So anyone in the continental US knows that this whole week NY, some parts of New Jersey, Mass. and Penn have been getting slammed with snow storms. Typically this would not be a concern to me, other than the fact that I am supposed to move tomorrow. And thanks to these storms, moving day is now all sorts of effed up. Amanda and Chris aren't going to be able to make it up at all most likely, and my parents are stuck in the storm and might not be able to make it up until Sunday. This typically would not be an issue, except for the fact that Sunday is the last day of my lease, meaning I need to have everything out of the apartment and cleaned up and turn in the keys before the end of the day. Perhaps I am to blame for waiting until the last weekend of my lease to move out, but given the current circumstances (busy family, planning a wedding, commuting fiancé) there wasn't much give anywhere else. So you will have to excuse me while I share my current panic attack musings on what may happen if this BS storm continues throughout today and into tomorrow.
This crap started Tuesday and has been going ever since, Andrew had to stay at the new house for 3 days instead of 1, and not like we won't be living there soon...as long as we get moved...but we currently still live in Clifton Park and I missed him like a bitch. Not like I didn't keep busy finishing up packing and doing the last of the laundry and cleaning and stuff, but still, when you lay down in bed at night, it's nice to be able to snuggle up to the one you love... even if he is already snoring. So, when he was finally able to get home it was really nice...and then the snow continued.
Wednesday we had almost 2 feet of snow...and not that fluffy shit, but the heavy, wet, make you hate your life snow. And man, did I ever. Not only did I break my shovel, I broke my snow brush, cut my hand and got stuck trying to get out of my parking spot. So, cursing all the way I spent an hour of my life, sweating and swearing that someday I will leave New York and go somewhere where the snow is minimal and there isn't a whole season out of the year devoted to that nonsense. After finally getting out of my spot and moving my car I returned to the warmth of my pretty much barren apartment to ride out the storm that was supposed to end that night. Instead it poured rain all day yesterday, while most of my family and friends were snowed in, Andrew and I were on the verge of being flooded out. It was...gross. Then today, the day I am supposed to be getting excited about the move tomorrow and finishing getting everything together... it comes to be that Mother Nature screws me again...my parents, Amanda and Chris are all snowed in...what kind of sick joke is this?
So here I sit, hoping that the storm will pass and my parents will make it up tomorrow in order to get us moved and maybe in the back of my mind holding onto just a little bit of hope that Amanda and Chris will be able to make it...and at the same time hoping everyone is safe and all that happy horse sh*t. But, I cannot tell a lie, I am pissed. Incredibly pissed...at everything and no one all at the same time, because of this storm, both my and Andrew's best friends are going to miss seeing the house, as well as spending some time together. My family has no power...meaning limited use of water, limited cooking ability and a whole lot of boring time together. Amanda and her sister don't have power either but I think that they are probably doing a lot better, all things considered. So I am pissed and frustrated and worried...what IF my family can't make it up and we aren't able to move this weekend? Never having been let down my dad in any moving time I doubt that such will be the case, but what if this time it is?
So yea, I am an angry, frustrated, cold, pissed off New Yorker, joining the thousands of other inconvenienced, snow hating residents. And people wonder why I want to move to the south or out west.
And all of this time to think, has brought me to question...why the hell do people want to live here? The state is overtaxed, over regulated, cold, economically down trodden, snowy, hell hole. And here we are, just having signed into another year (read most likely 2 or 3 years minimum...hi honey!!) of living here. But, after those few years are up, you can look for me somewhere, warm, sunny and more lax on the regulation of their residents...now if only to find that place. I think I need my own private island.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Moving time?!
As I had briefly mentioned in my last post at the end of this month Andrew and I are moving from Clifton Park to New Hartford NY. This move comes about as a result of my unemployment (dumb ass employers). For the last several months Andrew has been commuting to Utica (read Siberia) from our apartment in Clifton Park. After going to college there, he got a job, which has been for the most part a blessing...except for the god awful location. Who in their right mind would ever friggin decide they want to live in Utica?
