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remember when I had a blog?

Wow. Really failing here. I wish I could tell you that the reason for my hiatus was that life was just too fabulously full of Instagram-able moments and adorable Pinterest projects to stop and write some lines. But that would be all lies. I mostly had a creative dry spell and lost interest. Sorry, I’m just not that in to you, WordPress! But that’s all about to change!! (No, it’s not.) I’m going to post regularly! (No, I’m not.)

One major reason I will not post regularly in the future is that holy crap – I’m going to be a mama. My husband and I will be parents roughly around the end of June. That is exciting and terrifying, depending on what day you ask me. I am not a kids person. I know nothing about babies. Newborn’s weak necks scare me into not holding them. I never relished babysitting – I was terrible at it. Yet I have lots of highfalutin ideas about how I will mold my child in to the most polite, witty, coolest, and well adjusted human being ever – with absolutely no experience or expertise to make that a reality.

What is really terrifying is that as a child (ages birth to 13) I assumed all parents had their shit together. I thought everyone at the age of 30 had all their shit together and that 17 year olds were like the coolest people ever. I was disabused of that notion in high school. As a result of this assumption I thought someday when I have kids I will be fully actualized adult with no more issues or problems. That is not presently the case, and that scares me. I tell myself the reality is that no new parent (and likely any parent) has their lives together, no matter how polished their social media posts are. I tell myself I just have to accept that it will be hard and I will make mistakes and not let it overshadow the impending awesomeness of parenthood (so I am told).

The cats have been formative, but certainly no surrogate for parenting – the Google results for  litter training children are surprisingly disappointing. I won’t ‘get’ being a parent until I am one so I need to just let this all happen without expectations of perfection or doom. Maybe I’ll even have some blog post worthy moments. But fear not, reader, this will not become a repository of mundane parenting stories. I will share the nursery, however, when that is finished. Cause it’s going to be awesome, says me.

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Flirting with freeganism–and failing.

It all started because of mint.com. If you don’t know about mint.com, let me elaborate.

It’s freaking awesome. It tracks your spending and makes budgeting awesome. It does this by providing a read only view of your accounts and categorizes your transactions. It also provides metrics to track trends. It is my obsession despite the fact that I frequently go over budget in certain monthly categories, like Faberge eggs. My love for the service probably has something to do with my need to control everything I can as well as my penchant for planning and charts. The husband hates it.

Damn you, tawdry sirien!

Anyway, I began downloading spreadsheets regarding my utility costs and calculating averages and variances and decided that it was time to develop a plan. The husband and I had a plan previously to reduce the heat bill. It was called “it’s free to put on a coat”, but thanks to mint.com, I now realize that strategy was perhaps ineffective.

I needed to figure out different austerity measures, especially since operation mittens-in-the-house isn’t appropriate this time of year. I turned my attention to the water bill. I knew this could be a hard sell to the husband considering anytime I start breakin’ it down mint.com style, he gives me a resistant eye roll. 

"You want me to do what?"

My primary strategy, I decided, was to not let the water run the entire duration of a shower. Instead I would do the ol’ in and out–Water. Loofah. Water. That is actually harder than it sounds. Its deceptively easy to be lured in to an extra minute or seven of cascading warmth instead of standing there shivering as you loofah your elbow. Husband accepted that attempt at frugality.

My next strategy was inspired by an idea I got from a woman who was a freegan. Now I get that most people would not be inspired by people who eat the ‘less moldy’ stuff from the trash, but the lifestyle appeals to my total aversion to waste as well as my passing interest adhering to an ideology. Freegans are essentially nightmare fuel for the people who use the term ‘dirty hippie’ without irony.

Proto-freegan?

The she-freegan detailed how she keeps a bucket in the shower to collect the water and then uses said contents of the bucket to flush the toilet. I think she had gotten the idea from spending time somewhere in Africa. I was immediately down.

Husband did not feel similarly. He refusal is absolute and furthermore he’s concerned I might be a crazy person. I told him that we should be preparing for World War III over water shortages, but he was not persuaded.

Alas, I’ve stepped down on this one. Husband 1, me 0.

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What’s in a Name?

