New House, New Rule? (And, a Special Sidenote: Unfazed by Feces)

Well, we have finally moved into our new house!  Yay!!

All of the months and months of planning and preparation...finding all of the most eco-friendly, green sourced, recycled, renewable, sustainable, chemical-free, indoor air quality boosting materials...led up to this great house, which we are now enjoying.

This tree-hugging behavior of mine has been ingrained in me: my dad didn't like for me to waste water by flushing the toilet too often or running water while I was brushing my teeth; my mom has always been very eco-conscious, composting in her garden; my step-dad has been an organic fanatic since way before it was cool.

I have always been taught to recycle as much as possible, and for years have been trying to use as much organic food as possible.  In more recent years, I have decided to forgo chemical cleansers and fragrances.  I drive a hybrid car.

And, as we spent so much time trying to keep toxins out of our house structure throughout the build and out of our bodies all of the time, I didn't think it would come as too much of a shock when we instituted a no-shoe rule in our new house--our untainted space!  Most of our guests in the first weeks were our subcontractors, who were burly and in and out of the house a bazillion times a day; they didn't bat an eye at leaving their boots at the door time after time.  Our contractor removed his shoes before he entered without being asked.  Our foreman and coordinator did the same.  Our friends removed their shoes without batting an eyelash--several of them have no-shoe rules in their homes, and another was a nanny in Hawaii where it is customary to leave shoes at the door.

The no-shoe rule transition was going quite swimmingly until I asked my dad to remove his shoes.  He blindsided me by becoming really angry, as if I was being super-rude by requesting this.  He questioned my motivation to institute the rule--as if it were something like, I don't want you to sully the white carpets (we don't even have any carpet, and our rugs are all quite old...and not in an expensive antique kind of way).  When I responded that it was a concern for chemicals and toxins (solvents, gasoline, exhaust debris, pesticides/herbicides, germs) and not dirt that I was concerned about, he said under his breath that this was ridiculous since I have dogs in my house (who do sometimes do the old butt-surfing-on-the-carpet thing, in his defense--I'm trying to stand in his socks for a moment, here.)

Is it really too much to ask for guests to remove their shoes?  Is it rude?  I am just really shocked by the reaction and wondering if I've finally gone too far with my desire to have an eco-friendly family home...

And, on another tangent of this situation, is it normal for a mom (of human- and fur-babies) to become so un-fazed by feces that a dog dragging its butt on the carpet doesn't seem nearly as gross as chemical solvents and lead dust transferring from shoes to the floor??  It is also important to note, on the subject of feces and my relationship with it, that I also have horses who poop, stand in poop, and roll in poop, so in addition to wiping poopy butts, dealing with poopy diapers, and collecting dog poop, I also pick poop out of hooves, pitchfork it off the ground, and brush it out of horse fur.  That is a lot of poop, people, so it is true: a few microbes of poop transferring from a semi-clean dog butt onto my (again, not priceless) area rug, just doesn't get me that worked up at this point...

Long story very short (don't you wish you could've just started here?): I think poop is way less yucky than chemicals.  Period.

I'd love to hear what you guys think!

Bits of Funny from Assassination Vacation (by Sarah Vowell)

"There is no evidence of its past charm," announces Bennett.  Barren and blank, it has what he accurately describes as "an Eastern bloc vibe."  A bland concrete hotel that looks like a Soviet apartment building (and not in a good way) hovers over a boardwalk scattered with benches, also concrete, which sounds cordial enough, except these benches, also concrete, look like you are supposed to rest on them on the walk home from standing in a nine-hour bread line while being tailed by the KGB."

"He [the author's 3-year-old nephew, Owen] means tombstones," I told her.  "When you were off parking the car at the cemetery in Cleveland, Owen and I walked around looking for John Hay's grave.  Owen climbed on top of it and hollered, 'This is a nice Halloween park!' "(That's what he calls cemeteries.)"

"Owen is the most Hitchcockian preschooler I ever met.  He's three.  He knows maybe ninety words and one of them is "crypt"?"

Shockingly Funny: The Book, Assasination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell

To say that I love to read would be a complete understatement.  I am obsessed with reading.  There is just something about escaping into other people's writing...  Obviously, you guys get it, because you like to read blogs.  (Thanks again!)

I pretty much enjoy everything that I read in one way or another.  To me, reading is like eating--all foods have their place.  Sometimes I desire a cheap-o, preservative-laden, orange cheese-y Cheetos puff with the same voracity that I might crave a perfectly marbled, finely prepared fillet mignon.  Don't scoff! You know you like Cheetos, too!!

Anyway~I recently saw a random book lying on my mom's bedspread.  I had no idea where it came from, whose it was (except that it sure wasn't mine)...  It's topic--presidential assassination--wasn't even of initial interest to me, or seemingly anyone in our household.  Buuuut, it did have pages...with words written on them, and so I picked it up and begin to read it.  Finders keepers, losers weepers.