Oh Utica...cold, snowy, boring Utica. Not to mention, that the general population appear to be hicks, townies and freaks. The area typically starts its winter in late October and it could go until May I would venture to guess. Greeeeeaaaat, because Samantha LOVES (read Hates) the winter. Snow is an inconvenience, no it isn't pretty, no I don't want to ski/snowboard/ice skate/make snowmen or snow angels. That fluffy white crap to me means, slick roads, longer driving times to the modern conveniences I adore and noisy plow trucks coming down my road at the ungodly hours of both morning and night. Add in a healthy dose of the bottom of my pants being wet/my nice shoes getting soaked and perhaps even having to clean off my car, and the whole package is UNHAPPY.
Now, I'm not totally a negative person, so I am looking for the good in this move...and it certainly ain't with the locale or weather. Well, instead of being in an apartment complex, we are renting a house (by far the most friggin adorable house known to man...which I found after many days searching and scouring Craigslist...BTW who in their right mind would think that craigslist would be the place to find a legit home?) But we did, and its so cute. Some of the more braggable attributes include- a washer/dryer in the house, a detached two stall garage, large backyard, and fairly prime location. When we pulled up to the house, Andrew says I squealed "ooooohhhh its a cuuuuute house", which is entirely accurate. Now if only we could figure out a way to pick it up and move it someplace tropical.
Perhaps the biggest issue with the move...is the actual moving. First off, lets just say between the two of us, we have a lot of crap. Yes crap...in addition to our necessary stuff...each of us probably have upwards of 15 pairs of shoes and we both are clothes whores...it looks like I have more but that is only because half of his stuff still resides at his parents house. My clothes...all live together with me...because to be honest and perhaps a bit vain/shallow I adore my clothes. So, in addition to our multitude of shoes and having enough clothes to cover several continents for several days, we have an abundance of electronics, bedding and in general crap. So all this equates to a need to pack a lot of stuff, which is in essence a HUGE pain in the butt. So for the last month I have spent my days going through boxes, bags and tubs worth of stuff we have accumulated in this last year from family wanting to clean our their houses to our visits at garage sales and just things that have followed us throughout our years together.
So following the packing, comes...the inevitable moving of said stuff...which will end this Saturday. My wonderful(read sometimes exasperating) family is coming up, along with my best friend and Andrew's best friend to aide us in the endeavor...which will, I'm sure be most interesting. I am very excited to show off my new home and everything, and yet my trepidations about Saturday continue to grow...what if the weather is bad? what if my parents are fighting? what if I become homicidal?(please note there is a 95% chance this may and will happen). I must admit that moving furniture has absolutely no appeal to me, so I will be content to unpack and direct while the man like creatures move said furniture, followed by grunting, sweating and likely lots of cursing.
The only thing worse than packing and moving...unpacking. With packing you have the option to just take stuff and throw it in boxes and deal with it later, or go the more organized route of packing using bubble wrap, and labels. For the first two weeks of this escapade I packed with labels, bubble wrap and color coded tubs. For the last two weeks, I've looked around and said "ehh screw it" and everything has been mixed. So while I may think tub A holds bedding and tub B holds my pyrex casseroles, it will be so very interesting when I open tub A to find my casserole co mingling with my pillowcases and bedroom TV remote. But really, the true task will be getting it all organized and being comfortable with it. For the first month of living in the apartment I am leaving I would go into the kitchen and think ok drawer number 1 has silverware and drawer number two holds my aluminum foil and cling wrap. It took me a whole month to discover that the damn silverware was in my junk drawer and my junk drawer was occupying 3 other drawers...and now a full year later I am not going to tell you if the junk drawer has been reigned in or if it now occupies the entire kitchen. And yes, it has taken me a full year to learn where everything is and be able to tell Andrew where the spatula is when he yells down the hall to me that he needs something while I am in a different room.
Adaptation and perhaps a strong need for alcohol might get me through this move with flying colors. So on Saturday, while everyone is sleeping in I will be listening to my Dad cursing, my mom saying "no that should go here", Andrew asking where I want X and watching my best friend attempt to stifle her laughter...someone please be taking a shot or having a Captain and Coke for me!
Oh Utica...cold, snowy, boring Utica. Not to mention, that the general population appear to be hicks, townies and freaks. The area typically starts its winter in late October and it could go until May I would venture to guess. Greeeeeaaaat, because Samantha LOVES (read Hates) the winter. Snow is an inconvenience, no it isn't pretty, no I don't want to ski/snowboard/ice skate/make snowmen or snow angels. That fluffy white crap to me means, slick roads, longer driving times to the modern conveniences I adore and noisy plow trucks coming down my road at the ungodly hours of both morning and night. Add in a healthy dose of the bottom of my pants being wet/my nice shoes getting soaked and perhaps even having to clean off my car, and the whole package is UNHAPPY.
