Monday, January 31, 2005

404 ass error

"My ass is broken!" wailed the husband, not 5 minutes ago. As one gets older, we have both discovered, it is now possible to wake up in the morning with bruises and contusions one has no idea how one gained. The husband woke up this morning and his hip hurt. I'm guessing his hip is hurt because of the late night wrestling match we had when he tried to sing me a Wierd Al song in bed, and I would have none of it. The wrestling wasn't violent or anything, but at some point he must have hurt his hip a bit and then slept on it funny. Surprizingly enough, the husband's ass has managed to get broken not over sex but over pop culture cheese. Life is strange and beautiful.

"I don't think your ass is broken." I replied to him after careful hip inspection. "I think your ass is temporarily unavailable. You have a 404 ass error."

This never would have happened had Atlanta not been covered in ice this weekend. As Max will show you over on his page, we were iced in from Friday night onward. This meant that the husband and I had all weekend trapped inside the apartment together instead of spending a couple of days apart, as we had intended. He was to go to Nashville and I had all these grand plans for cleaning the house and getting some professional writing done for work. I feel very behind on my everyday tasks after being so sick last week. Some of the writing happened. The cleaning? Not so much.

Atlanta incased in ice is beautiful; Atlanta's one small snow of the year was mixed in with tiny granules of ice. Everything was glazed and deadly. Locked in together during the storm, our desires for independant entertainment thwarted, I suppose it is a healthy sign that the husband and I were only mock-wrestling by Sunday night.

I feel immobilized by the winter, by the ice, by the waiting for the stars to align so that we can get out of this tiny apartment and into a home of our own. Every winter I can't believe how long I have to wait for Spring.

Monday, January 24, 2005

Strep Throat

It seems only just that the week after I felt so accomplished in work and at home that I would turn out to be incubating a perfectly nasty case of strep throat. Luckily there's a new urgent care facility over on Ponce de Leon not far from my house. So the husband and I lost all our pocket money for the rest of the month on being ill. There was a certain joy to laying in bed for a few days reading, if you discount all the disgusting snot, and the fact that neither of us was inclined to do anything that might make breathing more difficult that the congestion made it already.

I'm still tired.

Anyhow, we did manage to make it to Chattanooga this weekend to see some friends. I spent most of the weekend in bed watching TV at the hotel because I was ill, but Chattacon was OK. I don't know that we'll go next year, but overall, it was a decent enough party.

My job is busy enough that while sick, I had dreams of being at work, and vague notions of sending the husband to fetch my laptop. Luckily, my cold medication made me pass out every time I resolved to be productive. Speaking of which, I have to attempt to go back to work today. Wish me luck!

Monday, January 17, 2005

Accomplished and Mildly Amused

It's MLK day here in Atlanta, and I caught sight of one of the parades downtown this afternoon as I walked from a dentist appointment into Peachtree Center Station. I really appreciated the long tunnels underneath Peachtree Center today; winter is here at last, cold as anything, and the tunnels meant I could walk down into slightly warmer air for a whole block before reaching the heated train platform. The glimpse of a passing marching band cheered on by war protesters and happy city folk was enough of a celebration for me.

I find myself sad that I didn't see the traditional MLK television broadcast from the Doctor's church this morning, but as I can read what was said tommorrow in the paper, I don't think I missed that much. I enjoy watching the annual toungue-lashing the MLK day allows the church to give Republicans. Seeing poor Senator Frist take things so hard right up front last year was rewarding. Petty, but rewarding.

I feel very accomplished this week. I went to a local amateur comedian's night yesterday to see a friend perform, and this weekend I've also assembled flat furniture, cleaned my house (with much help from The Husband), visited the Fernbank museum with cousins, and made mix CD's. I plan on updating some of my web pages later. Things are good.

The Husband, now on month four of his job search, frets about money, but I don't. I'm so much better off than I was this time last year, I'm not worried at all. We'll soon buy a house, and that will cut out most substantial monthly bill down quite a bit. Wish me luck - I want to stay in Inman Park or hereabouts, and I can only cross my fingers and pray it's financially possible.

Monday, January 10, 2005

Together Again

It took me a week to recover from my vacation. I couldn't find my cell phone, or my date book, or my phone book, or my watch. But then slowly everything came back together again on Sunday. Sunday was the first day since I've been married that I felt like myself again. The husband and I cleaned house and napped, and then later walked down to a pub where we eat sometimes. I played pinball, and then we walked to the movies, my favorite movie theater that only has two screens and a lobby with decrepit 80's arcade games in it. And I was watching my husband's ass as he played Galaga and I realized that I was comfortable again. That everything was Okay, that everything was all right, that my life hasn't really escaped or changed beyond my control.

The vacation was the honeymoon combined with the holidays. Our honeymoon consisted of my mother-in-law harassing us onto a plane bound for a private island in the keys that she paid for our stay upon. We went more for her than for ourselves. It made her happy, and I'm trying very hard to keep her happy. I'm not the daughter-in-law she expected, and I want to please her as much as I can up front before she realizes that I'm not going to ever be anyone but myself. My huge, hulking, callous, common, unrefined self. When she picked us up from the airport, we had a little lunch, and she confessed she wanted to help me "blossom". I replied I felt like I had bloomed all ready, just not into the sort of flower she was used to. And what sort of flower would that be? The quiet, shaded, kind, I replied. I can't remember what we said after that. I should have said clover.

The next week in Nashville was characterized by ice storms both real and metaphorical. While it was truly the best holiday season I've had in a while, I realized that this is the last New Year's Eve I'm likely to spend there. The Husband's company aside, I had a difficult time connecting to many friends. It's mostly my own fault, as I have transgressed that line from single friend to married friend so completely that some people no longer recognize me fully as my own person. I have done nothing to dispel this notion since the husband I and have recently been photographed making out at our own holiday party...

We're a little too into each other right now, and I know it. But I'm still here. I'm over all the marriage parties now. I have more free time. I can update this blog once a week again. And as the days grow colder this winter, I want you to know that I'm here for you. You can still write and call. Just because I'm all into him? It doesn't mean that I've forgotten you.

Saturday, January 01, 2005

Skeet should call me

I repeat, Skeet should contact me . So should Cairy and Virgil. I couldn't find you in Nashville; my phonebook was not with me on this past trip. You can also leave a comment in the guestbook.

I have returned, oh gods and godesses of the internet. I had adventures, some of which I plan to write about later in this post and other posts.

I will never go on a vacation that long ever again. I missed y'all. I missed the quiet glow and hum of my computer chugging away into the night. I missed the ability to type out my thoughts as they itch under my fingernails. I had trouble sleeping some nights. I had a nightmare my final night away, and in this nightmare Atlanta was under attack by enemy jet fighters of some kind, but when our jet fighters shot them down they crashed into tall buildings and caused more damage. And no cell phones worked and I had to start walking from Midtown back to Inman Park by myself, with all the fire and mayhem and looting. And then there were these beasts - giant weasles with curiously flat heads and intelligent eyes, running around eating people's garbage. Some of the weasles were wearing sweaters.

But other than that, my honeymoon and holiday break went fairly well.

But I was homesick for the city. I love it here. I never want to live anywhere else.