This book is "[p]art history lesson, part hilarious travelogue," according to one reviewer, Elissa Schappell of Vanity Fair.  The author is obsessed with dead presidents and basically goes on pilgrimages to visit the locations of various presidential assassinations and subsequent memorials.  Sounds hysterical, right?  But, it so is!!  She discusses the friends and family members that she ropes into these journeys and the people that she meets along the way, and her sense of humor is just perfect.  Her enthusiasm for the subject, and especially the witty, pithy way that she describes both historical information and the details of her trips makes this book so, so funny.

Sarah Vowell, as a writer, is such an inspiration to me.  Her passion for the subject on which she writes is not unlike mine here on this little bloggy.  I can only hope to make you laugh the way she made me laugh...and to think of things in a new light as this book made me do.  Presentation really is everything: If you can entertain as you instruct or inform or impart, you really have done a great service to others.

I'm so glad that I found that book!  I still wonder how it got there...?  Such an inspiring little nugget of good writing, right when I needed it...  Very mysterious indeed.

Grand Gestures Are Overrated

Some women (and men) crave grand romantic gestures: dozens of red roses, champagne, stretch limousines, gourmet dinners eaten by candlelight, bedspreads covered in flower petals, sky-writing, Jumbotron proposals, and so on and so forth.  Call me low-maintenance, but what really gets me are the simple gestures of love and partnership.  Case in point, in our household, nothing is more of a turn-on to me than waking up to an unstacked dishwasher and a hastily scrawled note: "Already fed the CAT!  Love you."

Back off ladies!!  He's mine, all mine.  ;-)

But seriously.  I cherish that note, written on a scrap of recyclable paper sitting on top of the dog's crate.  That is REAL love.  Just like the note I received almost four years ago (just before our wedding) that said, in foam kids shower-wall letters sticking on the wall of my shower: CANT WAIT 2 WED U. 

Well, today, I'd marry him all over again!  

(...He doesn't even like the cat!)

Needles on Beaches and Whiskers on Kittens!! My Parents Are Celebrities!

Please visit this link to an article that features a picture of my mom, Beth Yost, and quotes http://www.wboc.com/story/15516126/needles-on-beaches.

Why Am I Applying for Jobs When I'm Double-Booked for the Next EIGHTEEN ODD YEARS??

Someone call Dr. Phil--and Debi Pearl--STAT!

All moms work 24/7, whether they stay at home or have jobs outside of the home.  It is, I'd wager, the hardest job and also the most rewarding.  (I feel more like Oprah, right now, than Debi or Phil....but O.W. is off the air, and therefore, no longer able to assist me.)

It logically follows that, since I'm a mom, I, too, am working around the clock for my family in one way or another.  What I do has value.  It is not easy raising kids well, especially if they are BROOKE.  I have little to no "down time."  Why is it then, that I have been applying for jobs lately?

Count 'em: I have applied for two transcribing jobs, one editing job (for an erotic novel, no less!), and one job as a part-time support instructor at Alyssa's school.  (All over the proverbial map, no?)  It should be noted that I have heard nothing back from any, but still...  I'm basically applying for positions that I cannot possibly fill.  Who is going to wrangle Brooke-the-destroyer while I'm working?  Who will drop off and pick up Alyssa...and volunteer in her classroom in between?

The sickest part is that I'm disappointed that I'm not getting calls for these jobs, even though I'd be in serious trouble if I did get a call back for an interview.  What is wrong with me???

I clearly have a raging guilt-complex about staying home and thusly not "contributing" to the family funds, that's what's freaking wrong with me!  I value the hard work of all mothers...unless that mother is me, it would seem...  :-(  I'm losing my marbles, here.

Does anyone else make a hobby of applying for jobs that are untenable?  Is there a scientific name for this sickness yet?  How many steps away am I from making up a 22-year-old, Harvard-educated, double D, single, childless pseudo-me on eHarmony and fake dating?

It is a slippery slope.  S C A R Y.

A Hair Off Plumb

Well, it's official: Pretty much my whole home-to-be is now painted yellow; and if a yellow house is a crazy house, then ours is going to be committed!!

At first, it is a little bit shocking.  I'll give you that.  But~ it is a very pretty, very unique, and very cheerful color.  I think that a little extra dose (or SO) of sunshine could do everyone* in my family some good!  *Especially me in the winter...I am such a seasonal affect dysphoric disorder poster-child!

Today the hardwood floors arrived to acclimate to our house.  They are GORGEOUS! reclaimed red oak barn flooring, complete with knots, swirls, and worm holes.  I am thrilled with them; to me, they are the highlight of the house.  They will give our brand-spanking-new house some much needed homey character and charm. 

I can tell that some of the guys who are working on the house think that my bubble is a hair off plumb.  They are used to working in houses that are painted pristine contractor's white--off-white if the owner is really adventurous.  In those houses, if there was an imperfection on the freshly milled and sanded hardwood, it would be a disaster.  Here in my house....the world is yellow-licious and the floors are second-hand.  I actually got excited about the "worm holes" and other *authentic* dings and patinas from the planks' previous lives as a barn floor.

"Perhaps yellow is the favorite color of insane people," they must be thinking.  "And that lady (me!) is exhibit A."

(I am going to try to take pictures and send them to the blog.)