Monday, Monday

I really need to stop sleeping in over the weekend, because then Monday comes and I am so...effing...tired, and all the coffee Juan Valdez can pack over to me on his mule cannot keep me awake.  All day I dream of napping, and it's crazy hectic at work, and then I get home and it's make dinner get OD to her cello lesson take The Son to return the shoes he doesn't like go to the grocery store get everyone showered/homeworked/tucked and pluck George The Superpet's ear hair (yes, I do that) and then one would think I would be ready for bed and SURPRISE!  I'm wide awake.  Sure to be dead ass tired again tomorrow.

I did start this book last night, which is terrific so far:

It's a dog book, so I'm sucked in.  I read these books and I get engrossed, but there's also this voice in the back of my head that says, "You need to write your book" and I say "I don't have time right now" and the voice pesters me until I start yelling at it, "Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to write a book!?!  And one that is actually good and has a story and proper English that people will read that doesn't have sparkly vampires in it because that is so 2010?!"

I love a good book.  I have been reading since I was four, and I love nothing better in life than losing myself in a book, where I am so obsessed with it that I can't put it down, and when I'm forced to put it down I can't stop thinking about when I can pick it back up again.  I will take a good book, and I mean a REALLY good book that is one of the obsession books, over sex, coffee, wine, pasta and tiramisu.  THAT is how much I love books. 

There are loads of books I've been this obsessive with in my life, but ones that pop into my mind immediately are - Jane Austen books (except for Northanger Abbey, which was okay but I could put it down and live), Cowboys Are My Weakness by Pam Houston, The Good People of New York and Out of the Girls Room and Into the Night by Thisbe Nissen, Cooked Little Heart and Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, Devil in the White City by Eric Larson, It Happens Every Day by Isabel Gillies, the entire Twilight series, the entire Harry Potter series, Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld, Room by Emma Donoghue, all Jen Lancaster books, the Hunger Games series, and the Dragon Tattoo series by Stieg Larsson.  As a kid, it was Laura Ingalls Wilder, Nancy Drew, The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, The Trumpeter Swan, anything by Judy Blume and of course The Flowers in The Attic series.  Ish.

On deck right now I have A Tale of Two Cities, Portrait of a Lady, Bleachy-Haired Honky Bitch by Hollis Gillespie, It Looked Different on the Model by Laurie Notaro, and am awaiting Stacey Ballis's new book whenever it may come because I did love Good Enough to Eat.  And David Sedaris's Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk.  And With a Little Luck by Caprice Crane.

(I have to stop writing this because I have spent the last 20 minutes going back and adding another book I love to the "obsessed with" list.  Because I'm obsessed.)

But with a Pesky Full Time Job, my work severely cuts into my reading time, and then the Mothering takes over the non-paid-work time, so I find myself reading until all hours of the night and then waking up vowing never to do it again and covering the perpetually deep shadows under my eyes with foundation.  Open Memo to People at Work: I'm not being beaten, I'm reading.

What exactly is my point here?

That I write every single day, and have been writing pretty steadily for 15 years, and I can tell you firsthand that it is DAMN HARD to write a book.  Try it, I dare you.  I'm about 2/3 of the way through my first novel, which is about 60,000 words (the average blog post is about 600-900 words), and I haven't TOUCHED the novel in over a year.  I know how it's going to end.  I just haven't written it down.  And then when you start writing it, it changes.  The book actually takes your thoughts and says, "Bullshit, that would never happen.  THIS is what that character REALLY wants to do!"  I have another book rolling around in my head, and a collection of short stories too.  But guess what?  No publisher is going to pay me to tell them all about the stories and not write them down.  It's that tricky technicality of calling oneself a writer...you actually have to WRITE.

