I knew it was a classy joint because everyone* was wearing shoes.

So I didn't see it much when we were in Brisbane, but there is something that I see all the time in our little corner of Aus, and I'm surprised by it every time.

People are barefoot. Everywhere.

I'm not talking about little kids being shoeless at the park or the beach. I'm talking about people of all ages going barefoot in the grocery store, at Target, in the mall, in public restrooms (gross), walking down the street, at the gas station, in restaurants. Nobody even bats an eye. It's totally normal for people to wear their dirty feet into a public place.

Sorry, Australia, I am falling in love with you, but that shit is weird.

Josh and I went out for dinner on our last date night, and he took me to a restaurant, called The Hog's Breath (these Aussies and their sense of humor).  From the outside, The Hog's Breath appears to be a bar and grill.  From the inside, it also appears to be a bar and grill, but there are kids everywhere.  Right behind me I can hear the Friday night regulars getting hammered and watching footy, and everywhere else I look there are kids. There was even a kids birthday party.  At a bar. A bar. Honestly, I didn't even know what to make of it.

So, I look around and notice everyone* is wearing shoes.  I was impressed, as it was the first time since moving to our new place that I had been anywhere that everyone old enough to drink alcohol was also wearing shoes.  I guess it's one of those things that you just get used to. All I know is that with all the shit that will kill you for sport around here, I'll feel a lot better with a quarter inch of cheap plasticized rubber between me and the ground.

*Everyone except two small children from the birthday party who spent most of the time running laps around our section. When a man from another table accidentally knocked over his empty beer bottle and it bounced an incredible four times before smashing right next to my (sandal-wearing) feet, their parents put shoes on them.  Safety first, right?

Oh you know, just moved across the world. No biggie.

So my little family has moved to Queensland, Australia, from Alberta, Canada. Can't really get much farther (further?) from home. We've been here a little over a month and so far, so good. Hot Stuff's employers paid for our flights, and also are paying for us to rent furniture until our stuff comes from Canada (which they also paid for). So, basically, his ass belongs to The Man for a minimum of one year.  My ass, however, is (not for rent) currently hanging out in the Rental House, planted on a Rental Couch, watching a Rental TV.  Earlier, I ate some chips from a Rental Bowl with some hummus I got from the Rental Fridge. Later I will go sleep in the Rental Bed tucked into the Rental Linens. Obviously, I am not big on commitment. Also, they don't call them Linens. Aussies call them Manchester - which includes towels, etc. I don't get it?

I have to say, though, that Australia is pretty cool. It's Spring here, which means the weather is GAR-JUSS, JUST GAR-JUSS.  I haven't yet (knock wood) seen anything that can kill me in the blink of an eye. I guess dodging venomous things is more of a Summer game. Guess I'll find out soon enough.

It's always awkward being The New Guy, and it's not like I have an over-abundance of Social Ease, so I tend to leave it up to others to start a conversation.  Thankfully, others have approached me and I've met a couple of nice people.  It helps that I joined a gym and my trainer is being paid to be my friend for half an hour a week. Also, no one has assumed I am American, everyone just asks where I'm from.  One grocery store teller did ask me if I was Irish. I was flattered.

So my days are full of Getting Shit Done and sweeping and mopping and laundry.  When we first moved into the Rental House, I found a roach. I HATE bugs. I am repulsed and disgusted by bugs. The sweeping and mopping makes me feel like I am being proactive in keeping bugs away because bugs probably don't want to be walking across clean floors (yeah, pretty delusional, I know).

Man, I'm pooped tonight. Time to get to bed so I don't miss the awesomeness of Hot Stuff snoring. Also, more mopping and sweeping and laundry to do tomorrow. Sure don't want to be tired for that!

Walking in here is like walking into an empty room that still holds lots of really cool stuff that I forgot I had.  Things that I had to put aside because Life shit the bed and I had to go clean it up.

