My Hungarian Wig-Loving Housecleaner is Back

Remember Fabienne? I first had her start coming to clean like three and a half years ago, and I last wrote about her when she broke up with me in a text. That was the summer of 2011. We parted as friends and life went on. Hank would ask about her every few months, possibly as a comment on my housekeeping.

Then a few weeks ago, I was sitting somewhere waiting for a kid to do something. I got a text and it was from Fabienne, after over a year of silence. It said, "Hello, I'm thinking of you. You're in my prayers."

Well, I was reminded of the joke about the psychoanalyst who passes an acquaintance on the street. His friend says, "Hello," and the shrink thinks, "I wonder what he meant by that." I read her text a few times and went, "Hmm, huh?"

Then I texted back something like, "Hi! Thank you, we're doing great, how are you?" But then I sat there and stewed, yes Reader, I stewed. You see, that day I was in a vulnerable frame of mind about my health and cancer and dread and mortality. I don't know, I mostly feel bulletproof but there are still bad moments. They get farther apart. But something had made me feel afraid, and then I got her text, and I was like, "Why am I in Fabienne's prayers? Does she know something I don't know? Does she sense, like, a disturbance in the Force?"

Yes, I can be this crazy, Reader. It's time you knew. (You already knew?) But I am also pretty good at recognizing when I need to be talked off the ledge, and I can sort of talk myself down from there. I spun my little hamster wheels. Then I realized, aha, it's early October and we have all been hit with a veritable air-drop of pink ribbons and of course she's thinking of me because everything is breast cancer breast cancer all the time. She sees that and is reminded of me. Okay. Yes, so that's how I convinced myself that Fabienne did not have supernatural/divine knowledge that I was sick again.

Writing it really makes it seem more ridiculous than it felt in the moment.

ANYWAY.

So we exchanged a few more textual pleasantries and then she says, "Can I come back and clean for you?" And I'm like, "So am I in your prayers really or was that just your opener?" Ha! No I didn't. I said, yes please, come on Friday. So she did.

She's come twice since then; she did a really good job the first day and a slightly-less good job the second day. So we're back to where we were.

Her telling me I am in her prayers reminded me of something my sister told me. When Christians want to say no without saying no, they say, "I need to pray about it." I love that so much. Because there is no rejoinder. You're being pressured to buy a car or sign up for a timeshare? I need to pray about it. Extra PTA responsibilites? Better pray about it.

Anyway, so Fabienne is back on the scene and I thought I'd bring you up to speed. I don't know why the story of her reentry has to be so tied up in the story of my ongoing mental adjustment to having had cancer but there it is.

xoxoxo

Beans Don't Burn on The Grill

So as I was saying, the video game company in my basement is leaving the nest. Three and a half years ago, they were two guys in our guest room. Then they were five guys in our guest room. I still can't believe that worked, like, at all. Then, if you've been reading for a while, you probably remember (ie, were traumatized by) the Big Basement Project of 2011, which led to at least one marital argument and a few all-nighters and at least one diaphragmatic hernia. So pretty standard for home renovation.

So the guys moved into the basement office and life has been grand. I've loved having them down there. Matt was close but not too close, and it had the feeling of being part of an exciting enterprise. I do recommend hosting a start-up in your home at least once in life--it is fun. Lots of ups and downs. We've celebrated the ups with many a midnight ice-cream party, and we've weathered the downs with countless whispered kitchen conferences. It has been a pleasure watching these guys work hard, and watching Matt get to do what he wants to do. Now the news around here is that, as the result of various wheelings/dealings, the game company is moving up and out. This is good, all good. It's a great deal for them. It means they'll get to grow and hire people and bust a move into phase 2. But since we're here to talk about me, I'll tell you that I'm a little sad to not be Wendy with the Lost Boys anymore. And I'll miss the flexibility of having Matt on the premises during the day. Yet, at the same time, it was also time for this start-up to get, like, started up. Doncha know.

So last night Matt and I went out and I was totally rocking this pair of Tracy Reese booties I found on ebay for a song and they are so adorable yet way, way less comfortable than I hoped. I think we're talking your basic one-hour shoes. Anyway, right. So we went out and then after dinner he showed me around the offices they're moving to. They're joining forces with a bigger game studio, and these guys have got a super-slick space and lots of great resources. Like a usability/testing lab. Which is apparently greatly to be desired.

