A word from my sponsor of awesomeness

Y'all wanted Mama Pants's side of the story.  She emailed this to me to post for her.  (I have inserted a comment or two in (parenthetical italics).

My Side Of the Story (please note this is the REAL side)

After two days of working in the Pants condo, I am f'ing thrilled to report to all of you holding-your-breath-hoping-for-exciting-news out there that we totally kick ass.  We are fucking spectacular.  We rock beyond anything ever seen before.  We are beyond damned good.  And we are absolutely not for hire.  In two days we did 80% of what would be a $4 million condo in NYC.  (I think it's 1000 square feet.)

Sarah, my only and much beloved dotter (she knows how to spell daughter--she's done this since I was a kid and I dig it), was amazing beyond words.  Just amazing.  She has some of my DNA but not my really compulsive, anal retentive, do-it-my-way-or-die DNA.  She has the decisive, git 'er done (did you really just reference Larry the Cable Guy?), moving on now DNA.  And, as I had thought long before last Thursday morning, we had a great time.  We laughed, we talked, we questioned, we decided, we rented a storage space for 6 months (which was an unexpected TA DA moment for her), we took endless loads to the dumpster in 90 degree Houston's best, went to lunch, played with the cats, got completely hysterical late Friday afternoon and laughed non-stop for half an hour (stop the flow chart?), cried over sentimental things she had kept since kindergarten (and I - the unsentimental bitch - made her keep forever more), talked family stories and lore, and on and on and on.  Oh and we got almost everything cleaned out, dusted off, and in order.

Now - for the juicy stuff.  TV would not have been interested in our story- no hysterics, no drama.  Sarah has enough swiffers to supply most of the homes in Texas.  (I don't know why I find that so funny - I know who she got that from.)  (I learned it by watching YOU!)  She does not need any more pencils of any kind.  (Remember - she's an artist - I didn't know they made that many different art pencils.)  I now have 5 grandcats - #6 wouldn't come see me but the other 5 are the best cats ever, including my own.  I always take too much "just in case" crap with me when I start a project.  (I have that gene.  It's why I'm so popular at Via Colori.)  She can move anything.  She can get anything - even if it weighs 80 pounds - over the side and into a dumpster.  (It's that fulcrum thing.)  I trip over everything.  (Uh, you forgot that I ate shit in the parking lot over a parking pylon thing?  I can never make fun of you for tripping over one of those again.)  She swears even more than I do.  (Fuck yeah.)  She's afraid I'm going to trip over everything.  When we swear together, it's awesome.  (FUCKING Awesome!)  I learned not to give her the stuff I don't really want to throw away.  (Important lesson for me.  Repeat ten times a day.  All stuff from lesson now thrown away.)  And - Biggest Lesson of All - Sarah Pants really has her shit together.  (I do?  Well, how 'bout that?!)  And I am so proud of her that I am tearing up as I write this.  (Who is this?)

Next up:  The hunt for new floors and window treatments.  It's always fun when the Pants women get together.

Love to each of you and thanks for caring.  (Ditto!)

MP

There's space. I have space!

Damn y'all.  I am tired!  Day 1 of cleaning.  I just took my second shower.  First was when I woke up, but I was schvetty and stunk so I needed another.  This summer is going to be bitch-hot if today's weather was any indication.  And it's not like we were outside much.  Trips to the dumpster, and trips to and from the car.  Yuck.  I put the AC on pretty high in my house.  (Actually, I need to turn it back to normal, sedentary temperatures.)  

It was easier than I thought it would be.  I only cried once and it was because I was going through a box of old letters.  My mom didn't even know my father had written me letters in college!  (To be fair, I'm nearly sure he wrote them from work.)  We got through the main part of the living room (which is enormous and the worst area by far) and took several trips to the dumpster--a big ottoman that left a huge hole of space like whoa.  Tons of bags of this and that.  Papers.  Stupid stuff.  I consolidated bins.  We consolidated tool boxes into one big box; I kinda feel like I should scratch my balls when I see my tool box, it's that big.  My baker's rack is clean with space to spare.  My dresser in the living room (which is basically my "entertainment center") has a giant space where nothing is on it.  (Whaaaaaaaaat???)  There's room to walk around.  There's room to sit.  The table where I sit isn't scary anymore.  It's overwhelming when I see it.  I don't really have the words.  I'm hoping they come eventually.

Tomorrow we'll hit the wet bar area which makes it sound fancier than it is.  There's a sink, yes, but it's rarely used and I keep most of my art books and stuff there.  It's mostly sorting and shelving.  My front closet is cleaned out.  We got a small storage unit up the street for stuff I can sell just to get it OUT of the house.  I have it for six months.  If it isn't sold in six months, it's gone.  

