Monday, July 13, 2009
Politically Incorrect
Cooking shmooking. Or something. So we went for Chinese food. The local (and only) joint nearby advertises themselves as the best in town. Duh! They serve Bento Boxes. Go figure. And their tip trays say Gracias on the bottom. But when I heard the elderly couple from across the restaurant tell the waitress that Gracias means thank you in Mexican- that's when I almost choked on my Kung Pao. In a world where Cultural Competency is a mandatory course in just about every field, I'm not sure how this managed to escape HR.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Landscaping
Before moving to California I didn't know anyone in my immediate circle who had landscapers. After our move, we were about the only ones on our street who didn't. After digging trenches for sprinklers through bedrock and spending countless hours weeding the hillside, we constantly asked my mom why we couldn't hire some Mexicans to do the yard work. She told us that's why she had us, her very own Mexicans. We really are a little bit Mexican, and I've lived in Mexico longer and speak more Spanish than most Cholos, so don't go getting all "Brown Pride" on me. It has become one of the longest running (if not most politically incorrect) jokes our family has. Scratch that. Definitely not the most politically incorrect.
I swore up and down that I would hire my own home's manual labor out. I lied. Yesterday we spent most of the day raking out flower beds and hacking back overgrown bushes. My husband asked me if I knew what I was doing. Trust me, I've done this before. Many, many times. Except for the mutilating bug bites, I'm not as sore as I thought I'd be. Hitting a vericose vein for a mosquito must be like striking oil. That's the only sore spot though. And a little hard work never hurt anyone. Right Mom?
I swore up and down that I would hire my own home's manual labor out. I lied. Yesterday we spent most of the day raking out flower beds and hacking back overgrown bushes. My husband asked me if I knew what I was doing. Trust me, I've done this before. Many, many times. Except for the mutilating bug bites, I'm not as sore as I thought I'd be. Hitting a vericose vein for a mosquito must be like striking oil. That's the only sore spot though. And a little hard work never hurt anyone. Right Mom?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Our New Hometown
Population 4,725 in 2007. Twenty minutes to the nearest large chain grocery store or Target- making it twenty minutes from most of civilization. Two minutes from the park and less than five to the lake. Around the block to the golf course and less than a mile away from the Equestrian Center.
Golf carts with car seats are spotted regularly. I mock the local ladies several times a day in their golf carts and track suits, but in all honesty the subject of a golf cart has come up around our own dining table more than once. And I make a mental note of the track suits that seem to enhance flat mommy bum and the sunglasses that are big enough (but not quite bug-eyed) so I can look for them the next time I hit Ross or Marshall's. Girl's Night is often catered and alternates between Sangrias and Mojitos. I've been dubbed the Designated Golfcart Driver. (Not joking on that one.)
Once you're in the gate and past the guards, the people are so friendly it's almost creepy. It's almost a fight over who is actually going to get the right of way. No after you. No after you. No after YOU. Oh, for hell's sake somebody just go!! That's me. Obviously new here and not used to random strangers being so nice. You can practically get cited for not waving to your neighbor. But you will most definitely get cited for leaving your garage door open or your dog in the backyard. Yes, we even have rules about whether or not a contractor's dog is allowed at a job cite. It's not.
My husband's favorite part is the sliding door onto the patio in the master bedroom. He keeps it open all night long because he says it makes him feel like he's camping. So let me get this straight...We bought a house so you could feel like you're camping?
Yes, we've moved to Pleasantville and we love it.
Who would have ever thought I'd be at a place in life where the choice would be shoes or Crepe Myrtle tree? It's going to takemonths years decades for me to get it just right, but this place is starting to look like our home in just a week.
Golf carts with car seats are spotted regularly. I mock the local ladies several times a day in their golf carts and track suits, but in all honesty the subject of a golf cart has come up around our own dining table more than once. And I make a mental note of the track suits that seem to enhance flat mommy bum and the sunglasses that are big enough (but not quite bug-eyed) so I can look for them the next time I hit Ross or Marshall's. Girl's Night is often catered and alternates between Sangrias and Mojitos. I've been dubbed the Designated Golfcart Driver. (Not joking on that one.)
Once you're in the gate and past the guards, the people are so friendly it's almost creepy. It's almost a fight over who is actually going to get the right of way. No after you. No after you. No after YOU. Oh, for hell's sake somebody just go!! That's me. Obviously new here and not used to random strangers being so nice. You can practically get cited for not waving to your neighbor. But you will most definitely get cited for leaving your garage door open or your dog in the backyard. Yes, we even have rules about whether or not a contractor's dog is allowed at a job cite. It's not.
My husband's favorite part is the sliding door onto the patio in the master bedroom. He keeps it open all night long because he says it makes him feel like he's camping. So let me get this straight...We bought a house so you could feel like you're camping?
Yes, we've moved to Pleasantville and we love it.
Who would have ever thought I'd be at a place in life where the choice would be shoes or Crepe Myrtle tree? It's going to take
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Our Mary Poppins
I used to wonder what Moms needed nannies for. Life lesson learned- Don't knock it till you've tried it. When our nanny goes home on Friday, we're both going to cry. And every day for the next week when Scrunch asks "Where's Mick?" when she wakes up, I'll cry some more.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Happy Birthday Husband!
I'm coming off of this blogging hiatus just to say Happy Birthday to my husband! I was informed late yesterday afternoon that he was too old for a Transformers birthday party. I beg to differ. What dude does not want Megan Fox for his birthday?
Friday, July 3, 2009
Happy Anniversary!
I haven't even had a chance to tell my Husband Happy Anniversary yet. He's outdone himself this year. Can't wait to see what he comes up with next year!
House, appliances, and movers! I am in domestic heaven.
And if I ever move again, movers are the way to go. Even though they showed up four hours early, I can sit and blog while they load the truck. Hello!
Happy Anniversary to us!
House, appliances, and movers! I am in domestic heaven.
And if I ever move again, movers are the way to go. Even though they showed up four hours early, I can sit and blog while they load the truck. Hello!
Happy Anniversary to us!
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