Monthly Archives: October 2011

I’ve been a little glum lately. With the onslaught of a nasty cold striking both Ted and I early this week and rendering us utterly whiny and useless coupled with a move that has been wreaking fierce havoc on my emotional state for many reasons, it’s been tough to remain calm and positive lately. But I’m really working on it because that’s enough of this foolishness and mayhem. Fall is my favorite season and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy it – house or no house, cold or no cold, money or no money.

But today is a beautiful fall day. The kind of day that can brighten the scowl of even the crankiest of naysayers. There isn’t a cloud in the sky, it’s a fair 60 degrees out, the sun is shining, the trees and streets are awash of bold, vibrant autumn colors, and there’s a sweet gusty wind a’brewing.

It’s perfect out! What a great day to have a picnic in the park beneath a massive oak, or to rake the leaves in your yard and then go pouncing through them, or hit up a farmers market, or head to a real farm to pick apples and pumpkins and take a hay ride, or go romping through the corn maze, or bake cinnamon sugar cookies and hot apple cider to snack on on your front porch, or take a hike through a leafy nature trail, or hop an open-air train ride through the forest of fall colors on one of Ohio’s many scenic railroads. On a day like this, you’d think the great outdoors would be positively swimming with people. But where are they all today?

At the museum.

Indoors.

Sigh.

What is wrong with people!? Don’t they know the museum is reserved for rainy, snowy, unbearably cold, or blistering hot days? While the museum is awesome in so many ways, it is NOT for gorgeous fall days that are just crying out for exercise and a breath of fresh air!

I have a terrible urge to cook up a kitchen full of awesomely autumn recipes, to slip on a mustard yellow cable sweater with brown buttons down the shoulder (I have yet to own this fictional top but, evidently, I’m dreaming of it!) and some brown boots and I’d take a walk trough one of the many phenomenal parks nearby. If I had the day off, you’d know where to find me. If Ted had the day off I’d be demanding that he teach me how to play football in our backyard and we’d head up four hours north to Amish country to bask in the beauty of the fall colors and dine on delicious meats and cheeses and pet the goats and take a scenic trip on the railroad and pick apples. And then we’d down all those delicious fall recipes – everything from pumpkin mac n’ cheese to cinnamon apple cobbler – and we’d carve our pumpkins.

Outdoors.

Because that’s what you do on pretty autumn days.

You wear cute fall clothes and do fun, outdoorsy things.

And yet the museum is packed. There is no justice in this world when the person who longs for a carefree day outdoors is cooped up inside, and the people who should be appreciating their good fortune to have a day off are voluntarily choosing to spend it inside a cold, dark museum.

Now, that’s an epic fail if ever heard one!

Although if you ask Ted he’d say the major epic fail of the week is our dim-witted UPS guy. Or perhaps the number of times I’ve whacked my head on a sharp wall corner because I’m not yet used to the layout of the apartment. Or the number of absurdly dangerous drivers in Cincinnati that seem to be multiplying by the month. Or the infectious colds themselves. But to each his own.

Please don’t be an epic fail today. If you have a fabulous fall day today, get out there and enjoy it!

I thought I’d take a moment to share some new color in our lives!

First we have my new specs, Coach Avery in plum. I really needed new glasses and these stylin’ frames totally fit the bill. They’re a great fit, awesome color, and I actually look forward to wearing my glasses now. And who knew Coach make glasses frames? I’d post pics of me wearing the new specs, but both Ted and I are battling nasty colds and I don’t feel up to including myself in a photo shoot.

And we have our walls at the apartment painted for accent. One of our living room walls is painted this really neat pencil lead grayish blue color pictured right and one of the dining room walls is painted the mossy green pictured on the left. They look really cool and do a lot to make the place feel more like a home. Painting was a pain in a good decision. Full apartment pics coming soon!

My iPad is still adding a pretty pop of color. Red and white was the way to go, folks! It’s vibrant and classy. I wavered back and forth a lot over the color decision, but I’m really pleased with the choice!

And of course we’re enjoying big, beautiful splashes of fall color as well! These pictures are pretty lame so they don’t even begin to do it justice!

What color have you been enjoying lately?

Not to be a killjoy, but I hate moving.

I’m over it.

And though the apartment has its share of redeeming qualities, I miss the house already.

And I want a nap, pronto, because apparently I am incapable of sleeping in the new apartment and within 5 minutes of living here it gave Ted a wicked cold. Awesome.

Leaving the house behind has been much harder than I ever thought it would be.

I guess I am kind of a killjoy.

Too bad.

