Archive for December, 2007

Published by PaintingChef on 28 Dec 2007

When all else fails and you neglect the internet due to lack of living an interesting life, just make another damn list already.

Things I Should Be Doing Today:

Cleaning out that random cabinet in the laundry room and perhaps trying to figure out why on earth we have at least 2 broken smoke detectors and several lunchboxes. One of which says “Shoney’s” on it.

Organizing things that the movers won’t take with them. Like paint. And chemicals. And fingernail polish remover?

Picking things up. Just in general. And maybe doing a wee bit of vacuuming. No need to move all those pet hair tumbleweeds 350 miles away.

Getting dressed

Making something for dinner

Consolidating the various piles and piles of crap related to the Artists Guild that I’ve accumulated over the past 2 years so that I can hand them off when I scoot our of here not a moment too soon.


Things That I Have Actually Accomplished Today:

Going to the grocery store. In pajamas. At noon.

Watched “The True Story of Charlie Wilson” on the History channel. Twice.

Cuddled with the puppy.

Watched One Tree Hill. And I fully intend to watch The O.C. after that. Probably even 90210. Oh who am I kidding… those other two are just the warm up acts…

Folded some clothes. Because I am a domestic goddess. Fuck all that cleaning and cooking crap, my husband has clean socks AND underwear.

Published by PaintingChef on 23 Dec 2007

Oh holy hell. I’m drunk blogging again… (Also? Merry Christmas if I don’t manage to make it back here before then…)

Here’s a question… at what point do you realize you are a grow-up? Is it when your mother asks you opinion on an outfit? Or a social situation? (and actually takes interest in how you respond?) Or is it when you spend all day with your mom? Preparing for a party. At the house you grew up in. That you could maybe sneak out of without a second thought but aren’t sure where the best place is to put coats because when YOUR friends were all over for “dinner” the most important detail was that they all had seats for when the bong made it’s rounds? And you know that there will people there ranging from your high school best friend and your college drug buddy who you somehow figured out was actually a really awesome person AND mother to the single longest lasting friendship in your life to your cousin and your mom’s best friend? Oh. Yeah. That’s where I fall. I spent all day with my mom and my sister cooking 1,247 gallons of chicken chili and had no clue that by then end of the night I would be the one upstairs in my pajamas before midnight.

Hi. That’s me. You know. The one talking about changes for the last month but until this exact moment she was unable to express just what they meant?

Oh good. We’ve all met…

(For the record and in the true spirit of honesty and full disclosure… here is me and the aforementioned mother… isn’t she a hottie? And me a nottie? But two thumbs up for Kohl’s and the twelve dollar sweater…)

I’m just wondering. Because I’ve asked not too long ago and hardly anybody answered. (You know. Because I’m far too navel gazing and uninteresting lately.) What is it, EXACTLY, that makes you an adult? I’ve wondered this more than once…

Is it a specific moment? That certain spot in time where you decide that this in MY life (not to get too Billy Joel on you) and that someone else’s rules be damned? Or is it maybe a brief second of your life? A split second when you accidentally realize that your decisions are your own? Where suddenly it occurs to you that you are responsible for your own shit? That maybe there isn’t anyone to bail you out, call in sick for you or hold your hair back? Because they are all sitting happily outside a fire finishing that last bottle wine? The one you would be happily involved in had you not decided that maybe you would rather not be a ghost in the morning? Or maybe because you knew that your husband had been fighting off a cold all week and perhaps his infirmity is an AWESOME excuse to pack it in before midnight? Because THAT?

THAT is the definition of grown-up in my book…

And besides… chocolate brownies TOTALLY taste better when you eat them in bed.

So I will, once again, ask the VERY few of you who are still out there… when did you realize you were an adult?

(Because that is my drunken question. And once again… am DRUNK. BLOGGING.) Really. You would have thought that the internet, in it’s infinite wisdom, would have figured out a way to keep me from commandeering the wine AND the keyboard simultaneously…

(Also… unemployed and homeless? Did I mention that one?)

Published by PaintingChef on 20 Dec 2007

For new adventures to begin, some things must first find their conclusions.

Things around me seem to be moving normally today. It’s still five days until Christmas. The lady at Starbucks still called me honey-pie. (And yes. Ever since that awful cup of tea incident I’ve done my damndest to avoid Starbucks. But Christmas without peppermint mocha is like cheese with no wine. Why even bother?) I overslept, the cat bit my nose and traffic was a mess.

But today is different. Today so many things are coming to an end. And that’s a natural part of this whole upheaval of our entire lives that Patrick and I have put in process, I know that. But it just feels… odd.

Today is my last day of work. My last day at this place where I’ve spent the past four years. (Which, by the way, is the longest I’ve ever done ANYTHING other than marriage? Or been a pain in the ass. Or stoned.) But I’ve really enjoyed this work situation. No, it’s never been monumentally taxing on my intelligence or creativity but it has allowed me to discover two very important things about myself that I hope to keep with me forever. (Holy fuck but I’m sappy this morning.)

