Run mother run

Fashion Friday

2012-01-27T08:33:00.005-05:00

I attended a small, private Christian school during high school. We did not have a dress code per se, but we were required to wear a skirt or dress to school every day. I really did not have a problem with this as I loved coming up with new outfits, and my mother is a wonderful seamstress who was always sewing some funky new thing for my sister and me.

I love fashion, and I love looking cute. But in the past few years I have been in a slump. Oh, I still rock the latest fashion when I have a special occasion, or when I go to church, but for an everyday look? Well, I have adopted a uniform, two actually, that I am not proud of. My first outfit consists of a pair of very forgiving stretch boot cut jeans and a red v-neck tee. I wear this one mainly in the warmer months. The second outfit consists of a pair of Old Navy Sweetheart jeans, a white turtle neck and a navy Boy Scout hooded sweatshirt. I sport that lovely ensemble with Kevin's Ugg slippers and wool socks, mainly because our house is only a few degrees warmer than the city morgue.

The other day I put on my skinny jeans, brown tee shirt, and this cardigan that I recently purchased at Target. I put on some earrings and a sweet little pair of brown ballet flats. The kids were staring at me as if I sprouted another head.

"Mom." my oldest said. "You look so...colorful."

You know that you have reached a new level of cool when your 15 year old son notices your clothes.

So in honor of that, I have decided to make more of an effort every day to look more colorful. I know that I have Annette Funicello hair in this picture, please try to ignore it.

Exhibit A: colorful from Goodwill.

I bought that yellow sweater for $3.oo at Goodwill. Everything else was not $3.oo, but close enough.

I plan on doing a Fashion Friday post every week with my own clothes. I have decided to put the whammy on myself. Fellow moms of the world who are stuck in the mom uniform rut, won't you join me?

Arachnophibia

2012-01-25T11:41:00.004-05:00

Joe and I are deep in the trenches of a spider study. He wanted me to buy him a tarantula, but I talked him into an egg carton spider instead. This seemed less terrifying to me. The last thing that I want to think about is a tarantula getting loose in the house and biting me in my sleep. It would be like the Brady Bunch episode only with more screaming and crying. (Fast forward to 11:19)

This is the craft that we made. The best part? Googly eyes. We like googly eyes.

Creeping out from the darkest recesses of the school room...

...come the spiders!

Mercy

2012-01-19T07:53:00.006-05:00

I found this the other day on Pinterest. I quickly read it, and then pinned it to my board.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yesterday was a bad day. A very bad day. I saw the day heading in a downward spiral of anger, resentment, frustration and strife. I saw it going there and I could have stopped it, but I didn't. It was like stepping outside of myself and watching the events unfold like a movie. A movie about a destructive tornado that tears thorough some unsuspecting little town leaving its residents lives completely turned upside down.

"Where did that come from?" they quizzically ask each other.

"I don't know, but I am so afraid that it is going to happen again. I hope it doesn't."

Sometimes the worst part of being an adult is that although you are supposed to know better and do better, you still act like a child. Last night after all was calm and I apologized to my boys for acting the perfect part of the lunatic, I was still feeling unsettled. I woke up in the middle of the night and got up out of my warm bed. I went into their rooms and put my hands on their sleeping heads and asked for mercy for their memories. I prayed that they would not remember the bad days. That the good days would all pile up until the deep places in their minds were so filled with good memories that there was no room for the bad ones. I wish that I could take a magic eraser and wipe all traces of the unhappiness that I have caused completely from the minds. But I can't. The only thing that I can do today is do better than yesterday.

Today I will do what matters.

Hot c-c-cocoa

2012-01-13T13:54:00.004-05:00

It has been getting progressively colder here in the the northeast. Not Arctic Circle cold, but cold enough. I have not been able to feel my finger tips since October. I really dislike being cold. Add to that the fact that we have oil heat and at $3.03 a gallon we are subscribing to the put more clothes on line of reasoning. It's fine for my boys, because they are part reptile, but I am a delicate flower. I walk around the house in no less than 3 layers of clothing, and will frequently put the hood of my sweatshirt up to conserve more body heat.

This afternoon was especially frigid. We had rain and then snow followed by a ferocious breeze out of the north. It was cold. Fer realz cold.

We all needed a pick me up, and this did the trick. Hot cocoa in a snowman mug. Who wouldn't be warmed by that?

Please don't let the outward condition of that red potholder be a commentary on my culinary abilities or lack thereof. This house has an electric stove, and I inadvertently tossed the potholder on the hot stove top after grabbing the food from the oven. The odor of burning cotton cued me into the fact that something was wrong. Thankfully I grabbed it before a full on fire consumed the kitchen.

How are you keeping warm?

The Secret Ingredient

2012-01-10T09:05:00.001-05:00

This is why yesterday ran smoothly.

Why yesterday was infinitely better than the day before.

Why today holds promises of good things.

May your day be blessed!

Coming Clean (not literally)

2011-10-07T07:48:00.003-04:00

What I want you to believe:

The reality:

This is what the room looks like at the end of 4 out of 5 school days, minus the tipped over chair. I know that the tipped over chair gives the room a "the beatings will now begin" feeling, but I can assure you that is not the case. Joe was playing visit the dog in jail, and the chair just never got picked back up. Nor did the legos. Or the blanket. Or the books. You get it. Sometimes you just have to shut the door and say, I will deal with you tomorrow. (Or in a week from now.)

So this is a reality check for those who think that my home is always clean. Clearly you have been supplied erroneous information. Don't you feel better?

Getting it Together

2011-10-05T13:58:00.005-04:00

I really love decorating for fall because the colors bring such a feeling of calm to a space. I kept it simple, as simple as the ginormous mantle would let me. It was a challenge to not overfill it.

Also pictured is my new sofa table, courtesy of Craig's List. It was exactly what I was looking for. Exactly.

These fall pictures also serve as the living/dining room afters. You remember the befores, right? Gone is the green paint and the super shiny brass fireplace frame. I spray painted the existing one with high heat spray paint. May I suggest that you open the windows if you ever do this? Gah. I was coughing up black particles for over an hour.

You can't really tell from this photo, but the pining room paint color is darker than the living room. I love the way it turned out.

I did pretty much the same thing last year. I used sticks and twigs along with the dried flowers. I love the crisp, fall feel to the assortment. (Click to enlarge.) I also used fake pumpkins. Last year I used real ones and they rotten and ate away at the wood. Why did I not know that could happen?

I consider this a part of the 31 Days because this is important to me. I love to decorate and it can sometimes get pushed to the back burner.

Is that mop following me?

2011-09-20T07:22:00.001-04:00

This is a video of my family singing to me on my 40th birthday. I watched it for the first time the other day and I had to keep rewinding it to look at the mop. That mop has had a prominent place in the majority of our photos.

Note John's 8th grade graduation. (Please disregard the wardrobe malfunction.) This is our old house. You can see in this photo the full extent of my kitchen cabinets, hence the mop living front and center there in next to the fridge.

Christmas. Always a joyous occasion. And. What's that? The mop again. It mocks, silently, from its haughty little bucket.

I truly believed that once we had a larger home, the mop would no longer make its way into our family photos. So much for logic.

Have you heard Foster? I bought the whole album from iTunes and downloaded it onto my iPod. The entire album is awesome, not just this one song.

How cute is Mark Foster at 1:08? It feels wrong to sing and dance around the house to a song about running away from bullets, but I like it. I think the message is this: even if you are being shot at, nice shoes are important. (Oh, I kid!)

Death by Landline

2011-09-15T07:27:00.002-04:00

So Verizon has been trying to kill me, or drive me straight to the booby hatch. We moved a little over a month ago and attempted to move our service but Verizon was on strike. We were told that they could disconnect our service, but could not schedule an install date due to the strike. Oh, by all means, sign me up for no internet for an indefinite amount of time. We told them that we would go with another provider. We kept all of the service on, however, because we wanted to keep our current phone number and the service has to remain open for them to port the line. Big mistake. We should have just changed our phone number.

