I’ve worked as a janitor. I’ve made sodas for people through the window at a convenient store. I’ve waitressed at a truck stop. I’ve answered phones and done research at a small town newspaper. Heck, I’ve even worked for a essential oil company.

While I’ve had some random jobs in my younger years, The King has had even more random jobs. Not more jobs, just jobs that are more random. Like the time he hung art for a living.

That’s right, people would pay a lot of money to have The King come to their house and hang things, correctly, on their walls.

Apparently there is more to this then you might think. There are correct levels and correct vantage points and correct accessories. Gone are the days of using a simple nail and hammer to hang up your wedding pictures or the expensive painting you just bought.

This may not come as a surprise to most of you, but this whole industry did surprise me. While it makes sense that a bazillionaire wouldn’t hang their new Monet on the wall, I’d never thought about who was doing the actual hanging.

Enter The King and his mad skillz.

Of course The King no longer does this for a living. He’s upgraded to bigger and better way to fully utilize his skillz. Now he just builds houses from scratch. But that doesn’t mean he has forgotten the ways of professional art hanging. Oh no, we take it very seriously at our house apartment.

Marci, my best friend from high school, is living in a rental until their new house is completed. Hey, just like me. Only she’s living in an awesome house with bedrooms and bathrooms and not a one bedroom apartment. I’m jealous happy for her. Marci and I were recently discussing how we weren’t motivated to hang anything on the walls of our rentals. What’s the point, you know? I mean, eventually we’re moving out of this rental so why bother hanging anything on the walls.

(Sidenote to The King: I know you’re working as hard as you can on the new house. And I thank you.)

After discussing this with Marci I looked around our apartment and realized that The King had hung some of our stuff up on the walls. He’d hung up the map of the Berlin subway that May and I put together for him last Christmas.

You can tell by where the camera flash hit that The King is hung it perfectly. Just the right level so that you can totally see the map and try to navigate your next trip to Berlin. (Which might be taking place sooner rather then later.)

Then there is the painting The King acquired while in college. While it’s massive, he was still able to hang it securely to our apartment wall. No earthquake could bring this baby down. Again, it’s at perfect eye level.

Good job King.

Last, but not least, we have the newest addition to our art collection; a Seattle themed painting that May gave me the night they moved to Reno. We were all very excited to have this awesome new painting and we couldn’t wait to get it out of our car and hung in the perfect place in our apartment.

Since he’s a professional at hanging art, you’d expect nothing but the best from The King.

But since he was too busy building the new house, I was left in charge of hanging this specific piece. I thought to myself, I know where it will look perfect! There’s a lot of empty white space above the TV. That’s where I’ll hang it! Yes, above the TV.

And so I did.

Last Sunday I had to sneak away from church so that I could meet with three other women. The four of us are in charge of putting something together, so we met to further discuss the planning of this event. What we were planning has nothing to do with this story. How I’ve come to know these three women has even less to do with this story.

The four of us range in age. I’m the youngest and the two oldest are grandmothers. Two of us are American born while one is from Tonga and another one is from Samoa. One just graduated from college while working part time and also helping to plan her daughter’s wedding. Another one has a baby six months younger then Babboo. One is raising a few of her grandchildren. As always, I’m the only one that works full time.

We don’t have much in common. I can’t imagine that any one of them watch the same TV shows that I do. I doubt they watch as much TV as I do. I dress differently then they do. I look differently then they do. We probably don’t read the same books. I know none of them blog. Heck, one of them doesn’t even have an e-mail address. We could not be more different.

I sat there at this meeting and looked around at this amazing group of women. I couldn’t figure out how four women who, on paper, don’t have much in common could actually have so much in common. I was happy to be stuck in this little room with them. I was happy to listen to what they had to say and join in. I was laughing and enjoying myself. I didn’t want our meeting to end and us to have to go our separate ways.

Like usually happens when a group of women get together, we got off topic. We started talking about life and work and our kids. One of the women asked how Babboo was. I started to tell them, this group of other mothers, how much I enjoy being a mom and how much I love my own little guy. They just nodded because, hello, all mothers know what I’m talking about.

That’s when one of the women, the one with a baby slightly younger then Babboo, said she’s expecting another baby in January. I immediately looked down at her belly and told her I hadn’t even noticed she was pregnant. She gave me a little smile and patted her growing belly. I asked her to remind me how many kids this would be for her and her husband.

