Bleed Blue

My dad was an election official and our polling place was literally up the street. So I remember walking up there to bring him lunch and visit when we were kids. My dad rarely took a day off work, so that he was taking a whole work day off to do this maybe instilled in me voting is just what you do.

So you don't have to preach to me about going to vote. I will. I have. I just did. I've voted in every election I've been eligible to do so. Dad always made sure to send my sister and I absentee ballots all our college years. In fact, I think absentee ballot is the only way I voted my first few elections. As an idealistic 17 year old I registered as an Independent so I could only vote in the general election for a while there. But I'd still vote. Eventually I switched to Democrat so I could vote in the primaries, even thought I knew my blue party vote stood a snowball's chance in hell of counting in my Old Kentucky* solid red Home state.

And here it is, election day again, and I'm voting blue in a red area. The state is purplish (reddish purple really, but there is some blue in North Carolina. Some), but just over the county line more rural suburbia where I live is definitely red.     

I wonder what it's like to have a vote that counts?

Civic Duty done!** I took both girls with me because I think it's important for them to see me do so.

Principles over practicality.

*For a state that proudly claims to "bleed blue" they certainly vote red. 😣
** The sticker lady asked girl 1 if she or mommy got the*** sticker. Really? 1 sticker? You're going to break my child's heart and not offer her her own sticker? You have a whole roll! And it's not like enough people even vote in the first place and like you're going to run out?
***I let girl 1 have it when we left our polling place, but she gave it back to me when I left for work.  

It's What I Do

For the longest time dr soc wanted a bench for shoe storage in our foyer-ish area for the 4 times a year people use the front door, and for the longest time I resisted. But with 16 people coming for Thanksgiving I finally acquiesced to it, but since I can be very particular when it comes to furniture, it was on me to find one we both liked.
So I found one on Amazon I liked and two days later (love Prime) it was on our doorstep. Dr soc assembled it, we put it in place and...it didn't look right.
Dr soc was indifferent on it but I liked it just enough to think about keeping it. So dr soc found another spot for it in the house because he loves me. But that spot made me indifferent on the bench. And then this conversation happened:

me: I'm fine with where that bench is. But you know that it's just going to become another spot I put stuff* on and clutter.
dr soc: But you don't have to put stuff there...
me: Yeah but I will. It's what I do.
dr soc: Yeah but you don't ...
me: It's what I do.
dr soc::sigh of resignation:: Can we send the bench back?
me: Yes. (once again, love Prime)
dr soc: Ok. Do it.

* he loves me decidedly less when the sprawl gets extra sprawly.

Barn Dance

Yesterday Mike and I went to a friend's wedding at the Alexander Homestead here in Charlotte. One of the biggest current trends in weddings (and almost everything) is rustic (and chevron. I fully blame pintrest), so a wedding at this place suits rustic but sill very pretty, look well.  

Anyway. Rustic is not my favorite look,* but whatever, to each their own. It was a lovely wedding and we wish them all the happiness in the world. But when dr soc and I were planning our wedding (ok, when I was planning our wedding, whatever), one of the first things we needed was the venue. We both didn't want to get married in a church, so we were going for a cool, different (inside**) venue. I ruled out a hotel ceremony, but the reception in a hotel ballroom wasn't out of question. But since we (ok, once again, me) was willing to spend a decent amount of money for a cool place, I wanted to spend as much time as possible there so it made sense to have the ceremony and reception at the same site.

So one of the venues on the docket was a vineyard. Wine is cool and vineyards are different! Yes! It was a little out of the way, which, given my husband's family's navigational skills this place already didn't bode well, but the pictures on the internets of the grounds were pretty, so it was at least worth a look. We're walking around on our own little self guided tour, and the inside space where events are held is a barn. You would think I would immediately say no way giving my rustic aversion, but since I had seen pictures of weddings there, with the right lights, flowers and  decorations, I could see it possibly working and was willing to think about it.

Dr Soc though, was not. While he agreed the vineyard was pretty and maybe one day we would check it out a little more, it was not going to be our wedding venue. When I asked him if there was any particular reason, he looked at me and said: "I don't want to get married in a barn. I'm not getting married next to a f*cking goat!"

Well ok then. No barn. The vineyard was officially ruled out, and we avoided rustic. Win win!  

*I mean seriously people, it's burlap. It's feed sack material, there's nothing f*cking fancy about it.
**Inside was a non-negotiable for me. I was not going to make a weather contingency plan or broil in the sun in late May and have sweat dripping down my cleavage. 

Going Postal

We don't have a peephole at the back door at work. So whenever someone knocks we ask "who is it?" so not to open the door to a mass murderer or super creepster. While this method is not completely flawless, it works for the most part. (and there's always the option of looking out the window as a fail safe)
Anyway, when the mailman delivers the mail every morning, he knocks on the back door and answers the "who goes there?" question with a cheerful "mailman!" Because I love getting mail* and that the mailman is cheerful, I like to match his enthusiasm with a "yay! and/or thank you!" when I'm the one who opens the door.

Anyway, the mailman is at the very least amused by my reaction and always smiles. One day after our typical exchange, my boss asked me why I did that. I don't really remember the why and how it all started, but I figured I would keep it up. That way, if the postman happened to go postal and started taking people out, my hopes are that he'll remember that "nice girl from the library who was always happy to see him," and thus spare me. My boss thought that was stupid, but she's going to feel mighty foolish if my plan works.

*Just fun mail though. Junk, bills, and tree wasting catalogs I will forgo. But stuff like cards, packages, coupons and glossy magazines I love getting. And we get a ton of fun mail at work.

