No Expiration Date

I still mean to keep the promise that's engraved on our rings, "Mine." Five years and counting, my Sparky.

Happy St. Valentine's Day

"Happy Valentine's Day. I bought you a house."

"That's funny. I bought you the same thing."



I love you, Mr. Manes.

Okay, So I Almost Forgot My Password To Post

I don't want to disappoint my only 2 loyal readers out there. I have a quick update: We closed on our new house on January 26, 2007. The bank now owns our home. It really is the American dream. We haven't moved yet. In fact, we really haven't even packed a single thing. We're giving the current occupant more time to move...more on that later.

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy.

Before January Is Over

It's usually around this two week mark that I get the itch to post. Maybe it's not an itch...it's a guilty type of tickle.

Early last week Eddie and I signed a purchase agreement on another house. This is the second time we'll be going through this whole process. I haven't really let myself get excited about this one. That last experience kind of ripped my heart out just a little. I'm holding my breath. We haven't packed anything yet. If all goes well, we'll be moving in a little over two weeks. TWO WEEKS.

Chocolate Cake For Breakfast

The cake had a dense and perfect crumb. It was rich with smooth, decadent chocolate frosting. It was warm and wonderful complimented by a chilled glass of milk. My husband bought them for me.

Happy new year E. I love you.

And The Winner Is...

My doctor's nurse called my cell phone last week while I was at work. I recognized the number. I don't know too many people who would recognize the number to their doctor's office when it appears on their cell phone. I suppose that puts me in an elite few. Yes, I'll choose to look at it that way.

She had the results of my recent MRI. I braced myself for the answer, the solution to all of my pain was around the corner, it was in the next breath of this stranger.

"Well, the Dr. has reviewed the results of the test and she's concluded that everything is absolutely normal. There are no herniated or bulging discs or any other abnormalities detected by this test. Everything looks great."

I crumbled. Now, it's not that I WANT something to be wrong with me. Something IS wrong with me. No one is able to find it. I don't think there are many more times in my life when I've been this frustrated. Not until the nurse recommended seeing a pain management doctor.

A pain management doctor. Why don't they just send me to a hypnotist? Maybe they can convince me that I don't have any pain since the only physical evidence is my wincing when touched and frequent tearing up when asked to pick anything up that weighs over 10 lbs. No convincing physical evidence anyway.

A pain management doctor. That recommendation means only one thing to me: I will have this pain forever, that everyone has given up and that I am now expected to learn how to "manage it." O.k. So that's three things.

Sorry Cody. No college for you. Mama's going back to the physical therapist.

Four New Loves

Late last week my Grandmother-in-Law took me on our yearly shopping trip for Christmas presents. She'd rather experience each grandchild's joy as she buys us presents that we pick out than to try to think up the perfect present. She also gets to spend time with us individually this way. That is rare with as many grandchildren and great-grandchildren she has. She'll pick me up,we'll do the shopping, then it's out to lunch. It always turns out to be a healthy dose of quality time. This year, she asked me what stores we'd visit. I had a grand idea. Shoe stores.

I'm lucky because my 84 1/2 year old Grandmother-in-Law is quite stylish. She's hip. If I had a petite size 2 frame and size 5 feet, I'd be shopping in HER closet. So when I mentioned shoe shopping, she was game. In the first store, (it's never just one store) we picked out these little beauties.

I didn't own any green shoes, nor any shoes with large, multi-colored beads, so these were a welcome addition to my stash. Oh, and 20% off. Score.

The next store was one chosen for its proximity to the parking space we found, (which were in short supply) not because it was one of the original candidates, but boy did it pay off.

Ladies: These were SEVEN dollars. Seven. I'll go ahead and say it. Payless. Payless rocks.

Pointy, black and sparkly. I love them.

These are my new neutral shoes.

There was one other from the day, my first pair of boots. Well, not actually my VERY first pair of boots, those were the obligatory pair of Doc Martens added to my stash in high school. I still have them. No, these boots are pointy and girly and fabulous. Very winter 2006.

Thanks Mama. I love you.

This Is Not A Bill

I had my first MRI this afternoon. It was loud.

After a not-so-great half day at work, I rushed (sped) to my 2:15 appointment in Radiology on the second floor of one giant, medical building. I was checked in quickly and directed to the appropriate waiting area where I focused on calming myself in preparation for being shoved into a small, whirring, metal tube for the upcoming half hour. Naked. And cold.

Well, not totally naked. I had one of those open-to-the-world medical gown thingys and I was given a sad excuse for a blanket.

