His mama didn't raise no dummy.

     I've decided to start a little "positive reinforcement" jar for our five year old, Henry.  It's a little cup that sits on the bookshelf and whenever he's doing something good, like sitting quietly reading or drawing or just in general being a good boy I'll say, "Henry, you are being so great!  You get a coin in the jar!"  And he get's all excited and jumps around.  I just got so sick of always reprimanding him I'd thought I'd start a reverse tactic and reward him for positive behavior in hopes that he'll strive to be good instead of just trying not to be bad.  Anyway, I told him that when the jar is full he can pick a toy car out of the rack at Rite Aid, his favorite.

   So this afternoon after I get him from school we are sitting at the table eating lunch just chatting.  In the middle of it he reaches over, kisses me and says, "I love you, mommy."  I was totally taken back and said, "Wow, thank you Henry, what was that for?"  and he says, "You're just being so great right now.  Thank you. I'm sorry I do bad things sometimes, I promise I won't do them anymore."  I'm just sitting there, mouth agape, and he goes back to eating his lunch, no big whoop.  Then, as he's taking a bite of his sandwich, he casually points over his shoulder to the jar that is on the shelf behind him and says, "Coin, please" without even looking up.   He totally suckered me but I had to give the kid a coin for the effort.  It completely cracked me up, he is either a super smooth talker or gigantic manipulator.  Either way, he's one amazing kid.

And now I have egg on my face...

         Recently I've discovered I like soft boiled eggs.  I found this out when I accidentally screwed up making hard boiled eggs.  But oooh, opening up those steaming little suckers, shaking a little salt on top and taking a bite?  Delicious.
     
        So the other morning I decide to make one on purpose this time.  I looked up the exact directions on the web to make sure I didn't overcook them.  I only omitted the first stage which said, "Leave egg out on counter for 30 minutes prior to cooking so that it is room temperature when you boil it."  Ah, I probably don't need that step, I'll just cook it for a minute or two longer instead because, you know, I'm creative like that.

        I fill the pot, turn on the burner and in goes my egg.  When it was finished I took off the burner, as directed, to let it cool for a few minutes. While waiting I got out my very special little egg cup that's been sitting in my cupboard all these years, in the back, neglected and lonely.  Well today was the day, I got to finally put it to some use!
    
        I set my place at the table, got out my napkin, salt shaker, and tiny spoon, just like a real adult would do.  I then took my egg, cracked the top of the shell and sat down to eat it.  As I delicately sunk my spoon in I soon discovered why that first step that I skipped was so important.  It wasn't cooked at the way through.  Dammit!
  
      What to do, what to do.  I can't put it back in the water because I've already opened it.  Hmmm, as I look around the kitchen my eyes come to rest on THE MICROWAVE!  That incredible modern invention that let's you cook food in mere SECONDS, amazing!  

      As I walk over to pop my egg in, some faint, long ago heard warning enters the back of my mind, something about not putting eggs in the microwave.  Ah, well that doesn't surely apply here since that's only for WHOLE, RAW eggs, not half cracked, mostly cooked eggs, right?  Riiiight.

    I ignore that warning, much like I ignored the directions on how to make this fucking thing.  In goes the egg, I press 30 seconds on the timer and then stand and watch as it rotates.  Mmmm, I'm salivating, soft boiled egg, I can hardly wait.

DING!  It's ready!

    I take out my egg and peruse the yolk which looks PERFECT!  There's a little crust on the top but you can tell it's not quite cooked all the way through which is just right for a soft boiled egg.  (This is fascinating stuff, right?)

    I'm so excited for this, who knew you could cook eggs in the microwave?  It's as if whole new world has opened up to me.  Very exciting.

    So I stand with my egg, too eager to sit, take my spoon and gently delve into the yolk when BLAMMO!  The yellow yolk explodes all over my face, microwave and cabinets.  Apparently you CANNOT cook eggs in the microwave, and if you do, you are guaranteed to, in addition to feeling like an idiot, have egg all over your face, and quite possible burned eyeballs from scorching yolk spurting into them.

