Oh, my word. Pull up a chair and grab a glass of wine. This one's a doozie.

So after a day of deep cleaning in preparation for having folks over for the holiday, I made dinner this evening, a lovely pesto filled pasta in a creamy red sauce. After dinner, Nolan and I retired to the boudoir to watch television and have a glass of wine, and I, like the whimsical girl that I am, decided to paint my nails.

So far a pretty mundane evening at Carrie's house.

But then, I sweetly ask my husband if he would "go and get the clothes out of the dryer, and move clothes from the washer to the dryer," I asked, blowing on my nails, "so I don't mess up my polish?"

He grumbled as he got up, muttering something about "what have you done for me lately?" and reluctantly walked through the living room and kitchen, and into the laundry room.

When he got there, the noise he made can only be described as sonic boom-like.

Kids do the darndest (read: most dumbass) things... )
† I am uninspired by the blue strawberry. *frowns* Everything I've started out writing is blerghy. I do like the quote, though. Also, did not get kicked out on the first round. *confetti throw*

† Mosquitoes are from the devil. I've been having a weird reaction to them this year. The bite area gets really red and swollen and hot, and then it hurts for a few days. Also - bug spray is gross.

† Made strawberry balsamic jam, two batches of blueberry peach, and plain peach jam over the past few days. I think I'm done being the pioneer woman, for awhile.

† It's impossible to keep my home clean and orderly with the boys home. They are a whirling tornado of sloppiness that have waaaaay more energy than I do. If I told them to clean up every mess they make, I'd just be cleaning constantly. And yelling all the time... so... School starts in a month. *nods*

† My house is too big. By the time I'm done really giving it a good go, cleaning wise, it's time to start over. No, Nolan, I don't want to move.

† Saw Despicable Me Friday with the kiddos. I laughed a little, I suppose. And little Agnes was cuuuuute ("It's so fluffy, I'm gonna DIE!"), but overall, I'd give it a meh.

† My mom's in Russia right now, and they didn't take their cell phones or laptop, so are unreachable for the next 10 days. It's not like I NEED my mother; I'm 37 years old for crying out loud, but knowing I can't talk to her is irritating. She and Tom are taking a cruise down a river in Russia, though. Sounds cool, right?

And now, for your reading pleasure, here's a story in which I humiliate both myself and a fourteen year-old boy simultaneously. *curtsies*

Get a coke. This one is sort of long. )
persephone33: (my idea of housework)
( Jan. 26th, 2009 01:39 pm)
I love to go antiquing. Love it. I love buying something that might have a story attached, that someone else has loved and used, especially if it retains its aesthetic beauty.

I like old stuff. Old, pretty stuff.

And I've had this wall in my breakfast nook, this vast expanse of empty wall that I knew I wanted to do something a little funky with, but still have it look like it belongs with the rest of the house. Week before last, I went to some antique stores on Route 66 (Yep, that Route 66 - As in "Get your kicks on") better known here as Sixth Street. I bought several antique plates, all for $15 or less, and decided that I was going to arrange them in a pleasing manner on the wall in my breakfast nook.

Pictures of what I did... )
And if you don't like this, you certainly don't have to tell me. It made me happy, so I posted. :D
This is the beepingest house I've ever been in.  Everything beeps.  EVERYTHING!

For the first couple of weeks, it really unnerved me, and I would go from room to room, checking things out.  For example.  There's an alarm on the refrigerator, that beeps when someone doesn't close the door.  Both the washer and dryer beep when there's a problem or they've finished their cycle.  The oven timer chimes, and continues to chime once a minute until you turn it off.  The microwave beeps until you press cancel.  The fire alarms are OH MY GOODNESS loud, and the coffeemaker beeps when it finishes brewing its carafe and when the burner goes off.  I'm not even counting all of the boy's toys that make some sort of goshawful noise.  Plus the noise of phones and missed calls on my cell phone and trillian and google chat on a daily basis...

But something is beeping this morning, and I can't figure out where it's coming from.  I don't recognize the beep, and I can't distinguish where it's source is exactly.  It goes off about once an hour;  I feel like I'm going out of my ever-loving mind.  It's as if someone is watching me, nudging their friend going, "Watch this, man.  Watch what she does when I push this button."

*shakes fist at imaginary, invisible men*  I don't think it's funny!


And Aaron was waiting for his toast to pop up, and made an observation.

Aaron.  There's dust on this picture.

Ethan. (Scoffs) Where isn't there dust?

