Hello and Welcome to my blog! I am quite new to this, so I hope you'll bear with me until I figure out exactly how it all works (wishful thinking?). In the mean time, I will try to keep my blog updated as best I can! Thank you for stopping by!

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Unicorns and Institutions

     Sanity is like a Unicorn.  Beautiful, magical, and completely mythical.  One can no more possess sanity than one can possess a Keebler Elf.  And looking back into my family history of mental illness, I have begun to wonder if perhaps they were more sane than that of a sane person considering the insane never even fathom the idea of being...insane.
     So how did I come to this conclusion?  Well, it's simple really.  I have been married to my darling husband for three and a half years.  Haha, funny, I know, but let me elaborate a bit.

     Three years ago, I remember saying things that I actually said (or didn't say), doing things I actually did (or didn't do), seeing things I actually saw (or didn't see), and hearing things I actually heard (or didn't hear).  My thoughts on this?  Either that's just marriage in general, or I have a brain tumor and should get my head checked immediately.  Any input?

A recent incident:

     A few days ago, B walked into the kitchen while the dogs were eating.  (Evidently they had decided that sharing a bowl was more fun than eating from seperate bowls.)  So he sees them sharing a bowl and says out loud, "If you're going to share a bowl, then I guess you can just have two water bowls."  And then he fills the other dog dish with water and leaves.  The next day he went to feed the dogs, and dumped food in the water (same bowl that had been a food dish the day prior) and asks me why I put water in the food bowl.  
"Uhh...I didn't, you did.  Yesterday.  Don't you remember coming in here while they were sharing a dish and saying that since they were eating out of the same bowl, they can have two water dishes instead?"
     Nope.  Absolutely no recollection of that event in the least. 

     Maybe it's me.  It can't be me, right?  But just as positive as I am that it's him, he is that it's me.  How is one to know what's real and what isn't in an instance such as this?  I watched it.  I heard it.  But he did it?

     Perhaps the only solution would be to tap our phones, set up nanny cams and bugs in every room of the house, both cars, and on my person at all times.  Then, and only then, will I get a definite answer.

     It looks like I have a lot of work to do, so I better log off here and get started!  Thanks for listening!

Carolina North.  


Saturday, September 18, 2010

Mold, Mildew, and Moving! 1

     Recently my husband, daughter, dog, and I moved to North Carolina from Fairbanks, Alaska.  It sounds simple enough, really, but throw in driving two seperate vehicals and unexpected events and a "simple enough" move turns into a long list of "Huh?!"
     It all started a few months back when my dear husband (we'll call him "B") decided that instead of going to a formation, he wanted to check out a new job opening in the Army.  Little did he know, he would be accepted into the program and moved across the country back to his home state of North Carolina. 
     In preparation of the long drive ahead of us, my mom flew up to Alaska and brought my daughter down to her house in the lower 48 to make our move a little less stressful.  For five days, the four of us lived together in our one bedroom/one bathroom (overpriced) apartment.  My mom had a great time!  We took her to Denali National Park, The Fudge Pot (delicious!), and The Chowder House.  But in no time at all, our five days were up, and it was time to kiss my mom and my daughter goodbye.  
     Without Izzy there, B and I were able to get the house packed up quickly.  Unfortunately, the connex that we paid $4,000 for an 8x10 space was a no show, and the company didn't call to tell us why.  So B jumped on the ball, called the company, and found out that our driver was in a car accident earlier that day, and they "should" be able to drop it off the next day around noon.  Okay, no big deal.  Bad stuff happens sometimes.  The next day the connex shows up at 5PM.  Again, no late calls etc.  A little aggrivating, but that's okay!  It's here, and that's all that matters right now.  We have a lot to do in a short period of time! 
     So we sign the papers, the driver leaves, we open up the connex, climb in, and I look like I came in through the chimney!  Fine, we'll just sweep it out, buy an $80 area rug (just to ruin so our stuff doesn't turn black with soot), and start loading up the truck.  One of B's friends shows up and helps us load all of our boxes and furniture into the unit.  There's one thing to be thankful for!  All of his friends were supposed to be in the field that week, but fortunately, he was called back in for some reason. 
     We cleaned the apartment, arranged for a pro-carpet cleaner to come in, and were preparing to load up our cars when I get a scared phone call from a friend of mine.  There was an accident in the field and she's worried about her man!  B decides he should head in to see if they need help with anything, and I head over to make sure my friend is okay (she was sitting for her friend who's husband was injured).  
     Later the next day, B finishes helping just in time to actually load up our cars, and greet the carpet cleaner.  He did a fabulous job, by the way!  And we passed our apartment inspection with flying colors!  Whew!  One less thing to worry about!

     We get through Alaska just fine, but Canada was a bit different.  There was traffic from vacationers, construction, and back ups from Buffalo on the roads.  In the Yukon Territory, I had to pull over for something, I can't even remember what it was anymore, but I kept seeing all these turn offs and I thought they were just little side roads.  (No cell service there!)  So I turned off on one and B followed me.  It was night time and it was raining, and the "road" was a motorcycle trail.  Oops.  (I forgot to mention that B was pulling 5,000 lbs in a trailer behind his truck.)  Evidently he knew it was a motorcycle trail and he was furious!  Of course he was asking why would I turn off on a motorcycle trail when I know that he's pulling a trailer.  -->Better question:  If he knew it was a motorcycle trail, why'd he follow?  I was driving a four wheel drive truck fully prepared for off-road driving.  He could have continued on and I would have just drove up the embankment.  Oh well.  Next thing I know, the headlights of his truck are moving, so I turn around, and see him hauling this trailer off the trail (it was paved, weird, I know) and onto this quite large embankment, and back onto the highway.  Okay, good enough!
     Later on, in BC, as we're trekking forward, I notice that there is an increasingly large amount of smoke dead ahead.  I'm talking huge forest fire amount of smoke.  When we get to the next town, we ask some truckers if the roads are all still open.  Thankfully they were.  So we get a bite to eat, and head back on the road.

I'll have to make this a series, because I need to head out and feed my daughter and spend some time with B.  I know it is starting out slow, but it gets far more interesting.  Promise!