Be warned, this is going to be a warm and fuzzy one. In direct opposition to Friday's brief post of frustration.

I know that it's a common assumption that the excitement goes out of life as soon as a couple enters the institution of marriage. I'm here to testify that the word "exciting" takes on entire new shades of meaning. Vacations? Exciting. Night clubs, dancing? Sure. Going 107 miles an hour on a motorcycle on an OFF RAMP? You betcha.

How about a Saturday night on the couch watching movies we've already seen? Probably not the first thing that comes to mind, and the horrifying bane of hard-core bachelors everywhere.

It's exciting to me, though. When I walk past Calvin as he is sitting on the couch, and he grabs my hand and pulls me down to sit on his lap. When I rest my head against his chest, and he pulls out my ponytail and massages my scalp. When I say, "I could fall asleep like this," and he runs gentle fingertips over my face and says, "Go ahead."

When I move to get up, and he grips a little tighter before letting go. When I come back to the couch with a couple of beers, hand one to him, and get pulled in for a quick kiss. When I settle on the other side of the couch, and he scooches over to be in contact - shoulder, hip, thigh.

When he looks at me, grins, and says, "Another exciting Saturday night." And I reply, "Yes, it is."

Posted by Laura at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments

I do love Calvin dearly, but sometimes he irritates the crap outta me.

Posted by Laura at 8:53 PM | Permalink | Comments

Please help. If you can. A dollar. Five. It all adds up, and every little bit counts! And what a beautiful cause, to give someone the ability to speak. A someone who has gone through life thus far struggling to make her thoughts, feelings, and needs known.

The power of the internet and the journalling community rides again!

Posted by Laura at 9:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

I was just messing around on my Yahoo! Group for this site, because a couple of kind readers let me know that somehow a spammer had infiltrated the group. As I was reviewing the group activity log, I came across a few people who had chosen to leave the group. It doesn't happen often, but when it does I'm always curious. Did I offend them? Bore them? Not update often enough? Personally, I've left one or two notification lists because I didn't read them much, or checked back with them so often that a notification of their update was unnecessary. For instance, I would frequently get to Jill's entries before she even had a chance to send out her notification.

Nothing more specific to say about the subject, I just wonder. It's that Pollyanna complex kicking in again.

Speaking of Jill, last weekend she and her boi Jay came out to Arizona. The official reason was for a Cub's spring training game, but we managed to hijack two of their evenings to spend with us. Last Friday, Jay and Jill came over, as well as fellow TUS-er Kazzy and her husband, to hang out and visit and eat pizza. Jay and Jill arrived first, and I must say that I fell into an easy comfort with the two of them right off. Well, I've been reading Jill since 2000, and she talks about Jay so much (plus Jay posts on TUS) that I felt like I knew her a bit, too. Jill and I have been meaning for YEARS to meet in person, and I was tickled that it finally happened.

Amusingly enough, within the first ten minutes of their arrival, Jill and I decided to take off and go to the grocery store for alcoholic necessities. We were leaving just as Kazzy and her husband were arriving. We all said our hello's, and Jill and I took off. We gabbed like we've known each other forever, and laughed over the strange friendship initiation of grocery shopping together.

Arriving back at the house and carrying our stuff up the sidewalk, we heard laughter coming through the screen door. Just as I was thinking it, Jill said, "Oh, good!" It can be weird, sometimes, meeting folks that you only know on-line. Look at me with the sage words, when the only other on-line person I've met in "real life" is Dawn (whose website says she's "back", but she hasn't posted since January. Ahem, missy.)

Everyone was gathered around the bar in the kitchen - and why IS that? Everyone, whether we've known them for ages or just met them, stands and sits around the kitchen bar, gabbing. There is actually furniture to sit on in the living room, mere steps away, but the congregation always takes place in the kitchen.

Anyway. We fixed some drinks and grabbed some pizza, and I announced that I was sitting out on the patio, since it seemed the neighbors' (fucking) dogs had finally quit their (fucking) barking, and it was a beautiful night. Gotta love March evenings in Arizona.