When my name was called from the waiting area, that moment where we all feel like "The Chosen One," I took a deep breath. Mind over matter. At least I didn't have to get on a scale. I was led all the way around the building through a maze of hallways, down some stairs and then OUTSIDE. At first I thought this was some kind of evil prank...or maybe the nurse who called me was actually a serial killer who had a car running at the back entrance waiting to abduct me. Instead I was led to what looked like a FEMA trailer IN THE PARKING LOT. I climbed up the stairs and the door opened to what looked like the set of an early Star Trek film.

I was instructed to remove my earrings, glasses, shirt, pants and bra after being quizzed again about the authenticity of my body parts. Apparently these giant magnets are pretty powerful and might extract artificial metal parts inside my body. Scary picture.

Scared of unauthorized metal insertions I may have forgotten about or may have never known about, I situate myself on a tiny sliding bed under the direction of the tech. There are plastic panels to hold my head in place, sort of like stationary book ends. As I was rolled into the tube, I realized why some people may freak out. It was close quarters in there...and loud. I was rolled back out of the tube and given ear plugs (a welcome gift), then rolled right back in...where I remained motionless abiding by the instructions of the tech.

What do you feel like doing when someone tells you that you absolutely can't move? Yes. I wanted to move. I needed to move. My nose itched, I started breathing faster, my hands twitched and I wondered if "don't move" included my eyes. It was a question I forgot to ask before the test began and consequently couldn't ask because I couldn't move my mouth. So I closed my eyes and eventually the whir, muffled by the ear plugs, put me into a light sleep.

Then it was over.

I quickly dressed (because there was an older gentlemen already getting prepared for his exam in this teeny, tiny trailer and no one seemed to remember or care that I wasn't yet dressed).

I was happy to find out this week, through much jumbled medical jargon, that I have almost met my deductible for the year with all of the physical therapy and Dr. visits. My back still hurts. Merry Christmas to me.

We should have results in 2-3 days from this test. My hopes are high for a resolution.

12.18.79

Happy Birthday Russell.

Delayed Reflexes

This is my friend Paige's dog, Daisy. Every time I come to the house, the dog comes to the door to greet me, tail wagging. She sniffs me and follows me closely, all excited as I enter the house. I kneel down to greet and pet her while she leans into the attention. It's not until I sit down to visit that she starts the howling. She howls at me as if I'm an intruder beating her family. Her howls take her front two feet off of the ground as she raises her head and stretches her neck to find the deepest, loudest howl she can muster. You know, because I have offended her and must be punished.

At first, I thought it was just me. That was until another friend of ours came in a bit after my arrival and got the same treatment. Same happy greeting, tail wagging, loving dog until about 2 minutes in. Then the "get out of my house" serenade.

After the guests have come in and the howling has subsided, usually someone in the family will mumble, "It's a little late, Daisy." They think she's just slow.

I think she's just hopeful that everyone coming to visit is there to visit her. Once the petting and attention we pay to her end with the greeting, it is then that we are no longer useful to her. We serve no other purpose than to take her family's love and attention away. She doesn't know it's ever going to end. So, it's obviously time for the guest to leave. Thus the barking/howling/crying.

This dog has been severely underestimated.

My Way

The dryer buzzes. I ask him if he'll help me fold the clothes so we can put in the next load even faster. He sweetly agrees. We drag ourselves to the dryer to fold the load of towels it holds. It's late but we totally need the quilt (currently in the washer) to get a night of sound sleep.

I start folding. He starts folding. We're both folding towels and washcloths, yawning. Then I look over. He's doing it wrong. All of the edges don't line up and the crease isn't there. He doesn't even put it on the pile of all of the other folded towels in the correct way.

He catches me watching him and he stops. He holds up his towel with a humble smirk and says, "I just can't do it like you do it." He feebly tries to *snap* the towel folded as I do and laughs. We both laugh.

I can't believe he loves me anyway.

11.2.82

Happy Birthday Katheryn.

Illegal Block In The Back

This is my back. With tape.

This is my back after that tape was ripped off. Nice, isn't it?

A couple of months ago I started to experience a small pain in the middle of my back. Like most aches and pains at this age, I thought it would just go away. No dice. Finally, after ignoring it to the point of tears one day at work, (not embarrassing at all) I made an appointment with the doctor. Oddly enough she didn't find anything after that lengthy, exhaustingly thorough 5-minute investigation into my pain, so she prescribed a muscle relaxer and an anti-inflammatory and I was on the road to healing.

After all of those lovely pills were gone, I went back to the doctor...to tell her they didn't do their intended job. In spite of all of those nights I fell asleep during dinner, (I'm a bit of a light weight when it comes to medication) my pain was still there and it was worse.

