This coming year I vow to embrace my inner submarine.

The Flapper
Dorothy Parker

The playful flapper here we see,
The fairest of the fair.
She's not what Grandma used to be, --
You might say, au contraire.
Her girlish ways may make a stir,
Her manners cause a scene,
But there is no more harm in her
Than in a submarine.
She nightly knocks for many a goal
The usual dancing men.
Her speed is great, but her control
Is something else again.
All spotlights focus on her pranks.
All tongues her prowess herald.
For which she well may render thanks
To God and Scott Fitzgerald.

Her golden rule is plain enough -
Just get them young and treat them rough.


Happy New Year Trashy Peeps!

I'm baaack. Kind of.

Okay, so I haven't blogged in over a week. Let's see, during that time I've:

moved
bought a new house
had a birthday
drove 12 hours in a snowstorm with 3 dogs and a baby
had a merry Christmas
obsessed over which shade of orange to paint my entryway (desert orange? Baja orange? lifevest orange? salmonberry?)
drank a lot of wine
fell over multiple times on my new mountain bike
enjoyed some lovely So Cal weather
not written one word.

Monday I go home to the new house. Mr. Manroot doesn't arrive until Friday, so pray I'm smart enough to set up my own internet connection.

How were you my lovely Trashy Peeps?

Who didn't love Ducky? Did you know that, in the original version, Molly Ringlwald was supposed to end up with him at the end of the movie? I guess she couldn't handle the Tenderness.

Oh, sorry. This isn't one of my amazing movie posts. It's a movING update instead. Our bed is gone and we have no forks. I know, but those are the things I miss most. Strange but true, just like me. We're about to leave our house and go to our neighbor's, where' we'll stay tonight. We'll come back tomorrow to clean and then we have the walk-through on Wed.

Then we no longer live here. So, I'll be on the road for the next few weeks, and things will be crazy, but I'll be checking in all your blogs, and I promise, and I'll post whenever I get the chance. Oh, and I've noticed some new faces around here recently! Thanks for stopping by!

And, since Mel said my My Space picture was very Molly Ringwald, I'll beg you this:

Don't you forget about me!
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Ohhh...

If only I had a buck for every time I ended a post with the words Ohhh...

Oh, here's a sneak peak on the new house.





I wonder if Molly and Ducky would live in the high desert.

The last to know.

The lovely Karen informed me that I have an Author Page over at EC. Who? Me? Um, I had no idea that I have an Author Page!

I know! I'm a moron! But it just never occurred to me to look. When I squeed to Emma and Meg they were both like, um yeah. We saw that awhile ago.

They looked for me? I haven't even looked for myself.

Thanks, girls.

Going to pack now.

Oh my God! There's a penis on your tree!

So, I'm invited to an ornament exchange party tonight. Have you ever been to one? It goes a little something like this: Each guest brings a gift-wrapped ornament. Each guest plucks a number out of a hat and then is allowed to pick one present off the table. The guest then opens her ornament, shows it to the group who presently oohs and aaws and then the next guest either chooses a new wrapped gift or steals an ornament from someone who has already opened her package.

And so on, and so on. It's actually quite fun if you're drunk enough.

This group of women will spend a lot of time and money on their ornaments. These ornaments won't be the typical World Market variety, no siree. We're talking boutique ornaments, one-of-a-kind pieces with one-of-a-kind price tags, and whoever brings the most popular one can pass out that night knowing she is the superior ornament shopper. In this particular group that really is saying a lot, as shopping is one of their biggest hobbies.

I can't compete with them, and I know it, so I'm bringing this:


Straight from the porn store.

I'm so busy packing, I have no time. . .

So I decided to spend hours making my My Space (or Stalker Space as my friends call it) page! Check it out and friend me, if you like.

Feisty Space

More than just a pretty face!

Would you like to be married someday?

Yes. I'm looking for a woman with a really good sense of humor. There is only so much time you can spend looking at another person without conversation.

Yes, Fabio, yes, YES! You stated so eloquently what I've been feeling for so long . . . I never knew you were so philosophical. Beauty, brains and hair. What more could a girl want?

Ah, the good old days. . .

I thought you might like to see the difference between my house last December:

and this December:

Our dining room last year:
And this year:

Ah, the good old days. Oh well, at least the packing will be over soon. Seven days to go. Or, six days twelve hours, to be exact.


Anyway, our kid isn't quite two, so he has no idea that Santa is skipping the Feisty house this year. Think I'll hear about it later on, when he sends me his therapy bill?

Now we're movin' with PODS!

Step One: POD is delivered.



Step Two: Your husband puts the STUFF in the POD (all the while complaining about how much STUFF you have, as if he hasn't any STUFF at all, not even five tons of receipts that date back ten years).




Step Three: The POD sits in your driveway until it's filled to capacity with STUFF.




Step Four: After the POD is filled up (shockingly fast) with STUFF, the POD is taken away to an undisclosed location and a second POD is delivered so you can fill that one up with STUFF, too.




Oh, make sure to remove all children from boxes before moving said boxes to the POD.



Stay tuned for more titillating tales from the Move of the Feistys!

Vibrating Boxes

So, I picked up this box to put in the truck and it started vibrating. Robin, this one's for you. (Yes, I did just take this video.)

You Know You're Old When

You choose to watch Supernanny rather than The Billboard Music Awards.

I think I used be a writer

I've been a bad blogger and I'm sorry. But, moving has consumed my life. My day goes like this:

Wake up.
Drink coffee.
Pack.
Eat luch.
Pack.
Drink wine.
Pack while drinking wine.
Pass out.

Seriously. My brain is consumed by boxes, packing, and signing papers. Oh, I also think I have a toddler in the mix somewhere.

We've decided to be out before Christmas. That means we have 3 weeks to be totally out of our house.

That's only 21 days away.


Eeek.

Boxes boxes everywhere

Our house is still in escrow and we're packing away. We have so much stuff, it's just overwhelming. Luckily, Scary Carrie came over yesterday and packed up my entire kitchen and dining room. I guess this makes up for her running me off the road that time.

And we made an offer on another house. After a while we all came to an agreement on a price and, it all goes as planned (cross your fingers), we will be moving there sometime between now and January 15th.

So, that's the quick update. Buying and selling a house at the same time is really time consuming and I've given myself the month of December to concentrate on things other than writing.