CLEANING SUCKS

I am one aggravated, frustrated, tired, and in a serious need of a mani/pedi brewer’s wife. I have not posted anything in a while because I have been spending that time trying desperately and unsuccessfully to organize and beautify my home. I no longer want to live in fear of unexpected visitors at my front door, I want toys, batteries, and random crap to have its own place to call home other than the floor, I want my daughter back to sleeping in her own bed, and most of all I want the printer out of the living room!!!

I have a new respect for single working Mom’s. I do realize I am not single and that I am married to a wonderful husband, however he is your typical male and not to mention when you’re trying to make a business successful he is often doing other things that need to get done instead of dealing with the everyday routine house cleaning stuff. On top of trying to just get my home organized I must keep my “extreme over active creative disease” in check.
Side Note: I am happy to report I have managed to complete my project of woodland creatures that I spoke of a few posts back. Please see photos of the completed project(posted to associated blog entry) that I am happy to finally get done. It only took me two years to finally get my daughters room to look like it belonged to her and not a guest room. I wanted to also paint the furniture white, but that project will need to wait. 

While I was spending time painting Adalyn's room the rest of my house paid the price. This was no more apparent than the main bathroom, aka the kids Sponge Bob Bathroom. In the 3+ years that we have lived in this house my husband has cleaned the main bathroom I would venture to guess twice and to my knowledge has yet to ever clean the master bath. I am not sure why I would expect him too considering his history.

When I met Kevin he had actually just bought a house in Charleston, SC and when he relocated to Atlanta for work he decided to rent it out instead of selling it. Being the wonderful girlfriend that I was at the time helped him clean up the house and ready to be rented. Kevin is not one to concern himself how things may look, but just whatever it is that it is functional and usable and the master shower in his house was no exception. (the reason why the printer is in the logical location of our living room) As I took cleaner to what I thought was a frosted shower door, turned out to be a shower door that was uniformly covered in soap scum and hard water deposit. I was both awe struck and horrified at this discover and was even more amazed to learn that he had not cleaned the shower in over the course of the year that he had owned the home. Really?? Yuck. Like most women, I dismissed it as bachelor behavior and age. I was so wrong.

I am not a neat clean freak by any stretch of the imagination. I HATE cleaning. I hate even more is the unfair balance of cleaning in my house. The nastiness has to reach a level of undeniable yuck in order for my husband to take the initiative to clean. He does unload and load the dishwasher and wash the pans and in his logic that is cleaning the kitchen, never mind the white cabinets need to be wiped off along with the counters and appliances. It is the same logic that applies to pretty much all the chores in the house that need to get done. He will do the laundry and on occasion actually sort it into the various assigned baskets, but very rarely does the laundry actually get put away where it belongs. He thinks I am crazy when I say something about needing to wash off the baseboards. Is this something that men develop genetically or a learned behavior?

As I was scrubbing and bleaching out the kids bathroom my “extreme over active creative disease” along with my scientific brain came up with a nature vs nurture experiment that could not only shift the cleaning scales to one more balanced in my house, but in their own homes when they get older. Now that my boys are 6 and 8 they can now do some of this cleaning that I hate so freaking much. My experiment will be one of long term and the results will not be fully known until I have a conversation one day with their future wives. My plan start out by assigning them certain chores associated with various rooms and work up to them eventually cleaning the entire room on their own. I have already started Phase I of this experiment and making them help me conquer chores that is directly related to them like putting away their clothes. It went fairly well with minimal complaints and tears, but it got done. Once I am able to get them to do those types of chores without fighting and complaints I will move on to additional phases and to eventualy to a TOTAL HOUSE CLEANING REVOLUTION. This should be a very interesting experiment (one that will require extreme patience, determination, sense of humor, and a lot of luck and prayers).

 MOTHERS LET US UNITE 

FOR OUR DAUGHTERS AND FUTURE DAUGHTER IN-LAWS!!!

MAKE YOUR BOYS CLEAN!!! 

LET THE SCALES OF CLEANING BE FAIR AND BALANCED!!!

