Thursday, August 27, 2015

Mrs. Yoy: Up, Up, and Away

Tomorrow we will have lived in our new place a full month.

My month has consisted off unpacking (not fun) and working with a designer on picking out curtains and bedding and art and furniture (very fun).

I found a piece today at Home Goods which caught my eye.  I liked the colors and the size (small horse) as we are looking to fill a giant space in our family room, and of course the small price (because Mrs. Yoy is on a strict budget!)

I took a quick shot of it and sent it to my designer.



She told me to buy it.

Which in theory, sounded like a good idea.  I lugged it to the TJ Maxx checkout and waited patiently with all the other ladies of leisure.

I walked it out to my car and then it hit me.  This painting MAY not fit in my Avalon.  I almost missed my mini-van.  Almost.

But I was hopeful.  First I tried the trunk.  Yeah, no.  This was not a good trunk for carting anything substantial around.  If I ever planned a murder, this would not be the car I'd commit my crime in.  I needed my grandma's old Grand Marquis.

Still hopeful, I opened the back doors and slid the painting into the backseat.  One door closed.  The other did not.

And still hopeful, I moved the front car seat up to try and angle the painting in there, but it was a no go.

So I did what any civilized lady would do.  I shouted the "F" word.

Then I frantically called into TJ Maxx and asked if I could store this sucker until I had access to a bigger car, I'm looking at you Mr. Yoy.

Overall, the story doesn't seem that interesting, but I left out the detail that makes this whole thing a hell of a lot more fun.

It's windy out today.  I would even say gusty.  I don't know if it is related to the storm churning in the Caribbean, but weather was not doing me any favors today.

My hair was swirling around my face.  And every time a gust of wind hit me and my beloved painting, I finally knew how it felt to go para sailing over the gentle waves of the Atlantic.  I was so close to catching air and floating my way home.  I looked drunk as I walked the painting out to my car (why did I park so far?) and then back into TJ Maxx.

I'll post a picture once the painting goes up in its new place.

Thanks for reading!

Sunday, August 23, 2015

"That's My Bike!"

Many years ago, I was a total b*tch to my younger brother.  For like the first 20 years of his life.  The beginning of this blog takes place in 1981.  We were fresh off our move to Florida.

My brother and I were riding our bikes around the front of our rental home.  His ride was a babyish vehicle.  I had a bad-a** Big Wheel.

The only reason I can easily recall this story is my dad filmed the whole thing with his giant video camera. It was like having a news station capturing your life. Or being the star of a reality TV show before they existed.

My five year old self ran inside for a potty break.

My brother looked around and noticed I was gone.  He took this chance to hop on MY BIG WHEEL.

IT'S GOING TO BE WORLD WAR III WHEN SHE COMES BACK OUT. - My dad's narration.

And sure enough it was.

A_______!  THAT'S MY BIKE!

I picked up his little tricycle and hurled it into the street.  I was like the hulk.  But not green.  And this ugly interaction became the stuff of legends.

I still yell this phrase to my brother as a joke.

So imagine my delight as I watched Little E hop onto Big E's Spiderman bike after he had gone inside.  Little E was so proud of himself as he rode back and forth.

Then I heard the door from the house to the garage slam shut.  Big E was back.

And a smile crept onto my face as I knew what was about to happen even before the words escaped his mouth.

LITTLE E, THAT'S MY BIKE!  GET OFF!

And with that, I burst into giggles.

The Circle of Life played in my brain and I felt the urge to hold up Big E to the sun and present him as the gift he was.




Greetings From the 'Burbs

HEEEEELLO, readers!

I know.  It's been a long time.  And you've probably given up on me.  And for that, I'm sorry.  We moved. To the suburbs.  And it has taken about a month to let that sink in, to unpack, and to finish my book club book, which is tonight.  I didn't feel like I had the luxury of writing until I had all my chores done.

We have settled into our new life here in East Cobb.  The Yoysers are adjusting well to the new school and I have made some lovely new neighbor friends.

But of course, it wouldn't be us, if I didn't have any insane stories to tell you.

So here we go, folks.

This is the second year that the boys have taken the school bus to school. This was one of the few things they didn't have to adjust to.  They climbed the steps onto their new bus and were off.

Their bus driver is a no-nonsense woman.  She keeps things in order because she drives 100+ 5-11 year olds to school and that is the only way to get it done.  And I appreciate that.

Unfortunately for my sons, they received the wrath of her no-nonsense.  The Yoys like to sit together on the bus.  I like it because they can keep an eye on each other.  But sometimes, they make up psychedelic games that manifest in the form of "WHO CAN POKE YOUR EYE OUT FIRST?"

One Friday the bus pulled up.  The protocol calls for each student to identify his mom/dad/nanny/neighbor before they can be let off the bus.  When it came time for Big E to point me out, she called me over. And not in a friendly manner.

I was shaking in my boots as I dead-man walked to the bus.

YES, MA'AM?

And she unleashed on me.

THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SIT TOGETHER GOING FORWARD!  THE BIGGER ONE POKED THE SMALLER ONE'S EYE OUT AND HE HAS BEEN SCREAMING AND CRYING THE WHOLE WAY HOME!

I agreed with her.  No more sitting together.

I've been on plenty of drives where the back seat resembles an Ultimate Fighting Championship match.  They poke and pinch and scream and cry.  Weapons transform out of legos and crayons.

REALLY? YOUR TINKER TOY IS NOW A FIRE EMITTING SWORD?

I have contemplated driving us straight into the highway median it gets so bad.

So I get it, Mrs. No-Nonsense School Bus Driver.

Little E and Big E cried their way down the bus steps. Big E cried on and off for about two hours afterwards.  He was devastated that he wasn't going to be allowed to sit with and/or torture Little E on the bus. Little E was not.

Eventually Big E accepted his life sentence.

But then a miracle occured.

Because our new neighborhood has enough elementary school aged kids to populate a small army, we were assigned our own bus with a new bus time and a new bus driver.

I was elated as my wake-up time shifted from 6:00 AM (dangerously close to the five o-clock hour) to 6:30 AM (a normal person wake-up time).

Big E was elated because he knew he'd get a second chance to sit with Little E on the bus.

DON'T BLOW IT THIS TIME.

I imparted my motherly wisdom on my sons.  They get assigned seats tomorrow from the new, less militant, Bus Driver.  Hopefully, it'll be smooth riding from here on out.