Am I back? I don't know.  I miss this place and this space and the connections I felt. (Yeah, I mean you.  You're fucking awesome, keep that shit up!)

It's been a shit show this year, for realz.  I did leave Hot Stuff; packed up my goods and my kids and frappe la rue; found me and the little ones a place to live and by God, I did it.  We started marriage counseling, sold the house... and then bought a new house, and moved into it together.  I still don't know if it was the right time to do it.  On one hand, it has been amazing for the kids.  They have friends here.  Friends that they can bike around the street with, or play in each others' backyards.  It has been great for me, too.  The deep, deep loneliness that I felt living out in the country - essentially by myself - is gone.  Hot Stuff is working overseas and his schedule is 4 weeks gone and 4 weeks home.  It's a really great schedule because it gives him solid working time, and then me and the kids get time with him when he's home for a month.

On the other hand... our marriage isn't fixed.  We are on the road, but there is a far distance to travel.  We still have issues that are pretty big.  We're still going to go to counseling, still keep trying to figure all this shit out.

Ok, it's time to get down to it. I've been futzing around other blogs for the last hour kind of trying to avoid writing my own post.  Thankfully, I have a Dear Sister who will not rest until I have dragged every single some at least one emotion up from the dregs of my heart so she can see how I'm really doing. (I guess 10 - 15 phone calls a week back and forth between us isn't convincing enough.)

I don't want to get into too much about this, but Hot Stuff and I have separated. (Let's keep this off facebook, shall we? Private stuff for Blogger, only.) At first, things were back and forth from angry to amicable.  Right now, we are amicable.  So amicable, as a matter of fact, that when I got some wisdom teeth removed on Wednesday afternoon, he volunteered to watch the kids and keep an eye on me so I didn't die. (Just so you don't think I am a giant wimp, I had three teeth removed under general anesthetic. Being under GA means you are not allowed to be left alone for the first 24 hrs after surgery, should you decide to lock yourself in the bathroom and pass out.. or fall down the stairs. Somehow, I managed to avoid both!)

Post surgery, my face looked like I got dragged behind a car for a few blocks. Thanks to the two bottom wisdom teeth, which my dental surgeon referred to as, "Oh! Ho! Ho! They were some nasty bastards!" I had lots of swelling, and now have bruising and a sexy little patch of busted up skin on the corner of my mouth that resembles an eruption of gonosyphiherpelaids. I would have taken a picture, but I couldn't remember where I put the camera. Blame the narcotics.

So there I was, doped up on Emcat (Tylenol #3 without the caffeine), being very well taken care of by my separated spouse. It was nice.  And weird. But very nice, none the less. It doesn't change my plans (to move out at the end of the month), but in him I think I saw a glimmer of a person that I would definitely want to be married to, should the person that I saw this last couple of days truly be the person that my spouse is changing into.

Either way, and this is the biggie, I am prepared to continue on my way. Making a life for myself where my happiness is not even a little dependent on someone else.

Sigh.

I find myself heaving a lot of dramatic sighs these days.  I need to make an important decision, and I can't seem to make up my mind.  I have meditated until the cows came home, but I still don't find peace in my heart, no matter which way I think I should go. I'm worried that if I make the wrong decision, I won't be able to put it back together should it blow up in my face. You know? I haven't been talking about this with anyone, because I'm pretty sure if I talk about it, I'm going to start crying.  I don't cry in front of other people. Like, ever. It's so uncomfortable for me and not at all cathartic. Anyways, I am now dragging my feet.  Alternately agonizing over and ignoring the problem.  Hoping that a solution jumps out of the bushes at me.  Basically doing anything I can to avoid the grown-up business of Making The Tough Choices. 

(I don't wanna be a grown up and you can't make me!)

Not Another Angsty New Year's Eve Post

I just read my last New Year's Eve post, and boy, was I in a state. It was bad.  I said I would make 2010 a better year, and it was.  Going back to work, despite my deep insecurity and total lack of self-confidence in my abilities, was the best thing I could have done for myself.  One of my friends commented the other day that I am a totally different person than I was a year ago.  I think that's true.

