Don't Piss Off Da Mama

Today Beez got to shadow the photographer for our Brokerage as he took the interior shots of this week's new listings. He really enjoyed himself and learned a lot. I do so hope that he will focus on this as a career rather than being a waiter.

After his shadowing session, I tood him to lunch where some of his friends reinforced our communal thinking about his recent off-again-ness. The formerly-in-our-good-graces-Marci is now holding hostage Beez's framed art photos, the negatives from which they were made, his computer with the artful croppings, and 6 of my families' favorite kiddie videos. This disturbs not only me his mom, but I found out today, several of his friends.

I think that October 31st will hold some interesting developments.....

Amazed and Impressed

When he was 3 years old, I was pushing Beez in the grocery cart at QVC and as we passed the magazine section, he pointed his chubby little fingers at one of the fan mags where five boys in sunglasses with long curly locks, wearing identical sleeveless denim vests, posed under the Hollywood sign. Beez proudly announced, "Dat-th's Twithded Thithter!" I remember being both amazed and impressed that my pristine baby boy could identify a metal hair band on sight.

23 years later, well on his own, with his own well developed eclectic musical tastes that both mesh and collide with mine, he gave me another amazed and impressed moment today.

As a popular waiter at one of the uber-cool hotel-restaurants in town, he got a call to deliver a lunch order of fried tomatoes and scrambled eggs to a Mr. Black in one of the executive suites. The manager told Beez that Mr. Black was the code name for Ozzy Osbourne, who was staying there before his concert tonight at the Fargodome. Beez brought the food to the door and knocked. He waited. And then he knocked some more. Inside the room he heard Ozzy and his manager commenting on some TV show they were watching. He knocked yet again. Finally the manager answered the door and invited Beez in. There was Oz, chillin' on the couch. The manager went for his wallet and Beez took this opportunity to introduce himself to The Prince of Darkness by saying "Hey." The infamous Prince of Darkness responded by saying, "Hey." The manager returned with the money and tip and thanked Beez. Beez left.

Thats it.

Beez called me once his shift was over and told me about it. I have to tell you, I was pretty impressed! My son served lunch to the Prince of Darkness! I asked Beez if I could pose as a housekeeper and pick up Oz's dirty dishes.

"He's pretty much just an old guy mom. Don't get all Fan-stalker on me."

"Yeah, well, I'd have rather met Ozzy's wife Sharon anyway."

"Now SHE's a Twisted Sister!"

Doggy Sliding Door

We have had an ongoing problem with our two dogs and the doggy door we cut into the wall of our house. The doggy door, badly insulated, and not sturdily manufactured, plus the fact that it is at ground level and tends to let leaves blow in with the dogs, and just all the time lets in cold air, thus we have to close with the bendable tin door that comes with it, because the air lock flap does not seem to work either. The dogs, unable to get out the doggy door to go, end up going on new carpet. Going on = On going.

Yesterday Downtown Dad had a Whack Upside The Head moment while hanging out at the newly opened Menards 3/4 of a mile from our house, that may provide a fix to our Ongoing/going on problem!

He was wandering up and down the aisles, drooling... er, um, perusing all of the cool and groovy home improvement wares, when he came across a window. He stopped. He cocked his head to the side, and then, he saw it! The window was really a miniature sliding glass door for the dogs! He installed it about 3 inches from the ground and put an airlock flap on the outside and voilla! An airtight, doggy door that can stay open and remain relatively air tight, or be closed as easily as a window.

He's a genius!

In the Basement.... Alone...

I don't generally watch scary movies. Back in the 70's The Exorcist nearly did me in... couldn't sleep with the light off for weeks, and I shared a room with my sister, so it nearly did her in too. Although, truth be told, she was really the one that scared me. When she slept, she cleared her throat by making a gutteral sucking sound with her lips closed... try it... I know you want to.... yeah, that's it, scary huh? The scary thing is that I have a dog that makes that same sound, I guess I've learned to live with it now.