We are still waiting for our line to be ported. Verizon blames Comcast. Comcast blames Verizon. I have called Verizon maybe 20 times. Each time I call I get a different person who gives me a different story. One guy even hung up on me. Granted, I yelled at him, but I was beyond frustrated because of Verizon's put you on hold and the disconnect you trick. (It happened 4 times last night.) I know that they most likely pull that stunt to get you to give up. Not me.

Oh, no.

I am like a bad penny, I just keep showing up. Verizon will rue the day that they refused to port my line!! As God as my witness, I will never use Verizon again!

Last night, out of complete frustration, I was tempted to cancel the service altogether and just get a new number, but purely on principle I won't do it. I have invested too much time in this undertaking to just roll over and die.

The thing that has kept me from a full on nervous breakdown of mythical proportions is Mumford and Sons. Watch for yourself. Fine Irish lads, they are.

Runaway Jury

2011-09-13T08:40:00.000-04:00

My husband was selected for jury duty. You would think that he won the lottery, the way he is strutting around all proud of himself. He came home and said, "If it doesn't fit you must acquit." OK, Johnny Cochran. I am going to have to break it to him at some point that he is a juror, not an attorney. It is my fear that he is going to get put in jail for being in contempt of court for some crazy thing like standing up in the juror box and yelling, "I OBJECT!" Then I will have to bail him out with my birthday money, and he will lose his job for doing time in the big house. (He just read this post, before I posted it, and he said that in all actuality I would be the one to do something crazy. If I am being honest, my brotha has a point.) Oh! Also, the judge told him that they are allowed to call a sidebar. How awesome is that? I would be all over the Sidebar.

Sidebar!
When is lunch?

Sidebar!
Can I go to the bathroom?

Sidebar!
Will Kato Kaelin be testifying?

Have you ever googled funny court questions? People say crazy stuff during trails. How much would you love to have been a juror on this case?

Lawyer: "Trooper, when you stopped the defendant, were your red and blue lights flashing?"
Witness: "Yes."
Lawyer: "Did the defendant say anything when she got out of her car?"
Witness: "Yes, sir."
Lawyer: "What did she say?"
Witness: "'What disco am I at?'"

****************
Joe is taking piano lessons. We bought a small Yamaha keyboard from Craig's list. It is the perfect starter instrument, and came loaded with a myriad of preloaded sounds including a freight train and a gorilla. So far all anyone has played is the Jaws theme song. That is not irritating at all. Kevin pressed one of the preloaded beats and began hitting random keys, all ending with the gorilla's grunt. Also not irritating. Tomorrow I am going Tiger mom on all of them. No child of mine will make imitation gorilla sounds at the piano recital.

Schoolroom transformation, part 1

2011-09-12T09:58:00.000-04:00

This house has an amazing room that the previous occupants called The Den. My sister calls it The Rumpus Room. I call it The Inappropriate Schoolroom. Note the bar, hence the inappropriate. Also? That light fixture above the bar? It is ugly. And the light, when illuminated, casts an orange hue that can only be described as murder scene lighting.

So, before we had chaos. My sister says that my brand of chaos is not the average persons brand of chaos, but it is chaos nonetheless.

This red chair is my decorating kryptonite. We bought it in North Carolina, but it only worked well as a functioning piece of furniture in the FROG (family room over garage) in North Carolina. I keep it for purely sentimental reasons. It was, literally, the elephant in the room when it was placed there in the schoolroom as a last resort. You could not get around it and it is afraid of mice. It is crazy. Currently it is taking up 98% of the floor space in the family room. Something need done with it, as my favorite North Carolina pal used to say.

More of my brand of chaos. And a random child.

I should have closed the door to the bathroom. Tres tacky. Readers, meet the toilet. That behemoth of a coat rack was left by the previous occupants. I think they left it to drive me crazy because every place that I put it, I accidentally walk into it. I hate that stupid thing.

Oh! This was the water that I used to wash the paneling. Um, ew. That was one wall. The paneling is going to be painted. I don't mind painted paneling, in fact, I really like it as it adds some architectural character to a room. The brown paneling and trim in this room though, make me feel like I am sitting in a cave. In 1970. With Marcia Brady. And we are saying things like, "Dancing with Davy Jones is so groovy."

That's better. I call this the art corner. I am original with my titles, admire me. The boys painted those abstract art canvases in North Carolina. I love the bold pops of color. That magazine rack belonged to my grandma. It makes me happy to have a part of her near me. Also? Classical music playing softly in the schoolroom? Must have.

This was our first day. Notice the red chair is absent. In its place is the white chair that ~~I slip covered~~ my mother worked on tirelessly. This chair is a much better fit.

The, finally(!), organized shelves.

How adorable are those jars from Ikea? Love. I am going to go back and purchase a few more.

To be or not to be sign courtesy of Primitives by Kathy. I have this one and this one on my wish list.

Outside is the patio. I cannot wait until the humidity disperses and we can commence with outside reading.

I plan on painting the paneling on our six week break. I can't wait to cheer this room up with some color.

More afters to follow!

Where did August go?

2011-09-01T07:32:00.002-04:00

So we moved. For those of you that have known me for a while either online or in real life know that we have moved, a lot. The biggest move we made was our move back to New Jersey from North Carolina. It was the hardest, most emotional move. Ever. Can't stress ever enough. I jokingly now say that I was dragged back over the Mason/Dixon line, but there is some truth to it.

We moved to North Carolina believing that we were never going to leave. Never say never is all that I have to say about that. Living in North Carolina was like living in paradise. We moved in March of 2006 and settled quickly into the Carolina lifestyle. We felt as if we had found our place, and then the other shoe dropped. Things became hard, and we had to move back to New Jersey in September of 2008. Some day I will go into all of the details, but I am still not ready to put it all out there.

We moved the 15th of this month. It was a great move in that we actually picked the place that we are living in. Many things happened in the past three years that I had little to no control over until this move and that is why it was good. It was our choice.

Here are the before pictures.

The entryway. Front door is behind you. Stairs to the right lead to three bedrooms. Kitchen right in front of you. Living room to the left.

The formal living room. Try not to be too jealous of me, I know that paint color is ah-mazing! Too bad the interwebz can't convey sarcasm.

The living room is connected to the formal dining room. And, P.S. that ginormous mantle intimidates me. That is a lot of brick. Talk about a decorating challenge.

I truly cannot decide which is worse. The paint color, or the fact that they painted ev.ry.thing that awful color. (If you look out the window to the right you will see a brick wall. That is part of the patio that you will see later in the series, just as a reference point.)

No, no, I changed my mind. The chandelier is the worst thing. Hello? Madonna? From 1986? Yes, we have your chandelier. Come and get it, please. Kitchen entrance there on the right. Can you see that this is a big circle? I hope that I have conveyed that. An engineer, or even a person who writes with a modicum of clarity, I am not.

Here is my favorite part. Try to overlook the paneling and the fact that this room now looks like Mr.Brady's office. In a few months it will look gorgeous. This room is adjacent to the kitchen which is connected to the dining room. This is our school room/office. That entire left wall is lined with built-in bookcases, shelves and cabinets. JOY!! Outside of the sliders is a beautiful patio. (Referenced in earlier picture.) The best part of that whole door situation over there is that the screen is on a spring loaded hinge. Now no one has to learn the life skill of closing the door. They do, however, have to know how to open it.

Yes, I have a bar in my school room. Doesn't every conservative Christian home schooler have one? The kids want to keep it and fill the fridge behind the bar with Monsters. Monster energy + school work= begging for the eye twitch to return.

View from the office into the kitchen. There is a door to the left that leads to the backyard. I took outside pictures but that will be a separate post.

I loved, I mean loooved my kitchen in North Carolina. This one rivals it. I can honestly say that this kitchen is not my style, at all. (I am not a pink girl.) But I am not going to complain because I have cabinets! Drawers! Pantry! More cabinets! See that brown door to the left in the background? It leads to the family room and basement.

I know. I had the same reaction. We are just some beaded curtains, lava lamps and bell bottoms away from looking like the set from That 70's show. But again, the room size is awesome and there are great bones to the space. (Full bathroom to the left. There are 3 full baths and one half bath altogether.)

That door leads to the side of the house with will take you to the backyard.

