Mark: I got a compliment from a patient at work last month!
Me: Hmm… really??
Mark: … you sound so surprised.

Technorati Tags: siblings, family, brothers, sisters, family dynamics, humbling experiences, ego

Beggars can’t be choosers but this whole living in a fishbowl deal? It’s really annoying.

Let me back up for a second here and tell you about our current living situation.

As time was ticking down for us moving back to the northwest both Mack and I found that we were swamped with work and busy on the weekends packing. On top of that: have you seen airline ticket prices lately? I have yet to see proof that the airline industry is trying to draw travelers back by offering cheap airline tickets. Oil prices are going back up again and seeing as how the airline industry is already hurting I sincerely doubt they can discount more than they already are.

Anyway, so, here we are, a month before the move and I’m sitting watching airline prices but stuck since we already were busy and had plans each weekend up until we left. My brother, luckily, offered us a solution. Mark (as you have seen mentioned in our chicken porn discussion) moved back to the northwest a few weeks before we did. He had finished his medical school residency and, after living on the east coast for fourteen years, decided he wanted to be closer to the family and got hired for a position out here on the west coast. Mark knew of our situation and (very kindly) offered us a place to stay when we got there so it was one less thing to think about as we prepared our epic 3000 mile journey.

The house that Mark rented (while looking for another house to actually buy) is on the market still and, luck be to us, has a cottage behind the house which we have essentially “set up shop” in. All our stuff is still in boxes for the most part, however, it works. Thumbs way up for the brother.

Now, about the fishbowl I mentioned…

As I stated above, the house which Mark is renting is still on the market. A few times a week Mark will get a phone call asking us to vacate for an hour so that someone else can come look at the house. Lucky for us, Mark tells them each time that he has company in the cottage so Mack and I don’t have to hide boxes and stash cats. The having to leave the house can be mildly irritating especially if I have a conference call for work at the same time so have to set up my laptop et al down at the local Starbucks. This, however, is easy to live with since we usually get 24-hour notice. It’s not as irritating as to when I was a nanny for my nephew and my (other) brother had his house on the market and I had to vacate with 30-minute notice while I had a eight-month old baby. That sucked.

The problem I have with the fishbowl existence? The nosy, bold potential buyers.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a house for sale but people, for the most part, will keep their distance from the house. They will stare at it, judging the outside as best as they can, and usually be on their way after a few minutes. These I don’t mind since usually I don’t know they’re out there and when I notice it’s usually when I’m jumping on Mack’s back in an attempt to be really annoying. Yesterday, however, for some reason a whole crop of really bold intrusive individuals took it upon themselves to cross the line and come up on the porch and peer in the windows.

Yes, put their faces against the windows and stare.

Some people, while kind of crossing the line in climbing the stairs and wandering around on the patio, will respect that there are people inside and usually just wander the patio and glance around. There are, however, people who will stick their faces on the window and stare at us. Like we’re fish. Beautiful, majestic, technologically advanced fish, but fish nonetheless. I wish I could say this is probably one in every fifty people that intrudes on our lives and makes me feel naked and exposed to the world. But honestly? Lately it’s kind of been one in three people who do it.

Take for example Monday. As I was eating lunch Mack got up to go towards the kitchen to get something when he said, “There is a crazy woman on the patio who is… sticking her face on the window and staring at you.” Shocked, I turned around and indeed, there was a woman with her face pressed against the glass staring at me as I ate. I stopped chewing and turned my face around quickly back towards the monitor wondering the whole time if this is how zoo animals felt.

But wait, it gets better.

Monday morning, before the cereal incident, I stumbled out of the cottage right before work in my sweats as I walked towards Mack’s car to get my laptop bag. Beside me I hear the unmistakeable crunch of the gravel as a car pulls down the alley and stops. Frightened, I look up and find a strange man had gotten out of his car and was approaching me asking me questions about the house and what is my involvement in said house. (Mack was, fortunately, watching the exchange from inside having just come down the stairs himself). I told him my brother was renting the house and cottage and was secretly really shocked and flabbergasted as the tenacity of this individual. Sure, while many an individual peek inside but he was the first to go behind the house and openly snoop. When I went into the house and poured myself a bowl of cereal there was a knock on the front door. The stranger who was behind the house was now in front and wanted to know if it would be alright if he looked around the yard. Flabbergasted, I agreed and let him do his thing.

When I told my brother about this later he was beyond pissed at how daring and invasive these people are. Sure, the house is on the market, but it’s really obvious that people are living here. They don’t get discouraged and/or shy when they see us trying to live our lives. No, they press their faces against the glass and almost snoop into our lives. Mark says every other day upon seeing someone else on the patio “is like living in a fucking fishbowl.” No longer does my game of sitting on the front patio and staring back really amuse me. I kind of want my privacy back.