Now, I'm not totally a negative person, so I am looking for the good in this move...and it certainly ain't with the locale or weather. Well, instead of being in an apartment complex, we are renting a house (by far the most friggin adorable house known to man...which I found after many days searching and scouring Craigslist...BTW who in their right mind would think that craigslist would be the place to find a legit home?) But we did, and its so cute. Some of the more braggable attributes include- a washer/dryer in the house, a detached two stall garage, large backyard, and fairly prime location. When we pulled up to the house, Andrew says I squealed "ooooohhhh its a cuuuuute house", which is entirely accurate. Now if only we could figure out a way to pick it up and move it someplace tropical.
Perhaps the biggest issue with the move...is the actual moving. First off, lets just say between the two of us, we have a lot of crap. Yes crap...in addition to our necessary stuff...each of us probably have upwards of 15 pairs of shoes and we both are clothes whores...it looks like I have more but that is only because half of his stuff still resides at his parents house. My clothes...all live together with me...because to be honest and perhaps a bit vain/shallow I adore my clothes. So, in addition to our multitude of shoes and having enough clothes to cover several continents for several days, we have an abundance of electronics, bedding and in general crap. So all this equates to a need to pack a lot of stuff, which is in essence a HUGE pain in the butt. So for the last month I have spent my days going through boxes, bags and tubs worth of stuff we have accumulated in this last year from family wanting to clean our their houses to our visits at garage sales and just things that have followed us throughout our years together.
So following the packing, comes...the inevitable moving of said stuff...which will end this Saturday. My wonderful(read sometimes exasperating) family is coming up, along with my best friend and Andrew's best friend to aide us in the endeavor...which will, I'm sure be most interesting. I am very excited to show off my new home and everything, and yet my trepidations about Saturday continue to grow...what if the weather is bad? what if my parents are fighting? what if I become homicidal?(please note there is a 95% chance this may and will happen). I must admit that moving furniture has absolutely no appeal to me, so I will be content to unpack and direct while the man like creatures move said furniture, followed by grunting, sweating and likely lots of cursing.
The only thing worse than packing and moving...unpacking. With packing you have the option to just take stuff and throw it in boxes and deal with it later, or go the more organized route of packing using bubble wrap, and labels. For the first two weeks of this escapade I packed with labels, bubble wrap and color coded tubs. For the last two weeks, I've looked around and said "ehh screw it" and everything has been mixed. So while I may think tub A holds bedding and tub B holds my pyrex casseroles, it will be so very interesting when I open tub A to find my casserole co mingling with my pillowcases and bedroom TV remote. But really, the true task will be getting it all organized and being comfortable with it. For the first month of living in the apartment I am leaving I would go into the kitchen and think ok drawer number 1 has silverware and drawer number two holds my aluminum foil and cling wrap. It took me a whole month to discover that the damn silverware was in my junk drawer and my junk drawer was occupying 3 other drawers...and now a full year later I am not going to tell you if the junk drawer has been reigned in or if it now occupies the entire kitchen. And yes, it has taken me a full year to learn where everything is and be able to tell Andrew where the spatula is when he yells down the hall to me that he needs something while I am in a different room.
Adaptation and perhaps a strong need for alcohol might get me through this move with flying colors. So on Saturday, while everyone is sleeping in I will be listening to my Dad cursing, my mom saying "no that should go here", Andrew asking where I want X and watching my best friend attempt to stifle her laughter...someone please be taking a shot or having a Captain and Coke for me!
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Why is a wedding so stressful? Is it because it's supposed to be one of the best days in your life? Or is it because of the money? How about all of the people who are supposed to be blown away by what months and months worth of planning has culminated in?
People say wedding planning is fun. That you are supposed to enjoy the months before the wedding, that all of the hard work, endless phone calls, emails and meetings are going to add up to this amazing day, where you (as the bride) are the star. I SWEAR TO GOD IF ONE MORE PERSON ASKS ME HOW THE WEDDING IS COMING THERE MAY BE ONE LESS GUEST AT MY WEDDING.