View from the foyer again. Two doors to the right are bedrooms. The master is the left of that bathroom there in the center.

This bathroom is so well preserved in it's vintage 60's look that it is almost not hideous. Also, this house was ahead of its time in many ways. Double sinks in the main bath, double closets in the larger of the two bedrooms that was most likely meant to be shared by two children. And! A laundry chute. If you have a laundry chute and you have your trial by fire with shoving too many towels into it, just know that a 28oz can of tomatoes, tossed with some enthusiasm, will clear that sucker right out.

The view from the landing at the top into the living room. This house is huge! It is so much more than I could have ever hoped for.

Final view looking into the kitchen.

We have already done some painting, and I am excited to show you the changes.

In the horrors no more

2011-07-29T12:41:00.009-04:00

It was one year ago this month that I made myself sick as a junk yard dog. We were preparing to leave for Lake George but had planned on visiting some out of town friends, who were back in town, before we went. We agreed to meet them for a little while just to catch up. So we headed down to our town's famed Portuguese restaurant, the Ria Mar, where everyone was waiting. On their dinner table was the cutest little pitcher of sangria. I really wanted a glass and since we had eaten dinner beforehand, decided to get a cute little pitcher for myself.

**Let me just pause here for a 12 step disclaimer. I am not a big drinker. I will not have drinking contests with you, have never played quarters and yes, you could drink me under the table. I have maybe 2 glasses of wine a year and an occasional sangria at Jose Tejas. That's it.**

After ordering sodas for the kids and the sangria for me at the bar, I brought the pitcher to the table, poured a glass and downed it. Gosh and golly, if that sangria was not the sweetest, yummiest nectar of the gods! So fruity! So cold! So delicious! I was miffed that the glasses were so small because I had to keep refilling them. I had one. And then two. And then three. I jokingly said to Kevin, "I should put a straw in the pitcher, it would be easier." I had all of those glasses and I was fine.

And then I wasn't.

One minute I was sitting upright enjoying a conversation with a friend and the next thing I knew I could not feel my face or recall the names of my offspring.

Oh.No.

Kevin could see that the sangria was sending me for a loop, and he began to wrap up our visit. I was barely able to walk out of the restaurant. I was determined to get out of there on my own two feet, because really? How embarrassing!

We returned home where my parents were waiting for us as they were to depart with us in the morning.

What did you do to yourself? They wanted to know. Slurring my speech, I filled them in on what happened thus far.

"The Portuguese sangria?" My dad asked. "That is filled with hard liquor. You have never drank hard liquor."

It was at that point that I began to feel sick. To say that I was feeling nauseous is an understatement of epic proportions. I will spare you the gory details, but let's just say that having your dad hold your hair back while you sell Buuuicks and drive the porcelain bus is beyond humiliating. Bless his heart, he was so kind and sympathetic. The truth is, if I had been 17 and pulled this stunt he probably would not have been so benevolent, which is why I waited until I was 39 to do it.

Some days later, when we were all settled in on our respective campsites, my parents came to ask if I would like some sangria of the non hard liqour kind, something more along the lines of the fruit punch with a kick that I was previously used to. My stomach lurched as memories of my distressing inebriation came flooding back.

"No." I replied firmly. "I am on the wagon." And I have been ever since. I laughingly said to my mom one day when we were in Florida, "Hey! I have been sober for six months."

Tomorrow we leave for Lake George. Tonight the hardest drink I will have is coffee with cream. I may even live it up and add a small teaspoon of sugar. I am all about hard core living.

What about CPR?

2011-07-20T21:16:00.006-04:00

Last week Kevin was going over some Boy Scout requirements with Jeremy. One of the items that was slated for review was CPR. Kevin was lying on the floor with Jeremy kneeling next to him. He was explaining the minutiae of the process and how you need to use pressure, but not too much pressure. Feeling the need to interject with a helpful recommendation, I suggested Jeremy use more knee.

How could you not reference What About Bob?

Cold as Ice

2011-07-20T09:42:00.005-04:00

Last night I was freezing. In the middle of a New Jersey heatwave. Kevin had the ceiling fan in the bedroom turned on and I was scurrying to get under the down comforter.

"What is the thermostat set on?" I asked. "Meat locker? Morgue?"

"I don't know." He replied. "But it feels fine to me."

"Well, I am freezing."

At this point Kevin told me that he would help to get me warm. He snuggled in close to me and began singing-

You're as cold as ice.
You're willing to sacrifice our love
You never take advice
Someday you'll pay the price, I know

I refrained from elbowing him in the nose. Of all the songs that I would like to have sung to me as a bedtime lullaby, Foreigner's Cold as Ice does not remotely place on the list.

We caught the middle to end of Forgetting Sarah Marshall. If you have not seen it, take a peek at this clip. Russell Brand is hee-larious in this movie.

"It's like this one's fellow."

New Monday Blog

2011-07-18T00:27:00.010-04:00

(Talk about writer's block. Could I possibly have a more uninspired title?)

I did break the blog, but I fixed it. Sorta. (It turns out HTML code is not that difficult a code to crack.) I fixed the main broken things, but the header is not centered and it is driving me slightly crazy- like sticking your head in a beehive crazy. This kind of snafu sends my linear and symmetrical loving brain into an OCD frenzy. I have to fix it, but as I said to my husband last night, "There are a million other really important things that I should be doing. But here I sit. Trying to match the sidebar title background color with the wallpaper colors." Gah.

We did a little bit of yard saling this weekend and we made two major scores. The first is this.

The complete set of Little House on the Prairie books, for five (5!!) dollars. I grabbed it, paid and ran away before the owner realized that I underpaid.

The second is this, a Weber grill.

We went to an estate sale that was being hosted by an estate sale company (Duh. The department of redundancy department called.), and its very snooty employee. They were selling the grill for twenty-five dollars. When I looked in my wallet I realized that I only had twenty-one dollars. So I asked the supervisor if she would take twenty-one dollars because it is all the cash that we have. She looked at me like I asked her for a kidney. From her only child.

I nervously began counting out change and came up with another dollar and fifty cents. I glanced at the woman again and said, "How about $22.50?" She reluctantly said alright. I was trying not to show my irritation. "Throw me a bone, lady." I felt like asserting. "Do you want to unload the grill or do you want to schlep it back into the garage?" On Sunday afternoon, when you are at the end of your garage sale, you should not be so persnickety.

It was so unlike me to not haggle, or just confidently ask if she would take twenty for it. I was a little off my game. Clearly the asymmetrical header upset me more than I originally thought.

Kevin is so happy with his new toy. He was regaling all of us with its finer points last night over dinner. It's stainless steel pan, its east start mechanism, and its low setting wherein he can defrost his Bubba burgers. He is a happy man.

Oh, dear

2011-07-14T11:45:00.000-04:00

I dun broke my blog.

Oy.

Home again, home again jiggity jig

2011-07-11T07:46:00.001-04:00

The boys came home from camp Saturday afternoon. Kevin drove down to Maryland at the butt crack of dawn to get the bikes, and then drove back home. The boys came home on our church bus.

Jeremy came to me first. I threw my arms around him and as I kissed his head I smelled him. It wasn't a bad smell, really, just earthy. He appeared to be all in one piece, and relatively free of injury. He was excited to tell me everything about camp, and show me all of the knives that he bought at the trading post. He came home with 5 knives. I sent away him to camp a boy scout and he came home a mercenary.

John came off of the bus wearing his Metal Mulisha hat with a Burger King crown over it. I said, "You went away a peasant and came home a king?" The hilarity here never ends.

We spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the boys' stories of camp. The spiders, the pranks, the fun and laughs, the work and the learning. John told us that on Wednesday night Jeremy had a terrible headache. Jeremy's bunk mate was off for the night completing his wilderness survival merit badge. This badge entails spending the entire night out in the wild. On your own. You also have to set up your own shelter and sleep in it. I have no desire, ever, to complete this badge. So Jeremy was going to be alone for the night, and because he had such a bad headache John did not want him to be alone. He had Jeremy bunk with another boy whose bunk mate was also completing the wilderness survival requirements. (This tent was right next to John's.) I was very touched as John told me this story. My boys usually get along very well, and they truly enjoy each others company, but they are boys in the truest sense of the word and moms of all boys know what I mean. So when I hear things like this, I am so proud that they consider each others feelings and look out for each other. Even if they do sometimes tell one another that they wish they would take a long walk off a short pier.