I snapped this picture of the testing lab because as soon as I walked in the door I was transported to my college language lab. Do you remember the college language lab? Man, I don't know, I love languages and liked studying them, but somehow that language lab just sucked the life right out of me. Just me? One cool thing he pointed out though is that each little station has a camera set up to film the person playing, I guess so their reactions can be gauged and somehow used to improve gameplay. I dunno but fancy!

And across the hall is a room full of snacks.

This is one of the standard amenities in tech companies, I think--keep your people from wanting to wander away from the office by plying them with goodies--but it would be a big problem for me. There's a huge glass jar full of peanut butter cups and I would just move my laptop over next to it. And then get my head stuck in there. Problem.

Anyway, it's all a lot nicer than our basement, I GUESS. And it's only about ten minutes from our house so I'll still be able to pop in and give my opinions about everything, which I know they totally want me to do.

That's the update on the life/work sitch around here. I'm sure you'll be hearing more about this. xoxo

First Rule of Fight Club

The shadows are long on the village green and I have not given you a blog post. So this is gonna be one of those posts where I just tell you what I did today. With pictures. Come along, won't you?

I started the day by taking Hank to his first sparring class. Funny, Hank has now been going to karate for a year. I know no more about it, truly, than I did when he began. I mean no more about, like, the deeper theory of this pursuit, and at every new stage of the activity, I'm kind of like, okay, whatever. He is having fun though. And six year-olds sparring is high-larious. It's funny, you never know how your kids will be in a new situation, but Hank turned out to be exactly what I would have predicted. I explained it to Matt, "He's not aggressive, but he is somehow, like, tough-minded." He's just hanging in there and he's not afraid. At the start of class, he turned to his little buddy, who is five years old, and said, "Max, don't take it easy on me." I died. After class he asked for pizza so I went next door and bought him a large.

Set-build day

Another biggish thing that is going on in Matron family life is that Laura has been cast in a small part in her middle school production of The Little Mermaid. OMGeez y'all, I'm surprised you didn't read this news written in the sky, she has been over the moon. She had been cautioned that it's hard for sixth graders to be cast, but she wanted to try anyway, and she did, learning a dance and singing a song. I was like, really! This is serious business! And she got in, with a few of her friends. Her part? One of the Poor Unfortunate Souls in Ursula the Sea Witch's number. That made me laugh. She is also a chef in the Les Poisson song. Thrilled, lord she was so thrilled, and I'm glad for her. Nobody can say the girl doesn't put herself out there.

Anyway, what this has meant is a rather escalating schedule of rehearsals over the last five or six weeks, and now, finally, show week is upon us, and it is all go go go until next weekend. They went around and performed at all three of the feeder elementary schools on Friday, so Hank got to see her, and now it's dress rehearsals for a few days and then six shows late this coming week. Y'all, I mean, I have never seen a middle school play on this scale. It is kind of beyond. I'll have more pics to show you what I mean, but just the costumes, set pieces, everything. And like so much at the rather plush public schools around here, it all runs on heavy, heavy parent volunteer effort. There must be fifty or sixty parents helping make this happen. I signed up to bring snacks, drive carpool, take pictures, and do makeup, and yet I'm feeling guilty that I wasn't there this morning hammering nails or something. I went today to take cast pictures and I snapped this. I'm also on call to take lots of candids during the dress rehearsals. For when the show is covered by Variety, you know. Okay I'm rambling but this has been taking up a lot of family bandwidth.

In the early evening, we all four went up to the tennis court and hit balls, then Matt and I played a set of singles, him beating me 6-3. Which surprised me, because I have been playing basically nonstop for months and months and he has been having, like, a job. I apologized to him for misunderestimating him and he was very gracious. Then we left the kids to their own devices and went out for a quick bite, and he showed me around the new offices of Blue Mammoth Games. OMG the game company boys are leaving the basement! I should have led with that! I'll tell you next time. In writing, this is what we refer to as parking on the downhill slope. xoxox

Adult Halloween: This Year Was My Choice

Tennis, anyone?

