Enough already.

Mox here, to complain about the weather again. 

This is what I awoke to this morning: 

Seriously, I just took this photo, while sitting at my dining room table/desk.

The official measurement at Casa Mox: 

onetwothreeFOUR inches!

Which I realize is nothing compared to what our friends on the eastern seaboard are coping with.  Unfortunately, it’s headed that way.  Sorry. 

I don’t know how we’d fare if we had to deal with this on a consistent basis.  We are not big fans of winter, and by “we” I mean “me” and “my husband.”   Every time it snows we start talking about moving south.  Of course it’s all just talk but it makes us feel better. 

Having grown up in the country, I can appreciate the fact that country roads can get rather dangerous in this kind of weather.  And it doesn’t even take a measureable snow to make things slickern’ snot.  So even just a little bit of snow makes the school district shut down, since running the buses on slick, snowy roads (many with no appreciable shoulder to speak of) is a lawsuit waiting to happen. 

What has happened to us, that we’re all afraid of a bunch of lawyers? 

Think of how much fun the kids would have if they could have outside recess in the snow!  Are kids less educated in Maine?  I think not. 

Yes, we’re just a bit stir-crazy here.  We’re at the point that even Spawn doesn’t want to go out in this stuff.  That is how I know we have reached the end of winter here, even if it hasn’t reached that point on its’ own.  We are DONE. 

Well, most of us are done. 

watching the birds divebomb the cat food outside

also, there are full birdfeeders to observe

do you MIND???

 I, however, am gazing upon my blooming flowers and contemplating spring.  Because it cannot get here fast enough to suit me. 

phalenopsis. likes the sunny bay window.

 

paperwhites. also fond of the sunny bay window. and fragrant.

I think I will camp out on that there couch, right there. and smell the flowers whilst I read the day away.

I am SO DONE, y’all. 

THE END.

 

– Mox

The bookish sort. Not in a dirty librarian kind of way, though.

The days are growing closer for Spawn’s school’s used book sale. 

I am beside myself with anticipation. 

If there is one thing I love, it’s books.  Lots of books.  If there is one thing I love more than books, lots of books, it’s lots of books for cheap.  And the used book sale fills the bill very nicely. 

Prior to the sale, however, there is a lot of legwork to be done.  The stocking of the used book sale comes from the kids and their parents collecting books and bringing them to the school gym.  There are three weeks’ worth of this collecting.  Then a cadre of dedicated volunteers, mostly moms, hunkers down in the locker rooms underneath the gym bleachers and separates the givings into various departments.  This process takes three weeks and runs concurrently with the collections period.  On the final week of the three weeks, volunteer dads put protective tarps down on the gym floor and wrestle tables in to hold the stacks.  Then everybody brings the boxes of sorted books up from the locker rooms and loads the tables up. 

There is a lot of lifting involved. 

In previous years I have only been able to volunteer one day of my life each year to this noble cause, and it was one day spent pretty much entirely on my feet, putting books out on tables.  If you think that table is full, you are mistaken.  You can always squeeze about two dozen more books onto that surface, it does not matter that the spines of the books are hanging over the edge. 

And even better, when you are a volunteer before the actual sale, you get first dibs on the books.  Grab a box and start putting your treasures in it.  At 50¢ to $1 per book, you’re not going to break the bank.  And in general there are over 40,000 books to choose from. 

Heaven. on. earth. 

I signed up for four days this year.  I expect to be dirty, sweaty, sore-footed, and extremely tired, but in a very happy way.  The same way I feel after going to the gym, but way better than the gym.  I may not lose any weight but I will gain some books. 

– Mox

Under the weather.

Dammit.

Here we go AGAIN. 

Granted, we won’t get near the massive amounts of snow that my friends and family in Virginia are currently bracing for, but we’re due to get some, nonetheless.  At the outset it looks to only be a 2-incher round these parts, but dammit we just got all the stuff from last week melted. 

Damned groundhog. 

If I am going to be under the weather I would greatly prefer to be under 85° and sunny, with a side of beach.  I’m just saying. 

The only upside I can find to all of this is that it is forcing me to stay home and clean out my closets.  It’s embarrassing how much stuff we have.  But I made the ladies at St Vincent de Paul very happy today, because with weather like this no one brings in donations, and I brought them an SUV full this morning.  At least they had something to do the rest of the day.  I also shared some of our extra building materials (leftovers from past projects) with our local Habitat for Humanity store.  And I took two big boxes of clothes (mine and Spawn’s) to the consignment shop. 