I've made a few attempts in the years since, to watch scary things every now and then, but I tend to stay away, only once in a while attempting a Stephen King event every now and then, but never by myself!

This evening, as I was ironing in the basement, watching... something... Tessie and her girlfriend were getting ready to go to a Halloween party. They were ready early and came downstairs to watch TV while they waited...

"Oh look mom, IT is just starting!"

"No, you guys, I don't like scary movies - go watch it upstairs."

"Aw c'mon mom, it's not scary - it's only Stephen King."

Oh, Stephen King... compared to Saw, and Hellraiser and whatever else is on today - Stephen King is like vanilla pudding!

So, as I'm ironing, and as the characters in the movie keep finding out that it's not so scary when you have other people around....the people in my house keep leaving. Pretty soon, the last one, my rock, my safe haven, Downtown Dad yells down the stairs, "I'm going to take Bear to the party, be back soon...."

I'm alone. And I'm in the basement watching a scary movie. And I can't stop. Every time there's a commercial I take my freshly ironed clothes upstairs and put them all away and then I go back down with every intention of turning off the TV or at least changing the channel, but no... it just sucks me right back in again. Spiders, Evil Clowns, dripping sewer castle buildings....

Well, true to form, Mr. Scary Vanilla Pudding King, really does keep you going right up until the end. The end in this case features John Boy and Olivia Hussey (Oh Olivia, have your Shakespearian talents fallen so far from Juliet to this?) straddling a bicycle in the middle of traffic.

I'm a little creeped out but, the flatness of the ending has eased my fears. I turn off the lights and head upstairs....when, the dog, starts to clear his throat by making that gutteral sucking sound......

Invisible Friends and Secret Boyfriends

The coolest thing about getting a comment on your blog is following the link back to the commenter's blog and getting to know them. Its really interesting how much I actually have in common with all of my new invisible friends! Take Mrs. G for instance. I followed the link from her comment and read her profile and thought, wow, she's someone I could probably get along with in real life. After reading her October 26th post I am convinced that we are sisters separated at birth! She's secretly in love with Jon Stewart too! Go on, follow the link, drool over the black and white high school yearbook photo, watch over the span of the several photos she's posted, as his hair gradually turns to the silver edged yamulke I imagine him to be wearing. Ahhhh.

Short post I know, but it's 9:57 and even though The Daily Show is in reruns this week, I really have to get this done and go watch.

Uppity Bee-otch

I really should apologize for yesterday's uppity-bee-otch post. Not to you, my invisible friends, but to Downtown Dad (because eventually he's gonna read this). Women get it when they hear uppity-bee-otchiness and respond with things like "OMG! I know, right?" 0r, "We had the exact same conversation!" And then women move on. Men don't. Men take things very personally.

This past week Downtown Dad really has been a fabulous example of why my friends call him an "evolved male." Well not only this week, because he truly is probably the most perfect husband ever, but especially so since I've been sick, and grumpy and stressed and lazy.

He got the laundry done, and while it's all still sitting in piles on the basement couch - he did get it all folded too! He vacuumed, he did the dishes, he made a fabulous chicken tortilla soup - from scratch, and he also mowed the lawn, raked the leaves and got the kids where they were supposed to go. He brought me Ny-Quil when I was dying fer God's sake!

He really is like this mostly all the time. I only really get uppity-bee-otchy when I don't hold up what I consider to be my end of the duties, then I feel guilty and get all defensive for really no reason, and the devil on my shoulder slips the angel on my other shoulder a Mickey and while she's passed out, starts whispering all kinds of uppity-bee-otch trash in my ear, which I spew out unfiltered.

But then, that's what Blogs are for... I know, right?!