    If at first you don't succeed, throw the damn egg in the trash and have a bowl of cereal.

The Deadbeat Renters

         When my husband found out we were being transferred to San Diego from Baltimore we decided to sell our beloved little three bedroom house that we'd lived in for eight years.  We love that house, a beautiful little 1929 Dutch Colonial (you're probably thinking "what the hell is a Dutch Colonial home?"  Well, it means there's a windmill in the backyard and you get a free pair of clogs with the house, I'll send you a brochure.) 

         It was a hard decision to come to since we'd put copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears into fixing up the joint, but, as my husband is in the military, we move around a lot so the best decision was to put it on the market. 

         Alas, twas not as easy as we thought.  Turns out, after speaking to the real estate agent, we picked the absolutely worst time to sell.  In addition to 2010 being a terrible year for sellers, nobody buys houses in July and August (which are the months we picked to start advertising since we had to be out by October.)  I don't know what we were thinking, I guess I thought since we loved the house so much others would too.

          But, we went full steam ahead as best we could, kept lowering the price, had more open houses (that no one came to, apparently people don't even LOOK at houses during those months.  Perhaps we should have done some homework on this.)  When we lowered it the last time we decided that if it didn't sell we would try the rental route, we just didn't feel comfortable with lowering the price and further, we wanted to make SOME money on the house, not just give it away after desperation.)  My husband was actually thrilled with the idea, he's always loved the thought of owning multiple properties and renting them out.  All I saw were headaches with that scenario (and dammit wasn't I right).

         We advertised our delightful three bedroom, one and a half bath, two story house with yard and porch swing, pets allowed (in case anyone is interested????) on a website called "Military by Owner" which is a resource other military families use to find places to rent owned by other military people.  You probably could have figured that out from the name.  We found an Army couple who were being transferred from Texas to Baltimore for the next three years, they saw the pictures of the house, loved it, and wanted to move in right away.  Perfect! We did the necessary background checks and letters of recommendations, and they moved in the same month we left.  It could not have worked out better.
  
         They were the DREAM tenants.  Rent arrived on time or even early in most cases.  They constantly told us how much they loved the house and the neighborhood, and would also volunteer to do little maintenance jobs around the house, sometimes they would actually REFUSE money to reimburse things they'd purchased.  They'd just say, "This is our house too, we want to keep it looking nice and don't mind paying to do so." WOW.  Amazing.  Could there be any situation better than this?  I doubt it.  I was almost even considering telling my husband, "You were right, I was wrong, renting is the way to go."  I said almost.
 
         NOT SO FAST THERE, BUB.  This past February we got the email we were dreading, the couple was getting divorced and were so apologetic but would be moving out of the house after having lived there for only 14 months. BAAAAAAAAAAAA.  NOOOOO!  Don't go!  We love you!  But, what were we to do.  Shit happens.

          Then the panic sets in.  We're in San Diego.  The house is in Baltimore.  How are we going to find renters.  Will we have to fly out there?  How will we show people the house when they want to see it?  How long will it stay vacant?  WHY THE HELL DIDN'T WE JUST LOWER THE HOUSE PRICE AND GET RID OF IT.  What was going to happen?
 
           The current renters felt so bad about moving out after such a short time (and were sympathetic to our geographic limitations) they said they were going to do all they could to find renters for us.  Yeah yeah yeah, sure sure sure. We were screwed.
 
            BUT, not one week later the wife called and said she had some friends that were looking for a new place to live and needed to move by March 1st.  What?  We might actually not have a gap in the rent?  We wouldn't have to fly there?  We could avoid this nightmare?  Ahhh, the angels were singing, this was the answer.  Of course when I look back on it now I see where we went wrong.  In our desperation to get the rent we didn't do all of the things that smart home owners looking for renters should do.  We didn't do background checks, we didn't do credit checks.  We thought, "Hey, they're friends of the dream renters, I'm sure they're great too."  Boy how wrong we were.