Again she smiled and said, “this will be our seventh.”

I tried to not act as shocked as I was. I mean, I knew she had a lot of kids, but hearing her say it made it more real. I had also heard they lost a child a few years back, so really this would be their eight child.

This women is an amazing person. And also, only two years older then I am.

We all offered our congratulations to her and her family. That’s when one of the women reminded me that she’s the mother of six grown children. And then the other women told us she’s the mother of seven grown children.

So while I enjoyed spending time with these women, I’m just hoping that being in the little room with them for so long didn’t make me catch their baby fever.

If someone calls your land line from their cell phone and you get disconnected, whose responsibility is it to call back?

I never know what to do in this instance. So I usually call the person back. And then I get their voice mail. So I call back again. And again, I get their voice mail. So then I stop calling. And then they call back and are all pissed that it was busy when they called you back.

Or better yet, I don’t call back and neither do they. And weeks go by and you’ve never resolved what you were talking about.

So um yeah, what’s the right thing to do? Who should be doing the calling back? And who have the right to be pissed about the situation?

And also, The King and I are meeting for lunch today down at The Market. Something that rarely ever happens.

Can you say all-you-can-eat-waffles? Oh yeah!

While I’m sitting at my desk in my little cubicle every day there is this whole world that I’m missing out on. A world where mom’s wake up and cook their kids breakfast. A world where mom’s do laundry at their leisure and not in a frantic rush on Saturday mornings. A world where Elmo plays in the background so that mom can blog undisturbed. A world where mom’s throw their kids in their vans and head off to play dates with other moms and kids.

Since I’m a full-time working mom I don’t get the opportunity to be a part of this other world. The only playdates Babboo’s ever had involved my best friend May and May’s little girl. And let’s be honest, it was a playdate for May and me, not Babboo.

Ever since May moved away in August I’ve been trying to schedule a playdate to go to the Pacific Science Center. I had to think long and hard about who to invite, as this person could potentially become a new friend to Babboo and me. I began my e-mail requests for this playdate over a month ago. I asked multiple ladies I know, who also have kids, to join Babboo and I at the Science Center on any given Saturday.

They all wrote back and said they’d love to go, but that um, Saturday wouldn’t work.

Right, well Saturday is the only day I can go.

Eventually I got one of them to agree to meet Babboo and I at the Science Center this last Saturday. While she has a little girl that’s a few years older then Babboo, I figured it would still be fun.

And guess what? It was fun.

Babboo loved the NOAA displays and raced around looking for even more things to touch and play with. The little girl we were with loved the caterpillar sculpture. In fact she loved it so much she didn’t want to get off of it to go and see the butterfly house.

And forget about letting Babboo (or any other kid) have a chance to play on it. She was all about the (totally creepy looking) caterpillar.

While our kids were having fun with all the things to play with, I just loved having another mom to talk to.

As this was my first official playdate I’m a little confused on what the proper playdate etiquette is. I kept thinking about this the entire time we were at the Science Center. Were our kids supposed to stick together, therefore allowing the adults to stay close to each other and chat? Should I make Babboo look at the same displays the other kid was looking at? What if the other kid did something I didn’t approve of? Am I allowed to tell her to stop? What if they say something to my kid that I don’t approve of? Can I smack the other kid?

What if, what if, what if?

Seriously, what if something happens and I don’t know how to deal with it? Or what if I deal with it in a non-approved playdate manner. Will I never be allowed to have another playdate?

What if I get black listed from the playdate circuit?

I don’t think I’ll get blacklisted from future playdates with this mom. She suggested that Babboo and I take the bus to her house so we can make jewelry together for our next get-together. I just nodded my head and was all “sure, whatever.”

I’ve got to keep my cool. I don’t want to move too fast.

So tell me, what does go on at a playdate? What are The Rules? Does the other mom have to put out if I pay? Or is this a completely different set of rules?

—————–

Head over to my other blog to read about my latest New Thing. Something very surreal happened to me after the long walk home from the Pacific Science Center.

We found out a few days ago that Babboo is a vegetarian. Not only is he vegetarian, but he’s pert near a vegan.

I feel bad about all the deli meat I fed him for dinner this week. And what about the chicken mixed in with his stir fry last night. Not to mention the amount of cheese he ate with his crackers.

