Dreams are Weird

I'm in prison.  Sitting on top of a cafeteria-style table, in a room with other women, all wearing the same jumpsuit as me.  You'd think I'd feel anxious, but I don't because I have my childhood best friend sitting next to me.  I don't even know what I'm doing time for, but I know that I'll be here for four months.  Less for good behavior.  Thinking of four months kind of like a semester at college instead of missing my family like crazy. Just push through and though the days will feel long, four months will go by quickly.

Oh dreams....There are times that whatever I was watching on TV invades my subconscious, but I haven't been watching Orange is the New Black or anything.  The night before I dreamt that we sold our old house to Brian's aunt and uncle in New Jersey.  They flipped it from this tiny cottage to a gorgeous home and then rent it out, but not before giving us a tour.  It was quite vibrant, like I was really there!  

But the absolute worst is the stress dreams.  I've had a repetitive one since college:  I'm working at McDonald's.  I'm making burgers in the back, I'm taking orders up front and I'm running the drive-thru and I'm all alone.  And then three buses pull in and everyone wants burgers and fries and they want them NOW.  When I wake up from that one, with my heart pounding, it's an instant sign that I've taken on too much and need to dial it back.  Oh, you crazy, all-knowing subconscious!

Counting Crows

Last night as I was leaving work, I stopped dead in my tracks.

A house on the other side of the church (I work for an apartment complex sponsored by the church) was being STALKED  by crows.  It was absolutely creepy.  I don't know if I've ever seen crows before, and if I have I certainly haven't seen a "murder" of crows before.  No seriously, a gathering of crows is called a murder.  Just to add to the creepiness further.

I took a short video, just for the sound.  And then jumped in my car to get the boys, with an ominous feeling.  Nothing bad happened, but it was pretty unsettling.  If I didn't see it again, I'd be OK with that!

Snakeskin--oh my!

Ok.  I'm cool with the fact that I must live in harmony with animals.

I understand that I need to co-exist with creepies, too.  Like spiders.  And as long as they stay outside, I leave them alone to do their thing.  They come inside and all bets are off!  (Though if I'm being totally honest....I call Hubby in to deal with them.  Bugs aren't my bag, baby.)

I've been doing a favor for the next door neighbor this week, watching his son in the morning before school and taking him and Will to the bus stop.  This morning we came down the stairs and "Jack" pointed out a molted snakeskin.  I thought he was making it up and said to myself "Nah....that's a tree root."

IT MOST CERTAINLY WAS NOT A TREE ROOT.  It was a 12-inch long molted snakeskin.  (No I did not measure it, I "eyeballed" it and that's what I'm coming up with.)    Seriously?  I know that it's most likely a harmless garter snake.  But yuck!!!!! ( Dude....we have woods in the back of the house!  Go back there to change your skin.  Could you please not toss your "laundry" next to my stairs?  I pick up enough dirty laundry, Mr. Snake.)  But again, being perfectly honest...there is no way in hell that I am picking it up.  I think you know who's going to end up with that job.  (Hubby...have I told you lately how much I love you?)

So there you go.  I now know that there's a snake living under my front stairs.  At least, that's where I THINK he is, and not knowing for sure is probably the worst part.  You can bet I'll never forget to close the garage door again, that is for damn sure.

Sunny Surprises

Sunny Florida:  I got the opportunity to surprise Heather for her baby shower.  It's not often that something is truly a surprise in life, and this one went particularly well.  She and her boyfriend met me at the airport, I just walked up to the car and said "Hey Lady, can I get a ride?!"  She was FLOORED!  She thought it was going to be her brother, so when it turned out to be me she could've been knocked over with a feather.   We had a great extended weekend, with two baby showers, taking the boat out to the Gulf of Mexico, eating, sharing stories from the past and laughing so hard our sides hurt.  It was truly a fantastic, relaxing time.

Well.  The only NON-relaxing part was when I found out that the package of baby things that I had sent the week before hadn't been delivered.  Then it turned out that it had been delivered, but WHERE???  There were a couple of streets with similar names so we did some investigating and left a note at this kind of creepy-looking house.  The next day, I was just settling in for lunch salads with her mom and stepdad when the doorbell rang.  It was a guy...holding my package!  He had gotten my note and brought it over to the correct address.  Turns out his wife was also expecting a baby, and they were getting stuff in the mail too so when they got the box they opened it without looking.  When they opened the box and discovered girly stuff they were like "What the hell?"  They were kind enough to return it, and I won't be spending countless hours knitting things that I had already made and cursing the Post Office.