          It should have been a clue how fast this new couple wanted to send us the signed lease and first months rent.  They probably wanted it to be a done deal so that by the time I found out they were complete dead beats it would be too late.  It should have also probably been a clue when I talked to the wife on the phone and she said, "The only thing I don't like about your contract is that it's only a one year lease and then goes month to month after that.  I hate hate hate moving (which means they probably do it a lot, which means they probably get evicted a lot, things I'm seeing in hindsight yes you don't have to tell me) and won't you consider changing that to a two or three year lease?"  Thankfully I said no, but I told her if things went well for the first year I couldn't see any reason why they should have to move, we most likely would not be moving back to the house, and if we did it wouldn't be for another ten years or so after Doug retires from the Navy.

            So, the first month went well, they said they loved the house, the only thing they wanted to do was paint one of the bedrooms for their 15 year old daughter (this was a second marriage, there was the 15 year and now a new baby.) Here comes the real test, the SECOND month.

           April comes along, and hey! It's April 1st, let's check the mailbox, shall we?  What's that?  It's empty?  Hmm, well, we're still working out the kinks, I'm sure it will show up tomorrow, they have until the 5th before it's considered late.

           Hey, what's the date today?  Well, funny you should ask, it's the 6th and there's no rent check anywhere to be seen and no communication whatsoever from the renters.  So, Doug sends Tammy (the wife) a text that says, "Have you sent the rent?"  We then get then "Oh crap, it isn't there yet?  I sent it overnight two days ago, I paid $20 to do so, it should be there!"  Riiight. Why not just drop it in the mail on the 29th, which will only cost you 45 cents instead of sending it on the 4th when it will cost you $20.  This is not starting out well.

          Then she apologizes for the lateness and says she wants to set up a direct deposit thing so that she doesn't have to worry about it being late because she's such a space case.....uh huh.  Great, we can do that, here's the check routing #, just call your bank and they can set it up.  Except for some reason her bank CAN'T set it up, weird huh?  Oh brother, these were all just gigantic warning signs that of course are clear to me NOW, but not then. Or maybe I just didn't want to see it.  I was still holding out hope that these were just initial kinks and that things really would straighten out.

           Say, hey, what month is it now?  Why, it's May, you and know what else?  It's May 7th and we've received no money.  But you know what we did receive?  We received a phone call from Tammy crying, saying they don't have any money to pay the rent this month because her husband lost his job.  Oh sweet bajeezus.  Okay, I'm thinking, "We are in deep doo doo here, although I feel for their situation, we need to get a handle on this before they get too behind with the payments." The money we receive from them goes right to our mortgage, it's not like we're making cash off of this.  So now we've got the mortgage to pay on the Baltimore house AND the rent for the house we're living in San Diego, awesome!

             Doug decides to call them while were sitting down to dinner one night and this is his end of the conversation that I hear , "Uh huh.  Oh, yeah.  Uh huh.  But, well yeah I get that.  No, I understand.  Okay.  Yeah, sure, okay.  Uh huh, yeah that's tough.  Sure.  Okay we will.  Yes.  Uh huh."  Totally steamrolled. 

            When he got off the phone I said, "Well, what was that all about?  What did she say?"  Doug, just completely exasperated with this whole situation, said that she sounded earnest and that the husband is in training for a new job, should see a paycheck within the next couple of weeks, and could we please just hang out for a little bit they promise to pay but if we want to evict they would totally understand but they hope we won't and they will pay they just can't do it right now and please understand they aren't irresponsible people they've just hit some hard times and you understand and it's raining and don't kick us out oh brother.  They eventually did pay up by the end of the month but it all trickles in various ways.  We've received money from them via regular check, Money Gram, Paypal, straight up cash in an envelope, and Western Union.  Next up I'm expecting a carrier pigeon with some yen tied to his leg.

            Again, I don't mean to sound harsh, but really, why rent a house that you can't afford?  I can understand you have money problems, but live somewhere that fits your budget, or better yet, maybe stay with your family or friends until you are back on your feet.  You can't expect your landlord to cover your money problems for you.  Every email I receive from her starts with, "Now I know this is not your problem, but here's the thing...."  Okay so I guess it IS my problem, right?  Month after month it's some huge dramatic reason as to why they can't pay the rent. 

