Hello, I've missed you (kinda) but the break was worth it

You know how the longer it is you go with out calling an old friend, the longer the conversation is going to be, which puts off the call further?  Helllllllo blog.  So where to begin, old friend?

My basement:  turns out it's not sewage, might not even be a foundation problem.  Might be Roto Rooter are just this side of "professional plumbers."

What I've been doing:  remember how I've said I can only really deal with one creative outlet at a time?  Well I am a full fledged gardener (maybe.)  I've transplanted (!!!!) a bush, I'm planting so many perennials I could have a mini nursery (not true).  I've been weeding, watering, planting, Miracle growing, planting, planting.  Weeding.  I super puffy fluffy heart gardening.  I'm already bracing myself for the loss I'll have to endure during the winter.  Unfortch, once I take the winter break from it, come next spring I'll have no idea what the h I got myself into.  Maybe not, we'll see.  Carpe diem.

For a while I really felt like I had nothing much to say that was anything less than a Jewel song from her Spirit album.  I was consumed in serious thought full of angst about the world we live in and what will become of me and who? who? is it that I love so much who will die first?  Was that  a run on sentence?  sorry.  Orange you glad I didn't blog these past couple weeks?  I was pretty much zero fun.  I completely delighted in my dread because it was a feeling of hopelessness it was just something to think about.

I totally have to get some pics up on this drab blog.  I'll take some of my garden.  And maybe the big pile of carpet that we ripped up from our basement before we found out it wasn't sewage.  Maybe I'll tell you what I've been buying these days.  (recovery of a somber mood = retail therapy.)

this makes me happy sad.  watch it.  happy sad as in why did i eat all those cookies last night.

And my foundation will be sturdier

If my posts turn into one word sentences, or I just stop posting all together, call 911.  Since I feel like I'm up to my neck in germs, I'm taking matter into my own hands and fumigating the house with bleach.  It's my only choice because our BASEMENT FLOODED AGAIN.  I am a powerless creature relying heavily on Roto Rooter, bleach and the blessing of BFI trucks.  Thank you, garbage men, for taking all of my soiled (think same word usage as in a hospital, nursing home etc), wet goods every Monday morning.

Roto Rooter man is downstairs in my basement replacing my sump pump again (in less than a month) saying things like "Some things to tackle," and "your work cut out for you" and "$4,000- $5,000."  We have another plumber coming to give us an estimate on the $1,800 fix in the next "few hours."  (you get why that's in quotes, don't you?)  And soon we'll have a FOUNDATION man coming within the next day because we need a new foundation or some crazy jazz because soil and sand is "weeping" through holes that the previous owner drilled in the ground.  Hence our sump pump dies every time it rains.

So I'm left with approximately 4 brain cells, the power of prayer and my fist beating my chest "O Domine, Miserere, O Domine Miserere, Iesu Christe, Miserere"

My spring cleaning is more thorough than you-ourrrrrs

Did anyone else get those torrential down pouring (more like side pouring) rains a few days ago?  We did.  And boy, was it shitty.  Pun intended.  Lot's of pun intended.

Rain is like an erratic teenager.  So much potential to be so good, but even more potential to be devastating.    So much good comes from it, yet so much damage can be done.  Mama don't know whether to love im or hate im.

Last month we got a notable amount of rain and our sump pump went kaput on us.  There was flooding in our basement, we had to throw out some of the girls' toys, but really the dehumidifier took care of us.  Probably not the correct way to go about a mini flood, but it turned out fine.  $500 dollars later and a new sump, I thought we were in the clear.  I was wrong.

Most of the rain that came (in our most recent storm) was during the night.  When I woke up first thing in the morning to get Mr Incredible's scrubs out of the drier, there was ankle deep water in about half of out basement.  Psh, a little rain water never hurt anyone.  So I waded through it, shook off my wet feet, went back upstairs to tell Mr Incredible that we were flooded.  again. and worse.  Hung up my pants to dry because why would I wash them?  just a little rain water on the bottoms.  We called the plumbers again, thinking maybe?? it was a faulty sump, even though I could hear it still running still.  The plumber came (8 hours after they estimated) and couldn't figure it out.  Next morning they sent another plumber to figure it out.  I was (still) barefoot and was (still) wearing these:

the said pants that air dried then I slept nice and cozy in bed with them the next night.