WTF

BACKSTORY: My BFF and I have our birthdays 20 days apart and religiously try to celebrate them together or at least call each other to commemorate the day. This was all well and good when it started 'back in the day' when we were 15 and counting the years 'til we were 21. 35 years later, lame-os that we are, we still try to do something special as we cross the threshold into each new year sortakinda together.

Downtown Dad calls me at work, asks for my BFF's phone number. I figure… ”oh, how cute, he’s got a secret birthday surprize going on with my BFF...” I gave him aforementioned BFF's number…

Fast forward to home. Downtown Dad’s phone rings – he looks at it, leaves the room and answers it (BTW it’s BFF). I pretend that I didn’t see that it was BFF calling – sensing that there is some secret planning going on, based on the above request for number and the leaving of the room to answer the phone call from BFF.

He comes back in the room and I POINTEDLY ignore him. He makes some overt comments about me being in the room, and I’m totally confused by this point so I make an even greater effort to ignore him, busying myself in … I don’t know, an engrossing email or something. Remember, I’m still assuming that he is secretly planning something with BFF.

He hangs up.

He looks at me strangely – like “why were you so engrossed in that email while I had your best friend on the phone?”

I get out the sock puppets and try to explain to him how I have arrived at this con-fuse-ed state.

He throws up his hands and stomps off.

I shake my head and email my best friend to see wherethehell I went wrong.

MEN!

WTF?

Nyquil and Animal Planet Hangover

I woke up on Friday perfectly fine, but by Friday afternoon I was sure that I was about to die. At the height of my infirmity, I remember asking Downtown Dad to run to the store and get me some Nyquil. He did, and I slipped in and out of a Nyquil coma for the next 48 hours, the TV tuned to Animal Planet which was running a Meerkat Manor Marathon. When I finally awoke, I had a splitting headache and the strangest memories of little furry people with names like Zaphod, Kinkajou and Rocket Dog, fighting over scorpions....

On Life In General...

So, in the "on-again, off-again" relationship of Beez, they are now off-again. This is the biggest news, since I went and told the whole Internet about my secret desire to be a grandmother and now, here I sit, grandkid-less. Ok, so life is no different now than it was when they were on-again, so really there's nothing to change, except my plan to buy a cast iron skillet. Only grandmas have really good seasoned cast iron skillets. Maybe I didn't want to be a grandmas so much as I wanted that dang skillet...

My professional life in Relocation World is ramping up. I'm really busy, and the day literally flies by. I'm organizing, and categorizing and streamlining - something I absolutely LOVE doing, but I'm also beginning to understand the terms "old dog" and "new tricks." It is as if my broker wanted me to perform brain surgery, or build a rocket from scratch - I would feel just about as clueless. But slowly - (and probably not really because of my advanced age) I'm catching on, and I also get the added benefit of making new friends and new enemies. The friends thing is OK, and as for the enemies, I've heard that if you don't piss someone off, you aren't working hard enough!

As Theatre Mom I'm still struggling with my mistrust of the HS drama director. First for casting one kid from my family and not the other. Secondly because this director, for what she lacks in team building skills, she makes up in dividing-people-into-exclusive-caste-system-levels-skills. No matter how hard we try within our family unit to communicate and treat each other fairly, this production has introduced a stress level that we are having a hard time dealing with. Thirdly, the High School production's fund raising efforts are going to have an effect on my fund raising efforts for Gooseberry Park Players. I'm not sure I am fully behind the production they are taking to Scotland, I know I am not fully behind the casting process, and their production policies (which I hate) are diametrically opposed to Gooseberry's policies (which I love). Stay tuned... for the drama I have alluded to...

My van is a mess. My checkbook is a mess. My laundry and ironing is not done, nor will it be done in the next week or so. These signs, I have come to know, indicate that my psyche is a mess. I need to just concentrate on one area and clean it up, then move on to another... slow and steady. In the past, I have seen that literally if I physically clean up the areas of my life that are are sufferring from deferred maintenance, the other areas that seem to be crowding in, clamboring for attention, seem to magically line themselves up and appear less threatening.