I came home to a clean house, and not only did the kids behave for Daddy, Daddy had time to move the desk to our new office!  AND set up our new TV stand!  Everything looks great.

Tomorrow it's back to the daily grind.  I'm not looking forward to it, I'm still visualizing the Gulf of Mexico, palm trees and good food and friends who really are family.  But it is good to be home with Brian and my boys!

The 2011 Attack of Big Bertha

If you know me at all, you know that I'm a bugophobe.  Just one big bug is enough to give me a case of heebie jeebies so bad, it's practically paralyzing.  (And if they bring a few friends, it might as well be the Apocalypse.)    I'm not proud of this.  I'm not proud of the fact that a big ol' bug is enough to send me screaming in the other direction.  (no exaggeration.  Remember the big bug in my room above the bed in Moore Hall, Shannon??)

Anyway...back to not being proud of this fact.  Nothing terrifies me as much as a gigantic bug.  (Gigantic--bigger than a quarter)  It doesn't matter if it's harmless.  A bug, is a bug is a bug.  So imagine my dismay when I was home with the boys this morning and I headed into the bathroom, and there was a big centipede lookin' thing chillin' in my bathroom sink.  He (or she, doesn't matter) was bigger than the drain opening.  Once I glimpsed Big Bertha (yeah, I'm making it a she) I couldn't even WALK into the bathroom.  If Big Bertha had graced me with her presence whilst in the shower, I would have jumped out screaming, mid-shampoo.  I texted Hubby about the bug, and sent him a photo.  (I'm pretty sure this is one of the things that he just adores about me!)  He writes back to send Will in there with a magazine to kill it, and to flush it down the toilet.  Yeah Right.

I approach Will, and I explain to him about Mommy's ridiculous fear about bugs and ask him how he feels about killing Big Bertha.  He gives me a wary eye and says "Ok, I'll help."  This is the low I've sunk to....enlisting my five-year old to help dispose of a bug that I can't even go into the bathroom to see fully.  He suggests a big cup of very hot water.  I think....well, I could do that.  So we fill a coffee can with hot water, and I bring it into the bathroom.  When it comes time, though, I can't  bring myself to do it.  What if I just piss off this thing and it comes out to give me a piece of her mind?  Then I remember......cleaning supplies!  Ooh Clorox Clean-up.  I go in there, trigger poised.  Aaah!  I spray and run, slamming the door behind me.  Will, "Is it dead, Mom?  Are you ok?"  Ten minutes go by.....and I check.  Bertha's busted.  Only now I can't bring myself to dispose of her.

So I've closed the door and left it for Brian to deal with.  Yes, I'm well aware that I'm a total wimp and you may judge if you must.  Will though, surprised me with a hug and an "I love you, Mom."  I'm a wimp, but a wimp with my family's love and support.  :)

By Popular Demand: The Bee Picture

A few have asked to see a picture....and I aim to please.

  Killer Bee, Meet my Killer Sweater.

Kaboom!  Now there's something you don't see every day.

The real fun will be figuring out how in the hell I can get this bee removed, so I can finish the sweater for the intended recipient's baby shower next weekend!

Out of my Comfort Zone...A Book Series Review

Awhile back, my friend Tracy recommended a book series to me called "Crank" by Ellen Hopkins.  There are three books in the series, "Crank," "Glass" and "Fallout."  All of them are about a young woman and her addiction to meth.  The books are written in poetic prose, which really adds something to the subject matter AND makes for quick reading. 

Wow.  I don't have any personal experience in my life with drug addiction, but I have friends and family who do, whether it is they themselves that have the issue or someone who loves them that is/has dealt with it.  This series, while powerful, was really, really hard to read.  The first book, when it was just the character of Kristina hurting herself with her addiction it wasn't terrible reading.  Later on, when she becomes a teenage mother and her drug addiction affects her kids and the rest of the family, that was really hard to get  through.  There were times that I wanted to put down the second book and run away from it, I was so uncomfortable with the subject matter.  But it's good to get out of your comfort zone sometimes, and it was interesting to say the least the all-encompassing way that Kristina's meth use, or "flirting with the monster" takes her life down the tubes.  What is even more tragic is how quickly everything turns to crap with this kind of abuse and addiction.  My generation is of the Nancy Reagan's "Just Say No" campaign, and I did "just say no."  I am of the school of "Drugs are bad, m'kay??"  But I've never had to question why.  This book tells you why, exactly.