Luckily, Mark bought a new house which will be move-in ready at the end of September. He graciously is letting us rent out the basement (which is finished basement with two rooms and a living room of sorts). We are excited and really appreciative and can’t honestly wait to get our privacy back. Perhaps if we find the voyeur-esk existence is missed we can get those cardboard cut-outs of movie stars at video stores and put them in our windows.

So, if you’re looking to buy a house, please please PLEASE people if you are going to look at houses, DON’T:

1. Climb up near the front door or within a five foot radius of the house.
2. Peer inside the windows. Especially if I’m there since I might flip you the bird at this point.
3. Leave cigarette butts around in the lawn.
4. Break shit.

Respect people’s privacy, please. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if I came and stared in YOUR windows, that’s all I’m sayin’.

Technorati Tags: real estate, moving, houses on market, houses for sale, fishbowl, peeping toms, invasion of privacy, privacy, privacy issues, security

When I was a toddler I was the great escape artist and a little daredevil. You could also say I was probably a shit head and I know I was a grade A spoiled brat, but now is not the time to go into that. This would cause endless headaches for my parents and (occasionally) my brothers since they had to keep a close eye on me else I would break free and do my own thing. My Mom likes to tell me that I was out of the crib way earlier then any of the brothers, sometime before I hit a year old. Her reasoning? Not because I was a child that would stay put when put down for a nap and there was a blanket of trust or anything. Oh, no.

I liked to jump out of my crib and run towards the door mach-10.

At first, I imagine that it was amusing to behold. Me, practically a baby, pole-vaulting god knows how out of my crib and running towards the door and often beating whoever put me down for a nap or bed out the door and down the hall. I imagine after a few rounds of this it got old and I’m surprised I didn’t get strapped down to the bed and/or kicked in the head more times then my brothers would confess to (they are lucky for my head trauma when I was about six since my memories before then are fairly fuzzy). My Mom said that while she would have preferred me in the crib longer, she was afraid in my stunt double-esk moves I’d one day break my neck or cause serious, but well deserved, injury to myself.

I wish I could say that my bad habits only extended to jumping out of my crib and running towards the door. No, of course not. As you know, I am the youngest of six children and I adored my brothers and would follow them around like a shadow. Of course to their older, wiser, cooler selves, having their toddler little sister follow them whining and being a general pain in the ass was so uncool. Plus, shouldn’t I be jumping out of cribs and almost breaking my neck?

At first, it worked to simply distract me and run out the door before I noticed and leave me screaming and crying in betrayal and next time justice would be mine and I would get to hang out with my brothers! Unfortunately for my brothers (and parents) we used to have windows near the ground. They were fairly simple to open and push out, even for a toddler.

I think you know where I am going with this.

Usually, I wouldn’t get too far before it was noticed that shit, Annie is missing. One time however they didn’t notice. Oh no, they did not notice until our neighbor from down the street came knocking at the door with me in their arms (I can only imagine I was thoroughly pissed at being foiled) since was this your daughter? I found her walking down the street headed to god only knows where. Thanks to me, baby alarms were installed on all the windows and doors by my great-uncle to inform them when I was making a break for it, so they would be able to chase me down and I imagine tackle and body check me into submission.

I wish I could say I wasn’t probably a major contributor to my parents grey hair but truth be told? I think at least 40% of the grey hair is due to me.

Technorati Tags: childhood, childhood memories, growing up, parents, brothers, siblings, escape artist, daredevil

Mark: How about chicken parm?
Me: What? Chicken PORN?
Mark: Chicken PARM.
Me: I was going to say, isn’t bestiality illegal?
Mack: For one, this is Washington state. Besides, as I hear it, chicken porn has way too much cock.

This, of course, made me give Mack a hearty high five for his quick thinking.

(This post shall be very photo intensive because, frankly, the photos make a better story of Nashville, TN and Sioux City, SD than I ever could. This is a continuation of Moving Prep and Moving Day 1 posts)

Unfortunately, day two of the cross country started really, really early. Okay, scratch that, I don’t know if day one ever officially ended and day two started. The reason? The cats decided to be crackheads. All. Night. Long. I get that they were cooped up in a cage all day long and were excited and happy to be set free that night but seriously? I had no idea that I was a trampoline— the cats were jumping up and down and UP AND DOWN on us all night.

Then came the 3AM text message with the declaration of my friend who just became a Mom declaring “MY BOOBS HURT!”

Thanks for the memo.