Tomorrow is my company's annual costume party. Three years ago at this party, I tried to move my van from the parking lot that was closing to another parking lot around the block, having to cross an angular railroad track in the process. The wheels of my van got stuck in the tracks. A train was coming. I had been drinking. Long story short, I was arrested for drunk driving along with my broker who tried to help me disengage my van. That year I was a beatnik/hippie, with blue eye shadow and a long brown wig. They made me take off the wig, but the blue eye shadow is still intact in the mug shot.

Blog Action Day

Today is Blog Action Day. On this day, bloggers around the web are supposed to unite to put a single important issue on everyone’s mind - the environment. It says in the organizer's overview of the event that every blogger should post something about the environment relating to their own topic, theoretically getting everyone talking towards a better future.

In thinking about what to post, I looked for something Real Estate related, since thats what I do to earn a living. Its also what I do that sadly causes a larger carbon footprint than I'd like since I have to drive - alot! But I was pleasantly surprised to learn that even with our car driven professions, Downtown Dad and I have actually been professing a "Green" lifestyle all along!

I went to Wikipedia's List of Environmental Issues and scrolled down until I saw a term that has been mouthed with disdain for a long time in our household - Urban Sprawl. In reading this, I was surprised to learn that quite unintentionally, Downtown Dad's soapbox, and my personal Realtor ethics have not only been going along the same paths, but are actually quite environmentally conscious!

For example, what we consider to be adverse developments of urban sprawl, things like housing subdivisions full of McMansions with three and four car garages; strip malls, with their sea of pavement and concrete; and fast food chains with more and more drive thru service, cater almost exclusively to the car centered society. In our house we've come to resist that kind of thinking for several reasons, a few of which include: The lack of diversity this fosters, culturally and economically; the erosion of old fashioned walkable neighborhood quality of life, the increase this causes in infrastructure costs, and the decreases we are starting to see in natural resource quality and quantity.

I'm no public orator and I try not to preach, so if this interests you, click on the Wiki link and read more about it.

Maybe I'm Just Old Fashioned... but

Since Downtown Dad and Tessie went to Iowa on a genealogical road trip for the weekend, Bear and I decided to go Halloween costume shopping.

There are two "Halloween Headquarters" depots, temporarily housed in the cavernous remains of a couple of failed "big box" stores by the mall. Bear and I, both being huge fans of becoming someone we're not at least once a year, scurried around each store, our eyes wide with amazement at the sheer tonnage of costumes and accessories displayed. But after leaving the second shop, having bought nothing at either one, we both had the same reaction: "Now that we are filled with ideas and inspiration, lets hit the thrift stores and Savers to actually BUY the stuff we need to make our costumes!"

It seems dumb to me, to spend upwards of 30 bucks to purchase an ill-fitting rendition of a pop-cultural icon, made up of mostly petroleum based materials, that you'll wear once, when the chances are that at least 3 or 4 other people are going to show up wearing the exact same thing! Sure, it's easy, just pick up the "pirate-in-a-bag" and voila! You ARE Johnny Depp. Yawn.

To me, the real fun is using your imagination to figure out how to make something work, and then scouting out the odd things you'll need to construct your alter-ego-for-a-day. I can honestly say that I have never purchased a pre-packaged costume - and until about a year or two ago, neither had any of my family. I've made, from scratch, some fabulous creations such as He-Man, a Smurf, a Teenage-Mutant-Ninja-Turtle (Michaelangelo to be specific!), Scarlett O'Hara (picnic dress), Mammy from Gone With The Wind, a ringmaster, a serving wench, a gypsy fortune teller, The Flying Nun, a wizard, several hippies, witches, dead things, and other stuff I can't even remember!