I asked then what they wanted to do for dinner and John said, "I don't care as long as we are all together." Then my heart melted from his expression of sentiment and I died on the spot. We ended up going to Jose Tejas where we gorged ourselves on chips and burritos. I went to sleep last night content with knowing that my boys were tucked up in their beds under our roof. Good stuff.

Spray Park

2011-07-07T07:51:00.000-04:00

With the boys gone Joe is a little on the bored side. I will go in the pool with him, and play with him but I know it is not the same. For one, I don't want to have a splash contest. And two, I don't think that seeing who can slap the hardest with a pool noodle remotely resembles a good time.

We headed to the splash park with some friends. Good, clean, wet fun. Just what the doctor ordered.

"Mom," he said. "This is beast." The boys may not be here is physical presence, but their vernacular lives on.

Follow me, boys!

2011-07-05T08:40:00.002-04:00

This past weekend was bih.zey. We spent the majority of the day Saturday helping to get the boys packed for Boy Scout camp. It was this particular day that one of my boys informed me that he only has one pair of underwear. Well, what do you wear all of the other days when the lone pair is being laundered I asked. I should have known better, really, than to ask that. Nothing, he replied nonchalantly as if I asked him what color the sky is.

I had another conversation with this same child concerning his shower bag. All kinds of red flags went up when he asked me what a shower bag was. Oh.My.Gawd.

"Please tell me that you showered at camp last year."

"Uh. I went swimming every day."

Alrighty then.

As my oldest son was packing his bag, he found some random items, clothing and such in his pack. I knew what he was going to do before he did it.

"Tell me you are not re-packing those clothes. Are they clean?"

He did not immediately answer with words, instead he buried his face in the shirt and inhaled deeply.

I gawked in amazement when he finally said, "They smell clean."

Very well then. Both of my boys are fully prepared to live in a frat house, or a third world country.

We drove down to the camp on Sunday along with the scout convoy. I like being part of convoys. They make me feel safe, it is like a gang on wheels. We followed the bus with my truck and Kevin's trailer as I had volunteered him to bring all of the scouts bikes to the camp. He loves when I volunteer him for things like that. But honestly? I did it because I knew he would have volunteered himself had he been a part of the original conversation.

We arrived at the camp, and I was so happy to be there. Usually Kevin has the privilege of going to the camp with the boys either to drop them off, bring them home, or camp with them for a few days. My job primarily consists of helping to pack their bags, supplying snacks for the ride and doing the laundry when they arrive back home. Yay me. So this was a real treat. I was able to see the camp that they would call home for the next six days.

Soon after arriving the boys began to grumble over all of the unwelcome guests, specifically spiders, in the tents. John came up to me and said, "Mom! I swear there is a spider in there the size of a dinner plate, and its fangs were dripping venom." He gets his love of exaggeration from me.

I told him to open the tent flaps and let in some light. I reassured him and his friends that once they moved in, the spiders would move out. Or they would be carried away in the night and have their bodies sucked dry of blood. Either scenario was possible.

The boys had a schedule to keep so we decided to head out. I knew that John would not give me the hug that I desired, but Jeremy, as the younger child, most likely would. I thought wrong. Not only did he not want to hug me as I was leaving, his main concern was not even saying good-bye to me but rather, did I have any water. Hydration trumps tearful good-bye.

I was wishing that I could have stayed at the camp with the boys. They are getting older and they want less to do with me and more to do with their friends and their own activities. I know that them wanting to separate from me means that I have done my job because really, who wants their grown children living with them? But all of a sudden I was struck with the fact that they will be gone before I know it and I want to savor every moment. I was thinking all of these things and then I glanced at the daily camp schedule.

Reveille? At 7am? I no longer waxed poetical about staying with them. I don't like to be up at 7am in silence. So a 15 year old boy blasting out Reveille on a bugle? Not my cuppa. There is a reason I am not a Boy Scout.

If you have scouts, and have not seen the Disney movie Follow me, boys! I highly recommend that you borrow it from Netflix, or you can view it on Amazon. It is a terrific movie from back when Disney was still putting out a wholesome, quality product.

And one of my favorite quotes from Lord Baden Powell, British Army officer and founder of Boy Scouts, "The spirit is there in every boy, it has to be discovered and brought to light."

Summer thrills

2011-06-30T12:28:00.002-04:00

Yesterday we took the boys to Six Flags Great Adventure. We do this every year. The boys wanted me to ride the big coasters with them, and I went along hesitantly. I am way too old to be riding roller coasters. Granted, I don't suffer from the list of maladies that they post on the warning signs as you enter the ride, but I suffer none the less. Those rides wreak havoc on the central nervous system. I truly believed that I was suffering from a brain bleed after getting off of El Toro. I had to literally force myself to walk.

"You can do it."

"That's it. One foot in front of the other."

Who knew that putting one foot in front of the other could be so difficult. I felt Lindsey Wixsons pain.

The boys had a blast and thought that my screaming was hilarious. I tried to explain to them that I was not screaming from an exhilarating adenaline rush, no. I was screaming because it was excruciatingly awful. The ride so set me off of my keister that I was bordering on sick for the rest of the day. The thing that really did me in? The rotating and revolving, while 40 feet up, hot air balloons in the Loony Tunes park. That's me, hard core all the way.

Kevin took the boys on the park's newset ride The Green Lantern. I opted out with Joe and we made a cotton candy run. I really wanted another funnel cake, but at almost $10 a pop went for the cheaper air sugar. Yes, we paid almost $20 for two funnel cakes. (If anyone from Six Flags corporate is reading this entry please know that we were extremely displeased with the prices in the park. We paid to enter, and to park. Is it really necessary to charge exhorbinant amounts of money for water and funnel cake? And. AND! Don't even get me started on the bag restrictions and forcing us to purchase locker space for the offending bags. Seriously Six Flags? Family fun? I think not. Family extortion is more apropos.)

I sound bitter, but really we had an amazing day of fun and laughter. And it only cost us $300.

So today we are recovering and letting our brains settle back into their rightful places.

The Princess Bride

2011-06-27T20:40:00.004-04:00

My life right now could be summed up in movie quotes from the movie The Princess Bride. Mainly the conversation between the main in black and Inigo Montoya.

"Get used to disappointment."

Uh.Yep.

Getting used to to it. Getting to be a freakin' pro at it.

*****************

"She doesn't get eaten by eels at this time." But she probably will later.

*****************

Man in black: [as he is unsuccessfully fighting Fezzik] Look, are you just fiddling around with me or what?
Fezzik: I just want you to feel you're doing well.

Set me up for hope and then kick the ladder out from under me. Grrreat. Sign me up.

*****************

"You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles." There are no miracles for me. In fact, I keep waiting for the six fingered man to show up, strap me to his water torture table and suck the rest of my years away. Miracle schmiracle.

*****************

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." Word.

*****************
Maybe if I had an albino, a wheelbarrow and the gate key my situation would not seem so bleak. But right now, I have been mostly dead all day, I have no assets and I seem to have misplaced my good holocaust cloak. The perfect storybook ending.

Friday List

2011-06-22T20:47:00.010-04:00

1. I took my oldest to the doctor for a physical, he needs it to get into Boy Scout camp. In one year he has grown 4 inches and gained 10 lbs, all of which is muscle. He is officially taller than me. Now when I yell at him, I yell up. Luckily I still have two other children that I can yell down to.

2. We sold the beast. The beast is Kevin's Suburban, and it was aptly named. Trust me on this one. I never understood people who named their vehicles until I met the Beast.

See?

It is missing 60% of its original paint and its back seat, which our dog ate. The dog did not eat the paint, however. The air conditioner works when it feels like it, usually in the middle of the winter, and the heat blows at full blast on occasion rendering its passengers defenseless. People have suffered second degree burns on their ankles and severe dehydration from this glitch.

