Random Redheaded Ramblings

I was about three days behind in my e-mail, today, when I finally checked it. Texas Monthly had sent me another weekly recipe and some ad for some author talk or musician's talk or travel special. I only save the recipes anymore as I'm not in the great state enough to ever catch the author talks or special events. I have to admit, each time I see the name of Texas Monthly in the inbox, I get a passing twinge of homesickness, especially when who or what they're pitching is particularly enticing, like a recipe from a restaurant I like. (And I try not to leave the state without a copy whenever I visit. DFW airport is best about making them easily visible to buy than Austin or Houston, I think.) It's kind of like how you smile each time you pass a picture of a dear friend from college that you still keep hung up even though you haven't spoken to her in years.

We're about 50% unpacked now in the new "oh-shit-we're-grownups" house. A lot of my clothes are still in boxes. I randomly found a label to a CD I made for Honey when he was briefly working abroad. It's titled "Music to 'Relate' To." Apparently, in my early 20s, I thought I was clever. There seem to be some good songs on here; I wish I could find the original CD. Maybe I've burned them onto MP3 somewhere. Nope. Doesn't seem to be on my harddrive. Though browsing through iTunes to hear the snippets what I hear puts me back in the mood; takes me back to my friend's house where I burned the CD, and how safe and familiar that house and that city felt and still feels. ... it reminds me of my younger youth. (I refuse to completely relent the title of youth, yet. I've still a few days till 30.) It reminds me of the optisim of the late 90s.

I don't know if I was so optimistic then because I was younger and it came with the territory or if those were generally more optimistic times. Even with Columbine, political mishandlings of Bosnia Herzegovinia and the Balkans, and the impeachment of President Clinton, I felt optimistic. I remember, from 1997 through late 2000, thinking whatever fuckups occurred were not insurmountable. Clinton could fix it. Parents and students could fix it - maybe they'd actually spend time with their kids and be kinder to their peers and help prevent further Columbines. The nations of the world would be or were at least trying to be helpful and more helpful and would try and try again to help out and not make bad mistakes.

But here. Now. I do not feel secure. I am optimistic, but almost only just to keep my self from going crazy. (I do believe survivors are those who refuse to surrender to their fears or resign to whatever oppresses them.) Truthbeknown, I am far more worried about life today. I'm sure some of it has to do with aging and gaining more and more responsibilities. But as I sit in my office, painted by the previous owners in nursery colors and ponder what lies ahead for the future child I hope we rear in this room, I worry. The big nasty political threats that face our country don't just come from al Quaeda and other terrorist organizations, they come from our own government. Whether it's tapping our phone calls (WTF?) or putting signing statements on every bill the prez signs so that he can override whatever he doesn't like and play king or simply having a government whose executive branch flouts UN laws and the opposition party rolls over like some lame pony, I just don't feel confident in those who are purported to represent and protect us. It makes me sad.
... or maybe this is tonight's table wine talking.

in the meantime ... we have our first houseguests coming this weekend. Anyone got any suggestions as to a good "first official meal" in the new house to cook for them? Any ethnic traditional dishes i need to know about?

Attaining the Dream

We are homeowners, now. Our house looks nothing like this one. (btw, Honey says I should credit the pics I include, so this is from kellybradford.com) But I do love the wraparound porch on this one. And what better way to convey the American Dream of homeownership than the white picket fence?

We haven't moved into the new house yet. I'm looking forward to it, though. Not the moving, just the being there. Rearranging the household budget has made me nervous, but the truth of the matter is that the house suits us and we can grow into it. (Fingers crossed.) The backyard is smaller and not really dog-friendly per se, but as babydog is more of an indoors dog and only goes to the back to do her bidness and to splash in the puppy pool, I think she'll do alright. We're closer to some large common yard areas for her to runaround and do off-leash training in, anyway, at the new place. The front yard is tiny, too, but as I just like a few flowers and not much yardwork, it's perfect for now.

I find myself both happy with this purchase and terribly frightened, now. I've had a few "oh shit" moments and I'm sure I'll have more in the coming months. I told Honey, that though I'm excited about the house and I feel like it was ultimately a good decision, I can't help but feel scared shitless about it. It's funny, I remember feeling a little daunted about married life in the first few days of our marriage: that waking up, looking at Honey and thinking, "I can't believe I actually DID it." But for as nervewracking as the decision to marry is, I feel like our relationship and Honey himself are far more reliable than any house could ever be. Hence, some of the morning after, buyer's remorse for the house. I think moving into the place will be good for me though - will help me get over it.

Buying this house has been good for me in other ways, too. This year has brought several emotional highs followed immediately by lows for us personally, not to mention it seems like my friends and loved ones, or their loved ones have been having significant health problems. Oh - and I'll hit the big 3-0 this month. So focusing on purchasing this house has kind of been a pleasant distraction from the little defeats the year has brought. (Not that 30 is a defeat. Frankly, there's victory in aging, right?)

After the move-in, I'm hoping we open a bottle of some great wine. Something red. Mmm. Just the thought makes me fuzzy with yummy happiness!