My original motivation was to keep my little ones from wearing vision obstructing masks while trick or treating - but the sheer fun of taking an idea, no matter how absurd, or impossible it sounds, and making it work has become a family tradition for us. Sure, if you add up the yards of material, the fiberfill batting, the velcro, duct tape, dowels, tights, Rit-dye, makeup, foam-core board, papier mache, spray paint and other assorted accessories - I may spend more than 30 some bucks on a costume. But in the end, the coolness factor totally wins out!

What?

I skipped a day....

Forgive me, Oh Internet Goddess of Nablopomo... it is yet early, and I have not yet perfected the art of saving up posts for those days where there is nary a moment to pee, let alone post something of literary significance on my blog.

I offer up this not yet fully formed snippet as an offering to appease thee:

...

Beez: "Hi Mom, what are you doing?"

Me: "Hi sweetie, Um... (driving, texting, dropping off a contract, stopping to tell a client something they don't want to hear...) Nothing,..."

Beez: "I need your help to buy Marci a coat."

Me: (A coat? Doesn't she have a coat? What the hell does an independent North Dakota single mom need with a coat?) "OK, where, and when?"

Beez: "Well, not for another 30 minutes."

Me: (Phew, I can handle this...) "Cool, call me when you want to leave... oh, hey? By the way, What does Marci need with a coat?"

Beez: "We'll talk about that later ...K?"

Me: (...Later?!? Whadya mean Later? What can't you tell me now? What does later mean? What do you mean 'we'll talk about THAT later...what is THAT?) "K, Bye."

Oh dear, I'm already digging for filler and it's not even November yet! Well, my brain is fried from last night's tax exertions, so forgive me but I found this on Coffespaz's site and it looked like fun:

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet & current car) ...Edith Minivan

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (fave ice cream flavor, favorite cookie) ...Mint Chip Peanut Butta

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three letters of last name) ...L-And

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color +y, favorite animal) ...Pinky Monkey

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born) ...Louise Escondido

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first) ...Andli

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (”The” + 2nd favorite color, favorite drink) ...The Purple Martini

8. NASCAR NAME: (the first names of your grandfathers) ...Richard Robert - or Dicky Bobby

9. STRIPPER NAME: (name of your favorite perfume, favorite candy) ...Lutece Chocolate

10.WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother’s & father’s middle names ) ...Louise Louis

11. TV WEATHER ANCHOR NAME: (Your 6th grade teacher’s last name, major city starting with that letter) ...Medley Manchester

12. SPY NAME/BOND GIRL: (your favorite season/holiday, flower) ...Summer Hybiscus

13. CARTOON NAME: (favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now + “ie” or “y”) ...Apple Jammies

14. HIPPY NAME: (What you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) ...Oatmeal Palm

15. YOUR ROCKSTAR TOUR NAME: ("The" + hobby, fave weather element + “Tour”) ...The Crosstitch Rain Tour

At Least Its Not Death

...no...its that other certain thing... taxes. Ugh. Downtown Dad and I always defer our tax return and file at the last possible moment which is in October. This really only means that I have to reconcile my business expenses at the last possible moment... also meaning I'm down to my last possible nerve and my last possible memory fragment. Why? Because even though I'm a wonderful Realtor, and absolutely organized in all other aspects of my life, when it comes to finances - I suck.

But, the good news is that I'm done in time to post on my blog for today! Yippee!

Happy Columbus Day!

Scotland Bound

I just looked back through my post archives and I can't believe that I've never written a post about Auchtermuchty! What is Auchtermuchty - you ask? Click here for the spark that ignited my interest in this tiny Scottish Burgh.

This past year we were excited to learn that Moorhead High School Theatre has been invited for the second time in five years to perform their fall musical at the Fringe Festival in Scotland. I've only been a "theatre parent" for two years, so I'm not fully indoctrinated into the cool theatre parent lingo yet, therefore, not quite sure what this festival is, and even less sure whether or not I want my high school child to attend. What I do know though, is that the Fringe Festival is held in Edinburgh, and Edinburgh is roughly 30 miles from Auchtermuchty!