My husband, bless his heart, wanted the blue book value for it based on the fact that it has new tires and a swell stereo. I told him to take the tires off and pull the stereo out and just push what remains into a lake and wave adios. But no, he held firm and he got his price. Apparently there are other people in the world as dumb as we are.

3. I can't stop listening to this. Or watching this. The girl jumping gets me every time.

Chance of rain, possible shark attack

2011-06-21T09:55:00.005-04:00

Today we are hosting our home school summer pool fellowship. Today is the kick off for it, and I am peering anxiously out the window hoping that the ominous looking clouds burn off and the sun makes and sustains an appearance. According to weather.com, the chance of rain is 30%. That gives us a 70% chance of no rain. I know I am awesome at math, no need to compliment me.

I remember when I was a young girl I hated swimming in the pool alone because I was afraid of sharks in the pool. Absurd, right, but I was frightened nonetheless. Then I grew older and my fear of sharks in the pool subsided...until I saw this.

If this shark can get into that pool, imagine what size shark can make its way into our pool!

dun-dun! dun-dun! dun-dun! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun, da-na-na!

Charlie, take my word for it. Don't look back. Swim, Charlie. Swim!

Two great tastes that taste great together

2011-06-15T07:58:00.004-04:00

One day last week, during the graduation week planning/preparing, I stopped in at Goodwill for a sanity break. Our Goodwill, lately, has been less affording me with less than stellar finds. Usually I can find Yankee candles, the 22 oz jars, for less than $2, or some great little tchotchkes, or something useful for the boys. So I entered the store hopeful that my luck would change, and change it did.

I was perusing through the racks of clothing and found a really cute little vest. I had a woman breathing down my neck, doing what I call the Goodwill stalk. She was waiting to see what I would uncover and then grab it from me if I should the slightest hesitation in purchasing the item.

I decided against the vest because as I was glancing down the rack, I saw it. The T-Shirt! I scooped it up, without even taking a peek at the size, and scurried away from the Goodwill stalker. I was beyond thrilled and hoping against hope that The T-Shirt was not an x-small. I have not been an extra small since the summer of The Great Banana Split Consumption.

I ran to the register only to be met with another surprise. The shirt was 50% off! Yes, I paid $1.98. That is $3.02 less than my perfect price for clothing.

I had a shirt like this when I was a little girl. It smacks of nostalgia and makes me happy every time I wear it. (Awful picture quality, I know. But, on the bright side, you can't see my crow's feet.)

It is hard to be "ghetto" when you are a suburban housewife, but I gave it my best effort.

Newly minted high schooler

2011-06-14T10:33:00.003-04:00

I can't believe it. This is a good place to insert all of the cliches about them being babies yesterday and enjoy the years when they are young, but it really is so true when it is happening to you- time passes at an alarming rate of speed.

One day you are encouraging them to crawl and the next day you are mounting the church sanctuary stairs getting ready to hand them their 8th grade diploma.

And just like that they are taller than you. And eat more than you. And make you laugh harder than you ever thought possible. And make you prouder than you ever imagined.

They even put up with you embarrassing them, because deep down they love you as much as you love them. Even if they show it by rolling their eyes and sighing at you.

We made it this far. I can only hope that high school is not the death of me. Or where I gain 300 pounds from stress eating.

Our weekend plans

2011-06-10T09:12:00.002-04:00

include a graduation. My eldest is graduating from 8th grade. Where does the time go? I don't know.

This is their walk out song. We chose it because it is fun, and an exhortation to our children as they are burgeoning into adults.

Every moment is a chance to let Your light break through
This life, this life was meant to shine

Hold your heads up high, this is a moment to rise!

Did you ever

2011-06-09T07:51:00.000-04:00

see video of yourself walking and think, "Wow. Clydesdales have nothing on me. I walk like a horse."

Of course, I made my husband look at the video 56 bajillion times. It was the best hour of his life.

"SEE!"

"Look at it again!"

Kevin said that I am a "strong walker." It is like a Seinfeld episode. I have been reduced to a derogatory handle like "man hands" or "high talker."

Swing low, sweet Craig's List find

2011-06-07T08:37:00.008-04:00

Saturday night I was perusing Craig's List and what to my wondering eyes did appear? A patio swing, brand new in the box, for $40 clams! Hoping that it was a legitimate posting, I e-mailed the seller.

Dear Swing Seller,
I am very interested in the swing and if you still have it, I would like to come and pick it up tomorrow around 12:30pm.

Thank-you,
Laney
(732) 867-5309

I clicked away from my e-mail and went back to Craig's List. Can I just ask- what is the deal with selling used commodes on Craig's List? I mean, I get it, they have most likely been cleaned, but still. Shudder. And the people who give away opened boxes of non-perishable food items? Gag.

Anyhoodle.

A little while later I checked my e-mail and lo and behold, a response from the swing seller.

Dear Laney,
Wow, I didn't realize how many people would be interested in the swing so fast. I seemed to gravitate towards you though, so sure, if you can meet tomorrow afternoon, this is yours. Let me know what time is good for you.

Thanks,
Swing seller lady

She gravitated toward me! I yelled up to Kevin, "I got the swing! I rule at Craig's List!"

I told him that she gravitated toward me because I used capital letters, punctuation and my e-mail address didn't have the any lewd references to pleasing your man. These are probably the responses that she received.

i want the swingggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is it still avaiable

give me your bank routing number and i will direct deposit the money

I know because I have been on the receiving end of the exact responses. People on Craig's List are wacky.

So I picked it up on Sunday, from an adorable little Filipino lady, and drove happily home. Yesterday Jeremy and I put it together. When we opened the box and saw all of the pieces Jeremy said to me, "Maybe you should wait for dad."

I looked him square in the eye and said, "Boy, I gave birth 3 times with no pain medication, a patio swing is not going to get the best of me."

He didn't say it because he is too kind and respectful, but the look on his face was conveying this thought, "Whatever, crazy lady."

We got down to bidness and we kicked that swing's butt. We were like a well oiled machine, working together toward a common goal. Joe was there with us. There was really nothing he could do to help, he was just moral support.

"Good job, mommy!"

"Jeremy, your piece is over there."

He was cute and funny and appreciated company.

John went inside to "go to the bathroom." That seems to be the go to excuse for kids that have no desire to assist in the assembly of patio swings. We decided that if you did not help with the swing assembly, you did not get to use the swing. Fair is fair.

Unfortunately we put in the swing in the most ghetto looking part of our backyard. Don't judge me.

I admit it was with trepidation that I first sat in the swing, but it held all three of us and the springs were not screaming for mercy, so I think any danger is past.

Scenes from a weekend

2011-06-06T08:08:00.000-04:00

1. This past weekend was a flurry of activity. It began with our dog, Sami. She is a Lhasa, and little dogs like her are notorious for having eye issues. She developed this blue film on her right eye that was seriously freaking us out. It looked like she was getting glaucoma, or going blind, neither of which was a good thing. I took her to the vet. She has a scratched retina that requires us to administer eye drops and pain meds. The vet asked about her pooping and if she is regular. I told her that I try to never watch the dog go potty. I think it is humiliating for a pet to have an audience while doing its bidness. Plus, ew.

2. Sitting at dinner last night we were discussing career options after college. We encouraged the boys, as we always do, to seriously consider working with their hands, and following in Kevin's footsteps in working for PSEG. We also told them to work hard, save as much money as possible and then get married. John saw the logic in this line of reasoning, and remarked that he was going to buy a small house on a big piece of property. Jeremy said he was not going to do that. I asked him where he planned on living, and he said, "In a cardboard box." Way to aim for the stars, kid.

3. Dexter. Kevin's co-worker told us about this show and we added it to our Netflix cue. This begs the question, why have we not watched this show until now? It is so darkly funny and witty. Love! We watched a total of 4 episodes this weekend.

"Needless to say I have some unusual habits, yet all these socially acceptable people can't wait to pick up hammers and smash their food to bits. Normal people are so hostile."

4. Kevin came up behind me as I was washing dishes and began to breathe on my neck.

"STOP!" I screamed.

He thought that I was liking it and kept doing it. Apparently blood curdling screams and moving as far away as humanly possible while trapped within his grasp did not register with him as being displeasureable.

