0 – kids I have with Mr. Fox

26 – the number of years I’ve been on this earth

10 – the number of cities I’ve lived in during my lifetime (East Windsor, NJ; Las Vegas, NV; Henderson, NV; Carmel, IN; Lafayette Hill, PA; Peoria, AZ; Phoenix, AZ; Surprise, AZ; Indianapolis, IN, and Philadelphia, PA)

2004 – the year I graduated high school

9 – the number of schools I attended before college (two elementary school, four junior high schools, two high schools and one vocational school)

2 – the number of colleges I’ve attended to date

4 – the number of universities I’ve been accepted to but couldn’t bring myself to attend, let alone afford

6 – the number of times I’ve changed my major in college (in order: architecture, graphic design, pharmacy tech, business administration, photography, web development [current])

2 – the number of times I’ve been married and divorced

3 – the number of years I’ve been happily married to Mr. Fox

4 – the number of cats we have

1 – the number of times I’ve truly been in love

8 – the number of cars I’ve owned since getting my license at 18

9 – the number of hours I spend on the computer on a daily basis

15 – the number of minutes I spend in the shower

4 – the number of blog URLs I’ve owned  and actually blogged on (fotograficrhyme.com, thefoxtrot.net, indynikongal.com and estherfox.com)

811 – the number of photos I’ve taken on Instagram

18,366 – the number of tweets I’ve made since joining Twitter in April 2010

1 – the number of cups of coffee I have on a daily basis (peppermint mocha Dunkin Donuts K-cup with vanilla Coffee Mate Natural Bliss creamer)

244 – the number of days I’ve been soda-free, as of this post

110 – the number of pounds I would like to lose

2122 – the number of songs in my iTunes Library

5 – the number of books I’ve read this year

7 – the number of hours of sleep I need to function

7:30 am – the time I *try* to wake up each morning

11:30 pm – the time I *try* to go to sleep each night

life numbers interesting things right now

This post, My Life in Numbers, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

—

I was a “late bloomer” when it came to getting my driver’s license. I remember Ex # 1 attempting to teach me how to drive his ’88 Merkur stick-shift when I was 16, but I discovered just how much I lack the coordination required to drive a stick shift (why hello thar Mr. Clutch! Am I supposed to step on you now? *vehicle stalls*). So I didn’t get my license until we moved to Phoenix in 2004, after I turned 18. Basically, my parents decided that I needed to drive, so they got me driving lessons, and in August of 2004, I was licensed. My first car was an ’85 Mercury Cougar. When we bought it, it had 35,000 original miles on it, and I loved it (and believe me, I missed it when it was gone, but that’s another story for another day).

But I digress.

Having my own vehicle and a license to drive it was liberating for me. I was able to get places, which is typically the reason for having such things, yes? Of course. Well, you don’t really realize just how much you miss those things until you don’t have them anymore.

Before I left Phoenix for Indiana to live with Mr. Fox, I had given up the piece of crap Grand Marquis that Ex #2 talked me into buying (he was a cab driver, and he had wanted it to become a cab). So by the time Mr. Fox and I moved in together, we had no vehicle, and relied on the shitty public transportation system that is IndyGo in Indianapolis, in addition to the kindness of our landlord for grocery shopping outings. Needless to say, this became old FAST. Sometime later in 2008, we had the opportunity to “purchase” a janky ’85 Ford Ranger. It got us from A to B, and since Mr. Fox wasn’t licensed at the time, I was the only one driving it. Once that went to shit, we had the niceness of my parents who took us grocery shopping every couple weeks.

In September 2009, we purchased a used Chrysler Town and Country, which was wonderful. And it helped us out a lot when we moved to the apartment. Unfortunately, the transmission decided to go in March 2011, and we were without a vehicle again. Thankfully, we were still on a bus route, so it wasn’t *too* bad. One of our friends was gracious enough to gift us a 2000 Nissan Xterra (they were going to trade it in, but decided we were more deserving of it) in May 2011, and that worked well until it decided to start crapping out on us, so off to Carmax it went. During a brief existential crisis after the death of Mr. Fox’s father, we decided to take the proceeds of the Xterra and some other money we had and lay it down on a seemingly cute and harmless red 1999 VW Beetle. And thanks to a swindling car dealer and car repair shop, the Bug didn’t last very long. Note to self: do not drive over tall manhole covers in a car that has a 4″ clearance. You *will* tear your transmission pan.

