I think my mirror may be a scoch off center.
I'll just move my dresser.
You guys ought to see this. I have:
1. Folded my clothes. And put them in drawers. And Adam, blast it all, is right. Clothes do take up much less space when folded and placed neatly in drawers than they do when flung into a heap on the floor. So that's annoying.
2. Purchased vanilla votives.
3. Purchased ice trays.
4. Put several things back in the closet after taking them out.
5. Kept my bed made. Nevermind that that is because I skipped putting sheets on it and have just been laying on top of the comfortor.
This list is getting boring.
So Chicago is most necessary. I know- I KNOW- I will get cold and furious. And you'll hear about that too.
But right now, it is breezy and there are puppies and houses that look like the houses on the Northside of Richmond, and a Walgreens and all the 7-11s I could ask for.
I threw out 70% of my belongings while packing to move. And tried to throw out about 30% of Adam's and Maggie's, but I am kind enough to ask first when the item doesn't belong to me, and Adam is possessed of less willingness to deem items completely irrelevant that I am.
For example: if a shirt is missing two buttons, he will want to replace them/sew them back on. Or, if the cat is annoying, he keeps it.
Anyway- I managed to trim my belongings down to 2 suitcases. One of full of clothes and one full of Christmas socks. Had no idea I'd accumulated so many. Couldn't be happier.
So we ride in the car for months and months through a list of states that (I swear on Suprise) went like this: Virginia, West Virginia Maryland, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Inidiana, Illinois, Indiana, Illinois, Inidiana, Illinois.
This is because my father did brilliantly and purchased a GPS. I immediately christen her Estelle. Estelle is of the opinion that we should take the Pennsylvania Turpike for the majority of our trip. My mother and I are in agreement. But my father has decided Estelle is not to be trusted and her suggestion is no more direct than his idea, which involves shooting straight across to the middle of Kansas and then making a turn for the North.
I am puzzled by this.
But regardless of the difference of opinion, we are on the Turnpike for about 10 miles. During this time we stop at a rest stop- when I discover the real reason for the alternate route. My father cannot abide the idea that he will be forced-FORCED-to pay two dollars more for his Whopper Value Meal at a Burger King on the Turnpike than he would were he not on the Turnpike. He feels as though the goverment is in charge here. And this will not do.
I point out that the potential 6 dollars (as there are 3 of us) that we might end up spending on lunch might still come out to less than the minimum $70 extra of gas money we will spend by taking the Pacific Highway from Richmond to Chicago.
It's like arguing with myself. Absolutely no application of logic. Just stubborn. You can change the minds of my father and myself with the ease with which you can change the mind of a dead mule.
So naturally this debate was LOADS of fun for me. Kind of like debating with Tom about why I should logically get the last Diet Sunkist. But my mom does not like us to debate things in this loud tone of voice. So Dad gets in the backseat and watches a DVD of a Garth Brooks concert while Mom and I jam to Sirius radio to "Mame,"and stuff like that. Was so much fun.
Suprise rode in the car and made one peep. And that was when, as I crossed the parking lot to the car after our stay in a hotel in Richmond, Indiana, he spied me from his perch on the dashboard and he peeped at me. I like to think to say hello.
But I didn't even put him in a cat carrier. He looked out the window from my lap for about an hour, then got down on the floor mat and took a bath, then napped in my armpit, then hopped up on the console en route to spend some time under the gas pedal.
Estelle as well during this time got more and more of an edge in her tone.
Ohio is completely irrelevant.
Looks like a giant set for one of those horror movies when civilization has come to a screeching halt and all life forms have vanished. But before everything gets covered in the dust that always shows up in those movies.
Am upset that I bothered to write that much about it.
All the other states look exactly like Virginia.
Until Indiana, when suddenly there were giant statues of candles and beans and I was happy. So much corn.
Then we rode through that part with the enormous white windmills that are in all photo spreads of people who are attempting to be environmentally conscious.
My father immediately decides he wants one for the front yard.
We enjoy imagining the Christmas decorations we could display with that bad boy.
Hoo-do-hoo-de-hoo, we hit Chicago and a lot of traffic because apparently people in Chicago also carry the disease of being compelled to go out in packs and toil at a high clip up and down the streets for hours on end on foot. But even at 1.1 miles an hour, there is so much to look at, and boats and parks and water. I point out that slanty roof building that I like. I say, "Look Dad- to your left! See that building with the slanty roof?" He says, "Yes?" I say- nothing. Because I don't know what it is. I just know I think it's pretty. And that didn't sound very factually impressive.
We find my house. There are cement garden pots and a balcony full of geraniums leading down to the private beach. Everyone may refer to me as Duchess Audra for the next year. This beach I think we share with the building on the end which is where the really rich people live, but it is so necessary. And Riley is outside looking as per usual. We take things upstairs, we go to Subway, we fall asleep.
The next day we sightsaw. Some sights and stuff. Water, boats. OH-
and the best part of Chicago- there is this turtle at the Shedd Aquarium. When you walk by his tank, you think nothing is in it. Then you peek again- he looks like a stump. It is a 100 pound snapping turtle. Covered in fur that is really algae. Has beautiful french-manicured tonails that are whiter and tidier than mine. He is all underwater except for his nose. And then one of the docents strolls up and tells us that he is 18 years old, and that he is so fat that the aquarium staff want to find out how much he weighs, but he refuses to come out of the water, so they cannot get him on a scale. No one is willing to pick him up because he might actually kill you. So they are attempting to trick him by placing his food only outside of the reach of the water on a ramp. So if he wants to eat, he has to come out. I suppose eventually they will just put his food on the scale and do it that way.
Want it. Would be a necessary item to have stuffed after its' death and use as a footstool.
So then we eat Giordano's pizza. I must have had my boobs out more than usual, for when I ask our waiter for some more ice for my dad, that he likes a lot of ice, the waiter returns with an entire pitcher full of ice and places it in front of me with a sly smile.
I sly smile back, whatever.
Then Mom and Dad returned to VA, and I have no memory of what else happened that night. Probably I went to bed. Suprise slept in the crook of my arm like a doll. Or on my face/in my mouth. Like a doll.
Since then mostly I have been watching improv and drinking Diet Coke with Eric. Also we watched "The Land Before Time." Had no idea it was only 67 minutes long. Feel bad for my parents that it wasn't longer. But it is so good. I just love Spike. Want to be him for Halloween.
Have now developed quite the list of things I want to be for Halloween.
Will have to get Adam to remind me. Know that Dr. Evil is high on the list.
Urg. Will write again soon. Made this entry a bit more mainstream because I just sent the link to a couple of blogger hiring thingamajigs and want them not to feel as though this is in goose hieroglyphics should then read it.
I guess I'll go SCOOP THE LITTER BOX.