Here are some of the other excuses we've heard:

-There are big storms, the power went out, everything in the fridge spoiled so we spent the rent money on food.
-Gas has really gone up here, and we need to buy baby formula, no rent yet.
-It's raining really hard, can't get to bank.
-I let the insurance lapse on my vehicle, then I crashed my car and totaled it, so I can't get to my job and we have no money.
-The baby has a rash, I need to take her to the doctor, sorry no rent.
-Husband spent the rent money on a new GPS without telling me, sorry money's not coming yet.
-Husband's grandma died, husband needed to spend rent money to buy a suit for the funeral.  Maybe we can pay next week.

OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.  It was the funeral/new suit one that really did me in.

         If you can't pay your rent you don't head over to the Men's Warehouse to buy some new duds for grandma's funeral, I don't think she'll mind if you show up in slacks and a sweater.
 
         The decisions these people make with their money is just ridiculous.  I know times are hard, I understand this, but it's difficult for me to know if they're telling the truth, if they really are just in a bad situation, or if they're compulsive liars. I've never met them face to face, I have no idea of their credit (although I'm getting a good picture of it if their history with us is any indication.)  Maybe they're alcoholics, maybe they're con artists, maybe they are just incredibly bad with money, maybe they just have really really bad karma, I have no idea.  The only thing I do know is DO NOT EVER LET ANYONE MOVE INTO YOUR HOUSE WITHOUT FIRST GETTING A BACKGROUND/CREDIT CHECK ON THEM. NEVER EVER. NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER.......

         Today is September 17th and I've yet to see a dime for this month, I've also not heard from them (that's another thing that kills me.  Why do we always have to hunt them down for rent?  I should not have to be emailing, calling, texting, smoke signalling to get you to send us what you promised to pay.) 

        We've tried giving them the benefit of the doubt but now I just feel taken advantage of.  Last week we decided to hire a property manager take over the responsibility of all this, it's just too damn hard to deal with it 3000 miles away.  I'm tired of waking up at 3am staring at the ceiling and wondering if we'll see any money this month.  My patience with this has run out.  Hopefully the property manager will be able to get something out of them, unless, of course, it's raining and, you know, they would go over there, but.......to be continued...........

The Barnes and Noble Weirdo

          I like to go to Barnes and Noble and read books, it makes me feel fancy.  I like to sit on their comfy couches and drink their expensive coffees, but what I like most about it are the weirdos I seem to always meet.

         If I sit down to read it's pretty much a guarantee I come home with a weirdo story.  I think it's something about my face that tells strangers "hey, that girl looks like she'd be open to hearing my theory about how all the world is populated by 3rd dimension devils, and if we don't start putting our muffins in our shoes, we are destined to live in cramped steamboats for all of eternity."

       Recently I was sitting on the couch in B and N when a strange lady sat down next to me, with no book, just sat down to be next to me.  I had a pair of flip flops on, making my toe ring visible to all those who wished to see it.

         As I'm sitting there reading I'm keenly aware of this strange woman sitting next to me with nothing to read.  I hear her saying something to herself, when she starts getting louder I realize she is muttering to herself over and over "RINGS ON TOES, RINGS ON TOES, RINGS ON TOES".  So there's me, sitting with my book in front of my face.  I slowly lower it to look at her.  Soon as I make eye contact -she was waiting for that- she says to me with a crazy gleam in her eye "You know what's GREAT fun?? Dancing on someones grave at the stroke of midnight on Halloween...that's great fun....great fun...." and with that, she smiles her creepy smile, stands up, and quickly departs out the door. All without me saying a word. At which point my friends, who happen to be sitting there with me and who have been pretending not to see what was going on say to me, "What is it with you, Kristin?  Every time it's some weirdo with you."  What can I say.  We all have our talents.  Mine just seems to be attracting odd balls.

Stop peeing on my Facebook page.