Guess who gave the little darlings dustcloths and told them to remedy the situation?  That's right.  Me.  Mumzilla.  In my defense, this is the Texas panhandle.  I could dust one day and it would look like I hadn't done a thing three days later.  However, that is what you get when you criticize my cleaning prowess.  :D

And if you are making it beep in my house, stop please.  The voices in my head simply can't take it.  ;)
persephone33: (the queen is not amused)
( May. 23rd, 2008 05:50 pm)
I had an appointment with the landscape contractor at 2:00 p.m.

He called at 1:30 to say he'd be a "little late" and that he was "running behind."

It is now 5:51.

I am discontent about this.

I do not envy said man when Nolan finds out about this.  *shakes head*  Silly landscape contractor.  You picked the wrong people to blow off.

 *heh*  I can hear the chorus of "Yeeeees," from the f-list.

Anyhow, the crazy extends to my husband, as well, I fear.  You all know how I have a  thing against bunnies and squirrels and dolphins?  Well, here we go again.  Same play, Act II.

There's this OWL.  Thankfully it's not a real owl, 'cause I find those kind of creepy, too.  It's a statuary owl.  You know, the concrete kind that people stick in the backyard?  Nolan had one of these when I moved in after we got married.  My first thought back then?  What's my big, dumb, blond, 28 year-old husband doing with the statue of an owl in the backyard?

Well, as you can imagine, there's a story.

 It feels like we're staying in someone's vaction house, or a hotel.

A really nice hotel, though.  That has all of our stuff in it.  *shrugs*

So, I've done 95% of the downstairs, and today I tackle the boys' rooms. 

*lays down to die*  

Ironically, I need to clean house (sweep, mop, bathrooms, etc), but I can't concentrate long enough from unpacking the house to clean it.  It's bizarre.  The house should have the decency to stay clean til I get all the boxes out, right?

Aaron and Ethan don't think it feels like home either.  Every day when I pick them up from school, their question is:  "Are we going to the new house?"

Well, as someone else already lives in our old house, uh, yeah.


Sunday morning, Aaron was rooting round in the pantry (as he is want to do) and he asked the question:

Aaron.  Hey, Mom, do these people have donuts?

Me.  These people?  We are 'these people,' A.J.  We live here, now.

Aaron.  Oh, right, I know.  But do they have donuts?

Me.  No, they don't have donuts.


I took the child to The Donut Stop.  Sometimes it's easier not to argue.

And no one was maimed, hurt or died during the process.  We're gonna call that a win.  172 (I think) boxes and 68 pieces of furniture. The moving guy said, "You guys have a lot of stuff."  Thanks, pal.  Move along.

I haven't been this tired in a very long while.  Tired to the bone.  So tired that when I actually sit down, I want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.

Internet still not taken care of.  Nolan didn't like what I'd done.  Trying not to want to choke him down.  Am pirating off of a neighbor, but the signal is spotty.  I have to hold my mouth just right for it to work.  So there's that.

The house is beautiful.  I still can't believe I get to live here.  It's nine kinds of fabulous.

Will post pics when the maze of boxed is unpacked.  Kitchen and laundry room down.  7 rooms to go. *dies*

P.S.  Thanks to all of you who commented about the wreck.  I'm feeling better; my lip is almost healed and I'm only a little sore, but I don't know whether it's from moving or getting rear-ended.  Does it matter?  Anyhow, thanks for the concern.  You guys are the best.

So things are rocking right along. The signing away of our life is at 1:00, and then I can start putting crap in the house. Hurrah! Nolan did call the phone company, and they do have to do their thang out there, who knows how long it'll be before I have internet? Not me. I'm a bit put out, though.

So the neighborhood we're moving into is really nice. We are not the norm, out there. It's filled with doctors and lawyers, engineers that work at Pantex (the nuclear disarmorment plant) , etc. No other electrical contractors and actresses, for the most part. And I knew that going in. But the elementary school is one of the best, and we liked the neighborhood.

I digress.

Yesterday I drop by the house to look at a chandelier that one of our guys hung, to check the height or whatever, and I find that the builder (who reminds me a little of a used car salesman - really charming, but don't believe a word he says) has brought two women into the house to show them around. It's the norm, he did that with us, too. Took us around to his other houses to show us finishes and so forth.

Anyhoo, the women are the epitome of the Junior league rich bitch: Brighton sunglasses and shoes, really expensive, yet understated jewelry, Ralph Lauren everything; to be honest, the first thing I thought when I looked at one of them was 'Oh, my gosh, it's Pansy!'