I post this now because I sense an ensueing drama, separate from what will be performed onstage that will make for interesting future blog posts. Drama, because we theatre parents are currently embroiled in furious fundraising for the cast and crew that will be travelling to Scotland for an 18 day trip in August of 2008. Drama, because I have one child in the production, and one child who is not. Drama, because I also have philosophical problems with the director who cast one of my kids and not the other, and the juiciest drama of all - I have a growing dislike for a couple of the blatant "theatre moms" with whom I must closely work on this project. Stay tuned for some delicious catty-ass bitchery!

Selfishly, I just want to go to Auchtermuchty and wear the fox hat! Maybe I'll book my flight separately, and take an 18 day job at a local hostelrie like the Cycle Tavern . Parking looks easy and, lets face it, they guys are HOT!

Stuff In My Shower

Three years ago, before my two youngest children turned into Two Teenagers, we bought a house with three bedrooms and FOUR bathrooms. We believed this would be sufficient. We were wrong.

To be fair, the basement bathroom is really just an extension of the laundry room with a toilet, a laundry sink, and what looks like a plastic disposable shower... (if there can be such a thing)... useful only for dog bathing and hosing off sports equipment. The main floor bathroom is just a powder room - so now, we're down to two. There is, on the second floor, a full bath, nestled between two large bedrooms - perfect - we thought, for our two kids. And lastly, there is a large master suite on the main floor with what is MY idea of a perfect master bath - a standup walk in shower with glass doors and a toilet with a separate sink and a large counter. A sliding door separates the naked activities from the mirror and sink related activities. The best part being that it's the "Master Bathroom." It's lone shower rack a study in the minimalistic, carefully chosen (slightly expensive, but I'm worth it) products shared by Downtown Dad and me. One bar of my almond goat's milk soap, one bottle of my Aveda Blue Malva shampoo and conditioner and two shavers - my pink Daisy and his green Bic.

For the first two years Downtown Dad and I with our morning routine, happily coexisted with Bear and Tessie during the morning preparation hour, moving about our separate toilettes in an orderly dance. Tessie taking her showers at night, which included at a bare minimum; exfoliation, deep conditioning, shaving and moisturizing. Bear, rising early to fit in his 35 minute showers followed by what I can only imagine were 15 minute naps in the hot steamy tub.

This all came to a screeching halt when we discovered "The Leak." Which lead us to discover "The Cracks" which ultimately lead to "The Dreaded Mold!"

The tile in the upstairs kids' bathroom, amaturishly installed at best when we moved in, had begun to discolor, and the faucet, caulked and grouted within an inch of it's functionality had begun to droop. These things escaped my notice in the general jumble of towels, body wash, facial scrub, razors, shower puffs, and assorted vials of creams, potions and liquids piled and stacked on every ledge. We suspected the bathroom would eventually need some work, we did not expect to have to rip everything out down to the studs! But we did, and it was really appalling to see what can grow in the dark moist spaces between the walls!

So - now we are down to effectively one bathroom in which to shower. So far, we have done rather well with scheduling our bathing times... there's just one thing that bothers me... It's the Stuff. Pictured here, one representative corner showing: A headband, a used bandaid, three bottles of questionably scented body wash, assorted bottles of acne facial scrub, several conditioners, a piece of chewed chewing gum, and this is the part above and beyond the bandaid and the gum that just makes me shake my head: 7 shavers! Seven. Oh, and the other mystery item barely visible there next to the Irish Spring and the Axe body wash - the hot pink thing to the left... those are my eye protectors from when I used to go tanning. Hell I haven't even been to a tanning booth in four years - much less seen those things! I assumed they were lost.... but what, I wonder, are they doing in my shower? The elastic is missing on them, so they can't stay on unless you are in a laying down position.... Oh well, just like with the bandaid and gum... I'm not even going to ask.