Every week, I say, "once we get through the school year I'll make time to write", then "once we get through the summer, I'll make time to write" and "Once school starts again, I'll make time to write" and now it's "once I finish this freelance project for CH..." and "once we finish the basement..."  One of these days I might actually do it, but honestly people, I'm 42 and I start worrying that I'm never going to purge these words.  It's like John Lennon said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

Every time I hear the song, "Unwritten" by Natasha Bedingfield, which I'm pretty sure she wrote specifically for me, I think Get Your Ass In Gear, Girl!  Do you have a lifelong ambition that is unmet?  Do you have something you are just dying to do and just don't do it?  What is holding you back?  Am I alone in thinking my epitaph is going to be "Unfulfilled potential?"  Lay it on me, Wifers, if Blogger will let you comment.  What is on your mind?  If you can't comment here, go to the FB page and do it there.  I want to know!

Get Off Me, Homes.

Remember when I spent all of my time this summer bitching about putting my house on the market?


My mom was here this weekend to help pack, because we sold our house!  Who-hoo!  We sold it in July, but I couldn't say much because I didn't want to jinx it, particularly when I'm hearing on NPR that existing home sales are down 26%.  Ouch.

Thank you, St. Joseph.  

I'm really sorry about the Sun Maid Raisin lady 

and I'm glad you aren't bitter.

Mom was here Saturday and Sunday, and Monday I felt an exhaustion so deep I couldn't keep my eyes open.  CH and The Son were up all night with unmentionable bathroom problems, and Oldest Daughter was blown up with allergies.  Youngest Daughter was not only in perfect health, but in the mood for snacks, drinks, Wii games that had already been packed, Littlest Pet Shop animals and playsets that had also been packed, reading books to people, and playing Trouble and Sorry with whomever had the misfortune to pass through the living room.  She was like a cute little spider in a large, sticky web that covered every doorway.  I would like to say for the record that I threw three games of Sorry by not knocking her off, ever, but if I wasn't tired I so would have kicked her little second grade ass.

 There's trouble in the bubble.

We are moving just four short blocks away.  Why?  Because we hate ourselves.

This is our fifth house in the 15 years we've been married, and I have become a packing genius.  It's actually great because you tend to get rid of a lot of stuff when you move, so your chances of becoming a hoarder are quite low.  It's also a HUGE pain in the ass because you have to still take three children to lessons and school and they are expected to wear clothes to these places, and they are still somehow needing three meals a day, even though you have packed their stuff in anticipation of the move because you know that the week before and after the closing date you are going to be batshit crazy and your packing window is closed.  Taco Bell recognizes our van, and Papa John's pizza delivery car waits outside of our house until the call comes in.


This move has been interesting because we are downsizing.  The house we lived in three houses ago was huge, and it was so much work.  I am not known for my housekeeping skills.  I love to cook, hate to clean the pots and pans.  I can upholster furniture, hate to clean the little staples and nails and scraps of fabric.  I like to read, and prefer it over making beds or picking up clothing.  Are we seeing a theme here?  When we moved into this house, it was a downsize from the BIG HOUSE.  And yet, it was still a lot to clean, and the yard is ginormous, with a bunch of flower beds installed by a master gardener, and the guilt I feel if I don't maintain the .30 acres of flower beds is as big as the yard.  We found a place with all of the features we wanted, but it was slightly smaller with a much smaller yard to take care of.


What has been interesting is the response to the move.  When we tell people we are moving, they immediately think we are upgrading, which is a natural assumption.  This is, after all, America.  When we tell them we are moving to a smaller place, there is a look of panic on their faces...is this by choice, or necessity?  Are we brilliant or broke?  Should they bring us food?  The truth is that the new place is smaller by choice, cheaper, and has all of the updates we wanted to make to this house already done (except for the basement, which we will be doing.  Expect to hear about that.)  We will have less debt and less overhead and less stress, which hopefully means more wine and more books and more travel.


For now, though, it is box city around here.  I drive a six pack of middle schoolers to school every morning, and the other day my van was accidentally full of broken down boxes.  The sixth grade boys rode in the back with the flattened boxes balanced on their heads, and the eighth grade girls in front made fun of them.  One of the girls, a sister to one of the boys, said, "Get used to it buddy, because if you don't get your grades up, you'll be living in one of those."  Ouch.  I feel his pain, because if I don't get this packing done, I'll be living in one of those too.