Things have not been sugar-coated wonderfulness, though.  There has been some (lots? well, less than in previous years) marital melodrama this year, too.  I think the difference was knowing that I was not trapped. If I chose to put up with it, it was my choice, not because I was financially unable to leave. Boy that looks screwed up when I write it out.  Why would someone choose to put up with bullshit?  Ten years is a long time to be with someone.  Three kids.  (Listening to talk radio discussing books called, "Your Mediocre Marriage Is Good Enough For The Kids.") Accepting that today -- and tomorrow, and many other tomorrows -- is not the day the sun is going to shine on your dog's ass.

Today, my sister took my Princess back home to BC for a week (sad. missing my girl already. hope she's doing okay. she totally is. she's very independent.), so when the boys and I got home, the baby went for a nap and the Hurricane and I settled in to watch The Sword and The Stone and eat Cheezies (this is a BIG treat!).  Later on, we ran into town to grab stuff for dinner, and I decided to stop at the movie store and grab a movie for myself.  (This is the degree of lame to which I have fallen.. watching a movie at home by myself on New Years Eve. Sad. Even more lame: I didn't find a movie at the movie store. I'll be watching TV instead.)  The Hurricane is in the back seat, ordering me to get him a movie and a treat. It makes me crazy.

I kind of let go of a friend this year.  I felt like the friendship was very unbalanced (I was doing all the giving, and the friend was doing all the taking), and that I was allowing myself to be sucked into constant drama.  I thought I would feel guilty for stepping back, but mostly I just felt relieved.  We still talk, occasionally, but even those conversations inevitably turn one-sided...

I don't know what's going to happen in 2011.  I have spent the last month just trying to get through Christmas.  Just trying to get through.  Shouldn't Christmas be fun and magical, and not something you just try to get through?  I'm not making New Years Resolutions either, as it's almost 8pm and I've only now just remembered this is what one does for the New Year.  Oh, fine! Even though I have an impossibly busy evening of watching TV and playing on the internet, I could probably muster something up, the usual I'll lose some weight, I'll try to be nicer and less of a catty bitch, I'll work on being patient, etc.  Sure, let's go with that.

Happy Freaking New Year.

One-legged man in ass kicking contest.

There is so much stuff going on these days.

The Hurricane started kindergarten, and he even gets on the bus with the older kids in the morning.  My big guy! He loves kindergarten.  He really loves the bus. He got off one day last week and this was our conversation:
Hurricane: "Hey Mom, guess what I said on the bus?"
Me: "What, honey?"
Hurricane: "I said, 'Shut up Dane, ya donkey's dick!"
Ahh.. older kids on the bus.. I just love them.

The two big kids are in swimming lessons twice a week (at 0840 what the hell was I thinking?!).  The Princess is acting very shy with the teacher and the other kids; the Hurricane is effing terrified of jumping into the water.  It's kind of painful to watch, actually.

We've decided to sell our house, as we have outgrown it.  It's a really cute little house, and would be perfect for a family of four.  Unfortunately, I am not willing to part with any of these little monsters I call my children (of the corn) on a permanent basis.

The realtor gave me a staging list, which is pretty much a list of things to change/remove in the house in order to make it look more appealing.  I also decided that I should re-paint the entryway at the same time. Fast forward through three (four?) days of ass-busting, and she came yesterday to do pictures.  Was very impressed.  Made me feel good. :) The only thing left to do is strip and refinish the dining room floor. That's tomorrow's project.

So the night before the realtor came to do the staging list, I walked into the Princess' room and saw this:

You can sort of see where she colored on her bed frame, but you can't see that she also colored on her legs, her belly, her face, her sheets, and both of her palms entirely.  Did I mention this is dark blue felt? As we get closer to her turning three, I am getting an increasingly ominous feeling.

Which reminds me that I have a birthday party to plan and also Halloween costumes to make.