Archive for January, 2013

a thursday night list

January 31st, 2013 at 11:40 pm » Comments (11)

1. I accidentally deleted “Big Break Greenbriar” episodes before watching them. I have no idea if the guy whose mouth doesn’t move when he speaks won or not. I kinda hope not.

2. No. I don’t play golf. But I like to watch it on television sometimes. It’s just so soothing. Especially if you don’t understand it.

3. I don’t understand it.

4. My financial picture is… not as agreed. Like, not at ALL.

5. I’m not sure why this doesn’t worry me MORE than it does. But I figure it’ll all be fine. Eventually.

6. I got a precious little minimum wage retail type job I just adore. I’ve never worked in retail. I have much to learn. And the people there are NICE. Like, ALL of them. It’s only a few exits away from the kids’ school and they are more than happy to work around my schedule so that I’m only working when I don’t have the kids.

7. Why is it so surprising to meet NICE people? Why do I expect everyone to be awful? I need to adjust this.

8. New favorite food: brussel sprouts. LOVE them. Mom makes them. I experimented with the frozen kind and WOW but that was nasty.

9. Remember when I was going to paint my bedroom pink? I changed my mind. I painted the bathroom pink. (yes. in a rent house. without asking. the bathroom that has dark sage green tile everywhere.) And I got another color for the bedroom and didn’t ever try it out until today, and SURPRISE, apparently I was in a lavender mood that day. but that’s okay. It’s on the periwinkle side of lavender. But…. interesting. I like it. I think.

10. the paint store people almost kind of know me and are NICE. they want to talk about family and business and dogs and paint and schools and weather.

11. have either lost 7 pounds, or my scale is messing with me.

12. according to my fat jeans, it’s my scale messing with me.

13. which is mean, because i’m working out all a lot again and that’s just not right.

14. i have lettuce cravings. A lot.  it didn’t start until i stopped being a vegetarian. WEIRD, right?

15. if you have lettuce cravings, which you indulge, you should totally lose 7 pounds. But i didn’t.

16. sitting in a depressed, staring, motionless state for months on end is apparently quite fattening.

17. who knew?

18. i have this AMAZING book in my head that would really like to be written. but i don’t have the mental energy for character development or OH MY GOSH, thinking up other people’s imaginary emotions and conflicts. UGH. too caught up in my own real ones still.

19. One day, maybe.

20. It was a gorgeous day. It’s a sweet life I’m so grateful to live. I don’t want to waste any of it on bitterness or anxiety. Some days that’s far more realistic than others. All days, it’s a worthy perspective.

21. Did that sound all profound and philosophical? Let me translate.

22. Last night a friend sent a text saying she’d gone to a divorce support group. And it was depressing because she listened to everyone’s stories and no one’s were as awful as hers and mine.

23. We laughed at this until it hurt today at lunch. We like to discuss our current divorce stress and then laugh about it and pray about it and cry about it and then laugh about it some more and maybe swear about it… but mainly we laugh. It’s a coping mechanism against bitterness.

24. Yes. I was eating lettuce.

25. You can’t drag me to a support group like that. OH MY GOSH. I get nervous just thinking about it. Which was probably why I was not even invited.  

26. i was not terribly supportive. I texted back, “WHAT? WHY? YOU DID WHAT?! YOU WENT WHERE?”

27. And then I laughed. Because i knew it was going to be funny.

28. It WAS.

29. I’m not criticizing such groups. I apologize.

30. No wait. i think i am. But I’m sure there’s good stuff that goes on there. It’s just that the thought of it gives me hives but i’m sure it’s great for other people. who are not me. yes. that’s what i meant.

31. that’s also the sort of thinking that makes you say, “HEY, boss type people, if you ever need me to like, take out the trash, or go clean a bathroom or do stuff that has nothing to do with all of those pesky customers you have….? I’d love to, thanks.”

32. apart from that, i’m like, really good at this job.