I do have to thank the Town and Country though, because if it weren’t for it’s death, we wouldn’t have had the opportunity to rent the 2011 Kia Forte that we ultimately fell in love with. I also have to thank the Bug for dying as well, because if it hadn’t, we wouldn’t have been able to buy our 2010 Kia Forte.

Well, I went on a tangent there, didn’t I? I had a point here somewhere…

Oh yes.

When Mr. Fox and I moved to Philly, I had only driven in Phoenix, Las Vegas and Indianapolis. In retrospect, those areas are not terribly urban. So when it came to driving in Philly, I was afraid. I mean, so afraid that I left all the driving to the husband. He lived there his whole life (minus 8 years), and he knew the area more than I. I had no problems driving in the suburbs, but our neighborhood is very congested and full of one-way streets, and don’t even get me started on the downtown area. So I could take Mr. Fox to work and drive around Horsham, Plymouth Meeting and the surrounding areas, but I was so afraid to drive in our own neighborhood, that I just *didn’t*. Also, our driveway behind the house is at a 45 degree angle, with a brick wall behind it. So I have to maneuver my way in and out of the driveway without hitting the wall or sliding into our garage door.

On our recent trip back to Indiana to visit my parents, I was happy to drive the entire time we were there. It felt wonderful to drive long distances again, and even seemingly insignificant trips to the store and gas station made me happy. Little did I know that, as soon as we would return back to Philly, Mr. Fox told me that I would be driving. I was like, say what?

Well hey, what do you know? I survived. I didn’t break the car, and I didn’t back into the brick wall, and I didn’t slide into the garage door. The only things I haven’t done yet is drive on Roosevelt Blvd, which is an experience in and of itself. I am weary of driving on the Blvd because of all the accidents that occur there. Eventually I will get there. Going to take baby steps though, because I don’t need to get us killed, you know?

So you’re probably wondering why this post is titled the way it is? Well, it’s simple. I had to get over my initial fears to be able to drive in our neighborhood, with all it’s obstacles, and it kinda feels like the first time I learned to drive.

I’ll get there eventually.

driving philadelphia urban philly cars neighborhood kia forte

This post, feels like the first time, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Have I ever told you how much I dislike going there? It’s not that the food is bad necessarily, it’s just that, well, it’s a novelty that I’ve grown to dislike. In the beginning, it was love, mainly because we lived in a town that was not really burger-diverse. Now it’s just, well, when I see the familiar red and white, my stomach hurts.

I used to live with the parents in Las Vegas and Phoenix, and was spoiled with In-n-Out Burger. If you’ve never been there, it’s amazing. Well, to me anyway. It was the first time I had experienced the “flat burger patty”, and that, combined with the greasy cheesy goodness and “burger sauce” was just enough to keep me coming back over and over again. That and the fries of course. The fries. Oh. My. God. Salty potato-y goodness right there.

Anyway, I digress.

There was a time when I thought that Five Guys trumped even In-N-Out. Granted, that’s back when I wasn’t guilty of eating their normal bacon cheeseburger and half of a large fry (split between me and the husband. Have you gotten an order of fries from Five Guys before? When you order a large, you’re actually getting the equivalent of two of their large fry cups. They fill one and dump the other in on top. Same goes for their regular order. One does not need that many fries! Also, have you ever noticed that if you’ve eaten too many of their fries, you start to have a weird aftertaste?

Not to mention that the food at Five Guys is absolutely horrible for you. I don’t know what’s in the meat, I don’t know where it comes from. Who knows if there’s any pink slime in there. All I know is that it tastes like a greasy hamburger. Probably my biggest complaint is the number of calories. I don’t like feeling like I have to fast for two days in order to eat there, or go to the gym for five hours afterwards. I always get the Little Bacon Cheeseburger when I eat there, which is 630 calories as is, with no additional toppings. And then the fries. Oh lord. Their regular fries are 620, so if you split them it’s 310. But still. almost 1000 calories on one meal is more than half of my daily intake.

Yeah, they might be tasty, but I think they’re overrated. I’ve had much better burgers, one of which being Elevation Burger, which I will be doing a review of for The Burger Bar soon.