I first had the idea of our Halloween costumes months ago. I pondered them in my heart. As time drew near, it took some freight train-style enthusiasm on my part to get Matt on board. When he first put on the little white shorts, he said, "No." And I said, "YES!" And he was all, really? And I was like YEEEEESSSS! I think it didn't gel for him until he put the wig on. It gelled for me as soon as I saw him in those socks. Gelled big time.

This is an easy costume to do and I highly recommend it for comfort, couple-friendliness, light-hearted sunshineyness, and budget accessibility. The only real expenditure was two pairs of Adidas Sambas. But I thought they were utterly integral to my vision, and you know, I figured they are also functioning shoes, like, after Halloween. I had the old Lacoste polo, I got the wooden racquets from Pretty Neighbor (and there are a ton floating around out there), and I found the little shorts at, where else, American Apparel. We're just wearing two different sizes of the exact same shorts.

We went around the corner to a party in our neighborhood Saturday night. This is the party I told a bit about last year, where the people move out all their furniture starting Labor Day and completely transform their house. This year the theme was sort of medieval disco dungeon. Last year it was more like Zombie Ethan Frome. I think that's a thing.

Last year. Pretty sure Matt was more comfy this year.

This party is the occasion for my annual consumption of jello shots. Which were brought around by uniformed waiters this year, which I found hilarious. But also very convenient! It was all lots of fun, and the costumes were great. Yes, a lot of the ladies were nearly naked in that way of current Halloween fashions, but there were some clever things too. This lesbian couple dressed up as Wayne and Garth from Wayne's World. It was uncanny. There was also a couple doing Grant Wood's American Gothic, and it was one of those things where it's like not even a costume, it's just part of their souls. Anyway, a good time was had by all and we were home by 12:30, little the worse for the jello shots.

Nobody did anything scandalous or embarassing, that I remember, though this one lady's girl scout costume was both.

I am already thinking of next year, but to get Matt excited, I think I need an idea that engages his fantasy life. So, basically that gets us to Vikings, barbarians, other tall hirsute characters? I'm reminded of that John Cheever story where the directive for a costume party was, "Come as your heart's desire," or something to that effect, and all the men came in their old school football outfits and all the women came as brides.

Did you guys dress up? Deets plz!

Bump in the Night

Laura's friend hatched a plot that a few of them would go as Sesame Street characters. I don't think Laura realized that Big Bird is such a highly relevant figure in this election season, I think she just likes feathers. And more feathers are even better. By the time this plan reached my ears, it was already arranged that the friend's mom would make the costumes. My reaction was something like, "Her mom is going to make your costume? I'll believe that when I see it." It seemed like one of those things that would not come to pass.

But then the next thing I knew, Laura was being called for fittings. When I saw the other mother at the tennis court the next day, I practically crushed her to my bosom. "Aren't you such a seamstress!" I said. It emerged that whereas we had both taken sewing and Home Ec in high school, I had made a tote bag while she had made a lined suit. I was all, rock on woman. No really, don't let me keep you. Don't you have some sewin' to do?

Then a few days later she emailed around asking if anyone had a dog crate to sell, and I was like I HAVE THE DOG CRATE AND YOU CAN HAVE IT AND THE PRICE IS ONE BIG BIRD COSTUME. And I was glad because I was gonna have to come up with one damn good loaf of banana bread to say thanks. Or something.

She made Woody and Jessie costumes for her husband and herself.

Where was I? Oh yes, the children.

Cookie Monster bought her costume to match.

Elmo's mom was the seamstress.

For the first time in years, these girls did not make use of a golf cart to scour the neighborhood, which happily reduced the tonnage of candy they brought home. I'm not sure why they all wanted to do the Sesame Street thing. There might be something to be said about how all five of these girls clung to childlike representations of themselves this year, probably the last year that they are truly little girls. But just look at them, sweet.

And for the third year in a row, Hank tagged along with one of the (K)Cathy's kids. Her husband drives them around and helps them climb in and out of the truck.

Rolling party.

So with no kids to escort around and Matt doing candy duty, where did that leave me? Having a beer with Normal Neighbor and watching her hand out full-size candy bars. Then it was back home, and the whole operation shut down by nine, with Hank hiding his candy bucket in his bedroom because he was afraid his daddy would eat it while he slept. And he is right to be afraid.