We sat around gabbing for, like, four hours. I'm afraid that Jay, Jill, Calvin and I pretty much dominated the (sometimes risque) conversation, and probably horrified Kazzy and her husband. They're really kind, sweet people, and I enjoyed having them over very much. I just think we might have, well, overwhelmed them.

As for the rest of us, we tangented ("Calvin, do you remember how you got onto the topic of monkeys?"), and talked all over one another ("It's Laura's turn to talk! Calvin, shut up."), and laughed hysterically ("Shut up, dog! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"). Marie wandered in and out (Jill - "Is it okay to still be talking about this stuff around her?" Me - "If it weren't, she would have been shocked into a coma a looooong time ago."), playing DJ with Sirius. And before we knew it, it was almost one of the clock.

So the guests departed, and I was left with the delighted feeling I get when I find more kindred spirits - and, bonus, ones that "get" Calvin, with all his flirtatious (and then some) ways. Why do these newfound friends have to live in a different state, though? Grumble.

So! I have no idea what we did on Saturday. Something involving the garage or other household project, I'm sure. A dump run? Probably. Marie had a REALLY rough night on Saturday night, and was still feeling awful on Sunday. So! What better way to cheer up than to buy stuff!

.

It's a very, very bad thing to live within spitting distance of Circuit City.

We spent all evening Sunday (and by "we", I mean "Calvin") setting this bad boy up, and all day Monday playing around with it. Jill called late Monday afternoon and asked if we wanted to hang out again, to which both Calvin and I responded with, "Hell, yeah!" So she and Jay came over after the baseball game, and we once again had lively conversation around the patio table. It's just so NICE to converse with new friends, and be understood, and understand them in turn. It always fills me with that excited, "This is too cool," feeling to feel a connection right away and know that, were it not for the fact that they live so far away, we would be hanging out like this on a regular basis.

Jay has this wry sense of humor that had me nodding in agreement while I was snorting in amusement. She's got a quick wit and quicker intellect, and she's a lot more outgoing, or less reserved, than I pictured she would be. It's hard to tell a person's personality through on-line postings. An image or representation just automatically develops, through no purposeful effort. And, here's a funny compliment, but I kept staring at Jay's profile. Great lines and perfect symmetry and terrific bone structure - all the stuff I wish I had. ~grin~

Laws, I hate to use the word "bubbly", and Jill is probably going to kill me if I do. After going through some tough stuff, Jill emerged on the other end very enthused and energetic. She just smiled the whole time, and I was glad to see it. And, even though it was a very casual weekend, she's just got this quality that says "sexy" no matter what she's wearing or doing. She's got an intelligence and sense of humor to match and compliment Jay's. Oh, and Marie says, "She's got really cool hair!" High accolades, that.

They make a wonderful couple, and it's plain to me that they're good for each other. I kept mentally going, "aww" at their small contacts - feet under the table, a touch on the arm or hand gripped as one walked past the other. All the unconscious things that a couple uses to relay, "Hey! I like being with you!"

Calvin played the flirt to the hilt, which, I think, amused Jill and Jay. My darling husband was born without filters, which is a condition that cannot be recognized until a boy is in his mid-teens, or in Calvin's case, eight. He cracks me up, but sometimes folks look askance at him, or at the very least laugh in that, "I can't believe he just said that" sort of way. He certainly is fun to observe while we're among a group of people, and watch the varying degrees of shock register with the not-so-laid back.

Jill and Jay, however, are quite laid back, and we had a grand old time laughing, listening to Calvin's stories, and talking about everything from politics to the on-line community to our particular tastes in clothing, food, movies...

Well. Suffice to say, it was a very satisfying visit, and, after watching "Finding Nemo" on the BFD (Big Fucking Display) and ordering in some Mexican food, Jill and Jay called it an evening. Calvin and I were both sad to see them go. I hope they make it back this way, or us over in their direction, sometime soon.

