Scout Junior

In the midst of moving, buying a house, job searching, and planning for the holidays, Scout and I have his daughter at our house for the first time. Ever.

Scout Junior is eight years old, and she is freakin' hilarious. I can't tell you how many times I have laughed uncontrollably at some of the things she has said.

A few days ago, I drove 14 hours from Texas to Tennessee to pick her up. I chose to stay at a Days Inn, because up until that point it had been nothing but impressive to me. Well, I should have known when I called to make reservations that this was not a typical Days Inn. The guy who answered the phone was from India. Seriously, I think he arrived in America the day before and was immediately thrown into responsibilities that should be reserved for people that speak at least ten words in English. I had to spell my name for him at least 17 times before he handed the phone to the owner - who was also from India. The owner didn't speak much better English. I took my chances and hoped that neither one of them were working when I arrived.

As luck would have it, the first dude was the only one working when I came to check in. Imagine trying to explain to someone that doesn't speak English that you would like to pay cash for the room because even though there is plenty of money in your account, your debit card won't work as credit because it's defective and you haven't called the bank for a new one. You could also write a check, but since they don't take checks, cash is the only option. Also try explaining that you don't have any cash on you, so you would like to pay when you check out (which has been the norm at other Days Inns). Then try explaining that you have a dog without having to resort to barking at the man so that you don't get a $100 charge on your room when they find out that you've been hiding one, instead of the $10 fee for telling them up front. Fuck, it's irritating.

And then imagine after all of that, the man grabs your defective credit card and makes a carbon copy of it despite the fact that you've told him it won't work. I finally gave up, checked into my room, and went to pick up Scout Junior.

And just for the record, the room was supposed to have a king-size bed but had a full-size. The room smelled of bad incense and there were footprints on the bottom of the tub from the previous tenants. There were people dealing crack a few doors down (I'm guessing on the type of drug, but there were junkies for sure of some kind). The office even had a "night window" with bullet-proof glass and locks on the doors. Good choice, Erin.

When we returned to the room, the phone began to ring. It was the frantic owner, telling me that my credit card was declined. "I need money NOW!" he screamed. I hung up the phone and was glad I decided to get cash while I was out picking up Scout Junior. Her and I walked over to the office and the man almost jumped over the counter to grab the money I had in my hand. I yanked it back and said, "I told your guy that the card wouldn't work as credit. It only works as debit. But seeing as there was a language barrier (as I gritted my teeth), he didn't understand. I told him I wanted to pay in cash."

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "We were at Christmas party. Not my fault."

As we walked away, I realized that he hadn't charged me for my dog. I grumbled something about not wanting to figure out how to tell him that again, and Scout Junior replied, "Why don't you just say 'I have a dog' in Spanish?

I was rolling. She was completely serious and thought that this would be the perfect solution. You gotta love it.

And there's more to blog about, but Scout Junior is actually about to stroke right now because we are going to the movies and I'm *still* on the computer. Parenthood is calling, people. Gotta go.

Update

Hi. It’s Erin’s friend Sarah here. When my parents’ internet was down, Erin wrote a post for my readers explaining what was going on. Now she asked me to do the same for her. She and Scout made the journey across most of the US. They even got to stop and meet Debey, which I think is so cool: I love when bloggers meet! They made it to Texas and managed to pick out a house in record time. They put in a contract and now are just waiting for closing. Luckily, they were able to rent their own house from the current owner until closing, so they have a place to live. When Erin just called, she was attending a job hunting seminar, so she’s already looking to fill the void now that she finished her degree! Also she told me that she just found out she’s going to be an aunt! Lots of news from Erin, and hopefully she’ll be back online soon to tell you all the details herself. They can’t really get internet access until the house is officially theirs, so it might be a while. But keep checking back here; one of these days she’ll be online from her new house!

Road Trip

I'm still alive, people.