Wedding planning in a nutshell has brought out the crazy in my mom, yes I always knew it was there, but she shall now be referred to (affectionately of course) as Momzilla. Now, you may ask why or how she has earned this title. It's very simple...if you have ever heard the term Bridezilla, or seen the TV show, you know their antics, temper tantrums and in general out of control behavior has earned them a, perhaps coveted, spot on the show. My mother, does not throw temper tantrums and yet the majority of my friends, and even some members of my own family are afraid of her. Being the oldest child, and the only daughter has often benefited me, in the form of surprise shopping trips, concert tickets, parties and the like.
However, being the first one in the family to get married has dramatically changed my life within the last 4 months. I think there may be something in the water or the air at my parents house, because my mom has reached a whole new brand of crazy while planning my wedding. My mom has whole heartedly thrown herself into planning my wedding(for which I adore and admire her) and at the same time want to hide under my covers with the lights off and hope a call from the bogeyman is the reason why my blackberry is ringing for the 12th time in the last 2 hours. From phone calls about the centerpieces and favors, to calls while checking out in a store, to calls while watching Rich Bride, Poor Bride, the ideas are running rampant.
The problem is- being unemployed makes it really hard to think about spending any money on something that isn't rent, food or bills. So crystal centerpieces and shotglass favors aren't the things that mean the world to me right now. I know my wedding is important, and of course I want it to be amazing and beautiful and on that day I want to look around and think to myself "ohmigod!", but right now, I'm more worried about paying my car insurance and not becoming a financial burden to my fiancé, than what's going to be in the center of the tables that my guests sit at. So, while I love my mom so very much for all the work she's doing, when my blackberry rings, I usually hope it's someone calling to tell me I won the lotto or that my long lost great aunt Mildred (I don't think I have one...but if I did...) has passed away and that I am inheriting a tidy sum of money as a result. Instead, it typically goes something like this "So what do you think about adding...(insert crystals, flowers or candles) to....(insert guest tables, the centerpieces or the entry table)" to which I reply "I'd have to look at it and talk to Andrew" and then we say goodbye. Typically there is another call in about an hour or so.
And as if having Momzilla on top of things wasn't enough, there are also the numerous phone calls, emails and postcards sent from a variety of wedding specialty vendors who are just dying to get my business (read want my money). Seriously, if I wanted to use your services I would have booked you months ago...not a few months before my wedding, now please go away, stop calling me and stop flooding my inbox with your offers, ads and promises to "make my day a day to remember"...my day is going to be a day to remember, because I might have a stroke, heart attack, nervous breakdown or all of the above before or on that "magical" day.
Perhaps attributing to my neurosis about wedding planning is the fact that I am moving at the end of this month. Yep, in the middle of planning my wedding I am moving. And no, it isn't to some beautiful destination where I have always dreamed of living, instead its to a cold, snowy Siberia like area, known as Utica NY. Due to my lack of employment(stupid employers...you want me...damn it!), it has become un-necessary for Andrew and I to live in the Capitol area, and as such are moving closer to his job. Don't get me wrong, I know there has to be something good about that area...someone? anyone? But, right now, it's just cold and snowy to me. We have found a really sweet house in a good area, pretty close to everything...but moving is just more stress. So, right now my apartment is in upheaval with boxes everywhere, clothes split between two homes and not having much of anything to make dinners with at the apartment. My dog goes ballistic when Andrew or I bring in an empty box, maybe she thinks there is some evil, invading box monster? My Mom(read Momzilla) has been coming up to help me pack and get stuff situated, which is good, since Andrew is busy working and we seem to have accumulated an insane amount of junk...which is now sitting in garbage bags to be gotten rid of.
Thus, stress levels and tension are pretty high throughout my days. Moving and a wedding...I must be insane or sick. A little less than 2 weeks and the move will be done, and then I can focus on the crystal, flower or candles to go on the guest tables, centerpieces or entry table. And, although I complain, I know without my mom the wedding wouldn't be what it is going to be and things wouldn't be so easy...errmmm less stressful...for me. So, thanks Mom!!
But, until then...could someone please pass the bogeyman my phone number? And, does anyone know someone who prescribes xanax?
People say wedding planning is fun. That you are supposed to enjoy the months before the wedding, that all of the hard work, endless phone calls, emails and meetings are going to add up to this amazing day, where you (as the bride) are the star. I SWEAR TO GOD IF ONE MORE PERSON ASKS ME HOW THE WEDDING IS COMING THERE MAY BE ONE LESS GUEST AT MY WEDDING.
