Ice, confessions

I'm sitting on the couch with two of the three cats. We're listening to the ice fall outside and the gusts of wind that hammer the house every few minutes. Ears change directions almost constantly and the older of the two is staying very close to me. It's been a long time since they've experienced weather like this. They have taken turns stalking the noises at the base of the front door.

My wonderful FH pulled my snowman wreath inside this morning so it wouldn't get blown away. I need to thank him again in the morning. I don't think it would still be in one piece if it was still on the door outside.

Today was mostly a lazy day. We watched the Steelers-Ravens game and had a pizza for dinner. Then FH played some old-school Tribes 2 on the desktop PC while I watched the Cowboys-Giants game. Both were pretty good games to watch. Turnovers abounded and made things interesting. I don't like shutouts unless the Packers are winning or the Jets are loosing.

I confess. I'm a rabid Packers fan and I absolutely detest Farve for going to the Jets after he played his Perot-style game of "I'm retiring. Wait! No I'm not." What really makes me want to spit nails is knowing that when he makes it to the Hall of Fame it will be with a Jets jersey. The whole issue is an illustration of bad form.

I'm also the football fan of the house. We have a great system. I watch the games and he does a good chunk of the cooking. Especially since he loves to cook. Sometimes he even brings me meals on the couch! Of course I bring him treats while he plays computer games. It all evens out. ;-)

I hate folding laundry alone and I depise dealing with hanging clothes. I have no idea why. I will happily deal with whatever disgusting laundry issue life throws at me. I don't mind sorting and schlepping dirty clothes to the machines. But clean clothes? Nope. Odd , isn't it?

Give me rabbit cages over catboxes any day. They're actually the source of the most disgusting laundry issues. I still prefer their dwellings when it comes time to scoop and change.

I'm still unsure how I became the one in charge of writing checks for the bills and balancing the checkbook. But it gets done and we've never bounced a check so I'm rolling with it.

A little bit of clutter is something that I don't mind. I grew up in a house with a depressed mother that cleaned in spurts around the holidays when she cleaned. I hate filth. Clutter I can deal with. Filth is something else. Clutter means a house is lived in. It's real and not a setting on television. Filth means vermin and disgusting smells.

I believe I have discerned the point at which men and women can define themselves as "beginning to feel old." For men it's when the high school girls sports team that comes into the restuarant is less attractive than their coaches and mothers. For women it's when we begin to fantascise about getting new major appliances. For the record, I'm beginning to feel old. I'm dreaming about a new washer and dryer. I also have been lusting after a new gas range and a double decker oven. Those have to wait until we own a house.

Speaking of houses, I really hope that when we own one it is no where close to the St. Louis area. We have family there. We have friends there. But there are just too many people there. I lived for eight beautiful years in Rolla, Missouri and the town was just right for me. I would attempt to go back except the USGS office there was going to be closed. Not that I could work as a geologist anyway.

I'm a pathetic geologist when compared to my gradating classmates. I spent too much time studying biology and counting types of fossilized pollen in slides. Give me sediment that can contain bones and I'm happy. Give me rock that I can dissolve away to reveal microfossils and I'm good. Ask me to identify a specific variety of clay, then I'm off to the lab and my library to test it and look things up. Beyond being able to tell you, "it's clay," by sticking my tounge on it you won't get anything else unless I have a chance to look something up or dump bits of it into chemicals. My classmates however were brilliant with geology. All but one of them were clueless by choice in the realm of "ancient life." There was another gal who did a lot of time in the paleo classes with me. But at night she wasn't there counting microfossils and eating meals brought by someone else. Nope. That was me. The glutton for punishment.

As much as I love all things miniture I'm getting very little joy out of it right now. It's become something that makes me lonely for the friends I had before I moved. The ones who could inspire me to create. The people here are nice, but we don't really "play" together.

I'm avoiding my sewing machine like the plague. I'm supposed to be making bassinet sheets for a friend who could pop any day. I really, really don't want to sew right now. I also need to make FH a new shirt for Rendezvous. I should make some moccasins too. But right now I would rather just stitch, knit, and crochet.

There are days I wish FH had an accent different than my own. Mine's a mixture of the basic Midwestern with some Mississippi thrown in. It usually doesn't come out unless I'm yelling though. Sometimes he slips into a drawl just to tease me. It's fun. He's teased me right out of being angry before. That's a happy thing.

I avoid going to sleep when FH heads to bed becase I know it's hard for him to get to sleep if I'm there. He needs complete quiet some nights. He even wears earplugs, which bothers me. Some noises at night should be heard...smoke and CO alarms, breaking glass, etc. This way I'm not distracting on a couple of levels and my natural tendancy to be more nocturnal gets to be free. I'm only diurnal on a daily basis if someone needs my help or is paying me.

I think that's enough for one night. The wind is dying down for the moment and I can't hear the ice anymore. The cats are calm again. All is right with their world. I think it's time to let them back into the room with the "big, soft place" and them them asume their usual places around us. I know after these three are gone I shouldn't let pets sleep with us anymore. They wake him up alot. But these three are geeting older and their whole lives have been spent sleeping with their "mom" at night. FH is an understanding man.