My brain is active right now--just kinda taking it all in.  My body is tired, but clean at least.  It's a very ...uplifting feeling.  I feel lighter.  I'm sure that's odd, but I do.  I can see the progress.  It can be done.  

Also, as if this even needed saying, Mama Pants is fucking amazing.

big day out

I got a BBM (blackberry message) from Amanda this morning just before 10am:  "You're out early!"  I'd checked in at Macy's on foursquare.  That cracked me up as I very rarely check in on foursquare and because Amanda knows me well enough to know that I'm generally not even awake at 10am on a weekend, let alone showered, dressed, and out in public.  

Mama Pants and I went Power Shopping today.  We used to do this when I was a kid--go to the mall and spend the whole day shopping.  It's hard work, man!  Mama Pants needed some new clothes, since she's makin' the rounds at all the cool clubs within her housing division.  She wanted my help picking out stuff.  She also hinted that I'd probably get some stuff too.  Uh.... "some stuff" doesn't quite cover it.  I made out like a friggin bandit!!  And we had a great time!  I got to pull all sorts of stuff for her and make her try things on that she'd never have even looked twice at before.  I was impressed with her willingness to try things on, even if she thought I was fucknuts for picking them up.  Some of the stuff made it home with her as well, thankyouverymuch!  We did Macy's, Lane Bryant, Sephora, DSW, and Costco.  And I'm quite sure she's as exhausted as I am.  (Thank you again, Mom!  I had so much fun!!)

When I got home, I set to de-tagging my new things, which is a habit of mine--new clothes go into the closet immediately.  Oddly, laundry doesn't seem to make it quite as quickly.  However, once I got the tags off, I figured I should clean out some old stuff to make room for the new stuff.  I wound up purging at least twice what I brought home, making my closet look a lot less frenetic and packed.  I organised everything again (my closet is always pretty organised so this never takes long) and sorted my laundry, the second load of which is in the washer right now.  (I love my new full sized washer.  It makes such a difference!)  Sheets are changed, dinner is about to be made, and then it's netflix time.

I forget how nice it is to leave the house and be social sometimes.  And to have people in my house.  It's a mess up in here (up in here) and I feel like it's not social-worthy so I rarely let people in my place.  (I know how not-okay that sounds.)  When Mama Pants said she needed to come in and pee, I got a little --okay, I freaked the fuck out.  The last time I remember my parents being in my house was not so good.  My father pierced my heart with a verbal dagger I shan't repeat.  And while the place is gross right now, Mama Pants handled it very well.  She even offered to come over and help me get through this heaping mess, which I think I'll take her up on once busy season is over.  She'd be very effective at telling me to THROW SHIT AWAY.  And frankly, that's what I need.  Plus, then she can get kitty love.  It's always nice to have other kitties fawn all over you, even if you have a million (cough) of your own.  

Speaking of, mine are crowing at me to pay them some damn attention.  I'ma heat up some grub and obey the felines.  

ring around the rosey

My washer finally broke last week.  There may or may not still be soapy water sitting in the basin.  The landlord has been informed and she's promised to get me the biggest set she can find to fit in the space, which will be nice.  The machines I have now are spec, from when the place was built in the early 80s, and they're teensy.  Like, salad spinner size.  When I first moved in, the washer made a horrific clatter, which I fixed with duct tape.  That tape has held nearly 9 years.  I'd say they certainly were used to their fullest capacity.  I also look forward to being able to wash a set of sheets in one load, instead of one at a time.

I went to The Pants Ranch to use their machine and get some time with the parents.  I brought everything I could possibly think of needing in the near future and wound up doing nearly 12 hours of laundry, however many loads that is.  My whole house smelled clean and laundered once I put it all away (the next morning, thank you!) and I'm happy to at least have a good supply of clothing for a while, in case this procurement of machines takes a while.  Amy also lives down the street and if I get desperate, there's a skeezy washateria (which I pronounce wrong, because of my Spanish classes) across the street.  Though the dryer works.  I could hand wash, I guess.

