She loves to build, bake, invent, draw, color, eat, play, sing, dance, change her clothes, buy new clothes, plan outfits, plan meals, plan Lego cities. Her passion is boundless. She’s innovative, and the way she changes from minute to minute is infinite. She’s independent in the most interesting ways, but she likes to wear my sweatshirt because she says she wants to be able to smell me whenever she needs to. She’s an excellent mix of strong and vulnerable, and now she’s seven. Seven? Really, I have no idea how we got here, but it’s a great place to be.
Yes, it’s a great house. Yes, it’s in a perfect location. Yes, we knew it would be tight for a while. We thought it would be worth it.
Turns out, it’s just a house.
We find this American Dream to be bullshit.
Bryan and I have a different American Dream. We felt it for the 4 years we spent renting when we moved to Columbus, and we thought something was wrong with us because we enjoyed renting so much. We figured we had PTSD from our first home-ownership and renovation experience, but now we are embracing our renter nature.
We don’t want to pay this kind of money (or any kind of money) for just a house. We want disposable income. We want to visit our family in Michigan and take a real family vacation. We want to take the kids wherever they want to go. Right now, this means Comic-Con and The American Girl store and to little cabins on Lake Michigan and Tawas Bay. We want to take them wherever else they want to go. We want to go away for the weekend, just us two. We want to be tourists in our own city and anywhere else we feel like it. We don’t want to buy mulch. We don’t want to buy carpet. We don’t want to put in another new bathroom. We don’t want to spend the weekend in the yard. We don’t want to pull weeds. We don’t want to plant flowers. We don’t want to fix doorknobs. We don’t want to buy prettier doors. We don’t want to seal the asphalt. We don’t want to buy paint. We don’t want to go to the hardware store. We don’t want to buy more stuff to fill up this house. We don’t want to spend any mental or physical or financial energy on just a house. We don’t want to be in debt. We don’t want to keep up with the Joneses. And anyway, we suspect that the Joneses have at least 1 credit card that they will never be able to pay off. We don’t want that.
We want to do stuff, not buy stuff.
Except for consumables. I love to buy consumables. I want to go out to eat so much that I get sick of it. Also? I like to buy beer WHENEVER I WANT. I’m out of beer much more often than I care to be and that is not cool. And I think it’s extra important to have an unlimited beer supply when you have a mortgage that prevents you from doing the things you want to do with your life. You can see how owning this house is a lose-lose situation.
We’re not house people anymore and I blame HGTV for making us think we’re supposed to be house people. I’m totally deleting that channel off of my tv and I’m only ever going to watch the Food Network and the Travel Channel when I’m in the mood for reality tv. And then we’re going to follow Man V. Food around just for fun because that dude’s life looks AWESOME.
Yes, moving sucks b@lls, but owning a house sucks b@lls dipped in poop, and we are just not into that.
Oh, and the children? I was worried about telling the children because, after all, children are usually the reason people buy awesome houses in great locations, so I thought this house meant something more to them, but when they heard the plan, Liberty said, “Good, I’m bored of this house anyway!” and Lena and Maya agreed. One of the things HGTV told me was that kids need their own space to decorate however they want. They didn’t tell me that once the space is decorated, the kid will want to change it within a month, which is exactly what happened here. I laughed and laughed and laughed when first Liberty, then Lena asked me to re-paint her room. Now I know better. And all of the kids know exactly what they’ve given up in order to live in this house. It’s not worth it to them, either.
The Chesaning library is in danger of closing. Up until May 1st of this year, it provided services to 5 townships, using only Chesaning’s taxes. The library can no longer afford to serve the other townships for free (on its 1970 budget), so after months and months and months of trying to become a district library and facing opposition from most of the school board and most of the township supervisors who keep saying things like, “I never even use the liberry, so what’s the big deal?” they’ve had to make it so only the people who pay taxes to the library can use it. The big deal is that it’s a frickin’ library. And a town the size of Chesaning should not have 3 dollar stores, but it does. A town the size of Chesaning, with so many surrounding townships that don’t have their own library really needs to have a library with a hip, young librarian who does everything she can to serve the community (check!)