This is known in some circles as Progress. 

It is known around here as Feeling Thin Even Though I’m Not. 

Of course if you could see my dining room you’d question this notion of progress, since I have every dining chair filled to the top with clothes I’m attempting to sell on eBay.  On the weekends my dining room doubles as a home office, and my dining room table fills the role of barely-large-enough desk surface.  On it is a stack of unopened mail, a box of Godiva chocolates, and the beginnings of my tax preparation.  Along with my laptop, of course. 

What I would not give for a house with an actual home office in it.  And a mudroom. 

I have the makings for soup and for chili and since we live in town we’re never far from a liquor store, so I guess we’re set for this latest cataclysm. 

– Mox

I have the answer.

Over the past few years, perhaps to my detriment, I have developed an aversion to uncomfortable clothing. 

This means that I have eschewed belts, high heels, and suits.  I embrace anything with spandex in the fabric.  I love dresses with no waist.  Long, tunic-style knit tops.  Boot cut pants.  Kick-ass boots.  Funky jewelry. 

I love the fact that I don’t have to dress like a college graduate looking for that first job.  Back in those days I clung to a certain fashion groove because it helped me to fake it, looking like I knew what the hell I was doing.  In the 20 years I’ve been out of college, I have acquired a certain amount of knowing what the hell I’m doing.  I’ve gotten more comfortable in my skin, and more relaxed in my clothing choices. 

Consequently I have gained 17 pounds in the past two years.  Hmm.  Still, I refuse to wear pants that cut me in two.  Waistbands should not hurt. 

Just last month I bought a few new things to rotate into my closet, since I can no longer wear my fully-lined wool pants.  Hey, it was either that or go naked.  Trust me, I made the right choice.  Since I am always on the hunt for a great pair of khakis, I tried on a pair of khaki-colored jeans (with spandex and boot cut, amen) in the Next Size Up from what I usually wear.  And the Next Size Up?  Was too tight on my thighs.  Ordinarily I do not have a problem with pants being too tight on my thighs, with the notable exception of just about anything khaki in color.  Weird, but true.  So I went up One More Size from that.  Which fit my suddenly ponderous thighs and therefore I bought them. 

Only now they’re too big in the waist.  Especially since I am now working on the weight machines at the gym to try and tone my “core”. 

The Secret To Feeling Thin is this:  larger sizes.  No one knows what the number on the tag is except me. 

I feel positively lithe in these pants.  And with my kick-ass boots I feel pretty tall, too. 

And that, my friends, is my wisdom for the day. 

– Mox

I am seriously done.

With Tuesday evenings at the gym. 

I thought that maybe last week might have been something of an anomaly.  I was disabused of that notion last night. 

Our walking track is three lanes.  There are signs clearly posted all around the perimeter of the track that delineate the use of these lanes.  The outside lane is for joggers, runners, and faster walkers.  The two inner lanes are for walkers only. 

I bet you can guess what the scene was last night.

It’s hard to get a good groove walking when you’re having to dodge meanderers and others who can’t understand the signage.  And then you have the runners who are threading their way in and out of all the traffic, and you have to watch out for them, too. 

Not to mention those lovely but menacingly patient folks who stand around the weight machines, waiting for you to get your reps done and get going. 

It’s just too much humanity for me, y’all. 

– Mox

Wrong number. Wrong.

So yesterday while I was home with the Most Bored Kid Ever, my phone rang. 

“Susan?” said the woman on the other end. 

“You’ve got the wrong number.” 

“Are you sure?” 

What? Am I sure that my name is not Susan?  Yeah.  I’m sure. 

“Is Nathan there?” 

“Nobody here by that name, sorry.” 

“Who IS this?” 

“This is the Mox Residence.” 

“Mox residence?  Huh.”

“What number did they give you?”

“This number came up on my caller ID.” 

“Well, no one from here called you.” 

“Do you have a son named Nathan?” 

Look, lady.  Not only do I not have a son named Nathan, I am starting to take issue with your 3rd degree.  You’ve. got. the. wrong. number.

Gah. 

We do not have caller ID, but occasions such as this makes me reconsider.  I get some of the strangest phone calls.  The ones that I really love are the ones who call me at Zero Dark Thirty asking for Kayla.  Apparently Kayla doesn’t want some of these guys to have her number so she gives them mine.  Half asleep, Mox is not friendly, and not exactly too mindful of her tongue.  Especially when some of these morons call multiple times. 

And we have an unlisted number. 