We're leaving for Texas today. I'm really excited to experience a part of the country with Scout - a part of the country that he's never seen before. We'll actually be going to Mount Rushmore on the way (among other places) together, which I've never seen before. And of course, over the years I've tried to convince Scout that Kansas is the best place on earth, so we have three stops there (one to look at the bank I want, one to see some college friends of mine, one to visit my grandmother).

And blogging will be slow, just as it has been for the last few weeks.

I will miss those of you that we are leaving behind. I was really glad to see all of you - and sad to not have time to see the rest.

Texas, here we come.

Week Four

Previous weight loss: 11.4 lbs

This week's weight loss: 1.6 lbs

Total weight loss: 13 lbs

I'm off to Kentucky this weekend to see some good friends from Germany. As a bonus, I get to kidnap Scout from the Army and finally bring him home. It's also my last day of work, and I only have to suffer through four more weeks of school before I finally have my degree. Life is good.

New Rule

Ok, so I'm making my first blog rule ever:

If you choose to leave an anonymous comment, please sign your name below the comment. Otherwise, the comment will be deleted.

I am not referring to those of you that normally comment under anonymity and sign your name (Uncle Tim, Dad, SAHM, Nancy, etc.).

I have a sneaking suspicion that my stalker has returned (who I haven't actually blogged about, because, quite frankly, I have better things to do), and is leaving anonymous comments because he's a pathetic jerk-off. If I'm wrong, and you've been leaving totally anonymous comments, and you aren't in fact stalking me, please speak up so that Scout can stop planning the torturous attack he plans to make on this dude.

And if it is you, Stalker-Boy, this is the last time I'm going to tell you to leave me alone. The next step is something I like to call Your-Chain-of-Command.

Ex-Boyfriends

**Warning**This is an extremely long, boring post about my past love life, written purely for therapeutic reasons. I would urge you not to waste your time reading it.

If it's one thing I hate about being home, it's that I run into people that I would be completely content to never see again. Ever.

A couple of weeks ago, when I was at Wal-Mart, I was conducting a smell-test on a fabric softener (I could spend hours sniffing things - candles, detergent, whatever. Ask Scout). Anyway, I was so involved in smelling the yumminess of this product that I failed to realize that I was standing right.next.to.an.ex. When I turned around to tell my mom about how scrumptious the fabric softener was, him and I practically ran into each other. He walked off as I scrambled to find my mom. No words were spoken. How's that for an uncomfortable situation?

The break-up between him and I lacked closure - which is the story of my life. We never really technically broke up - I guess I just got sick of the way he treated me. I always felt like a nuisance, I never came first, and everything was on his terms.

The final straw was New Years, when we went up to Canada with some friends. We got in a fight about something, and when I caught up with him at the bar, he was hanging on some other girl. As I recall, he slept in the hallway of the hotel that night. When we got back to town, we didn't speak again. And we lived five houses away from each other.

So a month later, I was engaged to Scout. I can't even begin to tell you what a whirlwind that was - I felt like I had known Scout for 20 years. We were meant to be.

Some part of me felt a responsibility to tell this ex, who I had really never *technically* broken up with, that it was completely (if not obviously) over. I stopped by his house one day, and before I could even say anything, he noticed the ring. He begged me to reconsider and to give him another chance. Umm, no.

So fast forward to yesterday, when I ran into my "first love's" family. Oh, man. This is an entirely different ballgame.

I was in love with Bryan (not his real name) for three years. We were really good friends, but I wasn't the girl he was interested in. I watched as he dated most of my friends, and waited for the day that he might want me. Well, that day finally came during my last six weeks of high school. He had graduated the year before, and he was getting ready to go to basic training.

Our relationship was a short one (again, the story of my life) - about six months. Four months of it was while he was away. I knew something was wrong when he didn't call me the day he got back from Georgia. He was home for ten days before he had to go to his first duty station. I thought we would spend every waking moment together before he had to leave again - we hung out once in the first three days he was home (his family hated me by the way. Why, I don't know. I've always been a hit with the parents). Anyway, I decided that rather and sit around and wait, like I had been doing since I met him, I was going to end it so that I could move on with my life. When I did, he asked me to marry him and go to Washington, D.C. together (What is up with guys that don't want a girl until she decides to leave? I'll never understand that).

