Steel Together

We got married today, eleven years ago on a BEAUtiful, clear and sunny day at Westminster College. We embarked on an adventure neither of us could have possibly imagined.

State College: August, no AC. New bed, the size of bedroom. Weird landlord, 3rd floor apt. Buy new car.

Florida: First Christmas away from folks. Drudgery of waiting for flight school. Lonliness. Cat. New couch. First plane! Dream becoming real. Chosen: E-2s. Census work! Law and Order! Cribbage in bed. Floribama, flying shrimp. Flight pattern around coffee table. Emergency Checklist review.

Texas: separated. Contested election! Ballet. Turtle slippers. Plane two.

Mississippi: Magnolias. Dut-hess. Goat cheese medallions. Walker Wedding. Turtle Crossing. Hickory Court: Hernandi Base, Maloux wine, Helmet Fire. Plane 3. Hudson's. Falling turtle shelf. Mississippi State Games. September 11. Winging. Carrier Qualifying. Basketball. Rollerblades.

Virginia: Slumlord. Barrista. New bed. Grief. SERE school. Renewal. McCrilli Base. Plane 4. EGP. Deployment. Birth. Colic. Back pain. COnfusion. Mentors. Mommy Group. Grace. Solidity. First house. Nanny. Scrapbooking. Hurricane Isabel. First Squadron. DMB, Greg Brown, James Taylor. Drywall. Cancer. Shock. Birth. Joy. Seizure. Send-off.

Pennsylvania: Home. Retire. Last New House. Life's work. Old place, new peeps. Fresh start, still carrying on.

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So, yeah. We're Steel Together. You're Steel the One. Happy 11th (Traditional: Steel) anniversary. I love you.

Good Afternoon, Mommy

If you haven't read yesterday's post, read that first. Go ahead. I'll wait.

*tap tap tap tap*

Ok, done? Good. Here is the REST of the story.
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So yesterday afternoon, I attempt to vacuum the living room. The vacuum worked just fine last night, when Audrey vacuumed the parlor to earn some buttons (see subsequent posts on The Button Experiment). But today, alas... no workies.

I walk around to try a different outlet (we have an old house. Some of the outlets have been rewired, but not all). I realize in doing so that the television is also not working. Hmm. Has to be a blown fuse.

Go down to the basement. Fuse box: only one switch out of place.

"Thonk. Buzzzzz.... THONK." Immediately tripped again. Hmm.

Go back upstairs. Call Ian at work. No idea. It will have to wait till he gets home. Okay.

Fast forward, after six. My Hero walks in. Z says, "Daddy, can you fix the television?"

"Yes. I don't know." And down to the basement he walks. I follow.

He follows the wires around the ceiling... shiny, new ones he and my dad diligently installed during the rewiring process. He tries the switch. Receives the same thonk and buzz. Only THIS time, I am standing right beside my upright freezer, and I hear the buzz, very loudly.

On top of the freezer sits a power strip, which feeds the freezer, the dehumidifier, and the extra fridge. A large, clear bin also sits atop the freezer. Why?

To collect the laundry. The laundry which comes down onto the freezer VIA THE LAUNDRY CHUTE.

Yes, dear reader, my son blew a fuse and denied himself his own television viewing this afternoon because he PEED ONTO THE POWER STRIP IN THE BASEMENT, VIA THE LAUNDRY CHUTE, FROM HIS SECOND-FLOOR BEDROOM.

Some day, his wife is really going to enjoy this story.

Good Morning, Mommy

This is how I awoke this morning:

"Mom? Could you come in my room because there's pee in my room."

Stretch. Roll. Blink. Squint. "Uh, what?"

"There's pee in my room."

I will pause here to say that this is not a particularly strange scenario. I am the mother of a three-and-a-half year old, fully potty trained boy. But accidents do happen, and I am not shocked by them.

"Ok, just a minute. Did you pee in your pjs?"

(and here is where we diverge to ... bizarre-land)

"No, I tried to pee in the laundry chute."

Confused, stunned silence.

"You ... PEED in the LAUNDRY CHUTE?"

"Yes. I just tried to pee in the laundry chute but there's pee in my room."

(Let me interject again, dear reader, to say that the laundry chute opening is located INSIDE a closet, under a hinged lid which is, er, much taller than a toilet seat; and consequently quite a BIT higher than Mister Peepers.)

My brain has, as of yet, not been able to register the crime scene that was my son's room (the locale of said closeted laundry chute). Suffice it to say that although he is working on his aim ... I have quite a bit of clean up work ahead of me this lovely morning.

Say it with me now: "The Joys of Motherhood"

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I had intended on making my inaugural blog post something of weight, substance, import. But no, it turns out, this is how I roll, and I shall embrace it. Welcome to No Sugar.