After ANOTHER co-pay, she took some x-rays, told me my spine looked great, renewed my prescription and referred me to a physical therapist.

Enter the tape. Two days ago I finally got to the appointment. The man I met there renewed my faith in the possibility that my pain may eventually go away. In his charming English accent, he asked questions, he evaluated and he found my pain. My initial appointment was 2 hours. I left with that tape on my back. It restricted my movement and taught me how to function during the day without exacerbating my problem.

I am finally on the right road to healing. X marks the spot.

Shoulder Pads Are Back

Designing Women has finally made it back to television. The reruns are back on Nick at Nite. I've only just discovered this treasure, up late this evening. Eddie's at a concert and I can't help but wait up for him.

Julia Sugarbaker was my hero. She was beautiful, confident and sassy, always throwing out the perfect quip with a fair amount of class. I loved watching a show that revolved around a group of strong, southern women.

For 30 minutes it was like, totally rad to go back to 1986. Awesome.

Decisions At The Register

"Oooh! Dill Pickles. In a bag. I'm not sure if I want that or the Peanut Butter Twix."

"I don't understand how, out of everything here, you could be torn between these two things. It confounds me."

Afternoon Wedding

Yesterday afternoon Eddie and I went to an elegant, southern wedding. A friend of ours from high school married a beautiful girl we've never met. It was so nice to be invited to such an event and to see him so happy. As we get older, we get farther and farther away from some friends and closer to others. It's almost impossible, as life takes us all in different directions, to maintain every friendship. I usually know who has a baby and who gets married and maybe when someone's moving, but that's about it.

Everytime I go to an event like this and see familiar faces from the past I usually get wrapped up in memories for a while. Yesterday was a celebration of the present. The memories faded shortly after we left, but I departed holding on to one of the readings the couple selected.

Eskimo Love Song

You are my husband, you are my wife

My feet shall run because of you

My feet dance because of you

My heart shall beat because of you

My eyes see because of you

My mind thinks because of you

And I shall love, because of you

The minister spoke about how each couple that joins together in marriage has to make that commitment everyday. While I sat outside in the sunshine listening to him speak, running my fingers along my husband's back, I knew I would marry the man sitting next to me everyday, every hour, again and again until it was forever.

The Mayonniase Is A Year Old

I've been avoiding the blogging lately. I'm still a little sad about the house situation. The truth is that I still hope we'll get it. In the days after we officially declined to pay too much for the house, every time the phone rang I hoped it was surprising good news. That hope is waning, but it's still there. It makes for a bit of disappointment everyday. I hate how hope can hurt sometimes. It's exhausting.

We were supposed to be moving in this weekend. Poo.

Since this is the first anniversary of Mayonnaise and since I began the story of us with a bit about toast, I thought it would be most fitting to add another.

Cody The Toast Pirate

We've discovered something new about our pup this past week. He's crazy-in-love with toast. He'll do anything for it or ignore anything for it. I was on another breakfast food jag this past week, toast with Brummel and Brown. As soon as the toast pops up from our shiny two slotter each morning, Cody pounces out of the bed. From the kitchen I can hear the initial thump of his body weight on the wood floor and subsequent trot down the hall towards the toaster.

He stands a little too close to me while I butter the toast, sometimes nudging me with his snout, tail wagging hopefully. He follows me to the computer for the morning e-mail check and no longer able to nudge me as he would like, he climbs on the chair.

Before the toast jag, Eddie and Cody usually got up together for the morning walk. As soon as the collar and leash jingled, nothing else existed for Cody but the walk. After he discovered the toast, Eddie has to come into the room I'm in and has to PICK UP THE DOG to remove him from the room housing the toast.

He's a smart dog. He learns fast. I'm convinced that if we stepped it up by putting a piece of chicken between two pieces of toast, that dog would learn to fly.

Know When To Walk Away, Know When To Run

A couple of posts ago I wrote about having lost 4 pesky, little pounds due to us trying to purchase our first home. Two more pounds have melted away in the process, one that has not worked out as we would have liked this time around.

We didn't get the house.

I suppose it's not that we didn't get the house as much as it is they wouldn't sell it to us for a fair, market price. I know there are two sides to every story, but as I don't know their side, here's mine:

Eddie and I LOVED the house. We still love the house. We WANTED to buy the house. We offered lots and lots of money for the house. The seller accepted our offer. (I was so confident that I bought a bath caddy online the next day...you know, for the dream bathroom I was going to own.) The game began.