         I'm on Facebook. I admit it, I'm addicted to it, I'm addicted to the FAME of it. Seeing those little "thumbs up" likes? Come on, I live for them. Oh sure, I act like it's no big deal, it's like, "Oh, did someone comment on my status? Huh, I hadn't noticed." IT'S ALL A LIE, THEY LIKE MY UPDATE, I AM SOMEBODY.

         Jeez that makes me feel so pathetic but so be it. I love Facebook. Now I know Facebook is probably a terrible thing, there we all are, putting out our dirty laundry for everyone to see, a voyeuristic indulgence, a risk in these identity-vulnerable times, I know this. But I can't help it.

       Now I'm not like a lot of those people on Facebook, you know the ones, they put absolutely everything out there for all to read, "I think my boyfriend is cheating on me." or "Having trouble getting pregnant, think my husbands sperm isn't viscous enough." GROSS. Keep it to yourself, jeez. Now every time I see your husband I'm going to be thinking about his wiener problems.

      No, I use Facebook for humor (ok, and my own sick need of validation.) Most often I use movie quotes from the 80's since that is my genre de choice (please say with snobby accent.) Breakfast club, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, with a little Three Amigos thrown in. I also use it for witty observations, or what I consider witty observations about our five year old, like how he's created this whole imaginary world where he works at Costco at night while the rest of us are asleep. According to him he works Friday, Saturday, Thursday and gets paid something like sixty eleven the first hour then five twenties the next, whatever that means. He also apparently likes to stand outside with "the guys" when he's on break and drink coffee. And no, he doesn't get a discount (which I ask him every time we're there shopping.) These are the things I put on Facebook, and maybe an occasional picture of the family, and okay, I'll admit it, pictures of myself where I think I look exceptionally cute. "Oh, do I like good in this picture? I didn't realize, it's just a totally random shot."  Puh-leez.

     Now, everyone uses Facebook for different reasons, that's obvious. Some people use it to brag about their children, to keep in touch with family, some use it to post their Pinterest projects, and some people use it to spread the word of The Lord (we capitalize The Lord, right? Am I going to hell if I don't capitalize? I don't know, better be safe than sorry.) For instance, there is a girl on fb the used to be a pretty big "hoo-ah" in high school. I hate saying whore, or slut, because there is no male equivalent so I'll say the Rhode Island pronunciation of whore just to get my point across. Hoo-ah.  The girl had some fun, you understand.
    
       Anyway, she's now on Facebook and boy let me tell you what, she's found THE LORD (all caps). She has found him and embraced him and focused her entire life, and the life of her family, around The Lord.  

     Now, there's nothing wrong with this of course, I know Jesus, he's a great guy, but just because I don't go around Facebook quoting scripture all day doesn't mean I don't have God in my life. It's just kind of funny to see such a massive turn around.  But sometimes, I'll admit, I think she's over compensating for past discrepancies....just a bit.  We get it, you love Jesus, I think you're probably forgiven for blowing half of the JV football squad by now, can we move on?

       Now the people I have the biggest problem with are the ones WHO WILL NOT SHUT THE EFF UP ABOUT POLITICS. I try to keep my page as politico-free as possible. I feel that politics, like religion, is a very personal thing. They're such hot button topics, which most people feel very passionate about, I think that they should be avoided at all costs, kind of like the topic of abortion. If you're pro-choice chances are if you get into a "discussion" with pro-lifers it ain't gonna go so well. So unless you are SURE that the person you are talking to feels the same you do then shut the hell up already. Unless of course you can have a free an open conversation about it all, but most people can't, they feel they just have to educate you on what they feel is right while simultaneously criticizing what you think and ultimately you just walk away pissed and try to avoid them in the future.

       Just the other day I was literally ACCOSTED by my new neighbor about how terrible and evil Obama is and how he's ruining America, blah blah blah burkah, all I was doing was taking out the trash and saying hello, dammit! I am not trying to have a political discussion with you at 8am while I'm standing here in my Spongebob pj bottoms.  I just stood there smiling and nodding and slowly backing my way into the house. Here's a tip: if I don't ask you your opinion about politics, don't give it to me.  Some people enjoy discussing politics.  I am not one of those people.  I realize your facebook page is your canvas to express your freedom of speech, doesn't mean I have to look at it and it CERTAINLY doesn't mean you can invade my facebook page with your negative name calling political agenda bullshit.