33. no i’m not. i’m just trying to be positive.  but that was just dishonest. more truthful: i’m totally hardworking and teachable and glad for the opportunity and will convincingly fake smile at humans when required.

34. hopefully, without lettuce in my teeth.


Boys Are Weird

January 27th, 2013 at 11:12 pm » Comments (3)

Yesterday I was curled up on the couch with Seth-7yr. We were all watching some sort of dog movie. We had all voiced our unanimous opinion that there was way too much hugging and kissing and romance in dog movies lately, and we’d tried to pick one without all of that. Unsuccessfully.

So there we were. Seth-7yr snuggled up next to me, wearing only dinosaur pajama pants. I complimented him on them, and he said, “I am glad you like them. They took a LONG time to put on.” I asked why. “Because my feet were wet.”


So it was halfway through a too-romantic dog movie and suddenly there was this… smell. And that’s putting it nicely. And Seth-7yr started laughing so hard he was crying and he choked out the words, “I! Am! SO!? SORRY! Mom!! I got an upgrade!”

His brothers looked on with disbelief. They clearly understood what he meant – they just couldn’t believe he’d said it. They speak the same language, these weird boy children. But I had NO idea. Upgrade…? WHAT?

I asked.

He could hardly talk because he was still laughing. But finally he answered that he had obviously gotten ‘a surprise upgrade’ since his last toot and that’s why it was, you know, SO MUCH STRONGER than usual.

An upgrade. 

I NEVER would have guessed that meaning. EVER.


Security Update

January 25th, 2013 at 10:26 pm » Comments (5)

Safety. We got it.

After the last creepy attempted drug buy on the front porch, I finally called the non emergency police line and had a chat with a guy named Wes. He said they’d put the house on “a watch” for a month.

I figured I better email the landlord. It’s his house. And so I did. Not exactly expecting anything. And only a ‘hey… here’s what’s been going on, everything’s fine, but this is the current status of the No Drugs Here program…” sort of brief little thingy.

It was 10pm. He called immediately and was QUITE upset.

Apparently this guy KNOWS the previous tenants slash drug dealers and has known them for more than 10 years. His entire family knows this guy’s entire family. He was FLOORED. And he processed it all in a verbal, shocked, emotional, detailed way on the phone, for like FOREVER. I nodded. Uhh huhhhed.  Hmmm, really-ed? And every once in awhile he’d stop and apologize and say that when he kept saying he didn’t believe it, he wasn’t saying he didn’t believe ME – he did – he just couldn’t quite get his head around this. And on. And on. And then he’d say that part again about explaining his incredulity.

After the second or third time, I stopped him. “HEY. I GET IT. You’re saying you really KNEW this person for a large portion of your life and now you find out that he’s been doing something you completely assumed he was INCAPABLE of, because it’s totally reprehensible and not who you thought you knew. And criminal. And awful. And unsafe and stupid and YEAH I GET IT, OKAY? I understand COMPLETELY. You’re just processing. And you’re shocked. Yeah, I totally recognize this. It’s fine.”

Once he got past that part, he went into FIX IT NOW mode. This was not expected. But it is appreciated. He told me to change my little pink signs, and what he wanted them to read instead. He said he’d install a camera on the porch and put stickers up alerting to the new video surveillance equipment. He said he’d call someone who had connections with the narcotics department of the police force and get the dealers shut down immediately at their new address, and also there would be a “watch” put on the house that was several levels up in priority than whatever you get if you don’t have connections and you call and talk to a guy named Wes. He described how there would be all kinds of unmarked vehicles and other people watching that I’d never see. People who looked like thugs, but who would be good safe watchful types. He wanted to know why I only just now sent one little email, “I DON’T KNOW, I HAVE TROUBLE ASKING FOR HELP, GEEZ?” (And no. I did NOT tell him about the roaches.)

He told me to please tell my boys that he would do everything he could to fix this and to make this the safe home they deserved. He said he had to go so he could call the police friend guy.