Let There Be Light

One night I woke up and had to go to the bathroom. As a fairly heavy sleeper, I knew that even in a sleep fog if I was waking up in the middle of the night I must really have to go and better get to it. So I did and returned to bed like you do. But as I was climbing back into bed dr soc stirred and was slightly confused to find me getting back into bed since me getting up in the middle of the night is a rarity in the first place.

--Note: this entire conversation occurred with us both in half-sleep-mode and was done with sleepy slurs and hazy logic in it's entirety--


dr soc: did you just go to the bathroom?
me: Yeah. Go back to sleep honey.
dr soc: Ok. Wait..did you turn on the light?
me: No. Turning on the light can wake you up more and I want to go back to sleep.
dr soc: Oh ok. ~pause~ You can go to the bathroom without a light? How?
me: I don't have to aim honey.
dr soc: Oh. Right. Goodnight.
 --A while later.--
We had gotten back from the gym or were getting ready in the morning or something that required a shower. I flipped on the shower light, turned on the water and Mike put our towels on the hook while we waited for the water to warm up to the (my) preferred scalding temperature.
mike: I turned off the shower light.
me: Why? I like the shower light.
mike: You do? What exactly do you do in the shower that you need light for? Do you need it to aim or something?
me: No...But I do need it if I'm shaving.  Or something.
mike: Ok, but are you going to shave this shower? 
me: I don't think so, but I still like the light.
--Mike gives me a look--
me: So I can pee the dark but not shower in it. Okay maybe that's a little weird but so what?
mike: Nothing.... Would you like me to turn the light back on then?
me: Yes. Yes I would.
mike: Ok. ~flips the light back on, smiling~ You weirdo.
me: Thank you. And yes, yes I am.
 --We went on vacation last week and we were checking out the bathroom of the rental house--
mike: Oh, and you will be happy to know there is a shower light in our bathroom. A very bright one too.
me: Yes!

Ridiculousness

I'm at work when my co-worker (male, and maybe old enough to be my grandpa) tells me "dear, I think you have a rip in the back of your pants." I had no idea and of course I can't see it, so I'm comically looking over my shoulder turning in circles trying to look at my ass. I asked Nelson where the rip was, but then he said with some embarrassment "well, it's in a spot I don't really want to point it out..."

Upon hearing this, I know I need to go to the bathroom to look. And sure enough, my jeans have thinned so much along the seam there's a noticeable bare patch from ass to lady-parts. Cue the giggling. Fortunately for me, I'm only working a half day, and even more fortunately I'm wearing full coverage underwear. But this doesn't solve the immediate problem of there being a rip in my pants.

Now, the whole time I'm spinning in circles our other coworker could see us on the security camera in the back all he can do is laugh. I'm the MacGyver of our staff so if anyone is going to fix this problem it's going to be me. Plus we are talking about my pants, and the only one who should be taking care of those types of problems is me (or my husband) anyway. While I don't want to put tape on the outside of my pants, I figure I can put some inside just to keep the rip from getting bigger in the next 2 hours.

But then, I couldn't find any duct tape. We had packing tape, sealing tape, book tape, masking tape, double-sided tape, scotch tape and some tacky glue, but no duct tape. I decided that the sealing tape was the next best option since the width of the tape was bigger than the rip, thus I would have to use less of it. I go back to the ladies room, place the necessary amount of tape to keep the rip in place and head back to the workroom. But suddenly I have a different problem: the tape crinkles as I walk. And honestly, I'm not sure which one is worse!

At least I can sit for most of my 2 hours left, so it's really not going to be that bad, just funny. I text my husband about how silly this day has been, and his response is: "at least you are taking it in stride." Which made me realize we would be making a lot of walking/my pants puns. But I figured the whole situation was ridiculous enough, so if a rip, some tape and a couple of bad puns was as bad as it was going to get, it would be fine. But I was wrong, because then the tape starts itching.

At that point I just gave into the complete ridiculousness of the situation and giggled the rest of my shift. Sitting down. 

Helpful

My husband and I met our niece 2 weeks ago and she's absolutely perfect! She's little and snugly and I never wanted to put her down. But as much as I wanted to do nothing but hold and stare at the baby, I also wanted to help as much as a I could while there. So I cooked for 6 people (my parents were there at the same time). Or at the very least picked up fast food lunch for everyone. I went to the grocery store for some supplies and picked up some special tea for my sister. I learned how to change her cloth diapers (fortunately for me none of the ones I changed were gross poopy ones!). But what I didn't expect to do was help with the nighttime feedings. Baby and mommy were having a hard time getting the hang of nursing, so baby had lost enough weight that she needed to feed every 2 hours and to supplement with formula if she didn't latch on.

The night we flew in my sister had 4 guests in her home, her husband is working through that particular night, a baby that needs to eat but is having a hard time, and she's getting about 4 hours total of broken sleep. My poor little sister was just exhausted and stressed. As I listened to her talk about the difficulties of feedings,without a second thought I offered to help with them through the night. While I couldn't do anything with the actual nursing, I could get the supplemental bottle ready while she tried to start nursing, and I could wash anything that needed to be washed so Amy might be able to get a few more minutes of sleep. If nothing else, I could just be company. She did try to give me an out by warning me that it really was every 2 hours, but I was there to meet the baby and to help in any way that I could. So she took me up on my offer, and the look of relief on her face made me happy.

Oh god it was exhausting! I got up at 2, 4, 5 and 7am, got a bottle ready, brought the baby to Amy, fed and burped her if she didn't nurse, and then washed everything afterwards. And I only did this for one full  night! The next night I helped with the 2am, but daddy took over the 5am. I can't imagine how difficult this is every night. But as tired as I was, I wouldn't have changed a thing. And I'm not telling this story for a ticker tape parade and I'm not looking for anyone to give me praise. But it felt so good to help. That's all. It was nice nice to help.