Which proves that my dorkiness is firmly ingrained, thankyouverymuch.

Anyway, they chat with me a bit, keeping in mind that I look like a total scrub, I've been cleaning and packing boxes all day.

Pansy. You have a beautiful home. We especially like the landscaping. (shares a look with the other woman)

Me. Thank you. I think.

Pansy. So when is your move in date?

Me. Thursday. (I smile at the builder)

Pansy. (Looks around her, apparent distaste etched on every line of her made up face) Well. My, that's ...ambitious.

Quite frankly, I was floored. Did she think it wasn't finished? The cleaning crew is in today, clearing up construction debris and dust and so forth. My first thought was, "If you don't like it, then get the eff out, lady. The builder started backpedaling, and I left. i was done with all that.

So that's what I'm moving into. Let's hope my artistic temperment-AC/DC listening-dramatic-junior league hating-bullshit filtering personality goes over well out there, y'all. Bring it on, collective pains in the asses. I'm ready.
Your almost eight year-old son calls the video game he's playing a piece of go-seh.

I told him not to swear.  Not even in Mandarin. (Then I went into the bathroom and giggled.)


Also?  Nolan never called Southwestern Bell to get phone service hooked up in the new house.  He said we might not have phones (thus no internet) for TWO weeks.  Hello?  HELLO?  Sometimes I wonder about the man.

And writing a second exchange fic is the most fun EVER in the world.  There's absolutely no pressure, and the prompt is easy peasy, man.  Plus, I'm doing it WITH [personal profile] seegrim, which I hope is not against the rules.  Plus I get to write Narcissa.  I heart Narcissa a BUNCH.  I think I might channel her a little sometimes.  :)

Look!  April Fool's Day, and not a joke in sight.

We have a contract on our house.

The sweetest family came through and looked at it twice yesterday, and called and made an offer yesterday afternoon.  A GOOD offer, which we accepted.

Then they called today and said that they wanted to sign a contract. Nolan's best friend is a real estate attorney, (conveniently enough) and he zipped out a contract today and the family came over and signed it.  Poof. Done.

We don't have the check in out hands yet, but it looks like closing will be around March 25th.  And then I have to leave my house!  *sniff*

*looks around*

I should probably pack something.

Enough.  MEME time!  stolen from [info]meimei42 !
Comment here , and I will comment back with a picture of the fictional character that most reminds me of you.

I'll do my best.  I make no promises.  You've been warned.  Sounds fun, though, right?

ETA:  This meme is harder than it sounds.
persephone33: (The Winchesters look disgusted)
( Feb. 22nd, 2008 04:36 pm)
 Hallo, all.  

Going to be scarce this weekend... lots to do.

Spent the afternoon at the new house, deciding where hardware should go.  Who knew you had to decide where toilet paper rolls are installed?

Keeping in mind that it's not done yet, we're still a few weeks out...

Okay.  I MUST write for the ficexchange this weekend.  My recipient will be SO disappointed if I don't.  And we can't have her unhappy; no we can't.  :)


I fell yesterday.  Not an horrific fall, but an 'I'm walking really fast in my boots with the three inch heels and step of a curb' fall.  Pratfall.  Carole Lombard.  Lucille Ball.  Dick Van Dyke.  I'm sure it looked idiotic.  Nolan (who was sitting in the car with his dad at the time) said it looked like I fell out of frame.  Not only did I fall, but I fell ON MY BUTT in a big mud puddle.  In front of my husband and father-in-law.  And then I SWORE.  Twice.  Not the big guns, but definitely inappropriate around the father-in-law.  However, Nolan said he read my lips in the rear view mirror as they were driving away, and that he might have to wash my mouth out with soap.  I say I saved the worst for when no one was around and he should be grateful.

The really bad part?  Today I ache.  ALL OVER.  My arms, my back, my legs.  Seriously.  I'm 35, not 85; I should be able to take a little spill and bounce right back, right?  Evidently not.  Stupid traitorous body.

And one of Nolan's employees stepped through the ceiling in the master bathroom in the new house.  Tell me why it had to be one of OUR guys?  Why couldn't it have been one of the other million yahoos that are working out there? The house is coming along, though.  I dunno if it'll be March 1 like they said, but I can hope.

Okay. So the powder bath. (Stop snickering, Celeste[Poll #1135884][Poll #1135884]

P.S. If you think all my taste is in my ear, I could do without hearing that, just so's ya know. :)
 LJ ate two posts yesterday.  Two LONG ones.  That brasses me off on a level previously only held by people who pull out in front of me in heavy traffic.