A couple of nights ago, we were sitting having supper, and Hank said, "So what really is the point of Halloween? I mean, how did it really start? It's not because of Jesus because Jesus is not really anything to do with all the Halloween things." I love it. I mean, this kid! Sometimes it's like he's auditioning for a poster entitled Teachable Moments. Matt was up to bat, so he started with All Saints Day and how that was a holy day and Hallows Eve as a tradition, then he really got warmed up and told them about syncretism and the Christian assimilation of older pagan and Celtic rituals, traditions, and motifs, and then they really got it, and they were like, Easter Bunny! Christmas Tree! And I was like, "Nice job hon!" And I thought, I guess this is why we went to college.

Did y'all have a good night? We really didn't get very many trick-or-treat customers. We never do, because we're the only house down our steep hill that gives out candy. Though I did note that my foster daughters were allowed to trick-or-treat this year, though their parents had their porch light off. Hmmph!

Blogging every day in November! This is the start! We'll have plenty of time to talk of adult things, but you know they take my membership card if I don't put up pics of the Halloween kids. xoxoxo

Midnight in The Garden of Awesome

Oh you know it.

I had these two completely outrageous stories to tell you and I thought, "Perfect way to restart blogging!" then I woke up and realized I had dreamed both of them. And I don't know if we really want to start dreamblogging because where might that lead? Also, one of them involved tennis, anyway.

I feel like I have to pick up and tell you about the thing which was about to happen during my last post, like I am a book that you just put down. So it was that Matt was taking me out of town for our anniversary and I didn't know where. I continued to not know where as we said goodbye to the kids, got into the car, and drove out of town. I still didn't know where until we got on I-16 toward Savannah, and then, with Holmesian powers of deduction, I turned to Matt and said, "Is it Savannah?" And he goes, "Do you want to know yet?"

It was Savannah! And the first thing we did to see the town was Segway. Matt was like, "I have a surprise for you. But you can guess it if you remember that I always stick to what works." And I was all, "Segway!!!"

Segway is the perfect mode of transport for a place like Savannah. You can cover the whole historic district in fine style. All those pretty squares and monuments and shady trees. So romantic, I loved it. Our guide was an earnest SCAD student who told us Who Slept Here or Who Was Born or Who Haunts Here at every house. My takeaway was that, if nobody every quartered troops in your house, you are nothing in this town.

Remember Kevin Spacey's house in that movie?

At one point we were strolling along and I heard a familiar peal of bells. When my iphone screen did not show an incoming call, I turned in a slow circle, confused. "Oh!" I realized, "That's an actual church!" The look on Matt's face made me say, "WHAT." His only comment was, "I think you are interesting and fun," and he left it at that. Smart guy.

Bedscape.

Mattscape. Those vases are glued down, I don't know.

The next stop on our getaway was Tybee Island. I had never been there, and if you are needing the Hilton Head experience, this is not it. Definitely not fancy, but it reminded me a lot of how Pensacola Beach was when I was growing up. Just your basic beach but it had a lot of charm. We stayed in a hotel right on the sand. They set up an umbrella and a couple of chairs for us, and on Sunday, I sat in those chairs from 10:30-5:00. Tough day at the office. It occurred to me that it has been years since I went to the beach without a kid to keep track of. Like, seriously years. It was just what I needed.

Bonus Mattscape

Tybee Lighthouse

Seventeen years, baby!

Oh, and because I didn't know where we were going or exactly what the activities/weather would be, I packed: two pairs of jeans, pair of black pants, two dresses, bazillion tops, fugly shorts, and bathing suit. I wore: one t shirt, one sweater, the shorts, bathing suit, and one dress as a cover up. I could pretty much throw all of my clothes away, but isn't that always the lesson?

Okay, now that I have cleared away old business, I can move forward with blogging and gear up for NaBloPoMo. It dawned on me that I have been living the unexamined life and you know we don't want that.

Enough about me, what about you? How's tricks? xoxox

More People Who Are Bad

Friends, I am really upset. Due to a cascade of screw-ups, some mine, some GoDaddy's, my suburbanmatron.com domain expired without my knowing and was scooped up by some garbagey company who stalks expiring domains so they can buy them and redirect them to ads for cheap viagra. So now my links all over the internet are broken. Unless you are in the market for some cheap viagra.