And by the way?  I lost the Stennifer lunch to someone from Dallas.  I have volunteered to be Second Runner Up, and I still can't wait to read Stacey's book, Good Enough To Eat, even though I will be weeping and hungry the entire time I'm reading it.

It's the Happy Bloggyversary Giveaway Post!

Happy Bloggyversary, Wifers!

It all started a year ago on September 1...A Day in the Wife was born on Blogger! 

My first post was the beginning of my Blogger life, so I decided to commemorate the great poet of our time, the one in spangly tops and tight lycra pants, the one who told the tale of immigrants on the boats and on the planes, comin' to America...the one, the only, Neil Diamond.    Neil was with me when no one was...from 0 followers, when no one Brought Me Flowers, up to 202 one year later, when you turned on your Heart Light.  Hello again, Hello, Wifers.  Because do I have a deal for you!

Introducing the Happy Bloggyversary Giveaway!

"Oooh, oooh, what can I win Julie?"

Well let me tell you what will be included 

in this ADITW commemorative prize package:

1. A copy of "Good Enough to Eat" 

by Stacey Ballis (have you pre-ordered your own copy yet?  

Only five days left...)  One of the best prizes, really.

2. A copy of "Bitter is the New Black" 

by Jen Lancaster so you can start 

your own stalking adventure!

Also an excellent prize.

3. "What happens tonight goes on Facebook tomorrow" napkins, 

regifted from a friend.  I think they are so funny 

that I can't bear to break them open, so they must be shared.

4. One pound of Starbucks coffee, from one junkie to another.  

 I personally recommend Komodo Dragon, but to each her own.

5. A "French Toast" bread press, 

cousin to the Holy Toast press featured on this blog

6. A framed photo of George the Superpet, 

complete with a creepy lock of fur.

7. A framed companion photo of Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein.

8. A custom-made evil mural by Youngest Daughter.  She will cut you.

9.  A "mix-tape" (on CD) of songs featured on the blog, 

including songs by Ok Go, band of my 

adolescent music crush Damian Kulash.

10.  Inclusion on my 2010 Christmas card list, 

where I list our failures and disappointments for the year.

(Above is 2004 Christmas card pic)

11.  Anne Taintor postcard magnet.

12.  Assorted other items I may be trying to get rid of
 

13.  Things I might have stolen

"Julie the Wife, how do I get involved in this 

ridiculously bad giveaway?"  I'm glad you asked!

Here is how it works:

One grand prize winner will receive all of the above items.  One second place winner will also receive copies of the Stacey Ballis and Jen Lancaster books.  Both winners will be featured in a phony blog written about their cross-country adventure taken last summer in their convertible 2008 VW bug, or their slumber party with Alice and Rosalie and Bella, or their Christmas with Chuck Norris, or an equivalent story.  The contest is open from this very second until midnight on September 15, 2010 CST.  Prizes will be sent by September 30.

How do you play?

Every comment posted between now and September 15 on either the A Day In The Wife blog or on the ADITW Facebook page gives you one entry.  Get a new follower of ADITW on Facebook or the blog and have them comment that you sent them, and you will get three entries.  I will record the drawing of the names and post the video on You Tube, embedded on the blog, so you can see my surprise and joy at the names drawn.  My attorney will be present at the drawing so it seems legal and aboveboard, but we might be enjoying a glass of wine, which negates the legitimacy but creates a sense of occasion.  Only one comment per day will count toward the contest, but I always love to hear from you.

Beyond the contests and all of that sort of hullaballoo, let me take a moment to thank you all, dear readers, for this bloggy adventure.  It has been fun seeing your names pop up on the comments and gathering the flock.  You have weathered the best of posts and the worst of posts.  You have stumbled drunk with me to see Jen Lancaster and watched my daughter puke on my feet.  You have endured FORTY Whoreticulture Fridays.  It is these things and more that, in the immortal words of James Taylor, make me want to STOP.  And thank you, baby.  Happy Bloggyversary!  Thanks for reading!

Smooches and inappropriate innuendo to you all,

It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 39

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws. Or bosses.  Really, I wrote this at home.  I save trolling the Internet for porn for the workplace.