None of this seems to bother Downtown Dad. He takes his glasses off in the shower, so maybe he just doesn't see it. I'll try to be patient and savor my 6 1/2 minutes before the hot water runs out. Actually, once the winter sets in, maybe a full bathroom remodel will be just the thing to keep everyone busy upstairs - while I'm downstairs in the shower!

Grandma Wannabe

During a conversation with friends about my oldest son dating a single mom, one of my wisest friends said "don't fall in love with your son's girlfriend until after the wedding." She failed to mention not falling in love with the son of your son's girlfriend... I laughed, not anticipating the on-again, off-again roller coaster we'd be on, and certainly not taking into consideration the effect that a baby, biologically connected or not, has on a menopausal woman! Oh, do I wanna be a Grandma!

The on-again, off-again relationship between Beez and Marci has currently been on-again for two months, during which time I am embarassingly giddy when they bring Aiden over for dinner or any time I get to spend time with them. I have the urge to bake cookies, I want to change diapers, I read the ToysRUs ads with rabid interest.

This past weekend they came over, and even though they resist posing for pictures, some candid shots were captured... how can you not fall in love with this?

Mexico on a Whim

My son Beez walks into a bar....

...and that's where the cliche ends. He happened to sit down next to guy he didn't know - and in this small town, that is rare. He finds out in the course of the conversation that this guy, Charlie, is preparing to drive with his dog, Beethoven, down to the tip of Mexico for a two week trip during which he will scout out locations for a restaurant. Charlie has done this before, and knows the people and the cultures of the small mexican villages along the way. His only problem, he tells Beez, is that he really needs someone to watch over and take care of his dog so he doesn't have to leave him unattended in the car while he is doing business. This intrigues Bobby, and on a whim, he offers to go along and be the dog nanny, as it were. Charlie not only agrees, but offers to pay him for his services.

A week later, Beez packed a bag, and threw in his camera which he hadn't picked up for three years due to 'photographer's block' along with 17 rolls of film, got into a broken down van with a relative stranger and his slobbering dog, and journeyed to a Mexico that few outsiders get to experience.

What he came back with were 500 pictures out of which 17 became his first photography exhibit at a local art gallery - titled Mexico on a Whim. The exhibit ended yesterday, but it received great reviews and a write up in our local free artsy paper, The High Plains Reader.

Already, with the catching up...

Well, if you know me, and you know that I'm a Realtor (with the Capital R) then you know that I pretty much sleep all day and work for two hours in the evening then go out with friends/clients until the bars close, then start all over again.

** SADLY, REALITY INTERVENES HERE **

Oh, I forgot to say that I also have a family, other interests, and (hello?) a life...

The interesting thing about this blog is when all of the aforementioned things COLLIDE! .... as in this past week. Allow me to elaborate:

A few weeks ago I agreed to take over for the Relocation Director at our brokerage while she was on maternity leave. The due date in mid-October would allow us sufficient training time, and, the agent who had previously held the job was also available to help out and answer questions. Not really a problem... I do have a trip to New York scheduled, and my kids are heavily involved in the high school musical, but I should be able to fit that in... no problem.

** Once again, allow Reality to intervene....**

According to preapproved plan, I go to New York... and then.... The cast list goes up - one of my kids makes it, the other doesn't. The pregnant relocation director, suffering from horribly high blood pressure goes into early labor and delivers a premature baby three weeks early. The previously trained agent decides to leave the brokerage that same week. The biggest national referrer of clients has a web overhaul and the anticipated connection problems do indeed ensue. The wireless Internet connection for our office which has the occasional hiccup, develops a chronic case of hiccups. The most expensive listing in my career gets some actual interest.... I have actual customers who want to write viable offers on houses.

(Heroic laugh) Never Fear! Super Linda Is Here!

I just wanted to make a very dramatic excuse for why I missed that last couple of days posting. The resolution of the above will obviously make for very good blog post fodder! Nya haa haa!