What do you guys think? Do you prefer the greasy Five Guys or something else?

five guys overrated greasy fattening burgers french fries

This post, five guys is overrated, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

So today’s final prompt:

Prompt A: Talk about a time when you intervened. What prompted you? Did you regret it?

[hr]

So, a lot of my friends will tell you that I am a very protective person by nature. I am very protective of my friends and family, and will stick up for them if provoked, even if some of them won’t do the same for me. I don’t know why I continually do this, but it’s just my nature. I am also very blunt. That’s both a blessing and a curse.

In this instance, I was living in Phoenix. My good friend had just found out that her hubby had been cheating on her with one of our other friends. We came to also find out that the friend was pregnant with his kid, and when the divorce was finalized, they up and got married. Additionally, this person was also married at the time to ANOTHER friend of ours (who’s now happily married with 2 kids to another good friend of ours).

So me, being the very protective friend that I am, took it upon myself to send this friend a message on Myspace and really give her a piece of my mind. You see, I am probably not the best at confrontation, but when it comes to messages, I can be a gigantic bitch when I have something to hide behind. I am working on that by the way, not being afraid of confrontation. Anyway, so I sent her a big long message about how she was an awful person for hurting her alleged best friend the way she did by going around her back with her husband. The main point of the messages was this though:

Your vagina is not a clown car.

The Duggar Family

And this was a running gag between the group of us, and still is. Because, well, it just is. I personally think that anyone who’s got more than one kid with more than one dad has some issues, but it’s their choice, and I won’t infringe on that, or intervene. But when it comes to the happiness of a friend who’s life is being torn down by the decisions of another friend, I take action. They don’t call me the bodyguard for nothing.

**DISCLAIMER: I am not downing people who have a kid with someone they break up with, and then have another kid with a new husband. There’s a difference between that and what I’m talking about. I hope you all understand what I mean. I don’t want any pitchforks coming at me. 

Do I regret it? Absolutely not. This person added me on Facebook a while back, and seems to have patched up a lot of broken friendships (included the ones she hurt, like her ex husband), but unfortunately for her, she couldn’t repair ours. I let her lurk around my Facebook for a couple weeks and then she pissed me off so I blocked her.

If you hurt my friends, expect me to come after you accordingly.

scintilla project day eleven intervention intervene friends confrontation

This post, #scintilla day eleven – intervention, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Today’s #scintilla prompt:

Prompt A: Talk about a time when you got away with it.

—–

In February of 2006, I met The Dark One. Well, his name is actually Brandon, but for blogging purposes, his name will hence-forth remain The Dark One. We met at the bowling alley, when our mutual friend Ian (whom I talked about here) inadvertently introduced us to each other. Well, that was it. That fateful meeting was all we needed to jumpstart the whirlwind mess of a relationship (and subsequent failed marriage) we had.

We went bowling a lot. I guess if there’s one thing I can thank The Dark One for, it’s my love of bowling (although truthfully, I haven’t been in forever, and need to replace my custom bowling balls and shoes, eventually). There was one day in particular, that we were bowling at the Christown AMF lanes in Phoenix, and he was kicking my butt as usual. I am not sure how the topic of conversation came up, but we were talking about the unfortunate fact that Phoenix doesn’t have a bowling alley open 24 hours. I mean, what could be better? In my experience, bowling at 3am is awesome. And the only place I knew without a doubt, for a fact, that had a 24 hour bowling alley, was in Las Vegas, which was 5 hours away.

I brought this up casually, thinking, oh yeah, we can’t go to Vegas to go bowling. We’ve been dating all of about two weeks (if that, I can’t even remember). Little did I know that a mere three hours later, we would be on a five hour road trip to the City of Sin, just to go bowling at the 24 hour bowling alley at The Orleans. This would be the first of MANY trips up there, but those are another story entirely.

Normally I cannot keep secrets from my mom, and she knew, as soon as I called to check in at 2am to tell her I was going cosmic bowling and staying at a friends house, that something was up. At that point, I didn’t even care if she figured it out (she found out when we got back), because I was having so much fun. I just randomly drove (well, he drove, because I can’t drive a stick) 5 hours to Vegas to go bowling with my boyfriend of two weeks!