Anyway.  I thought Monday sucked out loud.  I can say that now, having perspective, and I know unequivocally and beyond a shadow of a doubt that yes, indeed, Monday did suck.

I got a raging headache from eating things I know that I shoudn't.  NO MORE DEVIATIONS.  NO sugar.  I don't care if people say I'm weird or not.  'Eff 'em and feed 'em fish heads,' my sweetly eloquent husband says.

BIL's father died.  He was a sweet man.  We're going to Denver on Sunday for the funeral.  It's a 16 hour drive round trip, or $1600 in airfare.  We drive.  Be back Tuesday.

And when did I get to the age that I go to more funerals than weddings?  Seriously.  I take it back.  I WANT to buy blenders and sit through wooden readings of 1 Cornthians 13.  Please.  

My week has been consumed with trying to sell this house or making decisions on the other one.  I swear if the flooring lady calls ONE MORE TIME, I will end her.  She's old, too.  I could totally take her.  BAM.  Just a clothesline and an elbow drop, and she's done.  (I'm kidding.  Sorta.  Mostly.)

I made videos of the interior rooms of the old house, more for me and the boys than for anyone else, but if I get ambitious, I might post them.  Gotta keep the stalkers happy.  *waves at the stalkers*

Playwrighting.  Arriving late and leaving early and not contibuting while you're there is not going to get a play written.  (It's a fabulous premise this semester, but I'm not writing it.  Completely fabulous, and could be flipping hysterical...  Still not writing it.  There was some action on Google docs yesterday, so that's encouraging.)

Caliga.  Still adore Caliga.  Still.  Though, Pansy's getting so very tired of being a captive.  I think she's going to make her move soon.  I hope she lives.  She wants to play with the new vampire friend!  And hug on Cormac.  What a sweetheart.  He doesn't even know it, which is, I think, the best part.  Lots of scenes going on right now.  Super fun.  *Huggles the people*

As for Michael, his life is so sweet and perfect that I find myself JEALOUS OF MY OWN FICTIONAL CHARACTER.  

Clearly, I need therapy.  Will I go?  No, for I am too busy freaking out about picking out cabinet pulls for the house.  Somebody shoot me, please.  Or maybe just come to Amarillo and help.  I'll buy you lunch and keep you entertained while you're here.

I was supposed to meet with Steph today.  It snowed three inches last night.  I hate driving on snow. (Celeste, Jessica, Mallory and Vicky can call me a wimp.  I'm not an excellent driver when there's NO white stuff all over.)  It was 65 earlier this week and now it's freezing.  That always makes my body freak out. Pick a temperature, y'all.  Either one.  I'm fine with either.

Gotta get the munchkins up for school.  Darn it.  I have a cute kid story, too.  Maybe later.

persephone33: (Muttley)
( Nov. 16th, 2007 07:43 am)

So I was thinking yesterday about all of the crap we're going to have to move in a couple of months...  (The masons are doing the brick, and they're starting drywall inside, YAY!)  And the one thing that is more daunting than the rest is the fact that we'll have to move my piano.

*sigh*  I should let it go.  

Well, I've tried.  My parents bought it in the early eighties, and we've tried unloading on several people.  My dad even sold it once, but they couldn't get it in the lady's house.  It was too heavy.  I've tried to sell it, tried to give it to several theatres that I've worked for, and still it sits where it has for the last ten years.

Here's the kicker.  I think it's cursed.

I know, I know, f-list, what you're thinking.  Here's Carrie with another one of her weird theories...  but come on, look at this!

Does anyone else see that the knots in the wood look very much like a DEMON?  Or at the very least, a pissed off longhorn?  Neither of which I want in the living room.  I used to have to keep sheet music up all the time, even when I wasn't practicing, just because the thing creeped me out.  Actually, I think I blame the wood grain for the fact that I'm not more adept at the piano, and not my absolute loathing of sitting down to practice.

It was made by the Estey Piano Company, New York, and the patents on the inside range from April 1873 to June of 1909.

Seriously...  this thing is an episode of Supernatural waiting to happen.

Which would be okay, if Sam and Dean came to visit.  :)

May I bitch for a moment?

Hubs got back without new head for the wall or freezer full of steaks, and for that I am thankful.  What I'm not thankful for is the fact that he dumped all his dirty laundry next to the washer and left it.  I stared at it loathingly for two days then washed it.  Not with a joyful heart.

