See, she was actually on her way to meet Florinda; they were going to the theater, and I will be honest in saying that I have been the wee bit jealous. Not that April got to meet her, but that she got meet April-and before I did. So yeah, I understand that I live three states and a lifetime away from So Cal (come on-I was chastising my dog for slurping a pound of grated cheese off the counter with her sloppy old tongue and April was on her way to the theatre, for God's sake!), but still; April is MY friend, not HERS. I have a slight competitive streak; some might call it obsessive. So April said that she couldn't very well go to meet another blogger without at least talking to me on the phone first, which I thought was really, really neat.
I don't know how to describe it. There was none of the awkwardness you might expect from a first phone conversation; it was a little strange, maybe, but to me, it was just like a continuance of the nine billion emails we exchange on a daily basis. And that rocks, it really does. I love April; you all know that, as I talk about her rather often, but I can't begin to tell you how much, or why, or just how fucking awesome it is to have this friend, and now to have been able to TALK to her. Words can't suffice.
All night I was kind of doing a little happy dance. And FYI, April, Steve WAS excited for me that you had called, as were the kids. Even though they were mad that I was on the phone. And not paying attention to their every little move. So thanks, April, so much-you have no idea. Or maybe you do.
That said, the REST of the night was about normal. Hannah succumbed to the stomach flu and spent a good tow hours in front of the toilet. A true indication of motherhood: "Mom, come quick, I think I am throwing up blood!" and me, peering into the toilet and then saying, "oh no, honey, that's just Kool-Aid, you're fine." Neither Sam nor Owen wanted to sleep last night, so had to be admonished several times, to which Owen replied, "I tell Daddy you!" Yeah; big threat, little man. So. Life is good today, for lots of reasons but mostly because I got to talk to April. And I can't figure out whether that makes me reaaaaally pathetic or not....
***If you are interested, I am on Day Two of the guided Journal Questions over here. It isn't really very interesting yet, though I think it might become so once I get into the habit of doing it. So hard to write about a specific topic! But I think the discipline will be good for me.***
Here is the update: after being on the waiting list with the Idaho Housing Authority for 15 months, I finally got to the top of the list. That doesn't mean I am approved; it means I get to jump through a whole bunch more hoops in order to even find out if I am, and then have to find a landlord whose house will qualify and who is always willing to jump through his/her own hoops. This is a rental assistance program, where they will subsidize part of the rent, and is also the only chance I have in the foreseeable future to get moved into a bigger house. So I feel just a little white-trash, but so be it; I have GOT to move (four kids, two of whom are teens, in a 2 bedroom house just isn't going to fly much longer!), and if this gives me the opportunity, I will take it. I have an appointment on Tuesday; it means taking the morning off of work, as the town in which I have to interview is 45 miles away, but again, so be it.
Also, there was an envelope from the IRS at my house for my ex-husband. I committed a felony by opening it, I am aware, but my justification (besides being a nosy bitch) was that I don't know where to forward it to anyway. They a re wondering why he hasn't filed his taxes for the last two years, and would like them as soon as possible. Why did I get such a sick, lovely sense of satisfaction out of that?