I did NOT cry weird shocked grateful tears until well after I hung up.

THAT was not what I expected in the slightest. It hadn’t occurred to me that this reaction might actually even be in the realm of possibility. I didn’t really want to inconvenience the guy, so my brief little email kinda downplayed the whole attempted icky drug trade subject matter with a smattering of minimizing adjectives and weak, passive verbs. It had been informative, brief, and NOT seeking any sort of reaction or assistance. And yet that’s what I got. (I’m still ‘processing’ that.  Can you tell?)

The next morning at 6:45 he sent a text that read, “your house is being watched VERY carefully.”

Um…? That woulda been creepy from anyone else at any other time I suppose. But I wasn’t quite convinced. Maybe he just said all of that but wasn’t really a follow through type. That might make more sense.

But the camera appeared one day while I was gone, and warning type security stickers, and there was a definite increase in weird creepy types doing drive bys and then it slowed down. And no more knocking on the door.

The kids are more relaxed.

It’s like the whole big constant threat thing just got taken care of. And I didn’t have to do a thing.

i was already strategizing the things I WOULD obviously have to consider: workout changes, focusing on strength and punching; gun research, classes, target practice etc; pepper spray; recording of dogs that bark since my dogs DON’T….

I may still do some of that. I did change my exercise stuff, but not because there was the same urgency to get tougher than the bad guys. That one particular stress, that ONE particular problem I didn’t realize was taking up so much of my energy… gone. Solved.

I just… don’t even understand. Sometimes I’ll just keep writing and before I’m done, I’ve sort of figured it out WITH you. That’s what it feels like to me, anyway. It’s not happening this time. I can’t even explain really what’s so confusing. It just is.

I’ll stop writing, anyway. Just wanted to update you.

All is well in the security department. Also. I’m confused. 

UGH. I just can’t end it like that. Here let me distract you from my unresolved issues with a weird dream snippet. don’t you LOVE when people go on and on about their dreams and it made total sense to them and it’s just like, um, not the same at all for you? Right. Let’s do that.

This morning I woke up LAUGHING. I could only remember the end of a dream where Bert (of bert and ernie, the yellow one) was saying, “THAT’S THE LAST OF THE POTATOES, *ITCHES!” It was SHOCKING. And so funny. And I have no idea what it was about, but I somehow knew he was referring to whole potatoes, skin on, and not mashed. Just imagine Bert swearing in his sesame street bert-voice. OH MY GOSH, it was funny. 


I had a great day. I have no idea why i’m liveblogging a minifit.

January 22nd, 2013 at 10:40 pm » Comments (4)

The other night I got mad at a lady in a Walgreen’s parking lot. MAD.

I needed a couple of things. There’s one a couple blocks away. (it’s SO strange to live in town now where you can just go down the street for something and be back in just a minute or two. love this.)

I came out of the store with my bag and a lady in the car parked a few spaces over started yelling at me, asking if I could help her. I yelled back, asking her what she needed, without going any closer. She started her story. It was a tragic tale of a woman leaving a husband who mistreated her.

I had no patience for that crap.

Sure, I’m a sympathetic, go ahead and con me in a parking lot type. I know it. But not this time. I could not STAND this woman. She was icking me out from three parking spaces away. She said that she was just like me. She waved a hand at my car and said, “I’m a respectable lady just like you are.”  She was slurring, I might add.

I told her she was making two very wrong assumptions there, about both of us. Her confusion showed clearly on her face. I didn’t explain. I wished her well, turned to leave and THEN she made some bizarre racist comment about a group of people I have NO idea how they ended up in that conversation. I went OFF. From ACROSS A PARKING LOT. Yelling. Waving arms. Stomping feet in boots, partly because I was freezing and partly because I was just offended all the way down to my toes.