The reason we have an unlisted number is because we don’t want morons calling us.  It’s a holdover from my husband’s days as a rent-to-own manager.  Boy, the people who used to call back in those days.  Yikes.  The gene pool is shallow. 

I don’t particularly enjoy talking on the phone, anyway, but we keep a land line because we live in something of a dead zone for our cell service, and my husband needs to fax things from home periodically.  Mostly I let the answering machine pick up, though there are times I will answer, generally in the middle of the night or at times when I think my parents might be calling me.  Because in this day and age of aging parents and aunts and uncles, you never know. 

I may be getting caller ID if this nonsense keeps up. 

– Mox

Losing my flippin’ mind….

As much as I enjoy being home and being able to get a little ahead on the laundry, I have had quite enough of snow days, thank you very much. 

Seriously, we got snow Friday evening, the road crews had all weekend to get the streets cleared — which it seems they did, by my estimation — and still the kids had no school today.  I cannot for the LIFE of me figure this out.  We’ve had sunshine and melting and everything. 

I did the Good Mom thing on Sunday and helped Spawn build a snowman and then took the kid to the municipal golf course to go sledding.  We came home wet and cold and exhausted and I am now done with winter.  Done, you hear?  Finito. 

The tiny bit of hope that I have is that the weather forecast for Groundhog Day is cloudy. 

– Mox

30% success rate.

I think I will become a weatherperson.  What other job can you be wrong 70% of the time and still remain employed? 

Yes, the snow came.  They predicted 1-3″. 

We got 6.  6!

And happy day for me, Spawn was spending the night at my parents’ house, so not only did I get to sleep in, I didn’t have to deal with the kid wanting to go outside at 6am. 

I would be perfectly content to not step foot outside again until it warms past 70°. 

– Mox

Here we go again.

Have I mentioned that I do not care overmuch for cold weather?  I have? 

At this rate it will be June before my feet have thawed. 

The kids woke up disappointed this morning, since most of them were expecting to have a snow day today.  But the storm track changed and now the forecast is for snow this evening.  Just in time for the weekend.  Which, if you’re a kid, doesn’t really matter all that much, just so long as you can get the sleds out. 

Next week is Catholic Schools Week.  We always end up missing at least one day of school during this week, every year.  Last year it was the Great Ice Storm of 2009 that shut it down.  My suggestion would be to make CSW later in the school year, say, April?  Because everyone — kids, parents, teachers — loves the fact that there is no homework that week.  Give us the snow days if you must, for there is no homework assigned when you’re out of school, but also let us have the week of CSW to enjoy.  I’m just saying. 

I went today and bought two more pairs of Smartwool socks.  I was a little dubious about wool socks, since I am one of those people who can’t wear wool.  It itches me to death, y’all.  Even a wool sweater over a blouse or turtleneck gives me the itchies.  But my mother bought me a pair of the Smartwool socks and I tried them and I have been very pleasantly surprised.  My feet have stayed dry and therefore warmer than with ordinary cotton socks.  But yikes, the Smartwool socks are expensive!  For what I paid for one pair I could have bought 3-5 pairs of regular socks. 

Current forecast for Groundhog Day is partly cloudy.  I would very much like for the little bugger to not see his shadow.   

– Mox

Traffic.

So last night I went to the gym while Spawn was in art class.  My goal was to warm up for a mile on the walking track and then spend some quality time with the machines, in order to reacquaint myself with my lost abs. 

Couple of things wrong with this plan.  First of all, going on a Tuesday evening is like going to a family reunion, there are so many people there.  The walking track was full, and I do mean full, of resolutioners and they were just sort of meandering all over the place.  Look, I know it’s the dead of winter and it’s dark outside, but if you’re going to walk and talk, you need to pull it on over and let the serious burners get by.  Second, trying to move from machine to machine is damn near impossible when people are resting on machines, even though there are big signs all over the place saying “don’t rest on the machines.”  If you want to visit with your neighbor, there’s the lobby.  I want to get on, do my reps, and move on. 

Burning daylight, people.  Let’s get moving.  I’ve got less than an hour to get this done. 

Oh, I got my workout in, but not without a lot of irritation and gritted teeth. 

Y’know, I try to be considerate of others.  Mostly I’m successful, but mostly I’m also human and I fail.  But I get really irritated when it seems like the Rest of Humanity is pretty much focused on what’s going on in their own little realm.  Whatever happened to the concept of consideration? 

This is why I try to do my workout in the mornings. 

– Mox