The first is that it was through work that I sold my first painting. Until then I had never even thought of myself as an artist, just someone who slung some paint around when the mood struck me and then took up closet space with things she wasn’t even sure were worthy of hanging on her own wall, let alone someone else’s. But the company I work(ed) for has an employee art exhibition and in a moment of unprecedented bravery, I submitted a few things. And they sold almost immediately. So slowly I began to allow myself to think of myself as an artist. This led to me looking for ways to be involved in the arts community. And kind of altered the direction of my life.

And the second, dear internet, is that is has allowed me to write. Due to the aforementioned … less than challenging nature of my job, one thing I was blessed with was more free time that I knew what to do with. Which eventually manifested itself in the form of this website. A website that, let’s face it, contains far more of its share of navel-gazing and generally sucks ass, especially lately; but one that has reminded me that I love to write. And even more important than allowing me to write, through this website I’ve met some amazing people. I have made friends that I would have never, in a million years, crossed paths with were it not for the time I spend sitting in front of this computer and getting paid for it. And those friends have made my life better.

Aside from it being my last day of work, Patrick also gave his notice at work this morning. His work situation has given him far more stress and heartburn and sleepless nights than mine has. He has been taken advantage of and kicked around. But he has also impressed the pants of some people and learned so much. Through his work, we’ve also made some wonderful friends, people I will miss dearly. (Because OBVIOUSLY… it’s all about me.) But I think that Patrick’s job has provided him with a great deal of confidence in his abilities as an engineer. Something that I hope he carries with him for the rest of his life.

And finally, this afternoon we officially sell our first house. I think that this is the one that affects me the most. I cannot begin to explain the love I have for our house. We have poured our blood, sweat and tears into making it ours. There is nowhere that I feel more comfortable or relaxed and I can’t even comprehend that in a few short hours it will no longer be ours. I remember the first few months after Patrick and I got married before I had a job. He would leave for work and I would get out of bed and just wander around staring at this place and feel like an imposter, like a kid playing grown up with her boyfriend while her parents were out of town. And slowly, room by room, we made it our own. The wallpaper came down and vibrant paint colors went up. We filled it with friends and family. Never have I felt more… well… at home than I have there.

We will make our new house the same wonderful place, I have no doubts. But I think your first house is always closest to your heart. (And obviously I can’t even talk about uber-deck. Because just between you and me, I’m still trying to figure out how to take the damn thing with me.)

So yes. Today is a banner day. And for those of you keeping score at home… by the end of the day I will, technically, be unemployed and homeless.

Published by PaintingChef on 17 Dec 2007

More evidence that we are getting out of Georgia just in time…

Approximately 12:30 last night… (this morning?)

“I know I probably told you I would do something for you tomorrow, like maybe do laundry or something, but you’re basically shit out of luck and it’s all your fault.”

“Oh, this should be good.”

“Well I’m going to be very busy. Apparently I’ll be having an identity crisis tomorrow so your clean socks will just have to wait.”

“And this is my fault how…?

“Do you not see what I’m watching on television? And what I’ve BEEN watching on television for the past hour? Do you not realize that I’m not ONLY watching the Speed Channel but that I’m voluntarily watching Pinks?”

“I do. It’s kind of hot.”

“Oh shut up. Keep your hands to yourself. You are so going to owe me a Lifetime movie after this one.”

“I think not. This MAYBE makes up for like 2 hours of the good 9 months I’ve lost over the past 8 years to the mental abyss that is 90210. And let’s not even discuss the recent addition of The O.C.”

“Please. They aren’t even comparable. Have you not noticed that I’ve asked questions and acted interested?”

“Forgive me if I don’t ask you questions about 90210 anymore. I kind of know how it ends. There aren’t any surprises.”

“I can’t even talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Sensible? I think you’ve just been neglecting you latent dirty redneck and it is finally busting out to watch drag racing.”

“This is NOT latent dirty redneck.”

“Really? I think you should call your sister and ask. She is, after all, the latent dirty redneck expert.”

“God. Just hand me the phone and shut up…”

This conversation concluded with the following phone message…

“Betsy. It’s your sister. It’s 12:30 in the middle of the night and I should be asleep but I’m NOT because apparently there is some debate over what constitutes latent dirty redneck and according to my NON-latent dirty redneck husband, you’re the expert in this area. Don’t call me back because I’ll be asleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. Or today. Whatever.”

At least that’s what the message was supposed to say. Chances are good it was more along the lines of this…

Mmmmgddhhhwoweir. Call me. Dirty redneck. Mmmmagrrrwasssft.

Published by PaintingChef on 14 Dec 2007

Oh good. The UPS guy came.

And it’s time to unpack the lovely Christmas presents I’ve ordered from Uncommon Goods. Have I mentioned that I LOVE the way they pack things? Or that Lilly does too…

Hey. At least I’ve actually done some shopping now. That has to count for something… right?

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