I don’t like it when strangers talk to me. Especially strange, slurring strangers. But I REALLY hate it when strangers make incorrect assumptions about who I am or what I believe and then have the nerve to say so to my face. Gets me every time.

The truth is, VERY few people know me.  (y’all do. I mean Real Life Types.)

This pet peeve is what almost got me in trouble at the courthouse a couple weeks back. (why, no. thank you for asking, but it was NOT divorce related this courthouse trip. NOT divorce related because no, i am still NOT divorced. Maybe soon. Maybe not. It’s impossible to know. I will be all shouty when it does happen though, so don’t think you’ll miss that news bulletin when it is finally warranted.)

I had gone to the courthouse to get an assumed name certificate thingy. For a business. Not for me. not because I was divorced and therefore changing my name or anything like that. NO, COURSE NOT. Just business. And the guard at the courthouse smiled at me when I set off the metal detector and told me with a face like that I was clearly harmless and he has a granddaughter that reminds him of me.


Don’t talk to me like that! I set off a metal detector. Without even TRYING. Just with the steely glint in my right eye, and that thing started beeping. I am a FORCE.  I am wearing a GIANT coat several sizes too large that I love and I LIVE IN IT every winter because it is SO warm and you have NO IDEA if I’m hiding an arsenal underneath here, buddy. Don’t patronize me and assume I’m safe. I am crazy dangerous when I want to be and you do NOT want to see my left hook. It’s killer good.

I said something far short of all of that. But it was definitely a protest. And he said, “Yeah, now you REALLY remind me of my granddaughter. Miss, I am a guard at a government building and you do not want to convince me that you aren’t as harmless as you look. DO YOU?”

Actually, that’s EXACTLY what I wanted to do. Because don’t ASSUME I’m something I’m not. don’t be all patronizing and awful and unprofessional and WRONG. It just makes me want to scream at you. In a Walgreen’s parking lot. Or at the security checkpoint in a government office.


Ignore me, please, I like it – but do NOT do that.

AHH. You know what it is? It’s that I work pretty hard to keep my distance from people. And here comes some stranger making stupid, wrong, spontaneous dumb conclusions as if I HAVEN’T successfully built all those gorgeously impenetrable walls…? It’s infuriating.  It’s as if I’m there, in a brand new Invisibility Cloak, and someone comes up and starts talking to me like they can see me, and like I’m actually my cat.



#3. Okay, I’m stopping. Just, like, because. I’m tired. And this is getting weird, even for here.

I want chocolate, a diet coke, and a divorce, right this second, and I can’t have any of it.





Anatomy 301

January 18th, 2013 at 11:53 am » Comments (3)

I was on the phone with my mother yesterday and she said the word ‘scrotum.’ She doesn’t usually drop that word into conversation. But she did yesterday.  And I was all, “YES! THANK YOU. THAT IS THE WORD I WAS TRYING TO THINK OF YESTERDAY.”

“You were trying to think of the word, ‘scrotum’?'”

OH YES. And there are some things you just hesitate to ask google.


“because Caden-8yr said he had beans in his penis and there were so many things wrong with that but i couldn’t remember that word.”

Actually what happened was that Caden-8yr did the “helicopter dance” in his undies and asked what the beans in his penis were called.

I said, “WHAT? You do not have BEANS in your PENIS?”

And he said, “yeah I KNOW, Mom. But you don’t like it when i say balls or nuts.”

“OH MY GOSH. Testicles. And they’re not IN–”

He jumped and yelled about testisicle/icicles jiggling.

Ethan-12yr yelled from in his room about something ‘giggling.’

I said, “That’s NOT what he said.”

He asked what was said.

I repeated it, loud enough for him to hear in his room.

Ethan-12yr screamed. He doesn’t willingly enter conversations in which body parts may be mentioned. It was quite the accident. He really thought it was about something else entirely.