Wanted Cheap Manly Car

My brewer husband is not only a brilliant beer creator, but also let’s just say very fiscally wise.  He comes from a family of numbers.   His mom is now a retired accountant and his Dad has a PhD in math.   It is in Kevin’s genetic code.   I like to shop while he likes to save so we balance out perfectly and apparently have started to influence each other.   This is perfect when it comes to big purchases like a house, appliances, and in this case a car, because we meet in the middle.  Not to over the top expensive and not so cheap we are living in a tent.    

Since the vehicle that Kevin primarily drove has died, we must purchase another one.  My main criteria (other than the usual reliability and safety) for this next vehicle is what I refer to as the manliness factor.   I am not a car snob by any stretch of the imagination.  It has nothing to do with the cost of a car, but more with its rugged nature and power.    When Kevin and I first met he was driving this big old Ford truck with two gas tanks, several dents, peeling paint, and crack sun bleached dashboard.    He looked pretty sexy driving it and that comes from my deep rooted WV genetic code.  Truck = Sexy.   Growing up where you have a lot of mountains, snow, and mud you need a vehicle that can tackle any job.     I hated when we got rid of that truck, but growing family we needed something bigger.     Kevin actually drove our mini-van for a while, and that has manliness written all over it, says “man loves his family enough to drive a mini-van” and that is sexy.   When our work commutes changed and he had the longer drive he started driving the more fuel efficient Subaru Forrester and sadly him driving it did not have the same manly sex appeal and attractiveness as did the old white Ford Truck.   The Subaru dying now made it a necessity to get a new vehicle.   I am on a mission to find a vehicle to bring back a little of that old truck sexy spark. How hard could it be to find a “fiscally wise” and “sexy manly car “possibly be?     Really hard.

It is amazing to me that people are willing to pay 30Kplus for a new car!!!   Really?   Why?   Don’t get me wrong I want to be Kevin to be the sexy cool kid too, but at what price.    I could see maybe if I was some multi-billionaire and 30K was like having 3K now and it was just no big deal to drop that kind of money.   I think of all the other stuff I could do with 30K like add a screened in porch, get rid of the damn white cabinets in my kitchen and upgrade appliances, take a trip overseas, pay down mortgage, etc.   The list could go on and on what I could do with 30K instead of buying a car to get to point A to point B.  Kevin’s damn fiscally wise personality was starting to look pretty sexy in a little used four door car.     It is not that I would not want a nice shiny new car, I just don’t want to sacrifice my life to have it.    Once I started to get over the sticker shock then you have the sales people to deal with that stalk you once you step foot on their lot.

 

I can’t stand sale tactics and I can’t hide my facial expressions that show it.   I hate when the car sales folks ask questions like what kind of payment do you want? and what color do you like best?    I like green and keeping it. Great now I am starting to be the fiscally wise one. When did that happen?  What happened to sexy?

The salesman seems to think they just need to put you in that car and just drive it you will have to buy it then because it is so awesome.  No I don’t want to test drive it until I know that I want to buy it and getting me to drive it isn’t going to make me fall in love with it and that I have to have it at all costs.  I have stuff to do.  I don’t have hours to waste for you to convince me I need that car.    No thank you.  Just give me your bottom line and if that is not what I am willing to pay then no harm no foul move on to your next sales victim.  

