Spike's Bitches 31: We're Motivated Go-getters.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
My home town was very much my home. I'm still more at home there, than in this town (where we've lived for 9 years, now), even though I grew up near this town. When I got to the other town (to get my haircut, or take the kids to the doctor, etc.) I'm always so surprised at how I feel when my feet hit the pavement. Driving is no different, but when I'm on foot, on the streets of my home town, there's a strong feeling that I'm home.
Now, my mother sold the house I lived in from birth, until I was 27 (minus the college years), and that street really feels like home (even in the car). I don't know that I've been on foot on that street since the house sold. I don't know that I could not walk into my house, even though other people labor under the delusion (supported by the mortage they're paying) that it's now their house. It's not. It is mine.
YES! The box arrived, Amy.
And how funny is this? The stripey Osh Kosh sweater? We have now had one that fits her from 6 months on!!
BWAH!
Now, my mother sold the house I lived in from birth, until I was 27 (minus the college years), and that street really feels like home (even in the car). I don't know that I've been on foot on that street since the house sold. I don't know that I could not walk into my house, even though other people labor under the delusion (supported by the mortage they're paying) that it's now their house. It's not. It is mine.
Yeah, the people that bought my parents' old house (the one I got married in) seem to labour under a similar delusion. I have to admit, them painting it did diminish my feelings of ownership. Who knows what other sacrileges have been visited upon its walls?!?
The people who bought my parents house keep the shades drawn, all the time, even in the middle of the day. It's distressing. What are they doing to my poor house that requires so much secrecy?
My parents painted the house the summer before my father died. In my head, the house is still blue, even though it's been a soft peach color now, for a few years, and before the sale. I don't know if the new "owners" painting the house would diminish my feelings of ownership, since I never quite got used to the new color (which I do like, I just never expect it), anyhow.
I didn't get married in my parents house, but I got married from it. I was in all likelihood conceived there. I think it was harder for me to let go of the house because of Dad.
Oakland is where I was born, and I don't know it that well but what I do know, even the less savory parts, feels familiar and good. San Francisco is my home, and my hometown.
ION, grr. I hate getting baby stuff. Everyone has an opinion, and everyone's opinion is different, and everyone outvotes everyone else.
- Hec and I both want a dresser with a curved changing pad on top so after diaper-changing is done with it can just be a plain ol' dresser and it's one piece of kid furniture we won't have to worry about.
- My mom thinks this is awful because dressers don't have guard rails all around the top (but all the changer/dressers I can find with guard rails are either cheapish things from Target and WalMart with user comments warning about how pieces fall off if you look at them cross-eyed, or craxy expensive $1200 custom jobbies that offend my penny-pinching soul (she would pay for it, or split the cost with my dad, but the cost just fundamentally offends me)).
- My dad is happy to help with anything we want, but always looks faintly puzzled as though everything I say is being filtered through a sickly babelfish and our conversations always end with me feeling somewhat comforted but also mildly worried that I am in fact insane or possibly accidentally speaking Romanian.
- One of my best friends thinks changing tables are of the devil and all babies should be changed on the floor always because everyone knows that babies are incessantly rolling off of tables and cracking open like pumpkins, and she will be loudly offended no matter what we get -- because, with a 38-year-old mom and 45-year-old dad, we're bloody well getting
something.
Ain't no way we're spending half our lives between October and toilet-training crouched on the floor shredding our knees and lower backs.
Conclusion: EVERYONE BACK OFF BEFORE I BITE YOU. Also, how do the already-parental Bitches filter out all the noise from all directions about "I know what you must do and everyone else is WRONG and probably trying to KILL YOUR BABY OMG" before you go feral on someone?
Oh, good, Aimee! Hope you can use the stuff inside.
Also, how do the already-parental Bitches filter out all the noise from all directions about "I know what you must do and everyone else is WRONG and probably trying to KILL YOUR BABY OMG" before you go feral on someone?
It gets easier with practice. First time around, it's always a little overwhelming. If there's a happy place you can go to, and pretend to listen, while nodding zombie-like, when someone is giving you that kind of "I know what you MUST do!" speech, it helps.
JZ, pick what you like.
Oh, I misread. What you want is what I think is best. FWIW.
Sorry you are having such a time, JZ. My friends got their changing table from Ikea, I believe. Although they do a fair amount of changing on the floor as well. (Or the couch when they're really teeny and immobile.) It's not part of a dresser though. I don't see it from quick googling, but they also have a changing table dresser thing for $200ish. [link]
I need some -ma. I'm having car troubles galore. I was really hoping the car would last me a couple more months before replacing it, but I'm afraid that might not happen. As is always the case, it's really inconvenient timing. So wish me it's not as bad as it seems right now.
I also need health ma. Not sure if I managed to get poison ivy or some other rash-inducing problem, but the itchy is bugging me.
My hometown is Hollywood, FL, but I have no really fond memories of it. I feel my true growing up happened in Paris, even though I only lived there for 2 full years and then summers and vacations.
d, do you have any antihistimines in the house? Benadryl might help your rash if it's either poison ivy, or another allergy of some kind. Also, if you have cortisone in the hosue, it might help with the itching. Use cotton balls or tissues or something to apply it though, so that if you do have poison ivy, you don't spread it to your hands.
Carma~ and my sympathies on the car. I swear cars wait 'til you can least afford to do something about repairing/replacing them, and then act up.
This hometown discussion has been interesting. Some people seem to think that "home" and "hometown" are related, but to me, they're not really. Home has been NYC to me since about 2 days after I moved here. To some extent, I think home has been NYC since I first visited here at the age of seven. It's where my heart is, as the saying goes.
My hometown, though, is the small Mississippi town I grew up in. I'll never live there again, I'm quite sure, but it will always be my hometown. It defined me, even as I rebelled against it, and that earns it that place. I'm sure that within a few years, going back there will feel strange - to some extent it already does - but Tupelo the way it was will remain my hometown in my memories.