Earlier this week we received an e-mail survey from the Parents
Association of his school. They wanted to know how the we felt about incorporating meat and cheese into the school’s current “loosely vegetarian” menu.

How do I feel, you ask? How do I feel? I feel like a tool for not knowing my kid didn’t eat meat. Or cheese for that matter. I guess I should have actually looked at the lunch menu that is posted outside his classroom door.

Oopsie. My bad.

I responded and told them that I was all for Babboo eating more meat. I’m all for some cheese slices with his tofu burrito. Because um yeah, I didn’t know he was a vegetarian.

We also got an e-mail about the guy that comes in every week to do singing time with the kids. Let’s call him Nick, The Singing Guy. Apparently the Parent’s Association would like to give Nick a five dollar raise, due to “parking cost increases and cost to maintain his instruments” (which almost sounds dirty).

Five dollars doesn’t sound like that outrageous of a raise for the guy. Except that, according to the e-mail, this guy already makes forty dollars an hour. Do the math. Nick would be making forty five dollars an hour!

Holy crap, I’m in the wrong business.

I’ve never seen Nick The Music Guy. I don’t know exactly what he does. I don’t anything about him. I just hear that Babboo loves him. Apparently Babboo dances while Nick sings and plays his guitar. Not only is Babboo a fan of Nick, but Nick is a fan of Babboo. Or so his teachers tell me.

So while I’m happy that Babboo likes Music Time with Nick, I’m thinking that if the parking prices of downtown Seattle are too much for him the dude should look into a bus pass. Heck, he can even borrow mine.

I just know it, tuition prices are going up. Apparently music ain’t free.

And neither is meat and dairy.

We’ve all benefited from the digital camera The King gave me for my birthday this year. I’ve been able to prove to the interweb that I see crazy things in downtown Seattle. Things like naked bike riders, out of place cowboys, and just plain crazies. This last week I’ve started to keep my camera, not just in my purse, but in my hand and ready to snap a picture of something. Anything.

For weeks, maybe months, I’ve been driving by a certain billboard. Every time I race past it I think; at some point you’d better get a picture of that.

Finally I remembered to have my camera poised and ready as we drove by it recently.

I know you are looking at this billboard and wondering why I would want a picture of an ad about traffic. And not only are you asking why would I want to take this picture, but why would I want the interweb to see it?

Good thing I took a close up shot. I’m very giving.

And not only did I take a close up of it, but I also used my mad photoshop skillz in case any of you might have missed the crucial part.

It’s a squirrel. And he’s dealing poker. And not just dealing poker, but doing it while wearing a little bow tie. Dude, it doesn’t get any funnier then this.

(Expect maybe this picture, taken at the Central Park Zoo a few weeks ago.)

While making a run to Lowe’s* last week, Babboo and I were stuck in the car at a red light. I looked up and noticed the bridge in front of us was covered by a big blue tarp. This wasn’t a bunch of smaller tarps made into one big tarp. This was a huge piece of material. Seriously, it was crazy huge.

I initially wondered if it was some sort of Christo installation project, ala The Gates. Alas, The King said it was covered because they were painting it. Good to know, because it freaked my shiz out. Seriously, so huge and freaky.

Last weekend I saw this marquee and took a picture while I was driving, you know, before I had to make a turn.

I got excited about The Melvins coming. But only because I was thinking that Carrisa was a huge fan. Apparently this was all in my head. When I told her they were coming to town she was all who in the hell are The Melvins? Oopsie, my bad.

Then last night on the walk home I saw this:

Awesome, a stinky dumpster. That’s not all. Look closer.

It’s a sweet boombox. While pausing to take this picture, I had to think for a second if I wanted to pick it up and take it home. Dude, I’ve got a lot of cassettes that I could use on it. And check out the cord. Is that connected to a microphone or some sort of speaker? This might have been an ever bigger motherlode.

So tell me, seen anything crazy lately in the town you’re from? And if not, what TV show are you most looking forward to this season? And did you see “Kid Nation” last night? What did you think? We liked it. We’re also super sad that Jimmy went home. He was cute.
*We are usually very loyal to Home Depot. But Lowe’s had an awesome sale on garage door opener installation. We couldn’t pass it up. We also now have a garage door opener. Which means we are getting closer and closer to a move in date. Who needs toilets when you can open your garage door with a press of a button?