Wedding planning in a nutshell has brought out the crazy in my mom, yes I always knew it was there, but she shall now be referred to (affectionately of course) as Momzilla. Now, you may ask why or how she has earned this title. It's very simple...if you have ever heard the term Bridezilla, or seen the TV show, you know their antics, temper tantrums and in general out of control behavior has earned them a, perhaps coveted, spot on the show. My mother, does not throw temper tantrums and yet the majority of my friends, and even some members of my own family are afraid of her. Being the oldest child, and the only daughter has often benefited me, in the form of surprise shopping trips, concert tickets, parties and the like.
However, being the first one in the family to get married has dramatically changed my life within the last 4 months. I think there may be something in the water or the air at my parents house, because my mom has reached a whole new brand of crazy while planning my wedding. My mom has whole heartedly thrown herself into planning my wedding(for which I adore and admire her) and at the same time want to hide under my covers with the lights off and hope a call from the bogeyman is the reason why my blackberry is ringing for the 12th time in the last 2 hours. From phone calls about the centerpieces and favors, to calls while checking out in a store, to calls while watching Rich Bride, Poor Bride, the ideas are running rampant.
The problem is- being unemployed makes it really hard to think about spending any money on something that isn't rent, food or bills. So crystal centerpieces and shotglass favors aren't the things that mean the world to me right now. I know my wedding is important, and of course I want it to be amazing and beautiful and on that day I want to look around and think to myself "ohmigod!", but right now, I'm more worried about paying my car insurance and not becoming a financial burden to my fiancé, than what's going to be in the center of the tables that my guests sit at. So, while I love my mom so very much for all the work she's doing, when my blackberry rings, I usually hope it's someone calling to tell me I won the lotto or that my long lost great aunt Mildred (I don't think I have one...but if I did...) has passed away and that I am inheriting a tidy sum of money as a result. Instead, it typically goes something like this "So what do you think about adding...(insert crystals, flowers or candles) to....(insert guest tables, the centerpieces or the entry table)" to which I reply "I'd have to look at it and talk to Andrew" and then we say goodbye. Typically there is another call in about an hour or so.
And as if having Momzilla on top of things wasn't enough, there are also the numerous phone calls, emails and postcards sent from a variety of wedding specialty vendors who are just dying to get my business (read want my money). Seriously, if I wanted to use your services I would have booked you months ago...not a few months before my wedding, now please go away, stop calling me and stop flooding my inbox with your offers, ads and promises to "make my day a day to remember"...my day is going to be a day to remember, because I might have a stroke, heart attack, nervous breakdown or all of the above before or on that "magical" day.
Perhaps attributing to my neurosis about wedding planning is the fact that I am moving at the end of this month. Yep, in the middle of planning my wedding I am moving. And no, it isn't to some beautiful destination where I have always dreamed of living, instead its to a cold, snowy Siberia like area, known as Utica NY. Due to my lack of employment(stupid employers...you want me...damn it!), it has become un-necessary for Andrew and I to live in the Capitol area, and as such are moving closer to his job. Don't get me wrong, I know there has to be something good about that area...someone? anyone? But, right now, it's just cold and snowy to me. We have found a really sweet house in a good area, pretty close to everything...but moving is just more stress. So, right now my apartment is in upheaval with boxes everywhere, clothes split between two homes and not having much of anything to make dinners with at the apartment. My dog goes ballistic when Andrew or I bring in an empty box, maybe she thinks there is some evil, invading box monster? My Mom(read Momzilla) has been coming up to help me pack and get stuff situated, which is good, since Andrew is busy working and we seem to have accumulated an insane amount of junk...which is now sitting in garbage bags to be gotten rid of.
Thus, stress levels and tension are pretty high throughout my days. Moving and a wedding...I must be insane or sick. A little less than 2 weeks and the move will be done, and then I can focus on the crystal, flower or candles to go on the guest tables, centerpieces or entry table. And, although I complain, I know without my mom the wedding wouldn't be what it is going to be and things wouldn't be so easy...errmmm less stressful...for me. So, thanks Mom!!
But, until then...could someone please pass the bogeyman my phone number? And, does anyone know someone who prescribes xanax?
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