After a sluggish morning of “my god it’s only day two” and gathering of the possessions, we hit a gas station and were on the road again. There were lots and lots of hills for my poor Corolla to climb in Tennessee. To pass the time, Hayley and I considered ramming a Whitman’s chocolate truck and stealing the contents:

But decided that the truck would, ultimately, win.

For a period of time Mack made himself a new friend:

And then there was corn fields. Corn fields followed by corn fields…. and construction:

The boys were less than impressed at being put in the car for a second day in a row. They were in for a major shock for the next few days, to say the least.

That day was full of lots of driving (obviously). I guess my impressions that day were the changing in the landscape yet… not. Don’t get me wrong, I love corn fields but they can only be so interesting. Especially when you’re stuck in construction through a majority of them and are like “We are there yet?” Also, listening to comedian who lacks in the comedy department tell her life’s story? I wanted to jump out of the car and rip the corn off the stalks and scream “I AM THE QUEEN OF THE CORN!” just to entertain myself for a while.

Luckily, night time came to us finally

What was amazing once the sun came down and as we drove through the dark corn fields of South Dakota was glancing over and seeing hundreds of fireflies fly out from the corn fields and descend towards the heavens with about five seconds of glow before vanishing. As two cars made their way in the dark, talking occasionally on the walkie talkie, it was kind of humbling seeing them glow in the vast darkness and realize how small you are in the great pattern of life you are yet how we all shine bright for a brief moment of time, in our own individual ways.

Side note: true story (and horrific after I talked about the beauty of the fireflies and my enjoyment in seeing them). As we were driving along, Hayley and I well beyond exhaustion, Bob walkie talkied us. Pausing our audio book (much to the annoyance of Hayley who got frustrated since I paused the audio book A LOT to walkie talkie the boys to share my random thoughts), I asked him to repeat. I guess one of those amazing fireflies hit Mack’s windshield when it was in mid-glow. So, as the boys were driving along suddenly they had glowing goo spread across their windshield. I think they timed it and the glowy-goo managed to stay shining for a good five minutes before, finally, it ended and that firefly’s shine was officially gone… along with his life, obviously.

I guess how to round up day two of the driving cross country was: boring, humbling, and beautiful. Although I was not looking forward to the drive cross-country, by day two I was able to appreciate the beauty of my surroundings and enjoy seeing parts of the country I have never seen before. Though I joke about the vast emptiness (and the creepiness of the corn fields) I learned to appreciate the beauty of the midwest and the slower pace that they seem to live by.

Technorati Tags: moving, cross country, driving, midwest, cross country driving, east coast, west coast, photography, photos, relocation, cross country move

So from my preparation post on the move you could probably tell I went into the days before the move with relative ease and comfort. I was feeling good about the whole thing…

Until the night before the move.

Again, if you hadn’t noticed by now, I stress out REALLY easily. I think I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I wasn’t stressing and worrying about SOMETHING in my life. I guess stuff relating to the move started to really stack up against me. I wanted to make sure the apartment was in perfect condition in hopes that the apartment staff might overlook the parts of the carpet the cat decided to rip out (while he stared at Mack, of course). There were also various items that we needed when we got up to Washington that had to go into the cars. And, of course, we wanted to do dinner with some of our friends before we moved out of state. Trust me when I say I don’t regret having a “last meal” of sorts but in my twisted mental capacity when I was starting to get tired and thinking of the daunting task of driving 3,056 miles WHY THE HELL WAS I TAKING TIME TO EAT DINNER!?

My mind is a very messed up place to be.

By the time Bob and Mack got back from dinner (Hayley and I left a few minutes earlier so we could start packing my car with the unessential items) I was starting to loose my shit as the memories of the Phoenix move plagued me and I thought MY GOD, SOMETHING has to go wrong on this drive since nothing has else has gone wrong in this move. Almost to the point of hyperventilation for NO APPARENT REASON Mack put me in a time out and joined me as we took deep, calming breaths.

I guess in thinking back on that night I was stressing about how the cats would react to the trip. I don’t know if I have mentioned this before but Brutus likes to fuck with me while we’re in the car. He knows that I will play into his pity party so he likes to milk it for all it is worth. When I glance back at him the cat will totally roll his eyes into the back of his head and start panting as though he is at deaths door. He does this even on trips to the vet:

When Mack glances back? Mack gets glared at with the promise of a nice pile of shit on his pillow later. This happened when we were leaving Phoenix on our move to Jacksonville. After all the stress, anxiety, and general shit of that move, I happened to look back before we left our apartment complex and Brutus starts PANTING. Panting while his tongue hangs out and eyes roll into the back of his skull.