GoDaddy is supposed to "park" a domain when it is in the final stages of expiring. That is, when you go there, you see a GoDaddy page that lets you know something is up. But my domain worked fine--I updated this blog on the 14th--and then all of a sudden, it was whisked away.

This business of buying up expiring domains is a whole shady corner of the internet. The guy who got mine is a 21 year-old who lives in his parents' basement in Chicago. He offered to sell it back to me for $5,500.

Think of all the boner pills that would buy him.

Or don't think of it.

So, I don't even know. Any advice or ideas you have are welcome. I'm left with the plan of trying to continue to get my correct links out through facebook and twitter, though I know this only reaches a small part of my readers. I mean, it's not like this domain was my livelihood, but I'd been building it for over four years.

Maybe I'll still get it back. I can't think that the traffic generated by people google searching my blog will generate this domain-stalker any real money. Certainly not enough to live on his own and maybe kiss a girl one day. We'll see.

Makes me way madder than my purse being stolen.

I will still be here, and if you have me linked on your blog and are seeing this post, please change your link to the URL that is up top, www.suburbanmatron.blogspot.com. And follow me on fb and twitter and all that so I can keep you in the loop. And if you are following SubMat on fb, maybe share this news with any friends you have who are also readers. Sniff.

Meanwhile I'm going to go do some emotional eating. But first I'll favor you with an emoticon.

xoxox

Mean Streets

CSI: My Neighborhood

Y'all! Yesterday afternoon I parked my car up at our neighborhood clubhouse and took Hank to his tennis lesson right at the adjacent courts. My neighbor arrived a little after me, and we were both watching the kids' play for about thirty minutes. We got back to our cars to find our windows smashed and our purses gone.

Damn!

I'm usually a little more wily about not leaving valuables visible in the car, even though I've never had this happen before. When I'm parking up there to go play tennis or go to a swim meet for hours, I never leave anything in the car. But as I was taking Hank to the courts, I ran back in and got my purse, thinking that I might run to the store during his lesson. Then I left my purse on the front seat and watched him play instead. For such a short time. Dumb. Dumb!

What the guy got was my wallet, but not my ID or check/debit card, which were in a separate wristlet that I ALSO LEFT IN THE CAR but that he didn't see. But that wallet filled with miscellaneous junk and instantly-canceled credit cards was inside my beloved Marc Jacobs Sophia bag. Oh double damn.

I am a major purse person and I bought that bag in a time when we had actual money instead of a house, two kids, and a video game company. I haven't carried it a lot over the years, it's been on light duty. They don't make that bag anymore, and a quick look at ebay shows that the authentic bags available now have the years of wear on them that my bag didn't. Because I kept it in an argon-filled chamber behind bulletproof glass. So it is kind of irreplaceable. I feel like I'm a little too hung-up on it, but I'm feeling a little hung-up on it. It's maddening because I know it's been thrown away by now, unless the bad guy has the good sense to list it on ebay. I'll be keeping a lookout.

The nice sheriff deputies came and then the CID guys came and got one good fingerprint off my neighbor's door. There is a security camera at the clubhouse that should have captured the whole thing perfectly; they were downloading the footage last night. Hank was with me, and he was very troubled/fascinated by the whole thing. "Mom, I'm really mad that somebody did this!" he said. Me too buddy.

The deputy said to me, "Ma'am, don't let this steal your sunshine." I assured him that my vast sunshine reservoirs were untapped. If we ever did drill into my stored sunshine, it would go a long way toward ending our Dependence on Foreign Oil.

So, whatever, the window is getting fixed today. And the happy thing of the day is that Matt is taking me somewhere this weekend to celebrate our anniversary. I don't know where. Betty is coming this afternoon to keep the kids, and we'll be gone until Monday morning. I know it involves driving somewhere a medium distance away. I asked Matt what I should bring, and he said, "Bring a swimsuit, some good walking shoes, and some nice-enough clothes." I am going to go upstairs now and ponder the "nice-enough" part. Nice enough for a cockfight? A coronation? We'll see!

Have a good weekend! I will report.