When you’re young and stupid, you have a skewed outlook on life. You think that you can get away with anything and it won’t affect those around you. But you’re actually quite wrong. In doing what I was doing with The Dark One, I was actually hurting three people at once. One, my recently separated-with husband at the time (that’s right, our divorce wasn’t final yet at that point), and two, the guy I was seeing before I met The Dark One. Oh and three, Ian, but we always had issues with that. At the time, I didn’t care, because I just wanted to live life and have fun.

So I guess you could say that, on this stupid little trip up to Vegas, I got away with a lot of things. None of which I am very proud of NOW, because I know better NOW. Life experience has taught me that you can’t get away with everything. There will always be consequences, and you need to be prepared for them.

What’s that saying? Oh, yeah. If I knew then, what I know now, things would be different. But I can’t guarantee that, had things been different, that my life would be the same. So let’s just chalk it up to mistakes made and lessons learned. My mantra for everything.

scintilla day five spontaneity las vegas bowling dark one

This post, #scintilla day five – spontaneity, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Today’s #scintilla prompt comes from their Twitter account.

—–

The first time I left home was in 2006.

I was young and stupid. I was going through a divorce and I was in a whirlwind relationship with The Dark One (there’s no real reason to talk about him in any other manner other than this). We had been together for about a month when we decided to be young and stupid and move in together. My divorce wasn’t even final yet.

I remember the first time I went shopping for groceries for our new apartment, which was near 19th st and Camelback Rd in Phoenix. I was 19 and had never shopped for myself before, let alone a boyfriend. Of course, I’d been shopping with my mom before. But I had no real idea of what to buy. $200 or more later, and I left the store with a bunch of crap.

I don’t think I was ever in the right frame of mind during the entirety of that relationship. Because of my illness, I was making horrible decisions, which included getting remarried shortly after my divorce was final. I can’t blame it entirely on being sick, because I was pretty young and stupid back in those days.

Leaving home that year, even if it was only for about 10 months (we moved back in with my parents while I was in and out of the hospital) was certainly a learning experience. I never knew anything else the first 20 years of my life, which were spent living with my parents. I was afraid, but I did it anyway.

Even though it was not the best time of my life, it shaped who I am today. And I am thankful for that, even if it brought me a lot of pain.

scintilla project day four leaving home growing

This post, #scintilla bonus #1 – leaving home, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

I was going through some old text messages on my phone (you know, because I never delete them), and I came across a conversation with friend from back in March of last year. Last March, I visited Phoenix for almost two weeks. I wanted to take a bit of a vacation, and Mr. Fox couldn’t come with me because of work. Because I lived there previously for about 4 years, I have a good many friends still there, and I wanted to see them. One of those friends was my friend Ian H. I actually have two friends named Ian in Phoenix, so I have to designate which one I’m talking about.

Ian H. and I had a strange relationship. We met at Glendale Community College in 2005. He was part of a group of people that I hung out with, mostly anime geeks. I remember Valentine’s Day 2005 in particular because he asked me to go with him to the Anime Club Valentine’s Day party. I was sort of seeing someone at the time, but Ian H. just would not leave me alone. And he was in a vulnerable state because of a bad breakup (which he also tried to enlist my help in trying to fix). We hung out a lot, and I really liked him. A lot. But I wasn’t in the mood to be a rebound. A short time after that, he inadvertently introduced me to my now ex husband Brandon. But we were still stuck on each other. And it was the kind of stuck that you love to hate and hate to love. It was the little things we’d do for each other, albeit begrudgingly, that made our relationship so interesting.

Ian H. stopped trying to get me away from Brandon after a while, so I figured he just didn’t want me anymore. When I told him that I was leaving Brandon, he jokingly referred to me as a “serial wife” (I was married once before Brandon), and even though it was a joke, that stupid reference has stuck with me all this time. While I was separated from Brandon and seeing other people, Ian H. would be constantly telling me that this guy and the other guy weren’t good enough for me. When I was single, he would be with someone else. There was never really a time that we were both single, until right before I met Mr. Fox. I remember Ian H. invited me over to watch a movie, and he made me dinner. It was then that he decided that he didn’t want to hurt our friendship by taking it further. In the front of my mind, I understood. But in the back of my mind, I was devastated. I went home that night and started planning a trip out to Indianapolis to visit some old friends from high school. I joined eHarmony in the hopes of meeting someone else. I eventually met Mr. Fox, moved away from Phoenix to Indy, and married him in 2009. Life’s been grand ever since.

