my way to the office. I sat at my desk with a english muffin and a coffee and logged onto our local paper's website to begin my morning ritual-prolonging the inevitable work day.

I read through the first couple posts of the day- Towson gas station robbed, man critically injured- three shot, one fatal in late night assault- man shot during attempted carjacking North Baltimore. Nothing out of the norm really. I mean, I do live in a City commonly referred to as "Bodymore, Murderland". I read a few stories about the rich and the semi-famous, catched up on real estate adventures, and then finally decide I should actually begin to do what I'm being paid for- seriously, how is net surfing not a paid job already? Just kidding, I really do work hard...

Anyway, several hours later I log onto facebook (shocker, right?) and my homepage is bombarded with Stay Strong, T and we know you can pull through T, etc. I'm clearly clueless about what happened to T. I bbm the boy and he has no idea. I text Powerslam- a mutual friend between of T and I. Actually, I may have met T through Powerslam. Regardless of that, Powerslam is not sure either- so the brigade of texts begin. T was the man shot in armed carjacking, the article I carelessly read about hours earlier.

I was stunned. Beyond belief actually. I was scared for T and his family and I'm pretty sure I said a quick prayer and for those of you that know me, I'm completely indifferent about religion. But this hit home. Now don't let me mislead you to think T and I speak every day or that I see him on the reg, because I definitely don't. However, he's been invited to every party I've ever hosted- I've seen him at almost every gathering I've probably attended, I've thrown back more then a few with him, and he even joined in our short lived poker nights.

T survived a bullet to the stomach that punctured his liver, kidney, and colon. But he's already beginning to regain his charm. In fact, when I visited him Tuesday with a group of friends, we asked the dumbest question we could "How are you feeling?" His response was classic "Like I have a bullet in my stomach". Well said T, well said.

I had a different outlook Monday morning when I sat down to read the recaps of the weekend. I no longer felt indifferent to news article outlining the tragedies of the City. Not to say that I won't become jaded at these stories again or that when I hear the sirens roll by my house at night that it won't cross my mind that someone may have just been shot. But for now, at this moment, my heart bleeds a little for the families and most definitely the friends of these people, who suffer at the hands of the ignorant.

I'm already looking forward to the Welcome Home party for T.

Chaos Interrupted

So it's official, we bought a house. It came with a lot of painting to be done, new flooring to be installed, a faux 80s diner countertop, and some cussing- er, A LOT of cussing. With that being said, we love it and are so excited to move in-eventually.



Working 8 hour days and running back and forth between two houses over the past week has been GAWD AWFUL. But slowly (and I mean very slowly) the house is materializing into something beeeeautiful. Back at the ranch (aka the rental), we're dodging brown boxes and trying to seperate two years worth of stuff. I question how I've accumulated so much crap in each room I try and pack up.



Work (as in my actual paid job) has been busy, especially because this was my first full week back. Between snow, federal holidays, settlement, and sickness and doctor appointments, I've maybe worked 8 full days this month. In those 8 days, I've worked my ass off to make sure I don't fall too far behind. I mean, I'm only trying to save people from losing their houses, etc.


With all that being said, my life has been insanely boring these last few weeks. I've had a few nights out in between a lot of work. One night which was ridiculously awkward, but that friends, is for a post all on it's own.

Back to Civilization

Today was my first real day back to work since that big ass snowstorm Mother Nature dumped on us. I had a half day last Friday but seriously, who counts Friday as a work day? Especially a half day.

The boy and I did our share of rejuvenating the economy this weekend. With new homeownership looming over us (tomorrow is the day!), we need a crap load of stuff-including appliances, a mattress made for three (get your dirty lil minds out of the gutter- the dog unfortunately has a stake in our bed) and some badass furniture. We checked almost everything off our laundry list but we still have a good amount left to buy. (Ps, if anyone is wondering- yes, we are currently taking donations!)

Plus, I did a little retail therapy myself-I mean when The Limited is selling pants for $39.50 you jump on that. And those shoes I bought are the perfect weekend shoe... thank God for that tax money.

Ah, the 10 days of rest and relaxation (and climbing the walls to reconnect with the outside) is over and reality has set back in. Here's to a good Blue Moon to get me through the week.

Snopac Returns

So, as most of you know (if you've listened the least bit to the news) the Snopacolypse has hit the East Coast with a vengeance (similar to Elin with Tiger's golf club). Charm City was hit with about two and a half feet of the white powdery mess. No worries ladies and gents, we're stocked with beer, wine, spirits, and maybe even a little food.

For our family scattered around the South and West, enjoy the pics!At 4:30 yesterday, after 3 hours of snow fall, Snopac had only graced us with about 2 inches.
At 8:30 last night, the inches started piling up. Snopac was up to about 4-5 inches. At this point, M and I were a bottle deep in wine and decided it was best to keep the camera away from the watery outside.
And, when we arose from our sleep/wine coma, we had over 2 feet. The boy is starting to shovel a path for the Tuck to do his biz.
Our 3 foot back fence is disappearing in Snopac.

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We Are Procrastinators

"I remember a place...a town...a house like a lot of houses...a yard like a lot of other yards...on a street like a lot of other streets. And the things is, after all these years, I still look back...with wonder."- Wonder Years

Our closing is scheduled for two weeks from today. In 14 days, the boy and I will become homeowners...which in all honesty scares the shit out of me. I was thinking about this last night...I've moved approximately every 8 months for about the last 5 years. The longest I've stayed in one place is 9 1/2 months. And here I am, about to commit to one house... one street...one neighborhood for at least 5 years. Bring out the paper bag!

But on the topsy turvy side, I'm ridiculously excited about putting a chunk of my paycheck into something that will one day reward me with a little equity and hopefully a profit, rather than blowing chunks after Max's on a Friday night. God knows our out of control bar nights are going to be less frequent with a mortgage now.

Anyway, two weeks and we get the keys to the new place-if all goes well. And we've yet to pack one thing. We have a pile of crap hanging out in our dining room (from Christmas) that we neglected to find a home for and clothes scattering our room that belong on hangers, in drawers etc. I'm assuming I'm mentally preparing for the move. We packed overnight when we moved into this place/shithole. We took the day off and surrounded ourselves with newspapers, cotton exchange (reminds me of granny panties) boxes and a sharpie and packed into the wee hours of the morning. I'm guessing with our track record history will repeat itself and we'll be packing the night before our big move.

Bring on the paint brushes, blue moon, and some good tunes. Damn I wish I could find my ipod...