After the vent

Boy did I need that enormous vent session here the other night. Thank you to everyone who sent a "Go Girl" my way as well as those who appreciated the Cruz-as-flaccid-member commentary. I adore you all. 

Despite the fact that I ran three miles and then drank a slight bit of Bourbon and then fell asleep in Jack's bed because he was so warm and cute and awoke the next morning with exceedingly foul, unbrushed teeth, I felt loads better. You've just got to let off steam sometimes, in fun ways and explosions too. There's a time and place, people.

'Twas that very damn evening that I hungrily put together a delicious dinner. Garlicky kale- and mozzarella-stuffed chicken breasts wrapped in bacon and pan-seared until golden and juicy and, for good kale measure, kale salad alongside. Totally satisfying, y'all. 

I did not always love smoked mozzarella, but now, I'm exceedingly fond of it when used in smart ways. Ghibellina (a terrific Tuscan place in DC) first lit my smoked mozz fire with its artichoke, green olive, sundried tomato and smoked mozzarella pizza. To.die.for.

My sister recently implored me to try an eggplant and smoked mozz risotto which I have yet to make but plan to.

We continue to settle in and further make this house our home. Yesterday was the Day of Hanging Art which has made a huge difference. In my opinion, art is like furniture for your walls. And if, like we have, you've collected paintings and photographs and kids' drawings and woodblocks and etchings over the years when they've spoken to your soul and heart and you're fond of them like you are good friends, then reuniting with them is really quite an experience.

Even my dear husband who tends to notice nothing walked in last night and said, "Oh, it's so nice to have stuff on the walls."

Indeed.

The Nut is just a happy cat and is striking out in the new 'hood with an ever-expanding radius. Earlier today I found him balance-beaming atop our fence, his body woven like yarn on a loom in a tree. If he could talk, I think he would have agreed that it wasn't the most comfortable position but then again, maybe not. 

Tired with a side of anger

I guess it started this morning when we all awoke in a hurry. The boys' school conferences started at 7:30am, and I still needed to pack lunches. Tom, who arrived home last night at 11, was funked out and tired. 

It regularly galls me how much slack the women of the world pick up and manage every.single.day. How much mediation and support and love and lunches and phone calls and pediatric forms and organization and so forth so many men cannot do, will not do, do lazily or never even consider doing.

And sometimes, it fucking exhausts me.

I went and paid the floor refinishers who finally were able to remedy the flooded family room situation. I went and dealt with the painters who, I later found, got paint on the cherry cabinets. I packed those damn lunches and later picked up the child with a cold and sixty minutes later the child without a cold. I organized dinner, both of them. I provided the hugs and comfort when the boys cried upon hearing that their old rooms had been painted over (this was after my second trip to the old house today).

Today I am tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of feeling like the fucking sugar plum fairy of emotions and to-dos and everything besides making money.

I'm tired of being ogled by a painter the other day and feeling a bit worried because I was alone with him and his crew in our new house and he kept asking odd questions.

I'm tired of feeling sad about Percy and like I let him down. He is so loved now, but when I see his little face, I feel awful.

I'm tired of fucking winter and the snow we're supposed to get tonight. I'm tired of days off of school and rude people like that "greeter" at the gym who could not hate everyone more and lets you know it.

I'm tired of stupid asshole, racist, destructive Donald Trump and his equally abhorrent peer, flaccid-penis Ted Cruz. Because I am tired, I don't give a crap about just having told you all that Ted Cruz always reminds of a flaccid penis and a mean one at that.

I am tired of obligations- the wrong kinds, not the right ones. Tired of the dirtiest politics ever that have nothing to do with the well-being of this country or its people but everything to do with individual narcissism and greed.

I felt so sad today while at the old house, picking up the glow-in-the-dark planets and stars that once decorated Jack's ceiling and looking carefully enough at Ol's walls to just make out the green stripes I'd painted for him. I felt so sad when I walked around the yard and saw all the plants and bulbs I've loved and tended over the years coming up earnestly. We won't get to enjoy them this spring.

I realized that I've been so busy that I've never said a proper goodbye to that wonderful home. Tonight that goodbye was foisted upon me.

I stuffed my pockets with planets and stars and our old spare key and a few more knick-knacks. And then I came home to tell the boys, and we all cried together.

Diary of a move, 9: Additional delights

Oooh wee, y'all. All the stress and mayhem and work of moving was SO worth our wonderful new home. The light, the space, the little treats I couldn't have foreseen.

For starters, the ninety-second walk to the fabulous playground/park I mentioned is more awesome than I ever imagined. We tumble out our front door, meander across this delightful roundabout,

walk past one of those charming Little Free Libraries that a neighbor erected in his front yard because his wife wanted one (collective "aw" and also a thank you), and into the park. 

We spent yesterday evening and also this afternoon there, and the boys' glee and laughter is priceless. Plus the burning of their energy is fab.

There is just so much warmth and community here, and we all feel and adore it. Plus, from the Little Free Library I gained a copy of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks which I have long wanted to read. It's a total page-turner so far.

I've met the three women who live on the other corners of our roundabout, and they are all utterly lovely. Nutmeg and I enjoy sitting on our front stoop looking out at the pretty circle and listening to the symphony of bird calls and the breeze that seems to blow constantly. 

And, do you know what sits just beside my driveway???? 

A real mailbox! People stop all the time to mail letters and bills, and I just delight in what feels like complete old-fashioned behavior. Real mail! I love the steady claim to space an official mailbox provides. I love the heavy metal clink of the door as it dumps post into its belly. And I love the regularity with which someone comes to fetch it all and take it away to be sent out across the world.

That mailbox is one of the elements of this new home that I most love I think. I've already written quite a few letters and know that will continue.

We've already hosted our first party, too, a casual Academy Awards celebration on Sunday night. My parents have hosted one every year since 1981, and it's always been a favorite tradition of mine. Dress code is black tie or blue jeans, and Mom and Dad have always merged the two into a smashing style. 

Aren't they adorable?

This was my take on things, plus high heels of course. We had a ball, I loved Alicia Vikander's gown, and this Green Goddess dip with crudités was awfully delicious.

Life is good AND February is over. Woot!