Today's topic: Me (because that's so different from other days.)

Conversation with Current Husband at 9:38 p.m. tonight

ME:  "I'm so tired.  I still feel groggy from my Tylenol PM last night."

CH:  "Go to bed."

ME:  "I shouldn't have used, but I was too wired from the Diet Coke and Dots in the movie."

CH:  "Go to bed."

ME:  "It's Thursday night.  I have to do Whoreticulture Friday yet."

CH:  "Uh, the world won't stop if you don't blog."

ME:  "Mom and her two co-workers will be disappointed."

CH:  "Your mom retired last week."

ME:  "Well then I'm down to one reader and she's bored, so I can't risk it."

CH:  "I'm going to bed."

ME:  "Bastard."

And then I got on the computer, intending to write, but I had to quickly get on Twitter and send messages to The Bloggess (whose adorable pug, Barnaby Jones, died a few hours ago, so send her some love) and to Fletch, because stalkers who slack miss out on vital information.  Then I sent mass e-mails so I get more entries in the Stennifer Lunch contest (Good Enough To Eat - pre-order your copy now!) because going through Stacey's garbage alone isn't going to get me a seat at that lunch table.  Or that amazing necklace she wears on her website.  (She won't give it up, I've already asked.)  Talked to a couple of friends on Facebook, and badda bom badda bing, it's 11 p.m. and I haven't written one whorish word.

crickets....crickets....crickets...

I've NEVER had a problem with topics for Whoreticulture Friday, and then I realized the problem...it's ME!  Because I don't want the people at work to realize that I am not the pristine, well-presented girl I want them to *think* I am.  Inside of those Banana Republic pants and Gap shirts is a mother of three with the mouth of a trucker.  I keep my 'Ms. Jackson If You're Nasty' personae under wraps, away from my kids, co-workers, and some neighbors.  But Fridays I can usually let it all hang out.  Until this one.

Without going into great detail, let me say that I also blame Mike from American Pickers (Watch it Mondays at 8 CST on History Channel!)  He and his ladyfriend told my new boss about my blog, which I had sort of neglected to mention in my interview.  I knew it would probably come out eventually, but not less than a week into the job!  So she asked for the address this week, and now I sit, thinking something along the lines of this....

"Well.  You can't do the blog about how you and CH like nooners, because every time you come back from lunch she will think you were out having sex and now you'll never be able to have nooners again because she can see the archives where I talk about nooners, so between that and the kids being home the rest of the time you can't have sex for another 11 years.  You can't do the one about how you had the owner of a very nice restaurant over for Hamburger Helper and proceeded to tell him about The Shocker (it's hardcore, you may not want to go there) until he squealed like a girl and put his hands over his ears and said NO MORE I CAN'T HEAR ANY MORE but then went to work the next day and asked everyone about it and as he left our house he said CH and I are like Jr. High kids who are legal to drink.  (we were flattered) You can't do the one about the friend who knows a housewife who trolls the Internet to meet strangers in cities around the country to have sex.  You can't do the one about the friend who accidentally left a tampon in and had to have a doctor remove it a week later.  You can't do the one about the dogs getting stuck together.  Queefs.  Taints.  NOTHING.  Because your boss might read it.  And she's cool and probably wouldn't care, but STILL.  I do possess some small measure of public humility.

It's one thing to write about vibrators and Brazilians and such and go on your happy anonymous way.  It's quite another to write about CH saying "You look like you want me to bend you over" and then saying, "So how was your weekend?" to someone who knows about the bending.

So now l have a dilemma.  Will I be c***blocked forever, or can I work through it to everyone's ultimate satisfaction?  (Oh how I adore innuendo.)  Will we be able to adopt a "don't ask about the blog/don't tell about the blog" policy at work?  

My other dilemma?  It's 11:40 p.m. and I am really dead.  Stay tuned to see if there is an Issue 40 of WTF....oh, and welcome to my boss!  See you tomorrow!  Let's pretend this never happened, okay?

 

The Sound of Silence

"Hello darkness my old friend...

I've come to talk with you again..."