Seth-7yr decided to take pity on me, because he just found out that I do not have this exact equipment, and I must need a remedial course on this. “Ackshually Mom. They ARE in there. In the penis. Like, THEY MOVE. You don’t know that because you know, you um, you don’t call yours that, but um, like, really. They move in there. They TOTALLY do.”  He nodded his head very seriously. Slightly proud to educate me about this phenomenon. Because as a mother of three boys, OBVIOUSLY I DON’T KNOW.

“They’re not beans. They’re not in your penis. Go to bed, I am SO DONE WITH THIS.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“They do move.”

“You should really go to sleep, then.”


In hindsight, it was probably better that I could not recall the word ‘scrotum’ at that moment. I can’t see how that word would have been all that helpful.

Anatomy 201

January 10th, 2013 at 11:07 pm » Comments (2)

Unless 201 implies that there has been an increase in knowledge since I posted about Anatomy 101. And if 201 does in fact imply that, then this should be called, Anatomy 101, Remedial Review for Infuriatingly Adorable Boy Children Sorts.


Yesterday I was picking up the boys from school. It was raining, and I had two very smelly wet dogs in the car with me. We were going to my mom’s house for the afternoon and evening.

Callie, cute female black border collie type, was interested in looking out Caden-8yr’s window and seeing the raindrops trace down the glass. She clambered around and Caden-8yr yelled, “CALLIE! Please! Back UP. Your penis is, like, RIGHT in my face!”

Callie immediately retreated. Shocked, perhaps, more than I. It is extremely shocking the first time one of these boys assumes you have a penis. I’ve been there. Callie had not.

Ethan-12yr got in the car.

“Caden-8yr. Callie does not HAVE a penis,” I said.

“WHAT? WHY DID YOU THINK THAT?” Ethan-12yr turned and gave him an incredulous look.

“Why wouldn’t she? How am I supposed to know this?”

“She’s a girl, Caden-8yr. No girls have penises,” Ethan-12yr explained.

“WHAT? MOM? YOU DON’T HAVE A PENIS?!” from the previously silent Seth-7yr.


“Seth-7yr, don’t you remember? I found out that mom didn’t have a penis not too long ago and I came into your room and whispered to you about it because I thought you should know, too.”

Seth-7yr said, “Oh. Yeah. I wasn’t listening to you though. I mean, I just didn’t really hear you.”

Caden-8yr said, “WELL. I TOLD YOU SO.”


“Well, YEAH MOM, but they didn’t say anything about DOGS?! How was I supposed to know?”

Then he took a moment to assimilate ALL the girl animals that now are created completely differently than he had always assumed. My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel.

“Hey, Seth-7yr, I did read in the books about bodies that when we were born we all came out of Mom’s Thing That Would Be Her Penis If She Actually Had A Penis — I forget what it’s called, but she just can’t call it a penis because she’s a girl – we all came OUT of there. REALLY. WE DID. ALL THREE OF US.” And Caden-8yr pointed at himself and his brothers for emphasis.

And you know…  I give up for now. I’ve tried. And this is where we are. This strange, strange place of Weird Ignorance, and I just am going to stay awhile. I was telling a friend – a mom of boys – about this conversation and she said, “I think my method is working a LOT better than yours.”

“You mean the one where y’all don’t discuss any of this and if you have to, you use little silly names for things?”


Sigh. She’s right. There’s so much to sort out this year. We can just bump this on down the priority list.



It’s a List and It’s Long

January 7th, 2013 at 5:37 pm » Comments (13)

1. Ladies who commented on the previous post: The NRA and i both love you. (Sara, I love you anyway. The NRA does not.)

2. Also? Um… wow.  

3. The GIFT! The one that arrived from Amazon and was all mysterious that Jeana reminded me about? That was a workout dvd from my very oldest friend, and was not intended to be a Christmas gift at all.  I think I had mentioned (or griped or complained or panicked) my distress over a muffin top. I forgot to open this perfect little gift at Christmas anyway, what with the large-ish amount of drama with death and possible jail time.