"STOP!" I yelled again.

"I didn't know that it bothered you like that." He said.

"No, not in a good way."

"Like what way?"

"Like in a Dexter serial killer way."

Smells like teen spirit

2011-06-03T08:49:00.002-04:00

My oldest is graduating from 8th grade next week, I can hardly believe it. Yesterday was his first graduation practice, and only one of us was excited about it. Guess which one. (Hint. It was not the teenager.)

"Mom, what did I look like up on the stage when we were singing?"

"You looked like someone was holding a gun to your head."

My good friend, who also has a son graduating, was laughing hysterically at John's face.

"That teenage angst face kills me." she said. You have no idea how much it kills me too, I wanted to say.

He really is coming out of the worst of the teenage angst, I have to be honest. I was nervous about him being a teenager. Teenagers are interesting creatures and teendom? Yes it might end well, and also a giant fireball might consume everyone. You never know, it could go either way.

I decided the best way to approach it was to treat him like an adult. I began asking his opinion and consulting him and listening to his input. I began letting him make his own decisions and letting him own his failures. And do you know what happened? He began acting like an adult. Who knew? I am growing up right along side of him.

Inappropriate pool fun

2011-06-01T21:24:00.000-04:00

We opened the pool last Thursday, and the boys could not wait to get into the water. The water was very cold, like Polar Bear Plunge cold, but this did not deter them. They are part reptile.

Last winter when we were visiting my parents down in Florida, we went on The Jungle Queen, and one of its stops is a little island that houses an alligator wrestler and his gators. He performs a one man show with two alligators, one of whom is named Big Sexy.

Last summer we were given some rafts and floats by a family member who was closing up their pool for good. Among the inflatables was a gigantic alligator which the boys have affectionately named- you knew where this was headed, didn't you- Big Sexy.

Joe was trying to ride Big Sexy, but he is, well, he is big, and hard to climb up on when you are little. Jeremy was helping him.

Although Jeremy's help more resembled pushing, jostling, shifting, sliding, and a whole lotta laughing.

"Here. Just get.your.legs.up.like.this. Why are you so squirmy, Joe?"

Mission accomplished. But not for long. They decided to get on the gator together.

Hilarity ensues.

And then it is over. "Hey! Jeremy! Let's do it again!"

You can imagine how funny it is to hear the kids call this thing Big Sexy. Last night when Kevin had arrived home from work, Jeremy ran to meet him.

"Dad?" he said. "Can you fill Big Sexy up?"

"Fill up who? What?"

And the neighbors! All the shouts of the kids?

"Stop jumping on Big Sexy!"

"Go and get Big Sexy."

Someone is going to report us, I just know it.

Yard saling is a dangerous sport

2011-05-31T21:32:00.000-04:00

This past Saturday I went yard saling. I have not been able to get out as much this year as I did last year mainly due to the incredibly wet spring we have been having. Saturday was absolutely beautiful, the perfect spring day and I was determined to hit the ground running. As I was coming home from the gym, after teaching my 8:30 Body Pump class, I spotted a whole house moving sale. I drove home quickly, changed into clean, non gym clothes and went right back out.

As I was walking up to the sale I saw it. The perfect chair. The chair that I have been searching for for the much needed extra seating in our family room. Now, I have to say here that the woman hosting this contents of home sale had extraordinary taste. All of her items were priced pretty high, and with the majority of them being from Pottery Barn, I knew why. Because of the pristine condition of her items I bit the bullet and mentally prepared myself to shell out some big money.

I found someone who looked to be in charge and I inquired as to the price of the chair. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that it was only $20. "I'll take it," I said without a moment's hesitation. I reached into my wallet, pulled out a $20 dollar bill and as the money was hanging in the air, the seller's helper reaching in slow motion to take my money, a woman came at us screaming, "THAT'S MY CHAIR! THAT'S MY CHAIR! IT'S MINE!"

We both turned to look at the woman, who was still screaming.

"I WANT THAT CHAIR! IT'S MINE! I SAW IT FIRST"

The seller's helper looked at me, and then back at the lunatic chair lady. She calmly asked, "Did you pay for it?"

"No," she began, "But I went inside to ask the owner how much she wanted for it, and it's MINE!"

"Well, this lady was just about to pay for it" she said nodding her head toward me and my still flapping in the breeze twenty.

"I DON'T CARE! IT'S MINE, AND I AM NOT LEAVING WITHOUT IT. THAT'S MY CHAIR!"

At this point, everyone at the yard sale was staring at the lunatic chair lady and me. I was mortified, and finally said to the seller's helper, "Just give it to her." Frankly I was afraid that she was going to come completely unhinged if I didn't relent and give it to her. I also felt like it was some kind of practical joke, like at any minute a man in a gorilla suit was going to come running out of the garage and smack me in the stomach with a banana. It was crazy.

I ended up buying a ceramic rooster and a teal ceramic plant stand. I went home, quite upset, and began calling every one I know to inform them that I was practically accosted, over a chair, at a yard sale and I may or may not have self medicated with Twizzlers, I can't remember.

I tried to go about the rest of my day, but I was really upset over the chair incident with the garage sale wacker. Because of the confrontation I left the sale sooner than I wanted to and did not look at everything. I decided to go back around 2pm. I loaded Joe up and headed back up the road. The owners were still there, and as I had suspected, were lowering the prices to get rid of everything. HA! Take that garage sale wacker!

The owner and I struck up a conversation, and I asked her if she had any rugs left. In addition to a chair, I have been searching for a jute rug to go under my dining room table. She did not have a jute rug, but she had another rug in the living room, and would I like to see it? You betcha, sister. When I entered the living room I saw it. The Pottery Barn rug that would match my living room in the most amazing way. She told me that she wanted $50 for it. I explained to her that I wanted my husband to see it because $50 was more than my credit line approval. I told her that he was taking down a tree and could I bring him over in about an hour.

"He does tree work!" she exclaimed. "I need some dead branches down out of that tree in the backyard" she explained as she turned and pointed to the offending hulk of a bush.

My wheels began turning. I quickly called Kevin and he, thankfully, answered the phone. I pleaded with him, in my damsel in distress voice, to come and look at this tree because a rug is on the line. In true hero fashion he showed up inside of 15 minutes and surveyed the situation. He gave the homeowners a price and the lady was so happy that she...wait for it...gave me the rug. For free! Well, free for me, Kevin has to scale the tree and clean it out.

So what began as a tsumani of confrontation ended up as a major score.

When I arrived home and laid the rug out I was pleased as punch to see that it blended perfectly, and- oh, my!- how it looks with my window mistreatments.

You can also see there in the corner the teal planter. Something about that corner is not working and I need to tweak it a bit. I love the teal, and the pop of color over there, but, meh. Ideas for that space? Anyone? I am going to paint that table white sometime in the near future, too.

Notice the pristine condition of the cream color areas of the rug. Major score, garage salers, major score!

Memorial Day

2011-05-30T10:11:00.004-04:00

"Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of readiness to die. " ~G.K. Chesterton

Thank a soldier the next time you see one. I nearly accosted the Marine handing out poppies at the grocery store the other day. God bless our military!

Hilarious

2011-05-26T11:34:00.002-04:00

When your 7 year old says, "Mom, you know in poker stay means you don't want any cards. Hit me means you want another one."

Even funnier? When your 7 year old wins.

Shark Bait! Who-ha-ha!

2011-05-25T07:55:00.002-04:00

Today the boys and I are headed down to the Camden Aquarium. We love aquariums, specifically this aquarium, we just don't love the location. Camden is a less than upscale area of New Jersey. It is not as bad as Trenton, but it holds a strong second.

Joe just told me that my breath smells like our dog , Sami, so if worse comes to worse and we are car jacked, I can just breathe on the perp. Did I just say perp? Paging Starsky and Hutch.

Now if I fall into the shark tank, well, my breath will do nothing to deter the ensuing feeding frenzy, I am sure.

Here's to a thrilling day of aquarium adventures minus car jackings and shark attacks.