The sales people we encountered yesterday reminded me of vultures.   At one point while I was looking at cars I wanted to turn around and tell the guy to stop following me and if I see one I need more information on I will come and ask you.     What was worse is this same salesman was followed closely behind by another salesman.  It seems Kevin asked another salesman a question and I am not sure how car salesman law works if the salesman that asks “can I help you” first or the one that answered the question  gets the sale.  I don’t know and really didn't care.  It was just annoying.  Say anything and they both would pounce on me.   One salesman kept pointing out stupid crap like the “wonderful color, power steering, and  power locks”.    It took everything in the world I had NOT to say one of the following: “ooh fancy,  they must call you Captain Obvious, no really that is what the button on the steering wheel is for “.    I guess the look I gave him probably conveyed all that I wanted to say, but didn't because he looks at me and ask “what kind of features are you looking for?”   I look at him and say “stop, go, and very cheap”.  I traded sexy for cheap at the first sticker I saw.    Then the guy really does ask  me next if  I am looking for a certain color.  I would have given 10 points for sarcasm, but he was completely sincere.  Yes Captain Obvious it must not only stop, go and be cheap it must be cherry red.   I was nice and just said no and said “ let’s put it this way the car I am driving now it still has manual locks and windows”.    At this point a good salesman would then realize that in order to make the sale he better find a car that he can give us a really good deal on.  He pointed out several of the “best deals on the entire lot”.     The experience of car shopping reached an entire new level at the next dealership.   We are looking at this particular dealership who runs ads about their certified trade in’s and the salesman is even talking to us about how they make sure every car they sale is top notch.  We find a possible candidate the price is ok and little more mileage then I wanted, but does have a little of that rugged sex appeal.  Kevin is checking out the third row seat that was folded down on itself in the SUV and discovers an unusually large cache of car fresheners.    I am sure the same thought that just crossed your mind was the same one that went threw mine.  A lot of car fresheners = dead body.    I may watch too many shows like CSI and Law and Order.

I have no clue where Kevin and I go from here.  I guess keep looking and find something not to cheap and not too expensive.  At least now when I see my husband driving down the street in a beat up sedan I will think...."Ohhhh that is one fine sexy fiscally responsible man".

Beer, woodland creatures, poop, and Hello Kitty PJ's

The title of this post pretty much sums up the chaos that is my life at the moment.   It seems that beer sales have picked up for CEBC, and that is freaking awesome.  That also means that Kevin will have to make more trips to the brewery in order to brew the beer.   It will be so nice once the brewery is up and running on Ross Rd here in in Savannah, so that he will  no longer have to travel to the brewery that we have contracted with to utilize their equipment.   Often times these trips are short notice and dependent on the contract breweries schedule.   Something that many of us lack in our lives is time and balance.   It seems that once you find that balance and you are getting into a comfortable groove and you finally feel like you got a handle on everything then life creeps up and reminds you…nope you don’t.   For me that reminder came in the form of little woodland creatures, poop, and my  Hello Kitty PJ’s and as for the beer  part of it I am using it to save me from myself.

Let us start with little woodland creatures.   I suffer from extreme over active creative disease.  I don’t have time for this disease, but I cannot deny it and the only cure for outbreaks of it is to indulge it.   The outbreak started with finding the most adorable bed ever for our daughter  Adalyn, who loves stuffed animals. It is a bed that is a giant stuffed bear.  Yes you read that right…it is a bed that looks like a giant stuffed bear…complete with these paws that you can wrap around you .   I will post pictures once I am done so you can get the full effect.  The bear seemed kind of lonely and out of place.  Not because of the crazy bright yellow walls (I let my husband pick the color on his own…big mistake) it just seemed sad.   I decided to bring some of the forest to this bear bed to make it feel more at home.   I am in the process of creating this world with fairies, a raccoon, bunnies, birds, flowers, tree, and an owl .   I am 85% complete.  This past Saturday while attempting to not make the bunny I painted look like a crazy blood sucking bunny, even though Kevin was “watching” the kids, the following happened:  Adalyn cut her hair (possibly helped by one of the boys), decided to change her own pull-up and was helpful enough to place the poop in the potty with her hands, she also decided to decorate the hallway walls, she colored 50% of her body with purple marker, and decided to open all the play dough.   Apparently the boys were supposed to be keeping an eye on her while Kevin was doing laundry or doing beer e-mails (most likely playing some game on his phone).   Four days later and I am still finding play dough in some odd locations and I still need to get more magic erasers to tackle the walls.  I have been trying to find a an hour or two after work to attempt to get Adalyn’s  wall done and so the bear bed  is happy in it’s new home.   Needless to say it has taken a toll on the rest of my house and the family’s diet.   Apparently kids can get tired of eating corn dogs and chicken nuggets.  