However, there are times when I can’t help but wonder, what if? Especially when I am feeling awful, or Mr. Fox and I have had a fight of epic proportions.

Going back to the Phoenix trip last March. It was during that time that I had an especially bad fight with Mr. Fox (long distance nonetheless), and all I wanted to do was spend time with friends. I wanted to hang out with Ian H, but he kept blowing me off to spend time with his girlfriend. Which was fine, except I made extra effort to make time to hang out with him, rearranged things I had already planned, only to be canceled on at the last minute three times. Did I have a right to be upset and angry with him? Probably not, but I was.

So fast forward to last night’s textual conversation. It always comes back to the same thing. What if? Why? Why did you do this or that? All these thoughts and emotions come out. They always do, and they get us nowhere, except depressed and feeling bad. Second-guessing things that are already good in our lives.

There’s something that my mom always tells me that rings true. The grass isn’t greener. The past is the past. You can’t go back. I am happily married to Mr. Fox and love him dearly. I don’t want to go back to the person I was 5 years ago, because it was such a dark time in my life. However, I do hold on to a few select memories of Ian H, because I know that if I am ever feeling down and out, those memories put a smile on my face. I keep them tucked away in the back of my mind. One could argue that the only reason I still think of him is because I’m not 100% happy with life now, with Mr. Fox. That’s far from true. We have a wonderful marriage, a wonderful home, and a great life together. I love Mr. Fox as much as the day I married him, if not more.

The point is, I’m happy NOW, and there’s no point in going backwards. You can only go forward from here.

past relationships ian love marriage life

This post, You Can’t Go Back, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

I apologize for not being around much this past week. It’s moving week around here, so I have not been at my computer much. I actually meant to make this post a couple days ago but I forgot. I’m exhausted, so sue me!

Truthfully, this is the most interesting, and quite possibly the hardest, move yet, and it’s certainly not something I am used to. In the past, I’ve moved extremely long distances with my parents. We have a very close relationship, and I don’t go very long without seeing them. We’ve been together through 6 of my 10 total moves (the other 4 moves were in the same city, just with the ex, not including the couple Indianapolis moves with Mr. Fox. The longest time I was moved away from my parents was when I moved out here to Indy from Phoenix with Mr. Fox in July of ’08, and my parents didn’t get out here until November of that year. Four months, yes. Four very long and difficult months in which I questioned my motives for leaving them there while their house was on the market and even contemplated moving back until it was sold, yes. You may think that, in retrospect, four months is pretty short to complain about. But when you’re essentially an only child (I have 4 half siblings, but they’re another story for another day) and all you pretty much know are your parents (the farthest I had lived from them was about 30-45 minutes, and even then I went over to their house A LOT), four months apart is a LONG TIME.

I digress.

This move is different. Mr. Fox and I have a chance at a new beginning, and we’re taking it. We are giving up a lot of things here in Indiana to do it, also. We’re leaving friends (not many, but a fair few), jobs (I still have mine, but am hoping to branch out into something more meaningful), and most importantly, my parents. 600 miles away (although the first time we separated in ’08 it was 1600 miles) from the other two most important people in my life. All for the sake of getting out of a horrible place in order to start fresh in the place we both spent our childhoods.

To say I wasn’t depressed would be an understatement. Which is strange though, when you think about it. I should be freaking excited! I am going back to the one place I was the most successful and most happy! The place I spent many happy years, with some amazing people. Mr. Fox was born there (and, as I’ve mentioned before, I am from Jersey, but I spent a lot of time between Jersey and Philly) and has a lot of roots there that he wants to pick up. We’ve been counting down the days since October of last year (man, it’s only the 5th of January and it feels strange to say last year).

I digress again. @_@

I should be excited, and I am. You just wouldn’t know it, because moving depresses me. I believe I’ve called it the “moving blues.” After moving so much, yes, it’s become a science, but it hasn’t and will not get any easier, no matter where I’m going. Yes, we’re picking up and leaving Indianapolis. Yes, we’re going back to a happier place where we have a lot of friends and even some relatives. Yes, we’re getting a pretty fresh start. But I am still depressed.