Oh, boys

2011-05-24T11:19:00.007-04:00

Last night I was at a planning meeting for my oldest son who is graduating from 8th grade. We were nearly done finalizing the details and I was getting ready to leave for home when my phone rang. It was my oldest.

Mom?

Yes.

Do we have any ice cream?

Uh, I don't know. Did you look in the freezer?

Yes.

Did you look in the garage freezer?

Yes.

Did you find any?

No.

Then there is no ice cream.

This boy is graduating from 8th grade. He is very bright, and has a good deal of common sense which is why his phone call left me scratching my head.

We repeated the conversation this morning, in person, almost verbatim, substituting the word ice cream for waffles. Does he think that I play hide the food? Or maybe he thinks that I keep a secret stash of ice cream and waffles in my underwear drawer.

A lunch conversation:

...so then he jumped the bike over the double and bailed before he hit the ground. It was so funny, mom, I was laughing so hard I peed myself a little.

Well, peeing yourself a little is funny when you are 11. Doing it when you are almost 40? Not so much.

Ew. Mom!

I'm the gross one? Boys.

It is very important that I did not kill this plant

2011-05-23T08:59:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I was grumbling to my husband about the price of food, specifically fresh produce.

"On the one hand," I began "We can purchase fresh fruits and vegetables, or on the other hand we can purchase meat, but we can't have both. It is quite possible that by fall we could all be suffering from scurvy, or beriberi." Kevin, completely used to my love of exaggeration, said nothing.

"I think that we should start a garden. We can grow strawberries and peppers and maybe plant an orange tree."

For the next part of the story to make any sense you have to have seen the movie 28 Days with Sandra Bullock. In the movie there is a scene where the addicts in the rehab ask the counselor when they can begin to date again. The counselor, played by the always wonderful Steve Buscemi says, "Get a plant. If the plant is still alive in a year, get a dog. If they are both alive in another year, you can begin to think about dating."

At this point in the conversation Kevin turns to me with extended arms and says, "Here is a plant, keep it alive for a year and then we can think about a garden."

I knew what that meant. I don't have a reputation as the plant killer for nothing.

Spring chicken

2011-03-21T09:20:00.002-04:00

I woke up this morning to the sound of sleet hitting my bedroom window. Oh, no. Yesterday was the first official day of spring, and we set the clocks ahead, and Friday's high temp was 77 degrees. All of those things signal that warm weather is a-comin'. I am so over being cold. I have officially turned into the cranky old lady who complains about the constant cold and what it does to her joints, and bemoans the cost of toilet paper.

On Saturday, after I got out of the shower, I caught a sideways glance at my neck and what I saw was alarming. The skin that was once tight and firm is now looking more and more like a plucked chicken. When I tilt my head forward, and touch the skin under my bottom jaw, it is loose and hangy, for lack of a better word. I had to share this oh-so-important information with m husband who responded by staring at me.

Look at it, I said.

To shut me up, and stop the conversation in its tracks, he called me chicken neck, to which I responded, I do not have a chicken neck! After all of these years he has finally learned how to use reverse psychology effectively. Well played, dear.

52 Books Challenge

2011-02-07T08:38:00.004-05:00

Well, at least I am blogging again in the under two months mark.

I took the challenge last year, but did not read the 52 books, mainly because I started late. So technically we are in the 6th week of the year, and I am on book 5 Every Man Dies Alone by Hans Fallada. So far it is very good. I especially like the way that the characters are being developed in such a detailed manner. I can't wait until tonight when I can hunker down on the couch and get a good hundred pages under my belt.

So far I have read:
Unbroken
Every Last One
The Dogs of Winter
Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

All of them were terrific, especially Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, and Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet.

I actually think that I read another book in addition to these, but I can't remember. I am going to go to the library where the librarians can pull up my record of books checked out. It is quite something, the information at their fingertips. I wish they could also tell me when I will lose this last 5 pounds, or where I left my other silver hoop earring. Now that would be noteworthy!

What are you reading?

Tuesday Hodge Podge

2010-12-14T00:09:00.002-05:00

My middle child refuses to sing Christmas carols, not even the funny ones like Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer. I told him that I was going to have to use the North Pole Hotline to call Santa. My threat did not garner the reaction I had hoped for. He simply glanced at me with a look that said, "Bring it, sucka."

Well, I told him that Santa said refusal to sing Christmas carols is not severe enough a penalty for a stay on the naughty list, but it did earn him a spot on the "People of special interest" list. Santa is watching, dude.

--------------------------------------
Last night we all cozied up on the couch and watched a movie called Silent Night. It based on a true story, and well worth the spot on your Netflix cue. The boys enjoyed it and commented on the fact that it was a war movie with no cursing or gore which prompted me to seriously reconsider cancelling cable.

--------------------------------------

Kevin and I watched two episodes of Hoarders. I am not proud of this, but I have come away with some information that you might want to put in the 'con' column if you are considering becoming a hoarder.

1) Animal poo. 'Nuff said

2) Of the 4 people featured in the 2 episodes, 3 of them were missing their top front teeth. It begged the question, Did they lose them in the hoard? I can't say what for sure, but something about hoarding does not sit well with secondary dentition.

---------------------------------------

Lastly, I can't stop eating. Something about the cold that makes me ravenous. Anyone else putting on their winter layer?

Airing of Grievances

2010-12-08T14:43:00.004-05:00

Dear Old Man Winter,
Hi.

How are you doing?

Good? Glad to hear it.

How am I, you ask? Not well, old man, not well. I am freezing, and I do not like it one bit.

Please go away.

Signed,
Frosty the SnowMom
---------------------------------------------

Dear Man in the Auto Parts truck,
Hello. You don't know me, but you beeped at me yesterday while I was running. Why? Why did you feel the need to do that? One, you scared me half to death. Two, do you really feel the best way to attract women is by sounding your vehicles horn? Because for the life of me, I can't imagine any woman finding that an aphrodisiac.

Don't do that again.

Signed,
Miffed Marathoner
--------------------------------------------

Dear Trails End Popcorn people,
Your bag of gourmet chocolate covered pretzels should come with a warning label cautioning the consumer that once the bag is opened to plan on eating until the bag is gone. Also, a gift card to Weight Watchers would be a kind gesture. Just sayin'.

Signed,
Getting Fatter by the Minute
---------------------------------------------

Dear Apple iStore,
Who do you make it so difficult to sign in from my other home computer. I don't know how many times I can possibly verify my e-mail before you will realize I.AM.ME!!

STILL ME!

ME, AGAIN!

Signed, ME!

I think that is all.

Dear Santa

2010-12-02T12:41:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I did something, as a parent, that I though I would never do.

I played the Santa card. Oh, yes I did.

My youngest boy has been a real pill lately. He has developed this awful habit of screaming for ev.ry.thing. And not just any old yell. Oh, no. He has honed his screaming volume to an unholy shrill that renders one completely still, their central nervous system desperately trying to compensate for the assault on its senses while their ears leak brain fluid and blood. It can, quite literally, raise the hair on the back of your neck.

I had had enough. I tried reasoning with him, putting him in his room, swatting his little bum, screaming back, and wrapping my entire head in bubble wrap to stifle the noise. Everything. Nothing was working.

So yesterday, while he was listing to the older boys all of the booty that he was expecting Santa to drop under the tree, I seized the opportunity.

------------------------------------
Joe, I said. You know I can call Santa and tell him that you have been screaming and not listening to mommy.

*silence and complete stillness*

(pause) Where did you get his phone number? he asked. ( I really had to suppress a laugh at his cleverness)

All moms and dads have Santa's phone number, you get it when you have a baby.

(another pause) But, I don't want to be on the naughty list.

Well, what do you think you should do?

I should stop screaming.

-------------------------------------

And just like that the screaming has stopped. I know that I lied to him, and I do feel badly about that. I blame the lying on the brain bleed.

Oh, and now he is the poster child for how not to get on the naught list. Just ask him and he will tell you that Santa does not like screaming, of any kind.

You know it's bad when...

2010-11-15T10:16:00.001-05:00

...every day is one of those days.

In a vacuum

2010-10-20T09:06:00.005-04:00

A time sucking vacuum that is. How do you find the time to blog when life is running you over mercilessly?