I reached my breaking point of sanity yesterday (Tues) when I got up to start a day that included taking Adalyn to the doctor for a runny nose that has not gone away in three weeks, getting the kids off to camp, and getting a report reviewed for work.    Kevin went to his “real” job early so that he could get off work in time to take our oldest to speech therapy at 5.   What Kevin failed to notice on his way out of our neighborhood was  the 30+ trash cans that lined the street, many of which people will put so far out into the street you have to swerve around to avoid hitting.    Kevin failing to notice the trash cans and that we did not put out our own trash can out and calling me so I could then resulted in me hearing the trash truck and looking out the window to see ours was not on the street.   I see the trash truck heading up the street across from us, so I go flying out the front door, grab the trash can and haul ass across the street so that I can beat the  truck before it makes its turn to come back down and do the other side of that street.   As I park my trash can at the end of the drive at house that is for rent I am feeling all kinds of victorious only to be defeated by the realization I am wearing my Hello Kitty PJ’s and the guy that lives across  from the house I deposited my trash is looking at me in what I can only describe as scared curiosity.   I may or may not have been talking to myself out loud at the time.    I had to laugh and totally fumbled some lame excuse to the poor man that had to witness me in my Hello Kitty PJ’s.    

Did I mention Kevin and I are down to one car since his died Friday coming back from some beer meeting in Atlanta?    Needless to say things are crazy at my house and my need to undertake over the top creative projects has left Kevin and I both short on time and patience.   Kevin was not planning on going to the Great American Beer Festival (GABF) in Denver this fall, and was just submitting beer for the competition.  I knew Kevin would not be willing to go just anywhere, especially in October since that will be in the middle of brewery construction.  You just reach a point you just need a break and the GABF was my key to ESCAPE.   It was a done deal for me when I checked the price of plane tickets and found them for a crazy cheap price and the fact it would be my birthday weekend there was no way Kevin could say no.    I even managed to con my brother into coming to help my Mom watch the kids that weekend.    The idea of a weekend  ALONE with my husband, beer, and not having to make sure kids are not doing something to cause harm to themselves or each other it totally makes  the chaos and craziness a little more bearable.   I am using my escape anticipation excitement to push through and finish the bear beds habitat by this Friday (knock on wood) and ignore the complaints that will be lodged for another few night of corn dogs and or chicken nuggets, heck I may just order some Chinese take out to celebrate.

**The moral of this post is when you find yourself chasing trash trucks in your PJ’s  it’s time to plan your escape and preferably one where you can drinks lots and lots of different kinds of beer..even if I will look like a walking tomato, but after the 2nd or 3rd beer I wont care.  (see previous posts about my reaction to drinking for clarity)

Is She An Alcoholic?

I had a life one upon a time before I met Kevin... became the Brewer 's wife and a Mom.  Not that I don't appreciate my life now.  I do.  It was that transition life phase from College to the Real World. I had a job with benefits and making just enough to cover my bills. My Dad was still alive and healthy (minus the diabetes).  I had no fear. I had no money. I still had my  rose colored glasses of youth and  the all about me attitude.

I will skip what year it was...lets just say cell phones were not smart,you paid for texts, and way before 9/11 and thank God twitter and Facebook was not around.  That being said after unsuccessful attempts at getting a job as a Geologist in WV where I grew up and  taking one graduate level class and hating it was time to come up with a new plan.  My plan was to solicit an obligated  family member  to allow me to relocate and move in with them.  That family member would be, my brother Al.  He was in the Air Force and stationed in Charleston, SC.   In the interest of getting to the good stuff I will skip what you can read on my resume and details on moving...on to meeting Tammy and Brandy.  I met Tammy and Brandy through friends of my brother.  Tammy was in the Air Force and Brandy's husband was too.  When we first met we just became instant friends like we had know each other for years.  Tammy had just gotten married and Brandy got married crazy young...but we were still all young 20 somethings and no kids.