4. Large-ish drama of death and possible jail time at Christmas can suck the Christmas Fairy RIGHT ON OUT OF A GIRL.

5. My friend. He died. I do not want to discuss it. But I will say he was a wonderful, direct, often offensive, and fantastically wonderful person and I’m sad at the thought that he is no longer here. The “i’ll never hug that person again” stuff gets me. He  was particularly wonderful at hugging. Most people really aren’t. I’m not. Not compared to him, anyway.

6. Thank God for the enforceable nature of legal arrangements, for that can be motivational.

7. I am not nearly as concerned about the cost of gas or food or electricity. It’s a beautiful thing, being able to pay one’s bills, AND AN EXTERMINATOR, THANK YOU, FINALLY, OH MY GOSH. To be able to repay family members. To be able to paint Caden-8yr’s room and to not worry about who is calling.

8. I know who is calling now. The ONLY person who calls on the land line is someone with some mental retardation issues and he always asks for someone who happens to share the name of Mike’s first wife. This guy calls all the time. He has called all the time for… 2 years? Yeah, I think so. Sometimes I talk to him about who he is and what he wants out of his life and why he keeps calling and he knows I’ll never say that she’s here. But sometimes I see it’s him and make a screaming sound and then ignore the ringing phone.

9.  This guy is fascinating to me, in his persistence. He has YET to give up after years of the same answer. He just keeps calling. I wonder if he’s just  a little slow or if he’s full on stalker-ish of this girl. He always sounds SO disappointed when I say that he has the wrong number and he realizes he isn’t going to get to talk with her. And then again. In five minutes.

10. I should have changed my phone number when I moved.

11. Maybe I should tell him that my almost ex-husband was married to that girl FIRST before he was married to me and then I could give him that number.

12. Maybe I won’t do that. Maybe things are REAL BAD already without my doing that.

13. Ethan-12yr just complained that Seth-7yr punched him in the nuts. I said, “you do not have nuts.” To which Caden-8yr replied, “mom. it’s a PHRASE.”

14. “Yes, Caden-8yr, I am aware of that. And it is an incorrect phrase. Tell me the correct word, please, that you learned in That Book.”

15. He said something I cannot possibly spell, but it was probably a contraction between testicles and icicles. More than 3 syllables. A lot more than 3 syllables. It sounded… cold.

16.  I went to church with HolyCousin when I visited her. LOVED it.

17. Except.

18. One minor thing.

19. I suppose everyone does communion differently. I don’t know. I haven’t attended many different churches or kinds of churches. I was studying their procedure though, and then SURPRISE there’s an usher from behind, like, WAY before I was through studying the people ahead of me. Who has social anxiety….? OH YES, that’s me.

20. So I wasn’t READY when the usher came up from behind and offered the tiny little cups of grape juice and you don’t take them and hold them and then drink all at once in a little bit…. you do that rightthatsecond while he stands there and then you put that little cup BACK in the tray and then he moves on.

21. Riiiiight. That’s not that difficult.

22. Except that I got thoroughly confused and picked up an almost empty one and drank it -because he’s waiting – and then put it back and realized it was almost empty because that was somebody’s Backwashed Holy Spit Grape Juice I just drank and not a, like, NEW one.

23. Oops.

24. I didn’t spit it out. I did look around at the people behind me and wonder who I had just gotten a little too intimate with and hoped that they weren’t sick.

25. If you’re at one of those churches (and it was lovely, aside from this): I think there should be a system in place. Like, take a cup from the MIDDLE, put it on the outer edges. Or something. Not just all willy nilly, let’s maybe get free and easy with germs at communion time and pick up any cup and put it back anywhere. Communion should be about the amazingly awe inducing sacrifice made by Jesus Christ for each of us… and when it instead becomes about backwash, it’s a problem. ALSO? DRINK IT ALL. Do NOT leave yours half empty (it’s the size of a thimble ANYWAY) and there won’t be any problems. No one likes grape juice, THAT’S NOT THE POINT, drink it all ANYWAY.