K, really bad picture from two years ago.  But they're wonderful girly dandelions blowing in the breeze pajamas.  sigh.  So glorious.

So I'm downstairs in the basement with the plumber and I picked up a few toys off the ground to put them on a shelf as he was saying something along the lines of "eureka! I've got it."  .....  "don't pick up anything else without gloves on, k?"  ....  "You're basement has been flooding with sewage.  Your town is notorious for this."  .....

me: "you mean I'm stepping in my...."

him: "and your neighbors..."

ARE THE DOT DOT DOTS AS LOUD TO YOU AS THEY ARE TO ME TYPING THEM?  

All my dominoes fell into place and it made sense.  My basement was smelling like a bad gastric blowout that you find only on porta potty walls.  The first day I went into the basement I was sliding around.  Ya know, the same feeling as stepping on the bottom of a duck infested pooped pond.  All my white to-be-washed pile of towels developed brown rings around them. 

ARE YOU NAUSEOUS YET?  ARE YOU NAUSEOUS YET?  My jaw is tight just typing this.  My toes were squishing in not just our OWN fecal matter, but my geriatric neighbors, too.  Prune juice, laxatives and grapefruit.

So this is what I've been doing, friends.  Double gloving it, throwing out anything that cannot handle concentrated bleach, moving furniture, washing washing washing, Xacto knifing our carpet, bringing dripping poop laden carpets, toys, garbage upstairs.  This is what I'm doing.

Please don't never return back to my blog because I wrote a poop post.  This was such an exception and I pray that I'll never have write anything as nauseating again.

Did I mention that to get this fixed is an estimate $1,800??  As in I have a van with missing hubcaps can't we please start saving for a new one?  No, we need to make sure poop will never backwash into my house again.  Me thinks I need to learn the bus route.

Throwing in the proverbial towel. Or at least wanting to.

I'm stuck.  Winnie the Pooh stuck.  If I just don't eat the damn honey I can get out of what I started.  But I love honey.  And so it goes with blogging.

I went out for a delightful wonderful time with my good friends tonight.  In absolute passing they mentioned how my blog is scratch your eyes out uppity.  Of course this is what stuck with me for the rest of the night.  That I don't let on to my true self, feelings, etc.  Other people have said the same thing to me.  And a friend's friend read my blog (once) and thought I'm super perfect.  (wait, okay, I just flattered myself a million times over, but that's along the lines of what people were saying).  I do try to take a positive spin on my blog.  a) who wants to read people's woes? (answer: a lot of people.  so they can "relate.") b) what if ex boyfriends are reading this (answer: yes, I'm that vain) c) why the h would I want to air my dirty laundry (answer: at least my dirty laundry is smeared bananas on the shoulders of shirts)

But honestly, I've had a pretty shitty week.  Then again, "shitty" is relative.  I could not think of a life that I'd rather have.  Because I love my life.  So I guess this all is the viscous cycle of am I acting cheerful or AM i cheerful?  TBD.

Mr Incredible and I have been at each other's throats.  I (still) haven't printed one picture since my 8 month old was born.  I've hung nary a picture on our wall to decorate the house.  When I asked Mr Incredible if my love handles were coming back he answered that "maybe I should just start walking some more." (no, that's not emotionally abusive or insensitive, I expect him to answer those types of questions in honesty)  My kids, particularly the eldest, are painfully shy and it can be so frustrating sometimes because people cannot see all that she has to offer.  Sometimes I feel like in wanting to please everyone I please no one.

But really?  That's really what I have to complain about?  I have a good life.  I suppose it is a cheery life, full of life, love and more love.  But I do fight with my husband, yell at my kids, make a fool out of myself, and have elephants and cougars and a mirrored wall in our bedroom.  I'm fiery and emotional and sometimes feel not good enough.  It's not perfect, but what is?

Maybe 'Imperfect Daisies; The Tale of a Real American Housewife' should be more like The Tale of a Cheerful American Housewife; or Sarcastic American Housewife; High Strung, Low Energy American Housewife; Disregarding American Housewife

SUGGESTIONS?  you know I love your opinions.