Tammy after she got married moved into an apartment complex with a pool.  Needless to say this became our hangout.  This is where I met "Mr. Big".  Sadly I can not recall his real name, just that he looked like Mr. Big from Sex In the City and that became our name for him.   After several days of stalking, spying, and hours at the pool our three great minds figured out where he lived (just so happened you could see into his Apt. from the pool).  We kept trying to "run" into him at the pool, but by the time Tammy could get a hold of me to let me know he was there by the time I could get to the pool he would be gone already. So one Saturday as we are laying out by the pool we notice Mr. Big sitting at a table in front of his window reading.  As time passed he would take a break, but then go back to his book.  He was not gonna come to the pool so we needed to figure out an excuse to knock on his door,   Tammy and I came up with some crazy elaborate excuses from needing to test his water (I worked in a waste water treatment  lab at that time) to oops sorry I thought so and so lived here. I tell Tammy it's time to call in reinforcement.  I called my Mom from my new brick of a cell phone and filled her in on the situation.  She came up with a simple yet perfect plan.  Just knock on his door tell him we saw him from the pool and it looked like he could use a break and take him a beer.  Mom's know everything.

With beer in hand from Tammy's fridge and her encouragement of potentially  making a complete ass out of myself...I walked up the stairs to his Apt.  knocked on the door.  I delivered my lines and the beer...added my own line of he should join us at the pool.   He politely informs me he doesn't drink, but he would join us at the pool.   True to his word he joins us a little while later.  I find out he is in medical school (score) and pretty much didn't hear much after that.   It was all I could do to keep my cool.  He has to go back to studying , but asks what I had going on that night.  I tell him that Tammy and our friend Brandy planned on going to this bar down town.  He tells us maybe I will see you there tonight. I was feeling very cocky now.

That night we go to a few bars first before ending up at the bar we said we were going to be at...but no sign of Mr. Big.  As it got later and later Tammy, Brandy, and I got drunker and drunker.

 Note: Brandy's husband worked the night shift at the Air Force Base and we just had to call him to pick us up. We never drove drunk.   We were highly responsible drunks.  More on Bra Laws in another post. 

 I had given up on Mr Big showing up.  I even declared to my girlfriends while we were in the bathroom that he wasn't coming and it was probably a good thing considering the current state of intoxication I was in and that he doesn't drink.   As we are leaving the bathroom I turn and just so happen to run into Mr. Big. I mean that literally.  I walked right into him.   I attempt to act sober. As the bar closes instead of calling Brandy's husband he offers to give us a ride home since we were going to Tammy's anyway.

We arrive at that Apt. complex  not wanting the night with Mr Big to end. I  tell him I had been having ear pain and thought I might have swimmers ear.   As I was counting on,  he offers to take a look.  I go to his Apt. while I tell Tammy and Brandy I will be over in a little while.  They knew very well I had no intention of seeing them anytime soon.  I am trying to be all cool and sober.  Tammy and Brandy decide its a good time to go swimming and "make sure I was safe".  That was really an excuse for them to  comments from the pool as to suggest I was getting lucky with Mr. Big.   I have to admit it gave us something more to talk about then my ear.  Mr. Big and I talked  for a while and for the record I fell asleep did not pass out and nothing happened.  Honest.

The next morning I am feeling the effects of all that I drank.  He offers to give Tammy and I a ride back downtown to get her car since he was going to the gym.  As I am waiting on him to get his gym clothes.  I look at the pictures he has framed on the shelf and he comes over and points out who is who..then I ask if the very gorgeous girl that looks better than Barbie, is his sister,  which he replies that was his ex girlfriend COME ON REALLY??.  GAME OVER .  There was no way I could compete with the memory of that! Come on!  I am in my  20's and could pass for for a kid in junior high.   I borrow clothes from Tammy  and the three of us are on our way.  All is fine until I really need to throw up.  Did I mention the part of throwing up earlier at Mr. Big's and again at Tammy's?  Yeah I did..and it was before I saw the Super Model Ex.  The downside of a good night of drinking before I had kids and would turn bright red and splotchy.  Mr. Big pulls over at a gas station where I immediately proceed to the bathroom to vomit again.  