My youngest got strep and passed it on to me, as I get it whenever anyone in a ten foot radius has been exposed.  Bastard viruses.  Or whatever they are.

Had to go to a kid party on Saturday.  Words aren't enough to express how much I can't stand these.

Thursday is Thanksgiving dinner at the kids' school.  I hate these a skosh less.  Maybe me being sick *cough* will get me out of it.

Hubs informed me that our house payment will go up 250% for the new house.  *gulp*  I'm sorry, I know I have a liberal arts degree, but WOWZA.  I hope we don't end up with a pretty house and no money to buy food.

Does anyone ever get poster's remorse?  You post something and then...  you just want to delete it IMMEDIATELY, for fear it's offensive, or not good enough, or makes you a liitle sick?  I may be just being dramatic.  It's an occupational hazard.

My playwrighting class *GLARES AT STUDENTS* is way, way behind.  We have seriously got to get it in gear, or the Spring semester will NOT go as planned.  I like plans.  I like it when they go my way.  As it stands now, they are most definitely NOT going my way.

I agreed to do costumes for A Christmas Carol.  You know, it's simple.  "NO."  That's all I had to say, and yet, I'll be up sewing til 3 a.m. soon.  *sigh*

The holidays are coming.  THAT always makes me want to go hide in a cave for two months.  

Have you heard that song down there?  I know it's a GAP ad, but I LOVE it! 

 So, the reason behind all the garage sale posts of late is that Nolan and I are building a house. (Actually, some other very nice men are, but since we're paying for it, I totally feel justified in saying that.)  Anyhow, I've been trying to purge the house of the level of sheer, unadulterated volume of CRAP that we've accumuated in the 12 years since hubby's lived here and the 91/2 years that I have.  It's insane.  A never-ending, trash bag-filled nightmare, I tell you.  Anyway, when I was clearing out the crap, I ran across this:

It's a proof of my headshot from when I was eighteen.  (For those of you not familiar with the biz, a headshot is an 8x10 black and white glossy with your photo on one side and your resume on the other.  I cannot begin to imagine what my resume had on it at eighteen.  A bunch of lies, probably.)

Anyway, look!  There are absolutely no wrinkles, and that Carrie looks SO YOUNG!  She's innocent, and not yet sullied by all the horrors that life has to offer when you're an adult.  But in a kind of wordly way.  I've had a half dozen or so other headshots taken of me over the years for the various theatres I've worked for, but theis one's my favorite.  And by headshot standards, it's not even that good.  I found Nolan's too, (so droolworthy) but his was a copy of his actual headshot, and they wouldn't scan it.  Whatever.  I will find a way.

Conversely, here are Nolan and I today.  Actually yesterday, if you want to get technical.

And here's the house.  They say we'll be ready to move in by January 1, 2008.  

So that's what I've spent the vast majority of my time working on these past few months.  Well, that and [profile] caliga_rpg.  *looks around sheepishly*  Are we all keeping up with that?  I barely can...  Pansy's shaping up very nicely.  A little naughty, but you know, what are you going to do?  The girl has a mind of her own.  Very driven.  And I shudder to think about the volume of posts on Halloween.  YIKES. 

Crap news:  So I didn't get a role in Into the Woods.  I'm okay with it.  The good thing about acting is that there is ALWAYS another audition. The next one is in September for a TBA show at the Adventure Space.  So that's good.  When God closes a door, He opens a window.  (Trite, but true.)  Anyhow, I won't be crazy busy at the beginning of school, so I can devote more time to the boys, both of whom want to play sports (!?).  

Great News:  1.  Nolan is in Atlanta this week, so I've been able to read all I want.  
2.  I finished the August Podcast and it will be up whenever [profile] lyndsiefenele has a free moment, I'm sure.  
3.  Nolan ran into the talent agent that he used to be with on the plane (to Atlanta) and she said that she was     interested in representing me.  (BIG yay.) 
4.  I went by the site for our new house (We're building a new house!) and they were moving dirt to get ready to pour the concrete foundation!  (ENORMOUS yay!)
5.  I spent $300 at Wal-Mart today, but got both boys school supplies, new underwear, socks and tshirts, some jeans & shirts, and groceries for the week.  (This is filed under great news because this means I won't have to go back there anytime soon.  I deplore Wal-Mart.  I get cranky in the parking lot.)
6.  I leave in 5 days for NYC!  I'm going with my mother and sister for a week.  I'm so excited I can't see straight!

So.  Life really is fabulous.  There's just a little hiccup every now and again.  :)



persephone33: (Default)


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