Like the other day for instance. I realized that I only really have three major things left to remember my grandmother by. A very dated old Sony Watchman portable television, which used to reside in her kitchen in her condo, and before that in her kitchen at the house on Spring Ave in Elkins Park. It doesn’t even work, but I cannot part with it. So many summers spent sitting in the kitchen, watching that old little black and white TV. The second thing, the old wooden checker/chess board that used to reside on her game table in the family room. I can’t even begin to count the number of times she kicked my ass over the years at checkers. When I unearthed the checker board, I started bawling. Mr. Fox and I were outside, clearing out our outdoor storage closet, it was 13 degrees outside, and I was crying like a baby. My face was chapped, and I was very upset. The third thing I have is a Cuisinart food processor, circa 1970′s. It is a BEAST, and it weighs a ton. It is this exact model, and it works like a dream. I will use it until it dies, and if/when it does, I will replace it with its newer version. I had a great many other momentos, including beautiful Le Creuset cookware circa 1960′s, and a bunch of other memories, but they were lost in the Great Eviction Debacle of 2006, courtesy of my ex husband Brandon (yet another story for another time).

So right around the time of the Great Eviction Debacle of 2006, I began to lose interest in moving around. I equated moving with being depressed and losing things of importance and value, and therefore I became depressed at the thought of moving in general. Mr. Fox doesn’t quite understand it, but I’m sure in time, he will. He is extremely excited to be going back, and I really can’t blame him. He left Philly for Indy to be with his now ex (obviously) in 2003, and in doing so, lost touch with a lot of his friends from high school and grade school, as well as his own father (RIP, 4/2011). I had a chance to meet his best friends the last time we were there in October, and they are pretty awesome. So that being said, Mr. Fox can’t see why I’m not as excited as he is.

Oh hey, I digress again!

The TL;DR bottom line: I am going to be out of here in a very VERY short time. And I’m both happy and sad about it. But things will be okay. Mom and dad will follow us there if the market allows. So not all hope is lost. I can only hope that it doesn’t take a long time.

Sorry, I went on a bit of a tirade there, didn’t I?

Now back to business. All that being said, I will be gone for the next couple days. I will try and get a couple posts in if I can, but try not to miss me too much, kay?

small hiatus moving blues depression

This post, Small Hiatus, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

This is the time of year when families are upholding decades old traditions and working to create new ones. It doesn’t matter what you celebrate (or don’t) … please share with us your December traditions: how they got started, why you continue them, and why they are special to you.

Over the years, we’ve had many traditions in our family during December.

Not many of them stick, only because they either end up costing a bunch of money, or they get kinda boring. Or for whatever reason, we just stop doing them.

Years and years ago, we’d have a family Christmas at our house, where most of the relatives would come and spend the day. I think that stopped when we left Jersey.

When we lived in Phoenix, we started going to the movies on Christmas, and then out to dinner at the local casino’s (whose name I can’t remember) super special expensive buffet. The line for the buffet would be about an hour to two hour wait, and then there was delicious food inside. It reminded me a lot of the buffets we’d go to when we lived in Vegas, only, it wasn’t. lol.

After we moved back to Indiana, we all kinda became broke, so there wasn’t much to do except spend time with each other, which is completely fine! On Christmas Eve, for the last few years, we’ve been going to Denny’s. Last year they had all you can eat french fries, which was awesome. On Christmas day, Mr. Fox and I would hang out at my parents’ house and we’d have some kind of Christmas dinner. After that, we’d watch movies we rented from the cable box, and have some alcohol. I know its a weird tradition, but we like it, so we keep doing it.

Also for the last three years, Mr. Fox and I have had our annual holiday party, where we’d invite a bunch of people, eat a bunch of food and watch corny Christmas movies, including National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. I am pretty sure I’ve watched that twice a year, for the last 10 or so. It never gets old, and I can pretty much quote it. Mr. Fox can quote it word for word, which annoys me when he recites it along with the movie. I started tweeting iconic quotes from the movie a couple years ago and I continue to do so, under the hashtag of #christmasvacationquotes. After just doing that search, I am pretty sure you can find the entire movie in sequential order, just on the basis of quotes.