After I get back from throwing up  I notice there was a shift in the cars atmosphere and Tammy is strangely quiet.  We make it to Tammy's car. We thank him...tell him well see him around..blah blah.   Before I get a chance to tell Tammy about my  rather boring night with Mr Big, that.nothing happened, and his magazine cover of an ex...she starts laughing so hard she is in tears.  

It seems Mr. Big while I was off puking expresses to Tammy seriously concerned that he is worried  that I have drinking problems asks her if I am an alcoholic. She did tell him no.  I don't think he believed her.  It then occurred to me up until that point it seemed beer was common factor...drinking at the pool and  drunk as skunk later that night.   To add more to this story and to solidify his belief that I am an alcoholic it seemed for weeks after that no matter where I went or what I was doing if I had a drink in my hand it never failed I would run into Mr. Big.  It is not like I was a big drinker.  I drank mainly on Fridays or Saturdays.   The best part of the story is the first time I am to meet Kevin's parents was at an Oyster Roast that was hosted by the accounting firm where his Mom was a partner.  Needless to say I am nervous.  Guess who I run into at the oyster roast just as I opening my beer.  Yes it was Mr Big!

In Search of Something more…..

I figure if I just blog about being a Brewer’s wife  I imagine you  will get  really bored really fast.  Especially since most of it would me complaining and whining about not enough time with Kevin, not enough time for me to do what I want to do, not enough time for the kids, and not enough time to do the stuff that needs to get done around the house that needs to be done.   So with that  I thought about telling you about our neighbor s when we lived in Atlanta.   This is how I learned that there is something bigger than ourselves and that events in our lives and the people that come into our lives have meaning and serve a purpose.   It’s being able to look back on the good and bad and seeing the big picture.

When Kevin and I first moved into our house in Atlanta I didn’t think that much about our neighbors house, well because I grew up in WV.   Having a junky yard was normal and didn’t everyone have a car or two that did not run parked in the driveway.    We met those junky yard neighbors Sue and Lloyd when they introduced why their house looked the way it did it seemed Sue was in remission from breast cancer and Lloyd’s job of installing I think alarm systems kept him on the road.    They had two grown children that lived out of state. We met the first day we moved in when they asked if it was ok they keep their satellite dish on house since the trees in their yard blocked the reception.   One day I cooked to much dinner for Kevin and I and noticed Lloyd was out of town.  I took some over to Sue and soon this became a frequent thing.

A symbiotic relationship of sorts grew between Sue and I.  She missed being close to her daughter and I missed being close to my Mom.   My Mom was in WV and I worried about her all the time since my father passed away she lived alone.    Sue was so excited when I had Nate and even more excited with Mason.  The boys became her grandsons since neither one of her children had kids.   It was shortly after Mason turned one is when we decided to make the move to Savannah.   It was around that same time that we learned Sue had developed lung cancer.  I was having such extreme guilt and anxiety of over leaving Sue.   Who would cook for her?  

We put our house on the market shortly after  Kevin took the job with Army Corps of Engineers.  It would be almost a year before we would sell the Atlanta  house.   During that time Kevin spent 8 months living with his brother in Savannah and would drive back to Atlanta on the weekends.    It was not an easy time.   I had two small children and had to keep the house looking nice.  If it had not been  for  Sue and the wonderful women Delimi that was really the one that kept my house looking nice  I would have had a mental break down the first month Kevin was gone.  

During those 8 months we had one sale fall through and Sue had started undergoing chemotherapy treatments.    My work schedule was set up so that I had every other Friday off.   Those Fridays became Sue and I’s get away days.   Sue and I would go out to thrift stores and out to lunch.   We shared a lot with each other on those Friday’s.  Sue began to heal a rift that had grown between her and her daughter and she was my sounding board of all the stress of having Kevin so far away.   Many nights Sue would come over and have dinner followed by rocking Nate and watching Sponge Bob  while I would feed Mason and put him to bed.   It became  a comfortable loving routine for both of us. 