My Mom still remembers my phone call where I’m in tears and hysterics, claiming I can’t do this, no way, just shoot me now and end it since I will NOT last the next three days in the car if the cats are doing this!

Cue day 1 of the current move.

The morning started nice, bright, and early. Hayley and I decided to get some Starbucks before the big day since we wanted to leave nice and early in the morning. Unfortunately, upon stepping out the door, my stress kicked up a notch since the trunk of Mack’s car had been left open the night before. Luckily we lived in a safe apartment complex so nothing was missing, but I think that is not something Mack and I needed that early in the morning. After a quick Starbucks run, we came back and started loading the final items in the car and cleaning while we waited for the apartment management to come by and clear us and say peace out! since Mack had called them the previous day stressing that we wanted to leave ASAP that morning since we had 3,056 miles to drive!

9AM rolls in and no sign of them.

10AM we are all hungry so Hayley and I run to Burger King to get us all some food. The lady at the register instantly improves my mood with her friendly nature, her sadness of us moving away from Jacksonville (though I had never met the woman before), and her comment of upon seeing two women come in after us dressed in animal print loudly proclaiming “Welcome to the jungle! Rawr!”

By 11AM, we had called our friend Nicole to pick up a few items we couldn’t get into the car and, calling the front office, they finally came by to sign off on the apartment complex.

The trip started out happy since we were all excited to be starting our trip and huzzah! We were finally underway! Unfortunately we missed the exit to take the Interstate 10, and so had to take another road up to Georgia— so we took the scenic route through rural Georgia. I swear to you this Internet, there were signs for “Moonshine” nailed to trees… among other amazing treasures. Also, as Hayley observed to me: “There are a lot of horror movie-worthy houses out here.”

Indeed.

We hit Atlanta, Georgia in time for rush hour traffic which wasn’t, ultimately, as bad as I had been thinking it would be. One interesting thing that came out of it was being right next to a car that got rear ended pretty epically. Hayley and I, in real dick moves, laughed when we witnessed it since the crunch was really loud and we had front row seats for the action. I know, how can you be such bitches, Anne?! What if that had been YOU?  Well… I hate to say this but I think we laughed since it wasn’t us (since I was paying attention as I drove since I was behind Mack) and the look on the dudes face as he came out of his truck, hellbent on ripping the legs off the dude who hit his precious car… priceless.

I’m sorry, I laughed. At least I can admit to it and know I’m a bitch for it.

The only other newsworthy events that happened that night were going back and forth between Georgia and Tennessee for a stretch of the freeway and stopping at Cracker Barrel. Do you have ANY idea how many fireworks stores there are in Tennessee? I swear to you that there are at least five million. That, and adult stores. That is basically all you see in the mid-west: fireworks and porn. Oh, and corn.

For those of you up in the northwest let me tell you this: you are not living until you have had Cracker Barrel. I had never heard of the restaurant until I visited my brothers family in Phoenix for my nephews first birthday and, after laughing profusely at the name of the restaurant, I admit I was impressed. I’m sure this will be insulting to the southerners out there, but their food reminds me so much of The South. It’s not “true” Southern food I know but still, it’s pretty darn good and the calories tasted oh so delicious.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have meatloaf (and I think that the waitress was scared of our heathen ways) but minus that disappointment we were back on the road and made it to Nashville, TN that night.

When Mack and I ventured forth to try and find yogurt for the sugar gliders (you know how hard yogurt is to find at 10PM on a Tuesday night? Impossible! We should know since we didn’t find any, ultimately) we stopped at a (closed) Piggly Wiggly and Mack seriously saw a mutant creature behind the store as we pulled off to go back on the street. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement which, in turning, looked like either a dog or a pig. Naturally (of course) Mack turned around and shone his headlights in the area for what felt like an eternity until his girlfriend screamed she was getting scared. Wouldn’t you be scared? My mind instantly thought the pig-dog would JUMP out from behind the crates and attack his car wanting our brains or something equally atrocious!

Remember, I passed a bunch of horror film ready houses in rural Georgia. It was still very much on my mind.

And thus concluded day one… to a degree. The night between day 1 and 2 shall be saved for the next post.

Technorati Tags: moving, car trips, strange creatures, photos, photographs, cross country trip, moving cross country, epic move, packing, movers, stress, west coast, east coast

(poem by Emily Dickinson, photos by me)

A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon –
A depth — an Azure — a perfume –
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see –

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle — shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me –

The wizard fingers never rest –
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed –

Still rears the East her amber Flag –
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red –

So looking on — the night — the morn
Conclude the wonder gay –
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!