26. I didn’t get sick. Everything was fine. GREAT church.

27. I chased a woman down in a mall to ask her about her boots. They were really cute.

28. HolyCousin tried to explain how great that was and that was totally a social interaction. But? Whatever. It’s not. I have no problem chasing women down and discussing footwear. That doesn’t count.

29. Of course I’m not getting those boots. I’m celebrating with paying my own utilities this month, not with boot purchases any time soon. I’m like that. But old habits are hard to break, and I knew I’d never forget those boots if I didn’t ask, and they’d haunt me forever.

30. They were Vince Camuto “Bollo.” 

31. CUTE!

32. Titus Welliver. Geez. No, that had nothing to do with anything. I think I got distracted by #31 and that’s just where I went with it.

33. i need to make dinner. THERE IS FOOD. There is energy to like, do stuff with food. Seriously. Life is looking up.

34. I baked a CAKE the other night. SHUT UP, I DID. Gluten free rum cake for a sick friend who is GF and likes rum. It was a variation on a cake my stepmom made 20 years ago that I still remember and loved and she made it for me at Christmas and WOW was it good.  There were witnesses. That I baked something. The other night.

35. Unfortunately one of those witnesses was Duke, who walked around and acted all shifty and nervous until I snapped at him that “YES. SOMETIMES I COOK. GO SIT DOWN. ALSO? WHY DON’T YOU ACT LIKE THAT WHEN SOMEONE IS AT THE DOOR WANTING TO BUY CRACK? THAT WOULD BE SOOOOOO MUCH MORE HELPFUL THAN WHINING TO MY MOTHER THAT I HAVE A MEASURING CUP.”

36. I love that dog. I really do.


Fighting Crime with Hot Pink

January 3rd, 2013 at 11:57 pm » Comments (7)

So… I shoulda known.

I mean… really. The first time someone scared me to pieces by knocking loudly on my front door late at night, I froze. Wondered what that was about. Didn’t answer. Considered convenient weapons.

And then… it just kept happening. Not a lot. But too much.

Late at night on weekends. Loud knocking.

Often, there wasn’t knocking, but I had the really icky feeling that someone was outside, THINKING about knocking. (Yes, that’s a totally legit Icky Feeling. The Someone Is Thinking About Knocking Icky Feeling. If you haven’t had it, then you don’t know. But trust me. It’s often reinforced by normally apathetic dogs looking at the door expectantly EXACTLY when you have that feeling. Total dog confirmation stuff.)

Then there was New Year’s Eve. And there was traffic at my doorstep. Traffic, asking for Jose.

And that’s how you FINALLY realize that you have moved into a drug dealer’s old house and there ARE lots of potential customers hanging around, watching, scoping, lurking, and sometimes knocking.  Men, older than me, looking all desperate and skittish. Not exactly the sort of crowd you want constantly beating a path to your front door when you’re just trying to be thoroughly left alone to safely raise your kids.

My dad suggested I get a gun.

My neighbor confirmed my suspicions about the previous tenants and suggested she just “intercept” all of them for me.

Uh…? No. Thank you, but maybe that’s what we call a BAD idea, sweet little mama of two who need you to live and breathe. You just leave the bad guys alone, sweetie. (i just love her.)

I decided this could at least be HELPED by hot pink sticky notes. Two tiny hot pink sticky notes that now read: NO DRUGS HERE. JOSE MOVED.  I thought SHORT words might be helpful, given the demographic.

The hot pink notes are right below my square wreath that I haven’t yet removed. Real festive. No house says, “Merry Christmas and look elsewhere for drugs” more clearly than this one.

It’s working. I know, because I got the Icky Feeling of someone lurking on the porch earlier – confirmed by one cat AND one dog – and I can only assume they read the hot pink sticky notes  and left.

Ah, the power of the written word.