Coding System

“What’s TMAS?” Ron asks me.

We’re unpacking moving boxes and he’s trying to decipher my coding system (I was in charge of marking boxes when we were packing the other week).

A Bunch of Silly Work, I wrote on the box full of bills and paper files.

A Big Ol’ Pile of Crap, I wrote on the box that held a number of useless trinkets.

Happy Happy Happy, I wrote on the box that contained my favorite books.

The movers weren’t amused. “What room do you want us to put ‘Stuff, Stuff, and More Stuff?’” they asked, exasperated.

Stuff = stuffing = pillows, sheets, and blankets. The master bedroom, but I told them they could pile all the boxes in the living room and I’d unpack from there.

“TMAS is Christmas ornaments,” I tell Ron. “You know how people write an X instead of the word Christ? That bugs me.”

“So you use a T instead?” he says, confused.

“That’s a cross,” I say.

I guess I’m the only one who gets my coding system.

Record Holder

Two entire years since I barfed.

(The last time was at my in-laws house Thanksgiving weekend when I retched six times, if you must know).

I rock!

Sidenote: when my brothers and I were little and we had a stomach-ache, we used to say, "I feel like I need to frab" (that's barf spelled backwards in case you were wondering).

Landing

We fit.

Last week, as we unpacked moving boxes in our new digs, I was amazed at how easily the process unfolded.

Our furniture arranged nicely inside the rooms. Our colors matched. Outside, Ron found the perfect loop to walk the dog. We even used the exact same nails as the previous owners when we hung our pictures.

We go with the place.

That’s not to say we haven’t had our hiccups. The plumber was out six days after we moved in (I hosted Thanksgiving for the first time ever – how was I supposed to know I shouldn’t shove every last vegetable scrap down the garbage disposal?) Last night our neighbor was smoked out (the damper on her fireplace closed). And we don’t have Internet set up (which means I’m trekking to every coffee shop and sandwich joint in town trying to keep up with my writing assignments).

But overall, the move went smoothly.

It feels great to be here.

Hope you all had a nice holiday. You can read about my experience as host over at Wasa later this week.

Later Gator

I'm taking time off (of blogging, not writing) to finish our move and enjoy Thanksgiving with my family.

Have a nice holiday.

Surprise Visitor on My Head

My first gray hair.

It grew out of nowhere.

I’ve never been one to freak out over my age or anything, but I honestly can’t believe I sprouted a gray hair before I had my first child.

I’m constantly examining it in the mirror. I decided not to yank it out even though it’s not silky and pretty. Instead, it’s coarse and wiry. In other words, It’s totally ugly…but in a cute kind of way.

I’m keepin’ it.

The Two Year Experiment

Yesterday our new landlord handed us the keys.

We're moving to Virginia.

Bu-Bye Maryland!

I'm sure that Maryland is a lovely state. But between my miscarriage, my surgery, being homesick for California, and a handful of other things (which I'm sure will all come out in an essay one day), this past year hasn't been the best.

We're starting over -- on the other side of the Potomac. We're dubbing our move "The Two Year Experiment" because that's how long we've (meaning, me) agreed to give the east coast one more try.

We'll be a few blocks from a bike path (I'm dusting off my rollerblades tonight), two blocks from a coffee house (yep, I'm back on caffeine), and much closer to my brother and sister-in-law (sidenote: Greg, my bro, let me borrow his huge honkin' SUV to move boxes. Can I just say I feel like I'm driving a bus? I'm constantly glancing over my shoulder saying, "How are you little children?").

Again, I'm sure Maryland is a lovely state. But I'm never setting foot in our old town again. Promise I'll write about it one day, but for now I'll just re-emphasize that this past year has been pretty awful. I don't want to be reminded of it.

Except.

I love one thing about the place. My favorite Indian restaurant. Ron takes me to it at least once a week, sometimes more. The guy doesn't even like spicy food, but he knows it makes me happy.

We went there Friday night.

Ron says we can make a special trip back from time to time. So . . . next time I blog I'll be in Virginia. Unless I'm in Maryland on my way to eat chicken tikka makhani.

Deep Thoughts

I’m sorry I haven’t blogged much lately.

I’m having blog issues because every time I start to write a post I think, “Oooh, I could turn this into an article.” Or, “Hmm, I might want to use this in a piece later, and I don’t want to spill the beans on my blog first.” There is a quote from writer Annie Dillard about not holding back in any of your writing because there is always more to come and further paths to dig. (That’s not the quote exactly, but it’s something along those lines). Problem is, it’s not helping. I’m still having issues.

But anyhoo…here are a few random things going on in my life:

We’re moving soon to a “walking” city. I’m so excited.

Yesterday I met my friend Elizabeth’s baby. Baby C is three weeks old. She pooped and burped and slept and ate. I was completely enamored. I officially have baby lust.

Other than that and the fact that I’m working on various articles, not much exciting is going on in the Rough household. Here’s a snippet of our conversation over dinner last night:

Ron: What does a spy do if he’s sneaking around, trying to be quiet, and then his stomach growls?

Jenny: Seriously, that stuff must happen all the time, right? I always wonder what performers do when they are on stage and then suddenly need to sneeze. I’ve never seen that happen, but it must.

Ron: See, these are the things you need to blog about.

Jenny: Deep thoughts by Ron and Jenny Rough?

Ron: Exactly.