At first I was shocked (shocked!) that this was in the Young Adult section in the library.  Not that I am into banning books, in fact, I'm quite against it. But then I guess that they would serve as a pretty harsh warning to teenagers thinking of using meth and gives a good case to what will happen if you do.  I think that my perception of when kids can first encounter drug use and/or be offered drugs is a big misconception.  I have a friend from college that I haven't talked to in ages, she works as a substance abuse counselor.  I remember a conversation with her five years ago regarding drug use and kids and she said then that she has regular conversations with her daughter, then seven, about the dangers of drug use.  She said that in her job, she has seen problems arise in kids as young as nine or ten.  NINE or TEN.  I can't say that for my generation, that I saw drugs at that age, or older even.  Perhaps I was oblivious, but I don't really believe that drug use was rampant on the playgrounds I grew up on.  High school, sure I knew kids that did drugs.  Mostly pot, but I didn't know anyone that did harder drugs.  I knew of a little more hard drug use in college, and working as a property manager in the city, I see it every day.  A lot of it in plain sight. 

Another thing that surprised me is that this is a work of fiction.  The situation seems so REAL as you're reading it and you're picturing the family and how they're dealing with it and the repercussions of people's life choices.  But it is not real.  However, the series is based on the author's daughter and her very real battle with drug addiction at a young age, and the author gaining custody of her son because of it. 

All I can say, after reading these books, is that I pray that I will not EVER have to deal with the subject matter in real life.  And that, after reading these books and seeing what I see every day in the neighborhood that I work in, to have honest, open discussions with my children about drug use, abuse and the affects. 

A Building with a Broken Spirit

 As mentioned at the top of my blog page, I am a full-time working Mom.  I don't talk about work a lot on Life in the Carpool Lane.  Mostly, because I like my blog to be about light and happy things like my husband and kids, my hobbies, etc.  Sometimes I'll share a funny story with the details blurred a little to change places, names, etc.  I am a property manager, and what that translates to is a "Jack of All Trades."  I am rent collector, rules enforcer, services liasion, interpreter, confidante, accountant, and a whole lot of other things in-between.  I've been at this for nine years, starting in elderly housing.  In the past two years, I've transferred to a family property in a small city.  Upon telling a woman what I do for a living after having a conversation about my latest work drama (prostitutes in the hallways, drugs on the premises, and hiring a security detail to help with all of the above and more) she said "Wow, you sound like a fun person to have a cup of coffee with!  I'll bet you have loads of interesting stories."

Uh-huh, I do.  I've got funny ones, ones that make you reflect and I've got the kind that give you the heebie jeebies.    Most of my stories involve people. But today, it was about a building.   

From the description above regarding my current property, I'll bet you can guess it's not exactly what one might call a desirable neighborhood.  You're right....it's not.  It's one of the worst neighborhoods in the city.  Most of the time I'm not creeped out, but then again, I'm there during daylight hours.  My building is a renovated old factory that was turned into apartments two years ago.  The building itself is over 150 years old, and is famous for manufacturing pianos and organs.  However, before it was turned into apartments, it was an abandoned, beat up old building that had been condemned since 2001.   Rehabbing it into apartments, everything brand new, made a big difference in the neighborhood.

Then you have the building next door.  Also very old, five stories, and in horrible shape.  Plus the clientele that came in and out was the sheer definition of "shady."  It was probably once a nice building.  But years of neglect, negligent landlords and devastating drug use turned it into a total slum.  I'd seen the people lounging on the front steps and leering out the windows.  I certainly didn't miss the piles of trash, the grime and filth.  And especially the guy that I saw my first day there, throwing his broken bed and a busted-up wheelchair from the porch railing four flights up.  (What a racket!)  It was certainly not on my list of "things I'll miss while on maternity leave."  Upon my return to work, I was not surprised to learn that the slumlord had been foreclosed on.  What did surprise me is that someone bought it.  And boarded it up, and installed cameras to cut down on crime.  The next surprise was that the new owner had secured a 1.3 million dollar grant to rehab the property, adding an elevator and other amenities..

