Ah, purple puffy-fish

I’ve had a few days to absorb the shocking deaths of Farrah “Hairflip” Fawcett(-Majors), Michael “Ooh oh” Jackson, and Billy “Oxyclean” Mays… I’ve come to a stark revelation…

I’m EFF’G tired of hearing about Michael Jackson… his children… his entire crazy-and-screwed up family… his empire (or lack thereof)… his debt… his issues… and the controversy: did he or didn’t he bleach his skin.

If I’m callous… and heartless… then color me mean.  I’m tired… EFF’G tired… of hearing this shit on the television, reading about it in my newspapers, or getting the occasional CNN update to my blackberry (ala mode).

— STOP THE MADNESS… save a turkey!—

Real Estate Update:

Open House this weekend bore NO visitors (but my realtor, bless his heart, passed the time taking NEW pictures and plotting some evil virtual tour takeover… I should be able to see the results in a few days)… and much to my surprise, after a weekend of RUNNING AROUND, I wanted to veg and sleep in today.  I get an early phone call from a realtor who wants to show my house… and I had 90 minutes to get #1 son up (the other two were with my husband today), have breakfast, shower, get HIM showered, and both of us get out of the house.

I felt a whine coming on… my back is sore… I have CrAmPs (ya know what I mean?)… I’m tired.  I wanted to veg out on the couch in my EXTREMELY CLEAN HOUSE since, other than laundry, there wasn’t much to do… except read.

NO.  No reading until the afternoon.  bleh.

After we returned home (we did a little foodshopping, pet food getting, and filling’o the tank)… I emailed my realtor’s assistant with the info on the card.  A short while later she emailed me back this message:

Hi!  I called [the visiting realtor] and he said your house is BEAUTIFUL.  The only thing is that they wanted an “inlaw moving-in capability,” and your house wouldn’t work for them.  We are doing a WHOLE new virtual tour and I think you’re going to like it.  I’ll email you when it’s finished so that you can see it.

Talk to you soon,

Realtor’s Assistant

Well… phooey!  I don’t have a formal dining room… or an inlaw suite… or an in-the-ground pool… or a 2nd garage… or a walk-up attic.  Geezus people… are you expecting me to BUILD it for you?  (Build it, they will come… famous last words.)

I’m not doing ANY additional work to my house… unless its still for sale this winter… then I’m ripping out the built-in kitchen table and having my husband redo the floors… and we’ll get rid of our dining room set (gonna see if my one friend could use the china cabinet at least)… because WHEN and IF we ever move, I want to not drag that monstrous wood-and-glass menagerie (down size down size down size) with us 1700 miles to our intended destination.

Speaking of…. count-down til we’re Rocky Mountaining… about 2 weeks (give or take)… and I’m excited.  YEY.  Nosebleed seats on the edge of the tallest mountain range in the U.S.  Woohoo!

I will miss my kids, though.  Especially #3… who has never been away from me for longer than 3 or 4 days.  TWO WEEKS, my parents made me say aloud so that I wouldn’t deny them the “right” to see (and effectively torment) their grandsons.

OK… I guess.  I asked them, and all three said, “yeah, we’ll do two weeks.”  GUESS WHAT?  They’re already having reservations… well, except for #3 who can’t wait to “Fwy to Arizona and see snakes.”

(Sighs)

A few days after THEY leave, we leave on our “fact-finding” mission to yet another state we think we want to live in (except we’re pretty dead-set on living somewhere in this state)… so, we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway… that’s my update for today.  My inlaws will be here Wed for dinner… (keep your fingers crossed that my cramps do not exceed my patience level and I end up spitting in their food)… probably bitching about how I cook (which is VERY good might I add… but different from them as they do NOT season their food w/ ANYTHING… nothing… except for an occasional spritz of PAM… *dry HEAVE*).

For instance… yesterday, they took us out to eat at a chain restaurant that serves mostly seafood.  It was like a senior version of the deli scene in “When Harry Met Sally,” in which my mil ordered fish like this, “We want the fish without salt, no pepper, paprika, or any other spice, just plain.  The baked potato is plain, no salt or pepper, with butter and sour cream on the side.  We’ll take our salads with Light Italian on the side, no onions, tomatoes, purple cabbage things, or cucumbers… just plain lettuce, but don’t forget we want the dressing on the side.  And, we’ll have the broccoli steamed, plain, that means no salt, pepper, or any spices.  We don’t like seasoning on our food.”

Now, if *I* were the cook/chef and had the make THAT order… I’d be insulted.  HOWEVER, on the other side, had I asked for LESS salt on my seafood/pasta dish, perhaps I wouldn’t look like the Pillsbury Dough Boy today (puffy and swollen).

Anyway… time for me to get back to my book.  I have about 40 pages until I’m done (its a softcover, don’t get all giddy now)… and then I can go back to my book about British POWs during the American Revolution.

Til later… chow-dah!