written Thurs. May 29
Here it is again, summer time. Almost. Close enough. The pools are open and it's finally warming up. The smell of charcoal grills fill the weekend air, and the sound of kids running around and riding bikes fills my ears.
This past weekend we spent some time at our neighborhood pool. The water was still pretty cold, but the baby pool was a lot warmer. AND the baby pool hadn't yet been contaminated by incontinent little pee-ple. Haha, get it? Anyway, I tossed one of the mini pool chairs in the baby pool, sat back to relax, and proceeded to get fried. I guess if I'd looked at the bottle of lotion I was smearing all over my chest, arms, and legs first, I might have realized that it wasn't even suntan lotion, let alone containing any SPF. I managed to grab a bottle of age-old tanning bed tan accelerator to take with me to the pool. Yep, I spent about two hours baking in that stuff before I switched to the SPF 50 that Aaron and the kids were wearing. Needless to say, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were spent self-medicating with aloe, lots and lots of beer, and a couple of good books while soaking in my Calgon for the whirlpool tub. (The non-bubble formula.) Ouch.
The houses that are going up next door are going up quickly. I was in quite a funk last week when I realized my view of the farm across the field was now obstructed by a blue wall reading "CENTEX." Even though that is only temporary, I know I will never have the same view again. I have decided my only recourse is to plant a tree or flowering shrub in front of my office window, so that I can at least open my blinds again and have something decent to look at. I'm thinking either a dogwood or a dark purple lilac. Anything. I truly do despise living in a neighborhood with people so close, and I've been pretty lucky this far to not have anyone living too close. Those days are over, and it does make me sad and make me miss the spacious yard I once enjoyed back in Anderson. I wouldn't want to move back to Anderson and put my kids through their lackluster school system, but I wish I could pick up my old piece of paradise and move it down here. I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't forever, and someday I can live in my own little world without neighbors or construction workers banging at 7:00 in the morning. I want my trees, I want solitude, and I want my gnomes.
I love gnomes. They are my new obsession. I love their funky hats, their cute faces, their frumpy clothes, their kooky little pipes or lanterns or whatever they're holding that day. I want to fill my porch and my garden (whenever it is done) with gnomes. I love my little magical world of make believe and want to wiggle my nose and move right on in.
Summer also means that the boys are here all day. That means more arguing, more yelling, more cries of "Mom! Can I ____?" Fill in the blank; that usually is filled with "have a banana?" "play my video game?" "ride my bike to so-and-so's house?" "have some money for the ice cream truck?" And have you ever noticed that those guys who drive the ice cream trucks kind of resemble what a pedophile looks like? Or is that just the one around here? I apologize if any one reading this is or knows an ice cream truck driver, but don't they have any kind of screening process for less-creepy looking men? It's almost like they're leering down from their music box on wheels with a "Come 'ere, little boy/girl" look on their faces. Yikes.
I've also given up on the flat iron for a while. My hair is a mad mess of tangled curls day in and day out, but the way I see it, I'm not messing with a 400 degree iron just to walk out in the humidity. I'm also not wanting to limit my urges to do a cannonball into the pool just because I've spent 45 minutes combatting the frizzies. Screw that. Bombs away, Linda's going swimming! (But this time, with SPF 50. What was I thinking? I'm soooo not a "tanner.")
So there it is. My rambling for May. End of May. Almost June. Yikes, I just realized that my birthday is two weeks away, as of today. I will be, uh, 28. Yeah! 28! That's what I told the boys at breakfast the other morning. They were busy calculating our ages every year, but I wouldn't let them make me advance past 28, so after a while it sounded a little ridiculous with Aaron up to 40 years of age and me still at 28. I finally admitted to them that I wasn't really 28, nor would I remain at that beautifully even number forever, but it is a nice thought.
Noon o'clock is on the horizon. The weather says it is warm enough to take a quick dive in the pool before work. That's what I love about summer.
written Tuesday, June 3rd
I still remember the words that changed my view of Aaron over seven years ago: "He's a big guy. He would protect you." I don't know why I felt I needed a protector, but back then, that what I was subconsciously looking for.