For a reason unknown to me in some parts of Cincinnati people have the unruly habit of depositing their crap in public places like it’s their own personal storage unit. Not all of Cincinnati is like this. In fact, throughout most of Cincy people tend to keep immaculately maintained yards, gardens, and homes. We live in Anderson Township, and we chose to continue to live in Anderson Township with this current move because it’s a really nice area. Generally speaking, it is clean, quiet and safe. People don’t deposit rusting bikes, muddy tires, old furniture, or anything else of this nature in their front lawns. They mow their lawns, shovel their snow, keep their stuff contained within sheds or garages, and all the neighborhood kids gather outside with a parent or two to play touch football after school. This is our area of town. It reminds me of the 1950s that I did not live through, so I suppose it would be fair to say it conjures images of Boerne, or the 1950s, in my head. With, of course, the exception of one of our new neighbors at the apartment complex. Part of why we chose this apartment over others is because it was quiet, peaceful, and appeared to be well-maintained. Except for the one building we oh-so-luckily ended up in. Really, it’s not that bad. But I’m an anal retentive freak so this consumes me with annoyance. Dumping the junk you don’t know what to do with under the public stairwell of your building is rude and I think any normal person could see why this would irk someone who doesn’t subscribe to this philosophy. No I don’t, in fact, want to open my door every morning and see an old tire or three cobweb-riddled bicycles in an otherwise pretty area. If you have too much stuff then you need to man up and throw it away, store it on your private balcony, or rent a storage unit like the rest of us had to do. We did express our disappointment to the property manager, who had the cleaning crew remove the bikes, cobwebs, and dirt and clean up the stairwell since residents aren’t allowed to store stuff down there anyway. But no sooner were the bikes gone when a tire appeared, mere days later, and it’s been there ever since. I’m struggling to fight back the temptation to laminate a sign that reads “This is not your personal storage unit. Remove your shit or I will do it for you.” and slap it on the wall at the base of the stairwell.

This is a lesson in letting it go. I do not “let things go” very well. I’m working on it. Maybe this little obstacle was a precisely timed challenge from God to me. Some things in life I cannot help, and this I think, is just one of them. I can continue to alert the property manager every time a new dazzling piece of crap appears, and I can urge him to put a note in the mailbox of all 6 residents of our building reminding them that they are not allowed to store their junk under the stairwell, but really, that’s about all I can do. I have to let it go. As I’ll be needing to learn how to let other things go. Like the 200 lb. dog and teenage boy who likes loud metal music that live with his parents above us, or the apartment’s maintenance man who sloppily soaked a broken kitchen drawer in glue instead of actually fixing or replacing it and didn’t even bother to repair the timer on the stove despite the fact that our maintenance request list has been in his hands for nearly two weeks, or the snooty woman who lives above them who muttered under her breath that parking our vehicle in front of the complex “isn’t going to work”…..we were moving in. It leads me to question where precisely she parked her moving truck when she moved into the building? Likely in the exact same damn spot we did.

Though we don’t even actually live in the apartment yet (we’re moving in this weekend), so we haven’t given it a fair chance, Ted and I are already a little worried we may not like it here. Part of it may be that a house in a peaceful, lovely, private area really spoiled us. After a year we need to get re-used-to general apartment noises – footsteps above you, slamming doors, woofing dogs, public areas that people seem to be under the impression are private storage, a maintenance person who inevitably seems poorly-trained for the work he’s supposed to know how to competently do (I’m sure this is not an uncommon problem), etc. Maybe we’re just not used to these things anymore. Maybe I’m just sulking because I’m sad to leave our house behind. Maybe this place will grow on us and we’ll discover we like living there once we give it a shot. And maybe I just need to work on letting things go. Because I can’t fix all annoyances in life, and though it may irritate the heck out of me, is it really worth wasting the energy to get upset over? Honestly, no. But even though I know it, I have a very hard time accepting it and just letting things go that bug me.

So this move will challenge my “let it go” skills. I only hope it can teach me a thing or two.

Oh, yes.

For the record, I don’t recommend it unless you are actually an advanced ballet dancer.

Let’s discuss.

So this week is free dance week at Cincy Ballet. Because we’re flat broke and I’ve been itching to get back into dance, you can bet that I was on this like a cat on catnip. Monday morning I took an adult modern class. Though I was in a modern dance company in a modern dance based department in college for three years, modern is not my comfort zone. I can swing it, I really love watching it, and I even enjoy doing it myself sometimes, but a modern dance guru I am not. I think I like structure a little too much for me to be a modern dancer. I always felt more comfortable in tap, jazz, and ballet classes, which I clung to as my only form of a social life in college. Okay, not really, I did have a social life but I was also coming off a tough breakup and all my other super close friends went to college elsewhere so I threw myself into dance 5 days a week until I made more friends. It was awesome.