        Thank goodness for that "hide page" option.  Trust me it's better in the long run, and for the sake of our friendship, if you just keep it to yourself.

Men, what's with you?

         I have always been a Honda gal.  My first car was an '88 Honda Civic that my grandfather passed on to me when he died.  I drove the Vanilla Bean for 14 years, and I loved every second of it.  Still miss that car, with the broken RPM gauge and vinyl seats that would burn your ass after being parked in the sun, it's crackly speakers that the sound would go in and out of, I got pretty good at swift kicking the speaker while I drove so that my song would come back on.  BUT, when I moved to Maryland I realized I would need a more dependable form of transportation so I sold it and bought a forest green '98 civic.
    
         As my husband had an old beater truck we would always drive my car for family outings, and normally when we go somewhere as a family Doug is the one to drive.  Whenever we come home from said outings as a family, with Doug behind the wheel, he'll pull up to the curb in front of our house as close as possible and always, and I do mean always, scrapes the CRAP out of my wheel and hubcap.  I always end up yelling at him like, "Why do you have to pull up so close!?!  The hubcap is totally scraped up and mangled after all the years of you doing this!"  He just says he wants to get close.  Anyway, as I said, this had been going on in the eight years we lived in MD. 

       So, as our son got bigger and the car got older we decided to purchase a 2009 Ford Escape in 80's eyeshadow metallic blue. I don't think that's the official name of the paint but that's what it looks like. And, as you can imagine, when go tooling around town Doug is the one to drive (which I suppose is only fair since I get to drive it every other day of the week.) 

       On Thursday night we went out for Greek food at a restaurant near us called Dimitris.  When we pull into the parking lot and get out of the car Doug walks over to the passenger side, looks down at the wheel and says, "Hmm, looks like someone has been pulling too close to the curb and has scraped the tire here.  You really need to be careful about that, Kristin, don't get so close to the curb."  (I just happened to have parked too close to the sidewalk that very afternoon and DID actually scrape the wheel against the curb -which I NEVER ever do because, obviously, it pisses me off and I'm trying to keep this car nice for as long as possible.)  

        When I point out to him that he of all people has no right to criticize me about parking with wheel against the curb as for the last eight years he has done that same thing to my Honda, he then says to me, "Yeah but these tires are more expensive." 

         Are you fucking serious?  I guess it's okay for him to scrape the hell out of the Honda (because those tires only costs $5) but when I do it to the Escape I should get my license taken away.  Oh I was beyond irritated.  It was all I could do to go in and order my extra large glass of chardonnay to go with the cold shoulder I was giving him.

       Anyway, luckily I wasn't bothered for too long, once I got some tzatziki into my tummy I was all better.  Although I the irritation did resurface a little later when he offered to spray paint the curb bright red so as to help me from parking too close.  Then when he pulls up in front of the house he does it really slowly and carefully, looks over at me and says, "See, that's how you do it." 
 
   Oh brother, somebody shoot me.

First rule of creating a blog: write down your password.

I am a huge moron.
         
           When did I start this blog? 2010? What is it now? 2012? When did I last write something? 2010. Riiight. See I'm trying to write a book of stories. You're probably thinking, "Who cares."
      Why would anyone want to read a book of stories about someone they don't know? How do you get people to know you? Get your name out there, start a blog! Great idea. Name your blog, done. Create a gmail account, done. Promptly write two entries on your blog then forget about it. Then, after a couple of weeks realize you didn't write down what your gmail account and password were, done.
         Making a blog; sounds like a good idea, can't access it, lost in the blogosphere. Flash forward two years.  Yesterday we took our 5 year old to his first day of kindergarten, and now I'm home, alone, finally putting pen to paper again (or finger to key), determined to get this book done. First thing I did this morning; contact google and figure out my damned user name and password, wahoo! Hello world, I'm back!