Personally, I would have stabbed somebody if I couldn’t take my little ones to story hour when I lived in Chesaning. On purpose. I would have deliberated and planned it and then done it. And a jury of my peers would have said, “That seems reasonable.” I’m not suggesting that people get stabby, but I am suggesting that they call their township supervisor and harassyell atcry at let them know that it’s quite ok if they put this issue up for a vote so you all can decide if you want to pay less than 1 mil on your tax bill in order to have a FRICKIN’ LIBRARY. It’s a library. It seems like a no-brainer.
Oh, look! A list of township supervisors. With phone numbers and addresses! Just for you:
Albee Township Supervisor: Leon Turnwald (989) 770-4387 3395 W. Birch Run Rd., Burt MI 48417
Brady Supervisor: Ron Gasper (989) 845-3450 16172 Baldwin, Chesaning MI 48616
Maple Grove: Kevin M. Krupp (989) 845-6789 6352 Ditch Rd., Chesaning MI 48616
Edited to add: I forgot about New Haven! (thanks, Aunt Angie) New Haven Township Supervisor – Don Dickinson – 989-729-1043
Chesaning and Chapin are both in support of the library, so send these guys some chocolate. Or your panties, whichever you think they’ll appreciate more. Bob Corrin used to be my neighbor. I don’t think he’d want your panties, but you never know. People change and I’ve been gone a long time.
Chesaning: Robert Corrin 429 S. Chapman St., Chesaning MI 48616
Chapin: Robb C. Maynard 19650 Fenmore, Elsie MI 48831
And to the school board members and township supervisors who are against even putting it on the ballot, this is what people say about your town behind your back, and it’s all your fault:
h/t for the video goes to my friend Schmarol (not her real name because she might not want me to mention her in this post).
I’ve been buying alcohol legally for 14 years, but I used a fake ID for 4 years. Fourteen is quite a lot longer than 4, yet every single time I buy myself some beers to drink on my patio, my heart pounds and I get an adrenaline rush just like when I used that fake ID. It was a perfect ID, too. An actual ID that belonged to someone who looked like me. Back in those days, if you found an over-21 person who looked a little bit like you, you could say, “Hey, I’ll pay for your new license if you give me your old license,” and (if they were in love with your older brother) they would say, “That sounds like an excellent plan! I’ve been wanting to spend some time at the Secretary of State’s office! Super!” And the person with poor taste in boys could just take another form of ID (just one!) and say, “Uh, I lost my license,” and they would make her a new one lickity-split! Win/Mother effin’ WIN. These days, though, thanks to 9/11 and, uh, reality teevee, I bet the kids can’t do that anymore. Score one for being old!
That ID was awesome. It was only questioned one time and that was in a Chesaning gas station, where the clerk looked at the ID, looked at me, and said, “I went to school with that girl, and you ain’t her.” Luckily, I had cat-like reflexes and I grabbed the ID real quick and snarled, “What. Ever. You’re, like, 30 years old! Ugh!” And then I ran away. To the gas station next door. I didn’t care, because Boone’s Farm was 3 for $5 everywhere, so I didn’t need that stupid gas station!
What is my point? Body memory. Yes, that’s it. I think it’s interesting that my body remembers, “Hey, we’re buying beer. Let’s be scared!” I would think that the eyeballs would tell the heart, “Dude, it’s not Boone’s Farm and Busch Light, so I think we’re legal now.” So when I talked about Spring being stupid last month, and didn’t want to cut myself some slack, that was dumb. So the slack has been cut now. I get it. And when I forget, I’ll buy myself some beers in order to remember. Win/Mother effin’ WIN again!
Maya decided to make her bed this morning and when I heard her singing and blasting The Man in Black from her hot pink cd player, I had to get it on video.
She’s been in a country phase lately, and she asked me to put some Johnny Cash and John Denver on a cd for her very own self so I did. When she has a friend over, she listens to “Country Roads” and mournfully says, “My Grandma Marilyn moved in West Virginia! This song makes me miss her and Michigan so much,” while her friend pats her back and Maya suppresses a coy little smile.
The best thing about the video, besides the adorable kid, is the fact that she’s standing on a bed that used to belong to her Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa Aldrich, and among the hundreds of blankets are a blanket that Grandma Marilyn gave us, a little afghan made by her Great-Grandma Aldrich, a little afghan made by her Grandma Sheryl, a fleece blanket made by her Nana, and a little quilt made by my very first best friend, Julie. Priceless heirlooms, every one. That’s the way that country girl rolls.
