(I know it's been a while, but I can't tell you how much I've appreciated the kind comments and emails you've sent me. ROCK STARS - every single one of you.)
I hope all is going well with you kids. I've been trying to keep up with everyone (GAH! I'm so sorry I missed you Nicole! But I'm glad you're safe and sound in S.D.) and have stumbled across a new-to-me blog.
Life has been interesting these past few weeks. In good and bad ways.
Let's see... the drama of which I spoke earlier. Well, The Targo and I are stupid. Our lease will be up at the end of July and we foolishly thought we could get a larger place for only a couple hundred more than we're paying for the molehole. Little did we realize that the rents in our area have gone up 24%. You read that right. So, we looked at a bunch of 2 bedrooms in what we thought was a reasonable price range. Good lord... In general, these places looked like condemned NYC lofts. Think of Roger and Mark's place in RENT. Most of the places were filthy, tiny, and looked like they hadn't been updated in 35 years. I sound like a snob - but the molehole, while small and molehole-ish, is a pretty nice pad. And hey - the magic happens here, baby. Heh.
So, we started freaking the hell out because HOLY SHITE we were going to be homeless or we were going to have to pay $1500 for a place I'd be concerned about both vermin and lead paint. We then had the bright idea of staying in our building, which is a relative bargain. Well, the unrenovated two bedroom (why isn't that a word?) was about $1600. People! That's without a dishwasher, no view, small bedrooms, and no central air! Oh... and skeezy 20 year old carpet. The unrenovated one bedroom? Not even worth looking at. So, still homeless.
I was supposed to go visit my parents that next weekend, but the train was delayed due to a haz-mat spill. Um. Maybe I'm on crack, but I was one of the few people who left the station. I was all "Hey - I live here. I'm not growing a third eye just to visit my mom and dad."
So, yeah... before I go on with this story, I have to tell you about this:
Say hi to Mystic's feet and her BFF the sink.
Yes. The Targo and I are expecting. Because this was planned, we've known for quite some time but didn't tell a soul until we went to my 8-week check-up. (I can't tell you how glad The Targo was that we'd seen Knocked Up before going to the doctor. It prepared him.) We wanted to wait until Father's Day to tell our parents, but we were too excited. So, our parents found out the Monday before. There's a whole lot more drama in there, but I can't go into that right now.
*Graphic details ahead* It turned out to be a good thing that I didn't make it to my parents' house that weekend, because I woke up the next morning bleeding. We were completely convinced that it was the worst case scenario and rushed (read, walked the three blocks) to the emergency room. This was particularly hard because we had just started telling people. But, it turned out that Peanut (my and The Targo's code word for the baby) was fine. I continued to have bleeding for a couple of days, and then a week, and then intermittently for another week. So, right now, we're at the "we have no frickin' clue what's going on" phase but I go to the doctor again next Monday for the ultrasound and all that jazz. Oh... and the official due date is January 19, 2008.
And the homeless? Well, we signed a lease last Thursday on a 2 bedroom coach house in a different, yet super cute, neighborhood. I'll post pictures after we move in. The best part? WINDOWS! No more molehole!
That's what we've been up to here: A little bit of this, a little bit of that, with a touch of crazy on the side. Hopefully after Monday, the drama will have significantly decreased. I hope too that this doesn't seem like a giant whiny rant. Because DAMN, it's been stressful around here and this post only covers about half of it. Anyways, I'm feeling better and will hopefully be "Marianne: Now with 33% Less Crazy" soon.