I wish I could play that song on my blog, but alas, those day have come to an end.  I've read over and over how people hate it when your blog starts with the auto-play on music.  I once had another blogger visit A Day in the Wife and proceed to send me an e-mail outlining everything that was wrong with my blog:

• hate the music, and so do your followers
• don't like word verification on comments
• too hard to find my e-mail address
• I was too "small time"

...and then she ended it by saying, "You're killing me, Smalls".  All I did to open myself up to this was leave a comment on her blog that one of her posts was funny.  Her blog has over 600 followers, so I think she thought she was doing me a big favor, but I thought to myself, "That's IT, I am auto-playing music FOREVER!"  Because you know why I write this blog?  It's not to win an award.  It's not to get more followers than anyone else.  It's not to impress people (CLEARLY!!!)  It's because I like to write, and I think everyday life is funny.  And nothing I say is terribly original to me, it's only sometimes funny because this is stuff that happens to everyone in some way, shape or form.  I also happen to like my followers.  You're funny people.

But do you notice how this Smalls Talk happened about four months ago, and it's still on my mind?  At least I'm not bitter, right!?

Anyhoo...the other day, Stacey Ballis posted something on Twitter that was funny, and since I am now stalking her, I was going to respond with a Vanilla Ice comment.  Since I like to be accurate when I quote Vanilla Ice, I went to playlist.com and searched for the song "Ice Ice Baby".   When I hit Play, my computer went "All right, Stop!" and promptly downloaded a virus and literally stopped.  This is the fourth time I've picked up a virus on my laptop, which only started happening when I started getting music for the blog from playlist, and so, I bid playlist.com a fair adieu.  It's sad, really, because I love music and it's been such a fun tongue-in-cheek thing to put a matching song with a blog post, but Saturday was the day the music died.  My laptop is still not working, so I have to use Current Husband's computer at night.

The other person affected by my dying laptop is Youngest Daughter.  She is a big gaming junkie, and loves to play Club Penguin, Nick Jr., Disney, Webkinz, and Class Brain, all of whom can be suspected of sending viruses, or at least loads of spyware, to my computer.  Every day, YD asks if she can play my computer, and every day I have to tell her no.  She gets very sad and then walks away to read Captain Underpants books, which I suppose is the lesser of two evils.

Last night, YD and I made a Sam's Club run.  School has started, so I needed bread, lunchmeat, chips, fruit, carrots, juice boxes, cereal, waffles, after school snacks, and caffeine in various forms.  We spent about $250, a full cart night, and on the way home we were listening to the radio when the ad came on for Double My Speed Dot Com.  The people were giving their testimonials about how they went to Double My Speed Dot Com and their computers are now miraculously like new - the cynic in me says that all of their passwords and account numbers have been downloaded as well.  Pretty soon, a small voice pipes up from the carseat in the back:

"Oh great, NOW you tell us, after we've wasted all of this money on food!"

There she is, the Child of 2010, who would rather play Club Penguin than eat.  Super.  I've made my child into an Internet junkie.  "And the people bowed and prayed...to the neon God they made...."  Do you think I'll get Mother of the Year?  There it is again...The Sound of Silence.

Happy Hump Day!  (Ooh, I want to play "Humpty Dance" now...do the Humpty Hump...)

Author Stalker - The Sequel

Those of you who have been reading A Day In The Wife for any amount of time know that I have been actively stalking Jen Lancaster, NY Times bestselling author (My Fair Lazy, still on sale, order now!).  Terms of the restraining order forbid me from going into great detail, but for those unfamiliar with my obsession, here is a quick refresher course:

 Me, bracing myself so as to not fall over on Jen.

Curse you, RL Restaurant bartenders.  Curse you.

She looks lovely, I look like Jeffrey Dahmer.

There are 13 blog posts with a Jen tag, but here are the two refresher courses revealing the embarrassing depths of my Jen addition:

"Jen Lancaster, I am your Stalker"

"I"m Addicted to Twitter and Jen Hates Me"

And the coup de grace, my unintentionally drunken meeting with Jen in May:

"Wasted Away Again in Author Stalkerville"

Fletch, I'm so sorry.  

