Crazybananas

First of all, thanks to the few of you that emailed or left gift advice for Lu’s birthday in the comments of yesterday’s post. I ended up getting a very fun gift, with some inspiration from all of you. I’ll post a picture on Monday, but for now, just know that my gift for Lu involves whales, monsters, bubbles and an airplane or two.

To say the last few weeks have been hectic would be a complete understatement. We haven’t really spent time at home in at least four weeks, and the small amount of time we have has been riddled with sickness or work or something else in life. After our big NYC visit this past weekend, Lu came down with a super-illness. Not only does she get to deal with a fever and stuffy nose, but, lucky her, a throat so sore she can barely talk. And how the hell is she supposed to catch an airplane if the pilot can’t hear her shouting at thirty thousand feet?!

To top it all off, and prove that timing really is everything, tonight Trent’s dad and stepmom come into town for a long awaited visit. They haven’t seen Lu since Christmas, and suffice to say, she’s changed. Just a bit. OK, maybe she’s an entirely different species now, but I don’t want to alarm anyone. I think she’s still human.

In order to make up for what I’m sure will be a snotty, runny, grumpy weekend for our guests, I spent most of the afternoon cleaning the crap out of our tiny house. Who knew it would take so long to clean four rooms? I think the ant infestation in the kitchen added at least an hour. I even went so far as to ask our very-nice-but-sometimes-a-bit-strange neighbor if she could cut me some of her roses to put in vases throughout the house. By the way, do you says vay-ses or vaaa-ses? I can’t decide which is correct and it’s driving me bananas.

Trent had the audacity to ask me why the heck I was scrubbing the whole house for a short visit from his dad when it dawned on me. My mother used to do the exact same thing. My parents house in general looks like a wannabe contestant on Clean House, but when company was coming, no matter who it was, my mom was on her hands and knees in the kitchen, scrubbing the crap out of the yellow linoleum. And I know that because she would repeatedly tell me, “I’m in here scrubbing the crap out of this floor and what are you doing?! Go be helpful!” And I would think, “Who the hell is going to care if our kitchen floors are spotless when you can’t close your closet door due to the amassing of junk that ends up there when company comes over.” But I wouldn’t say anything because I was a bit of a rule follower and nothing scared me more than my mother being mad while cleaning floors. Deadly combination.

But look at me now. Just twenty years later, and it’s official. I’m her. Pass the mu-mu and Diet Coke. I may as well go quietly.

Lu’s birthday is one week away (OK, nevermind, it’s 6 days away, crap!) and I have NO IDEA what to get her. I wanted to do something special, something different, but I didn’t have the time earlier this month to order a gift. I’ve been scavenging craigslist looking for something unique, but am coming up way, way short. Any ideas? Help me, readers reader. You’re my only hope!

*Did anyone catch my Star Wars reference? Yeah, I’m pretty awesome.

Every time I go to NYC, I leave wishing I could put a downpayment on a small, ridiculously expensive apartment and move there within the week. But a few weeks ago I was at the in-laws’ farm and got to watch the sunset over the pond whilst typing away on the back deck. And on that day, all I wanted to do was move to the country. So I guess that makes me a very indecisive person, and partially explains why I am never the one in charge of making large decisions regarding our family living situation. I’d pack everyone up and two weeks later mention how I miss the humid air of Kansas honeysuckle and Trent would slap me upside the head.

We’re back in KC. And the NYC plus the dirty Jerz really took us for a trip! Lu is sick, Trent is a grump and I am just plain exhausted. But it was totally worth it as the wedding was phenomenal and I got to spend the weekend with the lovely Scott and Erin. And yes, Scott is very lovely. And fairly furry, just like his baby brother.

I’ll post some pictures after I have 8 or 80 hours of sleep. Until then, just revel in the fact that I was able to cross two items off my 100 Things list. Yay me! And also, yay alcohol, apparently.