Let's see, what else is newsworthy? Well, we're still trying to track down a dining room table... we really want this set, but Furniture Find has listed it as "out of stock" for a full month. Calvin's going to get impatient soon, I think (well, I will too). He really likes this one, and I think it's cool, but with caramel seats instead of black. We tend toward liking colder furniture surfaces, it seems, and I want to add at least a little warmth to the house.

I've got two more projects to finish up, and those are at the final stages, so by the end of next week I should have no more work to do for my old position. Items are getting piled onto my calendar from my new group's admin at the rate of two or three a week, so it seems they're in a hurry for me to come up to speed. I had my first meeting with my new boss this week, and he informed me that I will have 67 - that's sixty-seven - classes to take over the next year. And I'll be managing 8-10 vendor contracts. So while this job won't be easy or quiet, it still sounds like it'll be fun, and the folks in the group seem to be nice.

My manager countered all this "gulp" news with a query as to which day I'd like to telecommute from home. I asked for Friday, and he said that was no problem. So I can start doing that in about a month.

Because today is my last Friday off under my 4/10 schedule, and I am doing NOTHING but sitting on my ass and perusing the net for dining tables and hanging at TUS and writing this. I should be writing my research paper, but, well, I'm not. It MUST be done by mid-to-late next week, or I'll be pissed with myself.

There! I'm here, the cat hasn't killed us in our sleep.

Posted by Laura at 1:12 PM | Permalink | Comments

This morning, after lollygagging a bit on the 'net and doing some homework, I showered in prep for my massage appointment. I stood in front of the mirror, applying make-up. Oz came wandering in, and did his meer cat impersonation, trying to see up on the counter. I scatted him away.

Moments later I heard, from the bedroom, "plump. Scatter! ching-clank. Foosh. Clunk." I sighed, and went in to investigate. Oz was up on my dresser, scattering my papers and jewelry and perfume about. "Get down, asshole!" I yelled. He jumped down and ran back into the bathroom, and I started picking up all the stuff he knocked off the dresser.

Then I heard, from the game room, "Clatter. shish. shish-shish-shish. Clok-CLATTER!"

Oh no he didn't...

I went back into the bathroom, and checked my make-up bag. Sure enough, no blush brush. I looked out the door, and Oz was batting it around under the pool table.

Do you see what he did? DO YOU SEE WHAT HE FREAKIN' DID?!? He distracted me. So he could steal the blush brush. He flippin' redirected my attention so he could acquire the target.

Oz is going to kill us all in our sleep. I swear. If I suddenly stop posting, you'll know why.

Posted by Laura at 5:58 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm sitting next to the open window in the living room. Something smells strongly of Sweet Tarts.

I stayed home today to work on my research paper. Yes, I did work on it all day, and yes, I got pretty far along with it. I'm finding out some pretty darned interesting stuff about modern-day piracy, and I'm reading "Dangerous Waters: Modern Piracy and Terror on the High Seas". Outline: done. Layout: done. Introductory paragraphs: done. References from several reliable sources: done. I'm hoping to get this done during the next week - it's not due until March 30th, but I'd rather have it out of the way early.

I even did a few hours of work-work. My manager sent the organizational change announcement about my departure, and a few folks wished me luck. Frankly, it's not like I was ever indispensable to the department, so I doubt they'll miss me at all.

(Calvin just sat down next to me and told me the Sweet Tart smell is citrus blossoms. Being a Maine girl, I wouldn't readily recognize something like that.)

I'm starting my new position in a few weeks, and I'm really looking forward to it - which is a strange feeling, because it's been a long time since I've looked forward to anything work-related. My office will be physically moving, as well, which will give me the much-needed impetus to clean out the vast amount of files that nobody has any use for anymore. And will give me a full break from my past position, which will be required to stem the, "Well, but you used to work on this..." kind of drive-by requests.

I hate packing and moving, though. This will be the (counting) seventh (I think) move I've had to do since starting at AcronymCo, almost ten years ago. I'm hoping to keep my "stuff" down to one or two boxes. I think I can manage that - I don't need to take any materials from my former position, so really it's just my pictures and decorative whatnots. Which do add up to a hefty amount, yes, but at least I don't have to pack an entire lateral file.