But glad to see you are wearing a belt, Baldwin.

But I have some good news!  Jen's friends are TOTALLY available for stalking!  Stacey has been featured in Jen's books, and Jen dedicated "My Fair Lazy" to Stacey.  She sounds like a lot of fun, and I would absolutely buy her a very nice bottle of wine and some theater tickets if the opportunity presents itself when I get paroled from the whole "Meeting Jen in May Incident".  Hello, Stacey Ballis!  Welcome to the Author Stalker archives!

Meet Stacey.  

She's on the right with the fabulous necklace, 

which I will gladly take in lieu of a cease and desist order.

Stacey has written a number of books, including:

• Room For Improvement
• Sleeping Over
• Inappropriate Men
• Spinster Sisters

NONE of which I could get at Borders when I went there today, so I'm going back to Amazon.com to purchase.  I've linked the titles to their amazon pages.  But her big news is that she has a new book coming out next month, and it sounds fantastic!  

 "Good Enough To Eat" - go on, read the blurb.  

I've ordered it, and can't wait to read it!

SO.  Stacey made the mistake of opening up a contest to drive pre-sale orders of her book.  The contest is lunch with her and Jen.  Oh Holy Mother.  Are you kidding me?  I know some of you other Jen-lovers will want to do the contest, so here is the link to Stacey's blog so you can get the deets:  The Polymath Chronicles   The idea is that you try to get the most entries in the contest, and presumably someone will have their name drawn at the end.  Would I love to be that person?  You are damn skippy I would.  And here's the thing.  OF COURSE I love Jen.  OF COURSE I would love to have lunch with Jen.  But this Stacey is sort of intriguing, and I've met Jen.  I'm it for Stacey, and this new book looks terrific.  (And I am not to go within 100 yards of Jen, so that might complicate seating in the restaurant, but we can work around it I'm sure.)

I've made no secret that I'm hoping to get published someday, and the two of them would be so interesting to talk with about the publishing industry, book tours, and their writing process (here's mine - think about writing, get coffee, eat some cake, write a few sentences, think about ice cream, write a bit more, make dinner, chase children and give Current Husband menacing looks, have glass of wine, surf internet, blog, sigh, bed. The curtain has been lifted - Oz is a little man and The Wife is a procrastinator.)  More likely, we would talk about the completely amazing food we are eating, how delicious the wine tastes, how we hope there are cupcakes for dessert, and who will win on Project Runway.  TANGENT ALERT:  Did anyone else shift in their seats and have to look away when Nicholas cried last week?  He looked like a toddler whose playdate just ended - "I have to go home now!"  Oy.  And let me say for the record that I liked McKell.

Here is what I ask of you, gentle readers.  If you would like to win, by all means, enter!  If not, and you decide to pre-order Stacey's book, e-mail your order confirmation to me at adayinthewife@gmail.com and I can send it to Stacey and it will count toward my total.  Also, I will be posting links on Facebook, and if I get 20 people to "like" the post, it counts as an entry.  You know if I win, I will take loads of inappropriate photos, including my mug shot and food porn photos of what we ate, because we would be eating at The Lincoln Cafe in Mount Vernon, Iowa, TRULY THE BEST RESTAURANT IN THE WHOLE DAMN COUNTRY, I kid you not, and blog about the whole thing.  So go on, and pre-order her book!  At the very least, writer chicks need to stick together.

I've ordered three copies, and my one year blog anniversary is coming in September, so I will do a Happy Frackin' Bloggy Birthday to The Wife Giveaway next month, and a copy of Good Enough to Eat will be included.  Along with autographed photos of Todd the Squirrel and George the Superpet and a virtual plethora of other items.  Why?  Because I love you.  But for now, let's focus on my lunch with Stacey and Jen.

And?  If one of you wins, I would like the necklace Stacey is wearing in the picture above.  Thank you.

GEEKING OUT MOMENT - Shortly after I posted this, Stacey Ballis herself posted the first comment!  As they would say on Battlestar Galactica, Get the Frack Out!   Sigh.  I love the blogosphere.