47. Drink wine in Central Park
92. Drink a fancy cocktail on the roof of an apartment building in NYC - OK, so it was champagne. And, technically, it was the roof of a church. But it still counts. Because I make the rules around here!

When I was eight-years-old, my parents forced me to switch from my fun, open-minded public school to a conservative Catholic school. My little brother was about to start kindergarten, and he was, well, a bit difficult. My parents were afraid that he would get lost in the public school system, and since they wanted their kids to go to the same school, I had to move as well. My first year I absolutely hated it. There was praying and church and political talk for second graders. There were old computers and bad music equipment since our school was not funded by the state. Photos of Jesus peered down from every corner, daring you to sin. And the kids were just plain mean. Sure, I had a few friends here and there, but most everyone had formed tight cliques from their first day of kindergarten and were fairly unwilling to let a new, dorky, blond, space shuttle t-shirt wearing girl into their groups. It didn’t help that I was about a foot taller than everyone in my class. I was the epitomy of a geek.

In third grade there was a girl in my class I hadn’t met before. She was loud. And talkative. And she never shut up. Did I mention she was loud? But she was so nice to me, space shuttle t-shirts and all. Her name was Theresa and we became fast friends. If I was a smarter woman, I’d have an illustrative photo to put underneath this paragraph, but I’ve been busy and my scanner is broken, so you all will just have to visualize the vast dorkiness that permeated our friendship. She of the black, rimmed glasses and I of the buck teeth. I’m amazed we weren’t child models.

You can’t tell, but this is our class picture. I’m in the bottom row looking all emo. Please note Jesus menacingly staring over her shoulder…shudder.

Through the years we’ve had our ups and downs, both personally and within our friendship. But for some reason, she still stayed my buddy, even when she moved to the homeland, my most coveted New York City. She is the kind of friend that I don’t see all that often, maybe once a year, but will send me a letter on mother’s day congratulating me on becoming a wonderful mother. She is the kind of friend who will go an hour out of her way on a random Wednesday because I call her and tell her my favorite internet writer will be at a bar in Brooklyn signing autographs and could she get one for me. And she is the kind of friend that forgave me when I had to make an impossible choice between her and another important person in my life. A person that understood why I had to make the decision I did and even though she was hurt, comforted me about my choice. A person who, in the sea of conservative balony that is the state of Kansas, was a liberal. Someone I could actually have a political discussion with and not want to rip out my eyeballs and feed them to my dog.

Work it. Totally fierce.

Gah, now I’m getting all weepy!

A few years ago Theresa and I got into one of our discussions about marriage. She, personally, never wanted to get married. She didn’t feel she wanted or needed marriage or some guy to fulfill her life. She wanted to join the Peace Corps and do amazing things and travel, and she felt that wouldn’t be possible if she was married. She didn’t want kids or a life that held her back from the good she could do in the world. And (in my opinion) she didn’t think she deserved to have it all.

[Insert requisite joke about them being really hot here]

But then she met Jonathan. A sweet, shy architect in NYC who swept her off her feet. He wasn’t an alcoholic, workoholic, sexaholic, commitment-phobic, peeping tom, megalomaniac, emotional fuckwit, or pervert. And her ideas about marriage slowly started to change.

Tomorrow we head off for our weekend adventure in NYC to attend what I’m sure will be a gorgeous wedding. I mean, who has a wedding reception on the great lawn of Central Park? Seriously, who does that? Answer, that girl in the black rimmed glasses who never believed in marriage. I believe Hell has frozen over.

This picture has nothing to do with anything. I just thought it was a great group costume idea. Halloween, 2007, The Kennedy Family. L to R: Teddy, Jackie O, JFK, John John and Marilyn. I’m also posting to show the awesomeness that is Theresa’s sister’s hair. I am quite jealous of her cool factor. Mine is currently at negative 2 and in need of a boost!

All photos stolen borrowed from Theresa’s Facebook page, therefore causing me to reactivate my Facebook account. Damn you, Theresa!