I got an opportunity to tour the building the other day  I had painted my own picture in my mind's eye of what it might look like.  .  I've always been naturally curious, to know if the interior matched the exterior.  I'm sorry to say that no, they don't match.  In fact, the interior is much, much worse.  "Trashed" doesn't begin to cover it!  Mold in the basements, and around the ceiling light fixtures in the lobby..  Gaping holes in ceilings.  Water damage.  Floors and carpets that hadn't seen the light of day in decades.  Teeny, narrow apartments that hadn't been updated since the Nixon Administration.   Hand-lettered signs posted, warning neighbors not to bring their drugs in there.  In a phrase, sheer hell!  I was told "Oh, you should have seen it when it first closed in February!"  Actually I'm glad I didn't.  I had heard that they had to pay one person to finally leave and all I could think was "You mean people actually lived here willingly???"  It was the kind of thing that makes me grateful for my home and my family.

Yet, it has the potential of being a nice building again. It's slated to be completely gutted, and rehabbed from head to toe.  And I can't wait to see it.  It has so much potential, once the past and it's scars are removed.  I'm certainly looking forward to watching it go from the Disgraced Duckling to a Beautiful Swan! 

When Bees Attack....in December!

Ah yesterday.....a record-breaking day in New England, weather-wise.  It was gorgeous, almost 70 degrees!   Short sleeves to work, leaving the jacket in the car.....so nice!  Well, 'cept for one thing......

I had an appointment with my diabetes doctor in the morning.  I'm sitting in the waiting area, hoping to have my name called soon so I can get to work.  Suddenly, I feel this buzzing around my head.  This fly keeps swooshing by me, and I keep dodging and looking around me.  I'm sure I look a little nuts to the other people waiting, but hey, I'm used to that.  :)  The "fly" makes one more devil pass, and this time I can feel it just sitting on top of my head.  I reach up to touch it and have the sinking realization that it must be one helluva fly, because it's big and it's not coming out of my hair!!  Those that know me know that I am a total bugophobe....and it doesn't take much buggy-wise to get a hell of a reaction out of me!  Maintaining composure (and breathing deeply) I ask to use the ladies' room.  One quick glance tells me that I can't handle this alone.  So, with panic in my voice, I ask the receptionist for help with the monster fly in my hair.  She takes one look and freaks a bit as she tells me that's no fly, it's a yellowjacket!!!  AUUUGGGHHH!!! 

So, she's trying to swat at it, and when it finally unearths from my hair, I run for the bathroom and close the door.  That's when she decides to tell me that it keeps heading for the bathroom.  Double AUUGGHHH!!!!  No way am I opening that door.  What is it about my hair.....do bees like Paul Mitchell shampoo and conditioner?  Finally, it meets a deadly end with a fatal blow with a medical chart.  Meanwhile, I think everyone in the waiting area was ready for me to go into labor and have the baby right there.  Took me a while to catch my breath and keep my heart in my chest, but I managed.  Crisis averted, the bee is dead.

 Apparently, when you have a warm day in December, bees get confused and come out of the hive.  How it wound up in a doctor's office I'll never know!!

One of the Reasons I Dislike Summer

The spiders.

I'm such a bugophobe. But even I know that spiders are a good bug to have around because they eat mosquitos and other annoying flying insects. So we live by this rule, the spiders and I: They can stay outside and do their thing. But the second I see one of those fat, yucky arachnids I'm screaming bloody murder and Brian will be dispatched to squash it. (though I did kill a daddy longlegs when he was at work one morning--I had no choice but to take matter in my own hands...er, paper towel)

We have a large floodlight at the top of our house, facing the backyard. The spiders "doing their thing" usually consists of them stacking webs against the back of the house under the floodlight, like spider condos. Which makes sense, since all of these flying bugs treat the floodlight like it's crack. Most mornings I also have webs on the front porch, which I just ignore and go about my merry way. Sometimes, they are so large that I find them amazing in a creepy way.

In the mornings, Brian wakes me up after he gets out of the shower, and I mosey my way into the kitchen to let our dog Joey out, and then head for my own shower. This morning I pulled back the slider door curtain, and there it was. A HUGE spiderweb! Almost the size of half the door with the spider smack-dab in the middle, tooting his own horn. Though disgusted, I just opened the door and Joey ran out into the backyard.

Later on, I had Will in the car and had just put it in reverse to head to daycare when something on the back stairwell caught my eye. I put the car in park, turned off the engine and got out to take a look. Holy Crap! Apparently the web I saw at the slider door was the "little" one. There is a web covering the entire top of the stairs, up to the roof! It looks big enough to catch people! And the spider is in the middle of that one, looking pooped but bragging just the same. I shudder, and get back in the car.

So that is why every year, I look forward to the first cold night when all of the spiders finally go away for the year. But it's too bad they're not around for Halloween, I wouldn't have to decorate!