Stumbling Towards Perfect

In an attempt to get Big V over to the book I'm in called Personal Finances I've created a very strict budget. (Don't worry; he gets bread and water from time to time.) Big V has a very relaxed attitude when it comes to life, specifically towards money... hey, we might get hit by a bus and die tomorrow he laments regularly. I'm more of the but what happens if we live to be 103 years old? I don't want to eat cat food! type. Plus, I actually do plan on living to see my 103rd birthday. Really. I do. Anyway, a couple months ago we sat down and discussed our finances. It started with Big V asking where the hell all his money went and ended with me clinging to his leg sobbing please don't let them take the baby! I really like that one! In between we talked about how much day care costs really were this summer. With two kids in daycare full time we were shelling out $1,000 per month. It sounds insane.... but then you do the math and realize some poor sucker watched ...

1. I eat M&M's. You know, from the bag I hid from all the kids earlier. Yes, I eat them. One at a time. I slowly suck on the candy coating until it disappears and then I slowly chew the chocolate treasure inside. And then I grab another piece and slowly do it all again. I do this instead of shoving eight pieces in my mouth while stirring the spaghetti sauce we're having for dinner and trying to dodge your I smell chocolate in here  accusations like I usually do. 2. I sit. I sit still. I sit still in one spot. Without getting up every thirty-seven seconds to grab the baby, check the baby, take the electrical cord out of the baby's mouth. I sit. I sit until my legs feel like they've been wrapped in one of those lead blankets the dentist throws over you when he x-rays your teeth. And it is good. 3. I go to the bathroom. With the door closed. Yes, closed. And no one barges in to hand me a permission slip that needs to be signed right away otherwise you won't be ...

I get to go inside houses. Lots of houses. I go in them when they're first built. I go in them when they're in the middle of a remodel. I go in them when the neighbors are complaining that they're decrepit and ugly and lowering the property values of the neighborhood and ought to be torn down and replaced with something new and modern. There are little lake cottages that I have dreamed about entering and when I do they are everything I imagined them to be: breezy and light, welcoming and relaxing, creaking and full of wear & tear. I imagine the cousins gathering to sleep on the front screened-in porch, laughing and giggling, listening to the sounds of the lake waves hitting the piers. There are expensive lake front homes of such a grand exterior I feel lowly and humbled at the mere thought that little old me is privileged  enough to enter them -- and usually I'm disappointed. They're large, expansive, and look more like a museum than a home. I ...

I am very lucky to work and live in a beautiful area. We're located on a gorgeous lake that offers a public shore path for pedestrians. If you're willing you can walk around the entire lake which takes about 7 to 8 hours, or so I've heard. Our lake path is beautiful and peaceful and gorgeous and wonderful and lovely and absolutely stunning. Did I mention how beautiful and peaceful and gorgeous and wonderful and lovely and absolutely stunning it is? You never know what you'll see when you're out and about....  If you're lucky you might catch a glimpse of a blue heron or other signs of wildlife. Sometimes they're out in plain sight, but other times you really have to look or you might pass right by without noticing: Can you spy the wild life? Here, let me help you...

Look, I know I'm not going to fool anyone into thinking I'm Christian of the Year. Far from it. In fact, I may or may not actually be black listed from certain churches. That being said, I, personally, do believe in God. I don't care if you do or not or go to church or not or --- shoot - see, that right there is what stops me from ever becoming Christian of the Year... um, forget what I said about not caring. I do care. I care about your soul and will pray for you. Ok, probably not. Actually, most definitely I probably will not. It's not that I don't care whether or not your soul burns in hell - it's just that, well, let me worry about mine before I get all up in your business. You're a grown up, you can make your own decisions. I won't judge you, I promise. Ok, that being said, I do feel it's my duty as a parent to expose my children to God and the 10 Commandments so they don't murder anyone or covet their neighbor's ass. So several times ...

Part of my job is to deal with hoarders. You know - disgusting people who cram garbage into their house and are too lazy to clean. Except you're wrong. These are not disgusting people. They most often are not lazy either. And, while there are times when I disagree as to the standard that makes an item considered to be garbage, to the human being who is affected by hoarding, they most certainly do not feel they are living in filth. The majority of hoarders that I have come in contact with have a plan. They have a goal they feel they are working towards. And they don't want to fail. They just keep trying. Most often I see people who buy products on sale and plan on reselling these items to make money. Auctions, eBay, Craigslist -- in their mind they plan to double their money, subsidize their income, and prove to their family and friends that they aren't crazy; they're trying really, really hard. The garages are usually the first filled. Then basements, guest rooms, r...

I may or may not have a slight obsession with Sharpies. Okay, I may.