New FUH-lash:
We are moving to Fort Awesome, aka, Fort Wayne.  Take has accepted a new job at Zimmer (orthopaedic company that makes artificial hip and knee joints).  I've always wished that Dave would take on a serious business job someplace, I just didn't expect it to happen so soon.  He interview the week of Memorial Day and was offered the job a week later.  He starts THIS Monday.  Yikes.  Welcome to single mommy life (with two dogs).  SO, in the mean time, I'm suppose to get the house ready to show, aka, declutter and clean the BA-Jesus out of the house.  Problem?  A certain 1 year old that enjoys opening and closing doors, and getting into mischief.  This is when my Real Housewives of Orange County voice in my head says, "Carrie, just call the Nanny."  Yea, right.  Thankfully, Dave's parental units get an A+ in the awesome department, offering their help/guidance/support during this process. 

I am in the midst of getting ready for my first garage sale, aka, selling my crap to the nice folks of Bloomington.  My goal is to make $300, so I can buy my plane ticket to Florida to have a girls weekend with my "Mommies."  We have a major hookup:  My friend, Irene, has a beach house on the Gulf.  SCA-Ore.  Yep, margaritas, no babies, and lots of gossip magazines.  SO EXCITED. 

And finally, the only think I want to do when it is this hot out is do nothing.  Sadly, I have more shit to do than a one-legged woman in an ass kicking contest. 

Greta is 1 year old today.  She no longer wears diapers that size of beverage napkins.  No more naps in her "bucket."  Tear.  My little Button is growing up.....

My advice for the day:  When going to Walmart, go early in the day.  There are lots of older folks there that want to talk to your baby, say "excuse me" politely when they are moving their shopping carts, AND the aisles are stocked, cleaned, and organized.  Not a bad way to start a Tuesday.

Furthermore, I have my trusty stead, Hey 19, ( my Subaru Forester) back from the collision shop.  Sadly, the shop did a wonky job and she needs to go back for a better bumper and further inspection.  She's driveable, but she isn't as pretty as she used to be.  Someday I'll be driving one of these Bad Larrys:







I'll be ready to kick some ass, and take some names.  The Forester offers a different kind of ride----Dave calls it a "utilitarian" kind a car.  I'm happy with that.   Oh, did I mention that I want my Suburban parked in the driveway of my dream house?:

 

Some wishful thinking for today........

Back to reality:

To elaborate a bit more on yesterday's post would be a waste of my time.  The long and short of it:  Unless you lose a limb, die, or are on a ventilator, sueing a doctor in Indiana is impossible.  I've decided that I should be a doctor, because I am clearly fit to make medical decisions, based on the AMAZEBALLS care I received when GFP was borged into the world.  I would also like to add, once a baby comes out, that does not mean the "care" stops.  Asking a patient, "How are we doing?" is not grounds for care. 

I would also like to add that $10K out of pocket with no warning is no way to start a summer.

Further, the embarrassment of peeing yourself in public is worth something.  I'd say at least $5K.  Damage to my bladder, pelvic floor, and loss of my emotional stability:  at least $100K.  Reeking havoc on my daughter's cranium BEFORE she even breathes her first breaths of life:  at least $1 million. 

I rest MY case.  Now, if only the hospital records could only REMEMBER to write such things down.  Oh rats!  I must have lost my pen (and my mind).  Whoopsie daisies.  Maybe next time will be better.