Chicken Fried Vogue

For 15 years and most of her adult life, Bubblez lived in the suburbs of a major metropolitan city. She enjoyed taking her children to museums, parks, and dates at Starbucks. Then Bubblez moved to the country and her En Vogue attitude got chicken fried. Her yard is a park where the neighbor's rooster won't stop crowing, Starbucks is almost an hour away, and her large collection of fancy shoes is worthless. But, living in the acres of green has presented more opportunities for living "green" as Bubblez travels the path toward self-sufficiency (and bitches ((and prays)) along the way).

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Bus Stations, Boxes, Body Oder, and Love

A sequel to Giant Robot Pants

During the moving in process, there were lots of sweaty people around. That was also the week when temperatures jumped up into the hundreds every day, so yeah, lots of sweat. The back room smelled like BO.

I mean, every time I would walk through there I'd sniff myself thinking, holy crap, is that me? I'd get out of the shower and walk into that room and think, "how is this possible?" I even cleaned my deodorant stick because I thought it must have gotten funked up somehow.

Eventually, I realized it was the room.

This is the room that adjoins the mud room. It's like the bus station leaving box purgatory. It's always piled up with empty boxes, half empty boxes, and piles of stuff that need to be carried to another room in the house. That's a perfect analogy because bus stations smell.

I don't actually know that. I've only taken the bus from the station, once, and I barely remember it. We rode the bus from NY to IN, right after I met my future Mother-In-Law for the first time. My mind was on other things. I was sure she hated me.

In Minnesota, we used to take a commuter bus to the State Fair once a year. It smelled.

There are a lot of undefined spaces in this house, and one evening we were all sitting around discussing what each of the rooms should be called. Um, living room.. Uh, office..area. What about the room that leads out to the mud room? That, I said, is the house's arm pit. I'm calling it the arm pit. You can just call it the pit if you want.

Fast forward a few weeks. The pit has been mostly cluttered with an ugly assortment of box stuffs pretty consistently since we moved in, although, I did find a way to tame the smell. Today, I decided that I've had enough of the clutter and started cleaning.

Sometimes my kids say things that, if taken out of context, just sound hilarious to me. Nikpod's statement?

The armpit looks really nice.

I'm just imagining him with his future girlfriends or something. I like what you've done here.

God, please let there be a girl out there who would appreciate that, and maybe we won't hate each other. I'm convinced that my daughter-in-laws will hate me. I'm a huge pain in the ass, but even more importantly, I'm the mom.

I am one of the few people in the world who will ever be allowed to look into the heart of my boys. I know where all of their sensitivities lie and have slowly helped them learn to deal with the cruelties of living. Before they're ready to wed, I'll watch their hearts break and will be there to help keep them from losing their souls.

So, the first time that tramp he married gets mouthy with him in my presence, how am I ever gonna keep my cool? I'm pretty sure this scenario will happen because I've gotten plenty mouthy in front of my own mother-in-law, and it is only because of her graciousness that we aren't mortal enemies.

The Mama Bear runs strong with this one.

The only thing that will save her is love. If I can see that she loves him with her whole heart, I may be able to overlook the fact that she has no common sense, wears socks with her sandals, hates the water, and expects me to ride the bus.

Maybe once in a while we'll even have a little bonding moment, like the day when I was pregnant for one of the boys and the in-laws took us out to eat. Everyone had beer but me, and it was a really hot day. As I moaned about how jealous I was, she pushed her glass toward me. I didn't take it, but I'll always remember the gesture. As the menfolk stared, she said that it would be alright for me to have a little, and gave me a look that said, "let's be rebellious together," and "I understand."

I just know she's going to love this house. I hope she appreciates what I've been doing with the armpit.

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