Calvin and I were in the bedroom a few minutes ago, and he heaved a big sigh as I handed him some Advil. "What's the matter?" I asked him. "Oh, just two more to go," he replied. Which got me thinking to how we all tend to wish our lives away, getting through the week from Monday to Friday. There has to be a way to enjoy life more during the week, instead of dragging ourselves through work and being plain exhausted at the end of the day.

The more I thought, the scarier things got. There's so little time, and we spend so much of our time on this Earth wishing the days were over. Then the weekends are occupied with the crap we couldn't get done during the week, because we were too busy.

Are we working to live, or living to work? We couldn't have the life we have if we didn't work, but there'd be a lot less to have to support if we didn't live the way we live. Would it be better to live as we do, with nice clothes and a nice home and nice vehicles and nice belongings, but having to work our assess off all the time to maintain it all? Or would it be better to have nothing, but owe nothing, and live a greatly simplified life?

Our current life affords us to take the occasional vacation, which wouldn't be possible with a greatly reduced income. But if we were living a simplified life, the lack of "away" vacations is compensated for by the amount of free time that is available just by living. Not to mention the lack of stress that negates the need to break away for a week or ten days, just to go right back to the grind at the end, and feel, within a day, as if the vacation never was.

So, I'm torn. Am I living, or just existing? Do I gain enough "quality" in my life so I will feel, at the end of it all, that I really lived? Certainly I won't know until I'm a cranky 90-year-old, rocking away on my porch and chasing the squirrels off the bird feeder.

From where I sit right now, I am enjoying my life. Not to it's fullest, though - a complaint that Calvin and I discuss on a regular basis. We want to create more memories, feel excited and look forward to things, have energy and motivation. It's hard to say, now, "Remember that time that we sat on the couch and watched that show?" Um, yeah, it happens every night.

We want to work to live, not live to work.

Posted by Laura at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

Mount St. Helens is having a major eruption, so sayeth the local news dude. So I headed on over to CNN.com to get more information. Not only is there not ANY news about the VOLCANO ERUPTING IN OUR COUNTRY, but the head story is All Michael Jackson, All The Time.

Sometimes our news agencies have skewed priorities.

Posted by Laura at 8:07 PM | Permalink | Comments

Calvin was fussing today.

We have a routine going strong for the weekends. It basically boils down to: do something useful around the house. Domesticity is a way of life - the ONLY life for us, lately. We're so busy with work and school and life's details that a lot of things have gotten out of hand. Marie is a busy busy teenager, so there's always the kitchen to be done. The garage is still an ongoing project. Laundry seems to have quadrupled itself - our bedroom has been declared a disaster area. We actually have to hire someone to do a one-time cleanup of the front yard, it's gotten so ahead of us. So, nothing that could actually be called "fun" or "exciting" going on around here (which, in my experience, is a mostly good thing - excitement usually = angst).

Calvin doesn't do well with boredom (at. all.), and routines feel too confining to him. He wants to be living the high life, with adventure around every corner. "Something" "fun" planned for every weekend (with me as the Event Coordinator). Instead, the most adventurous we've been lately is to meet friends for drinks. Oh, and last weekend's madcap mayhem. A free spirit, is my boy. He feels like he's settled down to a "grown-up routine" too soon in life. Pretty soon he'll be 80, rocking away on his front porch, full of regrets and "shoulda-coulda-woulda's".

I do think, though, that at least a little bit of his mood stemmed from me saying "no" to his idea of trading in his motorcycle to defer some of the cost to buy three quads. I simply DO NOT want another vehicular monthly payment until we pay off the truck. The Money Mistress has spoken. I hate having to be the bad guy. My voice of reason is louder than his voice of want, though. We all fill the roles that we have the capability for, I suppose.

The thing that sets our personalities at odds the most, I think, is the fact that I simply do not get bored. I enjoy "down time". I like having nowhere to go and nothing to do. I like spending the entire weekend pottering around the house. If I don't feel like reading, I write. If I don't feel like writing, I surf the net. If I don't feel like surfing the net, I watch TV. If I don't feel like watching TV, I cook. If I don't feel like cooking, I clean.