So on I moved to the rhythm & motion class Tuesday morning. I, apparently, skipped over the part where the description stated it was a dance “workout” class. “Workout” is not one of my favorite words so the reason why I missed that little tidbit is obvious. In the future I will actually read so I bring sneakers instead of jazz shoes, and then I won’t have to dance barefoot and blister the crap out of my feet. I clearly just read the part that I wanted to hear – you know, the part where it says the choreography is a combination of multiple styles including jazz, African, Latin, Hip Hop, ballet and modern. Sounded good to me! I made a damn fool of myself because it was already 5 weeks into the regular class schedule and therefore the regulars had already picked up on the choreography for the ten songs we danced to, but at least I was in good company with the other newcomers. Despite my inability to read and come prepared, the class was an absolute blast. I was impressed with myself for being able to do as well as I did picking up the steps since this was the first time I’d seen the choreography. And it’s an amazing workout! But I will definitely be signing up for this one once my finances perk up a little bit (I’m waiting finances…).

And this brings me to the class I was looking forward to the most…adult ballet. On the free dance week schedule all the adult ballet classes were labeled simply “adult ballet.” This, for future reference, is not the case. I chose to go to the Tuesday night session because that’s just what worked best for my schedule. Tuesday night, I and a handful of other free dance week newcomers learned, is advanced adult ballet.

Yeah.

I took beginner’s and intermediate ballet in college along with a weekly adult ballet class at a dance studio in town. For not having started ballet until college, by the time I graduated I was pretty good – not a great ballerina by any means, but I was good for only having had a few years of experience. But I haven’t taken ballet in three years. On a good day I’m at an intermediate level. On an utterly crappy day I consider joining the Toddlers in Tutus class. An advanced ballerina I am not.

But since none of the promotional materials specified that this was an advanced class and it said “all are welcome” they can’t really blame any of us lowlifes for showing up. So about 7 of us showed up and tried our hand at provided entertainment for the rest of the class. For mistakenly joining the realms of awesome dancer land, I’m damn proud of myself. I was perfectly thrilled that A) my leotards and tights from college still fit, B) that my muscle memory kicked in and I not only knew what some of the terminology was, but I was actually able to do some of it still, and C) that I neither face planted it or whacked anybody with a wayward leap or battment.

Let me be clear: I was definitely among the small group of pansies that hid in the back of the room behind the baby grand piano when it came time to do the final combination – some grand and preposterous combination of leaps, spins, hops, kicks and other crap I’d never even heard of or attempted in my life that only professional ballerinas could possibly pull off without a rehearsal, but I didn’t totally suck! I was able to do every barre exercise with proper posture and, well, somewhat correct arms. I even got most of the floor exercises and across the floor combinations…not well, but at least I got them and I didn’t die! I accidentally ended up in an advanced ballet class when I was never advanced to begin with and hadn’t danced in three years…and I made it out with only a minimal amount of mortification!! Do you understand how monumental this is?

Will I be signing up for another advanced class again? Hahahahahaha. No thank you. But I’m kind of stoked that I didn’t utterly horrify myself.

But from now on, I think I’ll stick to the beginner/intermediate level. Sorry folks, no pictures this time. I’ll spare you that awkward joy.

P.S. I’m still waiting finances…

Yesterday, by some act of God, a random miracle, or sheer dumb luck, Ted and I both found ourselves with a Sunday off from work. I know, right!?

Yesterday, by the way, was absolutely lovely. It was a touch chilly (but mostly because of the wind) for October 2^nd, but the sun was shining, the grass was a rich green, the sky was a vibrant blue, the trees in various phases of transition to red, orange and yellow, and the birds were a-singin’.  I think we both really felt like sleeping in (and we both could have used it too!) but we woke up early for 8 a.m. mass and our Sunday morning breakfast at Panera. Sunday morning breakfast at Panera is always a welcome tradition in our household because no matter how crazy it gets we always have at least this half hour together to relax. It’s worth not sleeping in for. We spent the morning running errands and striking up a friendship over the Packers, classic cars, and Palm phones with the chick at Sprint in hopes of gleaming some useful knowledge about discounted plans and details on which phones are really the best. Totally worked. After nearly a year of marriage it was about time for us to finally take the plunge on a family plan and upgrade our old faithfuls.