Anyway, since we’re getting ready to move, we didn’t have our holiday party this year. Which is fine, honestly. We always end up having so much food leftover, and with needing to clean out the refrigerator soon, it would have been more of a hassle than it’s worth. However, we will be having our annual party next year, in our new home. In fact, I’ve already gone into party-planning mode. Sure, it’s a year away. But it’s better to be organized than scrambling to do things the day or two before.

So, yeah, those are our mixed up traditions. We aren’t a perfect family, but hopefully after life settles down a bit, we’ll make some more traditions.

reverb11 resound11 day eighteen traditions holidays december christmas vacation

This post, #reverb11 and #resound11 day eighteen – traditions, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.

Crowd says: TEN TIMES?!

Yes, ten times.

And with all of those moves, I’ve grown more and more disdainful toward the idea of moving. In the beginning, I was all, “Hey! This is awesome! Moving to a new place and making new friends.” Now I’m all, “meh.” It’s made me unmotivated and just uninterested in the idea. I mean, not that I’m not excited to move, because I am, but just getting there is becoming such a daunting task.

Let’s see, what can I say about moving.

The first time I moved was from New Jersey to Las Vegas in 1996. I was about to start fifth grade, and I was excited to leave the only place I’ve ever known to move to the city that never sleeps. The land of slot machines at the gas station, 24 hour supermarkets and buffets. Lots of buffets.

The second time we moved was intrastate. We moved from Las Vegas to Henderson, which is where we stayed until I was done with 8th grade in 2000.

In the summer of 2000, we picked up and moved to the midwest, specifically Carmel, Indiana. It was more or less like going back to the east coast, only not really. We went from 100+ degree summers back to snow. I can’t say I didn’t mind really. The hot summers of Vegas were starting to bother me. And hey, I was about to start high school. Although truthfully, my years at Carmel High School were awful. I honestly wish that I could go back and erase the three years I was there.

In 2003, my grandmother got sick. So we picked up from Carmel and moved to Philly to be with her. It was right before my senior year of high school, so I was relieved to be going to a new place to finish my high school career. Even though the first three years were awful, I now had the chance to pull my grades up and start over in a new place. And start over I did. I am of the firm belief that the move to Philly had the greatest and most positive impact on my life. I was very sad to leave there after graduation.

2004 brought a move back out west to Phoenix. The four years I lived there brought the most moves in one area: once to our house in Peoria where I lived with my parents until I moved out on my own with my flame at the time to our first apartment in March of 2006. In October of 2006 (yay six month leases!) we moved to another apartment in another part of town until I got sick. After two months in and out of the hospital, we moved back in with my parents. In 2007 we all moved to another part of town, and then I split with Mr. Huston (I am sure I will talk about him in-depth another time).

In 2008, I met Mr. Fox online, while he was living here in Indianapolis, and after a 3 month long distance relationship, I made the decision to move back to Indy. My parents and I had already been planning on moving there, I was just moving out sooner than originally planned. So I picked up my two cats and moved in with Mr. Fox and his cat. And there was our little family. My parents moved out to Indy a little later in the year.

A couple of months after Mr. Fox and I became Mr. and Mrs., we moved our little family across town to be closer to my parents (and for other reasons involving bitchy lesbian landlords), into a nice apartment. We’ve actually tried to transfer to a townhouse in the same complex twice in the almost two years we’ve been here, and failed miserably due to life happening.

And now, well, shortly, we’ll be picking up and moving back “home” as I like to call it, as it’s where both Mr. Fox and I were born and raised. The idea of picking up and starting over is a bit overwhelming. We have a chance to start a new life, to start fresh.

And you’re probably wondering why I am not more excited. Well, see paragraphs 2-8. Also, the idea of leaving my parents in Indiana for however long it takes them to sell their house and move back is unnerving to me. I mean, I did it in 2008 when I came here to Indy, but that was only for four months. I have a very close relationship with my mom. She’s my first best friend and I hate the idea of not being able to go the less than a mile to their house and see her and dad. But I know that they’ll get to be home again eventually. It’s just a matter of when.

So you see how unmotivated I am to pack up and move for the 11th time. I want to, because I hate it here in Indiana. But I wish I could just snap my fingers and it’ll all be done for me.

If only it were that easy.

moving blues lacking motivation east coast

This post, Moving Blues, was written by phillynikongal, and originally posted on esther fox [DOT] com. If you're reading this on a site other than esther fox [DOT] com, it has been taken and used without permission.