Mama Pants and I went through her jewelry while I was there.  Y'all missed the eff out on that one.  We weeded through the stash of my grandmother's jewelry as well (Momu Pants) and put stuff aside to be appraised, stuff to be cleaned and worn, etc.  (I made out like a bandit in the deal.)  Momu Pants collected Indian jewelry.  (I suppose now it would be called Native American jewelry.)  In any case, she had quite a collection--several pieces that were giant in size and I probably wouldn't wear.  Some that were giant and wouldn't wear but would love to hang on a wall.  (Note to Mama Pants--dibs on those museum mosaic thingers!)  And there were some smaller pieces in there that I was also able to snag and take home with me, for beads or just the whole piece in general.  Mainly, I came home with a lot of rings. 

In particular, Mama Pants let me have my grandmother's roadrunner ring.  To me, this was Momu Pants's signature piece of jewelry.  She was never without it that I can remember.  It's Indian in origin and I suspect it was purchased in Taos (Mama Pants?) as they had a cabin there and purchased a buttwad of stuff there.  It's silver with blue and green turquoise inlaid along the back of the bird.  His tail (he's male, as far as I'm concerned) is long and curved and extends just beyond the last knuckle of my hand.  The band has symbols etched into it, but they're nearly worn away, as Momu Pants wore it constantly.  I can make out most of them and will draw them tonight and research them.  I can't find a signature anywhere inside the band, but where the band connects with the bird, the silver is fashioned into a large spiral.  I have a thing for spirals--I never noticed that on this ring while my grandmother was wearing it.  While I take it off at night, the roadrunner is becoming a signature ring of my own, I think.

I remember asking my grandmother how she could stand the bird's tail poking into the back of her hand.  It looked painful because she had more skin on the backs of her hands than I do and it appeared to dig in.  She said it didn't bother her.  I find it doesn't bug me either; in fact, I frequently flex my fingers so that I can feel the tail dent into my hand.  It's oddly comforting.  I wonder if Momu Pants felt this way.  I also remember the stones being a lot lighter in colour when I was younger.  Turquoise is a porous stone, so it absorbs whatever comes in contact with it.  Since Momu Pants wore it pretty constantly, the stones have darkened probably due to soap, lotion, and god knows what else.  So it's a little different from what I remember, but overall the same roadrunner ring, only now it fits perfectly on either of my ring fingers.

I find myself looking at the ring here and there.  It's an odd fold of the space/time continuum.  I remember it on my grandmother's hand, how I felt looking at it then.  But it's on my hand now, and I wonder how she felt wearing it, or if she'd like that I'm now wearing it.  I kinda think she'd dig it.  My grandmother was a ballsy woman.  She took no prisoners and she did whatever the hell she felt like, when she felt like it.  I'm hoping a little bit (but not all, as sometimes it became unkind) of that rubs off on me. 

I was also surprised that my mother let me have it without a fight; not that I would have fought her on this one.  It was her mother's ring, after all.  In my mind, it's the most identifiable piece of my grandmother's collection, the one most completely her.  I could easily understand her wanting to keep it, and that she let me have it outright is very touching. 

Thanks Mom.  Love you.

stop--shower time....

Ahhh, December.  I see what you're doing.  Because I had a really good November, you switched it up!  Okay, so December hasn't sucked entirely, but I have basically been one form of sick or another for the whole month and that's not really ideal.  My immune system is really not the greatest.  I had a sinus infection for the first two to three weeks.  And I'm rounding out the month with the death-rattle cough.  I sound like I've been smoking 3 packs of reds a day for the last 20 years.  I've never smoked a red.  They're way too manly for me.  (Mama Pants's mom smoked reds, actually.  And when I laughcough, I sound just like her.)

But I feel human today, which is a first since Monday.  I've been out sick from work all week.  If I weren't sick, it would be awesome.  I could get a ton of stuff done.  Instead, I've only accomplished a lot of sleeping.  And stinking.  I'm pretty sure I stink; no shower since Monday.  And I think today is Thursday--yes, it is.  So I stink.  Sorry kitties.  But I do feel human, which is a plus.  I put contacts in--big sign, as it means I plan on being awake long enough to justify putting them in.  I had a cup of coffee--first since Monday (which is big, as it's generally my lifeblood), though I've had a lot of tea.  I love tea, but I loooooove coffee.  Coffee is my brokeback mountain.  I can't quit it.  But I also know better than to go and marry tea, even though coffee is what makes me tick.  

Today is Mama Pants's birthday!  She's *mumble* years old!  We're going to dinner tonight to celebrate--a steakhouse, which will be my first non-soup food in several days.  I'll be loading up on immodium.  You wanted to know that, right?  Heh.  I'm also going to shower.  I think a birthday warrants a shower.  Plus, my hair is downright sculptural, and I don't think it's a good look for me.  

So wish a happy birthday to Mama Pants!  Love you, Mom!!  (I win.)