The first step of any sane mortgage company selected by pre-qualified buyers when an offer has been made and accepted is to get the property appraised. The buyer shells out $350 dollars (or we did) for this particular service. While we were waiting for the appraisal to return, a formality at most as far as we were concerned, we didn't begin to pack. We started to accumulate MORE things, the aforementioned bath caddy, a rather large table for our new entry way, 2 chairs and a lamp (to go on said table) to name a few. I began shopping for curtains, garden furniture, a bath armoire and other odds and ends we NEEDED* (I tend to use this word interchangeably with WANTED or WANT*) immediately.

It was like Christmas and cake-for-breakfast, finding-the-perfect-skirt-on-sale-for-$23-right-next-to-the-perfect-shoes-in-your-size-for-$10, 72°F-and-sunny-all-day kind of time. All the time. Everyday we'd wake up and talk about the new house and what we'd do...in the new house. We'd go to bed talking about what it was going to be like to go to bed in the new house. I mapped out a new route to work (a faster one) from the new house, began to plan the guests we'd have for dinner in our new house, new house, new house, new house. We drove by the new house. Several times. I wanted to see what it was like at night, at 7:00, when the sun was beginning to go down, in the afternoon when people walk their dogs, and anytime on a Saturday. It was our new hobby. We took others down the street in our cars and in caravans of friends driving by to see the house. The traffic on our new street increased 10 fold in 2 weeks.

We were moving into our new house.

Then the appraisal comes in. It's $10,000 lower than our offer. Normally, a buyer would LOVE to see this happen. It means more negotiations with the result in their favor. Nope. Not us. We knew our seller wasn't keen on negotiations. We knew this wouldn't fly. He was firm.

Alrighty. So we consider briefly digging underneath the couch cushions and pulling out the ten grand we hide in there. It's chump change. Then we look lovingly at Cody and realize it's for his puppy college education. That's expensive. But we still want the house...So.

The seller says HE'LL get another appraisal because the one the mortgage company commissioned was FAR too low, an insult. He wants us to have the house so much that he also says if the second appraisal comes in higher than our offer, he'd honor it and we'd close. If it comes in lower than our offer, then he'd concede and we'd close. I figure it's a win-win. Let's pack.

And we wait.

Just so you know, when you're trying to buy a house, everything important will happen on Fridays at 4:30pm so you can agonize over the weekend. Want to guess when the second appraisal came back?

Friday, around 5:45pm:

ktm arrives home after an unusually traffic-ridden commute to a long-faced Eddie. She puts her heavy books down and asks, "What's with the face?"

Eddie realizes that he's got to tell his wife the worst news in a good while. He's known for the better part of an hour that she's going to cry, just pacing the house.

"The appraisal was the same. He's changed his mind and is not going to sell. He says he's just going to rent it for a couple of years."

He knew it would make her cry, but not in a puddle on the kitchen floor.

Yes, I cried. I cried for a while. Friday evening was fun. Saturday was down-right exciting. By Sunday we were resigned to the fact but understandably still disappointed. Then we get a call. It's Eddie's grandmother, who has been acting on our behalf through this process. He's called her and wants to speak with us. She gave us his number and we sat on it for a while.

We didn't want to re-open the wound. We discussed it and decided to stand firm. Our offer would be 100% of the appraised price, but no more. We were already paying closing costs and willing to overlook a few needed repairs. We couldn't let our love for the house cloud our judgment. We had to be able to walk away and we were.

Eddie reluctantly calls and gets bullied. He tells us we should have used another bank (to accept a bogus appraisal he submitted that was $8,000 higher) and insults our budget. (He doesn't have a college-age dog.) Bullying is the only card he has. Except for the one he plays last. He's going to put it back on the market tomorrow!

And he did.

So, we're out $350, some gas money and some tears. Not a bad deal considering we learned a lot for this first try. Eddie and I will buy a house. We're looking and we're ready. Look out.

That's A Good Question

"Celebrity Duets is on."

"Why?"

Butt Quest 3

We got some package of digital cable so we could get the HD channels a little over a month ago. There's this handy little feature that lets us flip through the channels (even the ones we don't get) at the bottom of the screen of the show we're watching. It's a whole new level of flipping for us and sometimes we even forget we have this new tech tool.

This evening, I was flipping very quickly past the channels that we don't get (there are more of those than the ones we do)when I hear, "Stop. Go Back!"

I must have missed a football game or something on one of those ESPNs.

"A little further."

He grabs the remote, just a little excited about what he'll show me when he's reached his destination.

"There it is."

There it was. We can see the names of the shows on the channels we can't get. I'm thinking we're gonna need to change that.

"Butt Quest 3?"

"Indeed. Not one. Or Two. But THREE."

"I guess they didn't find everything they needed to find in the first two."

I have to admit. I'm kind of curious.