Our house finally found it’s new  owners.    Sue was getting sicker and my anxiety of leaving her was growing.    I told Kevin before we left  to meet with the buyers and sign all the closing documents that we needed to tell them about Sue and taking her dinner.   Kevin told me they would think I was crazy.   As we set down with the buyers and the attorney went off to make copies of something we  started making small talk.   I almost jumped out of my seat  with excitement when they told us they were both preachers.  That is all I needed before I blurted out everything about Sue.   I truly found comfort knowing they would be living next door to Sue.  It felt right.   When Kevin I returned from the closing and packing up the rest of our stuff to head south Lloyd came over to let us know that Sue had to stay in hospital do to an infection and not to worry they would come down to visit soon.   I talked to Sue on the phone and sent her flowers telling her to make sure she kept up with SpongeBob.    

A couple of weeks  after we moved into a rental house I sent  her  a card so she would have our new information.  The day after I mailed the card Lloyd called Kevin to let him know that Sue had passed away.  I was devastated.

A few days later I called Sue and Lloyds daughter Noel.  The moment I heard  Noels voice I just started bawling.   She sounded just like her mother.  Noel  told me of the last few weeks of her life and that she had pictures of Nate and Mason with her and would tell everyone they were her grandsons.   Sue had confided in me on one of Fridays that she was afraid of dying.   I told her the following “Sue  everyone is afraid, your afraid because it’s not your time.  When your time comes you won’t be afraid you will be ready to go”  I am not sure  why I said that, maybe because that is what I hope it will be like for me I guess.    I took great comfort when Noel spoke of how her brother had come from California to be with them and they were all together.  She also told me of the ambulance guy that gave  Sue so much comfort when  they transported her to the hospital the first time and how when it came time to transfer her to the hospice care that in all of the ambulance personnel in the greater Atlanta area it would be that same guy that would take her to hospice.    We laughed and cried a lot.   

After I hung up the phone I took a deep breath knowing that Sue was happy at the end because she  was surrounded by her husband and Children that she was so proud of and loved so deeply .   It was at that moment I became so overwhelmed and amazed at how there was something  at work that was much bigger than I could have ever imagined.  Things happened just like it was supposed to happen the good and the bad.   The first sale was supposed to have to failed.  Kevin being gone gave Sue the chance to be more than just a neighbor to the boys and to know what it would feel like to be a grandmother.   The preachers that bought our house gave such a peace of mind to move without fear or guilt.    I was able to fill in for Noel and look after her Mom like I would want someone to look after my Mom if she was going thru what Sue was going thru.   I was not meant to be there in the end with Sue.  That was her time with her family.  It was Sue’s time to make peace with dying.   Sue never returned to the house without us next door. 

I have come to believe that there are angels  that are sent  to earth to help, but I also believe that we are also used by God/Allah/Jehovah…whatever you believe in  its all one in the same….to  be angels to help or be helped by others.   I have found that if I feel like I need to talk to someone or do something for someone I no longer worry about if they think I am totally crazy I just do it.  Kevin thought I was crazy the first time I suggested taking dinner over to Sue.  It is when you don’t listen to that inner voice and later wishing that you had.    So the next time you feel compelled to talk to a total stranger you should, you may hear something you needed to know or be the comfort or words that someone else needed to hear.    Try  a little experiment and do the pay it forwarded thing.   It is an easy thing to do that has  potentially huge impact on yourself or them.  It could be something as simple as dropping a coin in an expired meter or  unbelievable journey that started with making  a little extra dinner for a neighbor that is alone. 

 God bless Sue she liked my cooking.  I used to tease her that chemo meds killed her taste buds along with cancer.   

Who is the smart one now!

One of the reasons I fell in love with my Brewer husband was, not for his overabundance of body hair, but the fact the man can fix and/or build, just about anything. Don’t get me wrong I think he is very cute (need to scan his high school graduation picture to show you), but there is something sexy about a man that is handy  however, this handiness is both a blessing and a curse.