Now looking back on it, I was a pretty smart 18 year-old. I had just been accepted to Seattle Pacific University, and knew that I would much rather have a good education than a bad husband. How I knew that at the time, I'll never know (seriously, I had an intoxicating love for him. I really felt like no one, in the history of mankind, had ever felt this way about another human being. Ahh. To be 18 again). Anyway, I declined his proposal. His family hated me even more. He was married a year later.

So I ran into Bryan's mom and sister yesterday at Wal-Mart. I had just filled my cart with about 42 Lean Cuisine frozen dinners and a bunch of bananas. I walked around the corner, and my face became hot and flushed as I realized who I had just run into. But of course, I put on my "it's so good to see you" smile, and pretended to care how they were doing.

So then Bryan's mom went on to tell me that Bryan and his wife are so happy, they have three kids (which I had to see pictures of), they have a 2800 square foot house, the wife gets to stay at home because Bryan makes *so much money*, they drive two brand-new cars, on and on and on. Of course, she was saying all of this in what may have seemed to be a sweet tone, but it was more like look what you're missing out on. And of course, being my usual, charming self, I said, "Well, I always knew Bryan was destined for big things. Please tell him I said hello."

Scout must have somehow felt my discomfort, because my cell phone rang at that very moment. I silently thanked God and said, "Well, that's my husband. I better let you go. It was very nice to see you."

I guess as much as it makes me want to vomit when I see people like this, it makes me realize something about my life: I am extremely happy, I love my husband more than I've loved anything or anyone in my life, I am well taken care of (in every possible way), and I snatched up the best possible husband that any girl could ever hope for (sometimes, I'm still amazed that he picked me). When I dream about the future, Scout is always in it. And nothing in my past matters any more.

I am one lucky girl.

Work Sucks

I still hate my job.

I only have five work days left, but this job makes me slightly understand where people are coming from when they walk into an office and start shooting it up (don't worry - I'm not contemplating anything like that).

I won't go into the mundane details of my work day, but I drove home in tears today (which has started to become an every day occurrence). I asked my mom to call the office and tell them I was in a serious car accident. Because then, you know, I wouldn't be able to help the fact that I couldn't come back. She said no.

So I guess I'm going back tomorrow.

I have a couple of fun stories though. I guess my job is good for something, right?

So the other day, I was grabbing the notebook that we use to record feline leukemia/AIDS tests. As I walked back to surgery, where my favorite doctor was performing a cat neuter, two sticky, nasty, round objects came flying at me. One bounced off of me and landed on the notebook. I looked down, and it was a fresh little cat testicle. Yeah, that was nasty.

On the same day, I got to give a cute little cocker spaniel a bath. No one really told me what it was for; giving baths is a pretty common task for me. The dog looked completely normal and healthy while she was dry. But as I hosed her down, I started seeing hundreds and hundreds of little black spots. I thought, man this dog has bad skin! But when I looked closer, the spots were moving - THEY WERE FLEAS. I swear there were five hundred of them. I used a shampoo called Mycodex. It's one of those that has instructions on the bottle similar to, "Do not let this touch your skin or you will die. Do not consume or you will die. Do not splash this in your eye or you will die. Death is a possible consequence of using this product." Anyway, the fleas were seriously dead within two seconds of applying the shampoo. As I washed it off the dog though, I saw blood swirling around the bottom of the tub. Those bastards had eaten her raw. I felt so bad for her - but was happy that I was able to provide her with a little relief.

On a different note, I had a telephone interview with a company that is willing to pay me a decent salary and serious opportunities for advancement (I guess college education really does have its advantages). It looks promising; I got a packet in the mail giving the company permission to check my credit report, and I have a second interview when I get to Texas. Sweeeet. The down side? I actually have to dress like a girl - nylons, heels, and suits. The whole nine yards.

Think happy thoughts for me.