All these years later, he has continued to be my protector, my support system, my rescuer. On more than one occasion, he has stepped up to the plate to take the bat from me. And in true Aaron-style, there is always an 80s-sitcom style lesson at the end. It is very humorous to think about, but there is always an ending that is very Aesop.
Friday night there were some heavy storms in our area. I'd been at work all night, and was finishing up closing in the bar when the storm arrived home. At first, it looked like a fun storm, with a lot of lightning, but nothing threatening. I stepped out on the front porch with a co-worker to share a smoke and watch the storm roll in. Having not seen any kind of weather announcement, I had no clue the severity. It was when a wave of water rode over the parking lot and splashed the two of us, smashed up against the window we still were soaked down to our skin underneath our clothes. Sean's cigarette was extinguished and his nose was dripping with rain. We threw the smokes on the ground and made a dash for the door. That's when we were met with panicked voices, "There's a tornado in Indianapolis!" "There's a semi on its side on Mount Comfort at I-70!" I rushed to get my receipts done so I could leave. The power went out, and there went that idea. I did consider leaving then and reconciling my money and receipts later, but the rain and wind were threatening and driving wouldn't be the smartest thing to do right then. There would be a greater opportunity to wreck and be stuck than normal. I called the house over and over but the power was out there, too, because there was no way the boys could hear the phone. They were equipped with a battery operated light and instructions, so I was okay about waiting a few extra minutes.
I finally got home about twenty minutes later. The rain had let up, barely, so I took the knowledge that any cops would likely be busy elsewhere, I flew home. Our entire neighborhood was still black. I left the car in the driveway (damn electric garage door openers!) and ran in the house. The boys were snuggled up on the couch, drawing pictures on a Magna Doodle and giggling. I got them prepared to go in the closet, so I ran between the front and back doors, monitoring the rain, lightning, and wind. The wind was so strong that it had my wind chimes pressed and stuck against the screen; they were silent in all that wind. In the back, the wind was blowing northeast. In the front, the smear of mulch from my flower bed indicates the wind was blowing southwest.
Down the street that comes from the front of the neighborhood up to the back of our house, I saw a spotlight slowly moving down the street. Light and Power!, I though to myself. Then I realized that it was more likely a semi tractor, because of the lights above the windshield. But in a town as small as McCordsville, you never know what type of vehicle they'll find to use, so I considered it possible. As it seemed to lock its spotlight on my house, I finally figured out that it wasn't Light and Power. It was my husband. He'd come to check on us!
The storm had been bad. There was a lot of damage in the nearby areas. Trees down, semis tipped, windows blown out of restaurants and car lots, apartments demolished, house fires...we were unhurt, other than a case of frayed nerves. Aaron brought us the light from his spotlight, which was bright enough to light up the living room for a little while, until we gave up waiting for the power to come back, and go to sleep. Aaron was back on his way, having to be in the upper East Coast in less than 36 hours. But he'd found a way to come and make sure we were okay. My knight in 18-wheeling armor.
Of course, though, he gave me a Bill Cosby-esque lecture on why I should have watched the weather report and been ready to leave work before it even hit. But that's what he's here for: to get lackadaisical me back on target. He will protect me, support me, and rescue me.
...and welcome to my blog.
My name is Linda and I'm a 32 year old mother of three. Yep, that's what I come up with any time I'm asked to describe myself. Not exactly what I had planned, but that's where it is. I love my boys, and for the most part, I'm a pretty happy-go-lucky person. I'm also a cynic in the humorous kind of way, a lover of Carlin-isms, and will bust into a Carlton-from-the-Fresh-Prince dance move in front of anyone if I feel so inclined.
Here is my blog. Read it, enjoy it, laugh at it, scoff at it, Let me know what you're thinking, and most of all, thanks for providing me the incentive to get some of my thoughts out of my head. These are some of ones that I posted on a different site. Enjoy!