Our afternoon was booked with a CCM lighting class & staff picnic out in Maineville at the home of one of the head honchos at CCM, and of course, the Packer game. We only planned to stay an hour at the picnic because somehow the thought that the picnic was mandatory is a little off-putting (like it’s going to be that miserable that you have to force people to come), but we ended up staying nearly three hours. We found ourselves in good company with the lighting faculty and their families, and the lighting undergrads and grad students. The home had a lush green backyard that spilled out onto a glistening lake. Since the weather was just gorgeous we all enjoyed a game of croquette out back and filled up on hot apple cider, chips and queso, veggie and fruit trays, lasagna, pasta, pizza, breadsticks, salad, brownies, cupcakes, and of course, good old fashioned conversation. The radio was turned up to broadcast the audio from the Bengals and then the Packers football games. It was so nice to just relax for a change and enjoy conversation, good food, football, croquette, sunlight, and some sweet scenery. After we said our goodbyes we caught the last quarter of the Packer game at a nearby sports bar. All in all, it just felt awesome to have a full day off together where we weren’t moving or packing or cleaning and didn’t really have to do anything. I could just feel my shoulders sinking down to where they actually belong.

This week is also free dance week at Cincinnati Ballet! I’m stocked to try out 3 or 4 classes this week! I really miss dancing and I feel like the less you do it, the more out of practice you are so the harder it gets to stay flexible, keep your balance, and hold your posture. I haven’t taken dance classes for over three years so I feel like I’ve really fallen behind! So far the only two things that have been stopping me from taking classes are money (cause dancing 3 nights a week ain’t cheap, people) and time. When you work all day, multiple jobs, it can be hard to schedule anything else in when all you really want to do is go home and hang out with your husband. But I miss dancing, it’s good to do something just for yourself every now and then, and it’s exercise. So I’m definitely taking advantage of free dance week! Modern dance was this morning and even though it’s probably the form of dance I have the least experience in and therefore feel the most uncomfortable doing, it was a lot of fun and it felt great to be back up on my toes!

What have you done for yourself lately?

The house knows we’re moving. And it’s pissed.

In the past week alone more insects than I’ve seen all year have moved in to terrify and taunt me. Giant ants, leggy spiders, a symphony of crickets, baby roaches, and huge flying winged things. I see them snoozing on the basement door, skittering across the carpet, and wafting through the kitchen. As soon as the boxes and furniture began to disappear, they began to appear with a freaking vengeance.

She’s getting back at us for giving up on her, I just know it.

Hey House, I feel guilty enough about leaving you as it is! The curse of insects is totally unnecessary.

Some days I hate that we have to downsize and leave you and your old-school fruit stand charm and your peaceful privacy and your leaking basement and falling trees and your hardwood floors and your luscious but severely uneven backyard with a never-ending assortment of surprising plants and fireflies and wildlife and weeds and your “vintage” basketball hoop and your stupid long-ass driveway I hated shoveling and your pretty crown molding and your awesome six bedroom windows behind. You don’t have to plague the place with creepy crawlies if you want me to feel bad for hurting your feelings, because I already do. It’s not your fault that everyone gives up on you after a year because your landlord is an incompetent fool and refuses to put the money in to perk up your crumbling foundation or update your insulation and electrical wiring and plumbing and landscaping and carpet to make you as wonderful as I know you already are. I fought for you every single day even when everybody we knew would point out your flaws and tell us to move, I still said you were pretty and perfect and that I loved you.

And though I know this move is going to save us hundreds of dollars every month which means we’ll have to work less and can spend more time together, I love you dearly and every single day I dread leaving you just a little bit more and every day I walk down that long-ass driveway and look at you in awe and wonder if we’ve made the right decision and if this new place will ever feel like home the way you did. I wonder how many times I’ll accidentally pull into the driveway after work only to realize that I don’t live here anymore.

So if that was your point with all the insects, you can knock it off and cut that crap out immediately. Because the bugs? Not okay.

I can handle working four jobs for which I am paid approximately zero dollars a month. I can handle cleaning and packing until my eyeballs explode. I can even handle trying to teach a farm of boll weevils musical theatre, romance, and stunts in a miniscule school library with immobile furniture and nowhere to move or room to even breathe, although it makes me cranky. But I’m a weenie and a pansy and a fraidy cat and a spider on my toilet paper roll at 7:37 p.m. is the last straw and it is something that I absolutely cannot handle at this point in my life.

And it is precisely that last straw of “I hhaaaaaaaaaaaate bugs and all this overwhelming nonsense!” that drives me to unabashedly down my body weight in massive Chipotle burrito followed by half a quart of Haagan Dazs caramel apple pie ice cream that results in what I like to call stress eating, which results in me lying useless on the couch, groaning in overstuffed pain, for the rest of the night. You can see how this is, obviously, an unpleasant situation.

So, nix the bugs, por favor. They are not necessary. Life as I know it is sliding to shambles without the buggies, and with them I can be found clinging to the top of the ceiling fan whimpering.

I will miss you house and you will always hold a fond place in my memory, sans the insects.

Yours truly,

Your Favorite Renter