 The blessing is the obvious. When the toilet get clogs up because your toddler decides to flush anything they can get down the toilet until of course it does not and your bathroom is flooded and beyond plunger ability and it’s Sunday.      Kevin has saved us thousands with his super handy abilities.

 How could there be a down side you ask? Simple. Now that we have the brewery, three kids, and we both work full time jobs, unless both toilets are clogged getting it unclogged could take up weeks or months.

 Let me tell you about the non-structural columns that we removed from our living room. The previous owners or the builders had put the left over wood floor in the attic and according to super handy man it was an easy simple fix that would not take that long. That was over 10 months ago and I still have two squares of concrete in my living room where hard wood floor should be. I have stubbed my toe and tripped on those two little naked areas more times than I can count. Then I have Kevin telling me that plans on fixing the floor on this day or that day and I keep believing it will one day happen.

 It seems as the brewery business has grown so has Kevin’s list of stuff I need him to do around the house . I have finally come to the conclusion that I just need to become handy in my own right. I am not afraid of power tools, BUT it is common knowledge the majority of people that have accidents with power tools are left handed. I am left handed and trip over a small square of missing floor in my living room. Should I really be using power tools??

 HELL YA. I figure the moment I bust out any power tool this would fall under the emergency category in Kevin’s world.  Did I mention he graduated from high school, college, and graduate school with honors??? AND I JUST OUT SMARTED HIM….and my parents broke out the champagne when I got above a 2.0!!!

My exceptional palate

I actually have THE worst palate ever with some weird quarks when it comes to what I will eat and not eat. I think I may have gotten that gene from my Dad. My Dad used to take Fritto’s and dip them in ketchup and if we had mash potatoes for dinner we had to have peas so that he could mix together with Miracle Whip. It’s actually not bad. It was not until College when I was having lunch with a group of my friends and the look of total shock , confusion and slight repulsion that they gave me when I got ketchup and dipped my grill cheese into it that apparently not everyone does that. I later redeemed myself by introducing them to my creation of waffle, topped with soft serve ice-crème, cinnamon bun cereal, and topped with syrup. I don’t eat crab legs, lobster, shrimp, and sea food in general because it totally freaks me out to eat anything that resembles what it was when it was alive. I don’t limit this issue to just seafood it also applies to chicken on the bone, pork chops and no ribs. I am not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination. I am just weird. I won’t share any type of milk products. I can’t eat mushrooms thanks to the texture. Can’t stand turkey that is “juicy” and my burgers and steaks very very well done. I actually had a chef refuse to cook whatever meat I ordered well done. I will eat raw broccoli, but not cooked. There is no logic to my food issues. I do however have no trouble eating spam fried with onions in tomato sauce. My food issues have actually caused one guy to break up with me. Most men liked the fact that I was cheap date that would prefer Wendy’s over a 5-star restaurant. My exceptional palate also applies to the world of craft beer . I don’t like the Savannah Brown, BUT LOVE the barrel aged Savannah Brown. Go figure. I do like the Tybee Blonde when I eat pizza. I actually don’t even drink that much anymore thanks to my kids . I discovered after I had my oldest Nate that when I stopped breast feeding and could actually drink without fear of giving my son alcoholic breast milk, that I break out in type of hives . Kevin and I had attended some party and we were talking with a group of people. It was actually more like the conversation was between Kevin and some folks and I was busy enjoying my baby freedom and beer . I suddenly got really hot. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I made the comment “Is it hot in here” and when the group turned their attention to me I think everyone at the same time said “Oh my God are you all right?” Kevin informed me that I was bright red and the part of my chest that was exposed was all blotchy. This was not an isolated incident and happens also when I drink wine, liquor, Nyquil, jello shots, frozen daiquiris, mixed drinks, and hard ciders. I have learned if I can tolerate the “heat” after the first four drinks…I don’t care anymore and I will also eat a steak that is med. well done. I am just glad this was not a problem until after I had kids and got to the point in my life where it takes more than 24hrs to recover from a night of drunkenness and debauchery.