There's the dogs to toss a ball around with, and the hot tub to soak in. There's the digital camera and photo printer to play with. There's the pool table to putz around with, and the cat to torture. There are mix CD's to be made. And! Because of a recent purchase (read: today), there are papers to shred!

Can't have quads? Let's get a shredder! At least we bought something.

So, I have little understanding for Calvin's "I'm bored" litany. I think it actually pisses him off that I don't get bored. Misery loves company, after all. When I ask him what he wants to do, he says, "I don't know." I learned a long time ago to let him just thrash it out for himself, and go about my own business until he comes up with something for us to do together. And then he doesn't come up with anything, and takes a nap. A couple of hours later he wakes up with rumpled hair and a need to torture me.

Poke, tickle. Pinch, noogie noogie. Wet willie. Poke, squeeze. Chase! Knees and elbows! Tickle, pinch. Lick.

Ew.

Back to the topic at hand. Routines, rather than feeling confining, are actually comforting to me. Life at my grandmother's was very routine oriented. Right down to which chore got done which day of the week, and what time we had meals. So I fall into them rather naturally.

Since I've been on a 4/10 work schedule, I've fallen into the routine of getting prepared for work on the night before. Make my lunch, get together my vitamins, put the coffee together and set it on the timer, gather my laptop and accoutrements, set my bag and keys out by the pub table, get some clothes together. Then in the morning it's coffee for 20 minutes (while simultaneously tolerating the morning news program in all its hyper glory), followed by showering and dressing, feed the cat, put the dogs out with some water and a treat each, and I'm in the truck by 6:55.

At the office, I dock my laptop, take my breakfast out of my lunch bag, grab my water cup and get some ice while dropping my lunch off in the fridge, swing by the cafeteria to get a straw and a spoon, go back toward my desk and pause at the water cooler to fill up my cup, and settle back at my desk with my breakfast and my e-mail. And the time is now 7:20 a.m.

After work, I go home, get the mail, get comfy, figure out dinner, and sit in front of the TV. The laptop is usually on (hark!) my lap. I do my homework, hang out at TUS, and think about maybe but probably not working out. Then about a half-hour before bed time (usually 10:00), I start in on the stuff-gathering for the next day.

Every day. Seriously. And I take some kind of weird pleasure in it. It's a rhythm. Like jumping into a twirling pair of ropes, chanting away as Ms. Suzie's Steamboat meets its demise. Like being so familiar with a twisting stretch of road that you just drive through it like you're on rails. Like not being able to play the piano, but getting down Heart and Soul well enough to play the duet.

I like my life. It's not hard to make me happy. It's not hard to be happy. I wish that Calvin was able to find this kind of comfort in the routine of our lives.

But, he doesn't. His needs are different than my own. Handily enough, I also enjoy being adventurous, as a foil to my measured life. So perhaps I need to work "outing planning" into the routine.

And the gym. Which is harder to work in than homework.

Posted by Laura at 9:57 PM | Permalink | Comments

Remember when I mentioned on Colloquial on Friday that I needed to do housework, homework, and laundry? Well, one of those things got done. Housework. I saved all the rest for the last freakin' second.

Because. I've been messing with this thing. Because everyone who keeps these things knows that they're addictive, and tweaking can make hours of time go by, unbeknownst to you.

I'm getting off my butt. Really. No, really.

Posted by Laura at 2:13 PM | Permalink | Comments

I've decided to do a "weblog" version of Snerkology. The reason being I should be able to update more often if I don't have to do a full-blown HTML update, with the coding and the file transfers and the whatnot. The other site is staying where it is, so archives will always be accesible. Who knows, I may get a hankering for HTML again.

You might ask why I don't just switch to Colloquial, since it's already established. The answer is: I don't know. Maybe I want to keep the two of them separate? One as a "journal" and the other one for random thoughts? Who knows. It just seems that I enjoy collecting weblogs and journals.

So. We'll see how this goes.

Posted by Laura at 10:19 PM | Permalink | Comments