When I first named this blog Messy Tessy it was because the moniker was always a term of endearment. I looked up my name on babynamer.com recently, which tells you a name’s possible drawbacks– mine being ‘Messy Tessy’ or ‘Messa Tessa’. Messy Tessy has never been insulting as it’s fairly accurate due to my almost constant creation of clutter and struggles with life. Generally I like anything with Tessy in it, as that is what I want to be called when I become a weird neighborhood old person who the kids visit on summer afternoons. I’ll offer them outdated hard candies and expect them to eat it in front of me for my enjoyment.

What babynamer.com forgot about was “Tessa the Molesta” which my sister coined and tortured me with until I got red in the face and no doubt attacked her, as was my custom. Someone else actually casually slipped in to conversation once freshman year of college and I shut it down. When I searched babynamer.com for ‘Daniel’, teasing nick names included Fanny Danny (probably only really funny in the U.K.), Dan Dan the Garbage man (what??), and Dan-druff (haha!). Subsequently, I came up with ‘Wahhh-niel’ (a la Wahh-mbulance) which I will employ at some point in the future, I’m sure.

After I named the blog, I googled Messy Tessy and I came to a stunning and terrible realization. ‘Messy Tessie’ was a Garbage Pail Kid.

Sick.

As a child, I hated disgusting things. For example, I refused to touch the back of any issue of Ranger Rick when it featured a spider or newt or something disgustingly slimy. Topping my list on disgusting things I hated was Garbage Pail Kids. I was on the tail end of this trend, but I specifically remember feeling ill after viewing this rather tasteless spoof on Cabbage Patch dolls, which I loved dearly at the time. The Garbage Pail kids were always getting violently maimed or mucking around in disgusting substances which ended up being a play on their names that likely made some similarly named kid’s life hell as those nick names were bestowed upon them.

What is even more disturbing are the stills from live action movie made based upon the series, which apparently is one of the worst pieces of cinematic crap ever produced.  Messie Tessie features prominently. The costuming was done by John Carl Buechler who had done the film Troll (and we all know what that leads to). As a so-bad-it’s-good movie junkie, my interest is piqued.

I’m not regretting my blog title, but honestly, ‘Messy Tessy’ is a little bit tarnished now.

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A writer’s promise to her readers

Ohh mansies. Blogging. I have the same sense of dread and confusion mixed with exploratory curiosity that cats have when you let them out of their carrier at the vet’s office. Imagine me bobbing and weaving around the WordPress site smelling everything, hissing, and eventually curling in the corner to stare at you.

Maybe my recent acquisition of another cat has me in a weird place, I don’t know.

Regardless, half the reason why blogging scares me so much is because I mercilessly mocked blogs back in college, doing what we called dramatic blog readings. This activity also extended to middle school diaries of friends because they contained the same painfully earnest melancholy delusions of grandeur that I hope to avoid while blogging.  This is not my first foray in to the world of the blog. I did have a Xanga account and a Myspace page, but times were different back then, mostly because I couldn’t post links to my facebook page desperately vying for attention and readership, as I intend to do now. So I better not suck.

This all being said, I have drawn up a promise to you all (the delusions of grandeur are starting!!), to which you can keep me accountable to should I stray. Hence, a writer’s promise to her readers:

1. I will not wallow in self pity (and blog about it).

2. I will attempt to establish a proper posting schedule so that you don’t decide to randomly stalk my blog and see that the last time I posted was about the bad cod fish sandwich my husband ate 3 months ago.

3. I will not write about the time my husband ate a bad cod fish sandwich.

4. I will update you on my comings and goings, goals, the happenings, favorites, memories, stories, weekend recaps, etc.

5. I will post pictures occasionally, a likely majority of which will be cat pictures. If that’s not your bag, you better leave now.

6. I will state my opinion on various things. I will try not to be a curmudgeonous ass about my stances, so hopefully I won’t piss you off.

7. I will make up words like curmudgeonous.

8. I won’t likely use comas or apostrophes correctly, so brace yourself now. I will use the proper form of their, they’re, there and your and you’re. I may also give up on capitalization eventually as well.

Well that’s all the main points I can think of right now to avoid being inducted in to the annals of Blogs That Suck. Besides, with our minuscule attention spans, you probably haven’t read this far. Heck, I’m barely paying attention anymore.

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