We changed things up a bit this year and are using BJU, Distance Learning Online, online being the operative word. From the hours of 9-2 pm everyday both of our computers are tied up with school. I barely have time to check my e-mail let alone blog hop or update my Facebook status with information such as- I am eating whipped cream straight out of the can. (Disgusting, I know.)

How do you make it all work?

Crazy Heart

2010-10-13T19:33:00.005-04:00

Last night Kevin and I watched a movie called Crazy Heart. I am going to say this one time only- go and rent it.

Now.

GO!

I'll wait.

This movie moved me on the same level that Once did. In a world of blockbuster movies that assault our senses with their overt sexuality, filthy language and poor acting comes a movie that does just the opposite. Crazy Heart is a quiet, thoughtful and beautifully acted movie that leaves you with the feeling that you were somehow part of the experience.

The movie follows Bad Blake played by The Dude himself, Jeff Bridges. He is a used up country music singer looking for redemption. The trailer says it better than I can.

In addition to Bridges winning an Oscar for his incredibly moving performance, the song The Weary Kind by Ryan Bingham also won an Oscar.

It is lines this this one that will draw you in, grab you and hold you.

"I keep feeling obliged to apologize for being less then you probably imagined me to be."

See this movie. You will not be disappointed.

Sanity break

2010-10-11T08:48:00.003-04:00

As I sit here typing, my children are still asleep. I am wavering between waking them up to begin the day and reveling in the silence. I know I am going to be irritated with myself for letting them be lazy when it is 3 0'clock and I am prodding them to please, for the love of all things holy, just finish your school work before I lose what little is left of my mind.

So this weekend I made a major Craig's list score. I bought this beauty:

OK. So it's beautiful in the way that newborns are only beautiful to their parents, to the rest of us they look like aliens. This twin sleeper sofa is beautiful on the inside, it has a great personality. I am going to give it a makeover and then she will be the belle of the ball.

We are in the process of turning our office/guestroom into a schoolroom/office/guestroom. The challenge is making it look cohesive. I also don't want it to look like a college dorm. Any suggestions? Who has done this in their home? How do you take a small space and make it usable, practical and multi-functional, while still looking like a magazine page? Therein lies my dilemma, I want to live in a magazine.

We also had the Dish man pay us a visit. I kept referring to him as the cable guy, but my husband told me that that term is offensive to the Dish man. According to my husband, calling the Dish man the cable guy is akin to calling a Marine a soldier. Is this true? Or have a been the victim of misinformation?

The guide on our TV was not populating. A very insignificant issue, I know, in light of the real problems of the world, but one that was plaguing us none the less. I tried to correct the problem on my own using my old standby trick of unplugging everything and then introducing power again. That works for the computer, it should work for the TV.

It did not work.

Since plugging and unplugging encompass the extent of my cable repair skills, and they were unsuccessful, I had to put in a service call. The Dish man came out, took one look at the guide and said, "Oh, is that all?"

Apparently someone, of the under 7 years of age variety, was pushing random buttons and locked the remote causing the guide to only populate our favorite channels. Well, I never set up the favorite channels button for two reasons.

1) I did not want to hurt the other channels' feelings.

2) I don't know how to set up the favorite channels.

He showed me how to rectify the situation and now the remote is fixed so I can get back to the very important business of seeing when House Hunters is on.

I hear the toilet lid lifting. That signals my departure.

The week...summed up

2010-10-08T08:55:00.003-04:00

School

Cross-country

Boy Scouts

School

Popcorn Sale

Body Pump

School

Body Flow

Cub Scouts

Cross-country

School

COFFEE!!

Laundry

School

Dog groomer

Zzzzzzzz...

I hope that next week slows from a chaotic pace to a harmonious one. Or maybe I just need more coffee.

Unbuttoned

2010-10-04T08:08:00.003-04:00

Yesterday after church Joe informed me that he had to go to the bathroom. We were sitting in our church's multi-purpose room snacking on some pastries that we got for donating to one of our missionaries. Every week after church we have a coffee fellowship and the proceeds go to the person or group that is running the coffee that day.

We grabbed our things and headed to the bathroom. He asked me to unbutton his pants. He is quite capable of unbuttoning his own pants, he simply did not want to be separated from his precious baked good. I obliged his request and also directed a kiss on the nose his way.

He looked up at me and smiled. "You are such a good mommy." he said with the sweetness of an angel.

This boy, he has the power to melt my heart.

A rodent by any other name is still just a mouse

2010-09-30T08:01:00.001-04:00

Last night I had a horrible, and I mean horrible thing happen to me as I was driving home from dropping my oldest off at my sister's house to babysit. Her children were not even awake, he was there to make sure the house did not burn down and to play on the computer without interruption from his mother.

My sister and I live exactly 1 mile apart, and yet we text all day long. My phone is completely antiquated and I could get in the truck and drive to her house in the time that it takes me to text her. She has a Blackberry and types like a 15 year old girl. I have no idea what the point of that paragraph was.

So anyway! The Horrible.

I was about halfway home when all of a sudden I saw something scampering about on the front of the truck where the windshield wipers lay. I looked closer and saw that it was a...what?...it can't be...a mouse! A tiny, terrifying mouse. I panicked. I turned on the wipers in the hopes that they would fling the little sucker on to the road. No such luck. It retreated back under the hood! Then I used the wiper fluid hoping to poison it, or at least turn it blue so that when it came into the truck to eat me, I would at least have the visual upper hand.

Oh.my.gosh!

I was, quite literally, stricken still with fear. I could not figure out where it went or from whence it came. I was so afraid that it was somehow going to crawl into the truck and harass me causing me to have an accident. I could envision the headline.

Woman crashes into oncoming traffic while fleeing from mouse in her vehicle. Woman survives. Mouse perishes. PETA suspects foul play.

I lifted my feet off of the floor, but quickly realized that was a poor idea. I had to keep one foot down on the gas. I could not wait to get home. I knew that if I spied its beady little eyes peering at me, or worse, felt its fur rub up on me that I would throw the car into park and run away screaming, "MOUSE IN THE CAR! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" Exaggeration? I think not. When was the last time that you were held hostage by a rodent. Substitute the word house for car and it was like being in the Dr.Seuss book In a People House.

"Come inside, Mr.Bird." said the mouse. "I'll show you what there is in a people house."

In the people car there is a woman who is about to lose her mind. Her imagination is playing tricks on her and she can feel the patter of little feet on her back and shoulders. She can sense another presence around her, one not human, but mammal-like.

She does not like this mouse at all,
does not like it furry and small.
She wants to scream and flee and cry,
she wants this mouse dead. Die, mouse, die!

When I arrived back home and told my husband, he laughed. Then he said something even more terrifying than I could have ever imagined. He said that there might be a nest in the engine. I can't remember anything after that because I fainted.

In a little while I have to get into the truck and go teach yoga. I will be armed with pepper spray and a mini air horn.

I am not kidding.

Fall Mantel

2010-09-29T09:21:00.012-04:00

This year I looked to the outdoors to be inspired, and inspiration was everywhere. I filled jars with sticks that I spray painted in clear coat, and leaves.

Also inspiring were the acorns. Those adorable little button tops, who can resist them? Pumpkins, and gourds, and squash! Oh, my!

I was dreading fall, and the inevitable cold weather, but now I am embracing it in all of its glory.

Filling the soul, emptying the nose

2010-09-27T08:31:00.002-04:00

On Saturday I went to a homeschool mom's fellowship luncheon. I always sign-up for them, but then change my mind at the last minute and stay home. I don't know why I do that. This weekend I admit, I was tempted to stay home and linger in my warm, cozy bed. Kevin had the younger boys at a track meet, so the house was uncommonly quiet. It had the makings of a perfectly wonderful quiet time.

But. I went to the mom's fellowship because I spend too much time alone. Kevin commented to me a few weeks ago that I need some friends to talk to. Now, I do have friends, I have people that I can confide in and share my struggles with, I just don't do it. I subscribe to the I am a rock, I am an island philosophy of life. And you know what? It is unhealthy to do that.

I am prideful, and I don't want to show my weakness.

So I went on Saturday, and I had a wonderful time. The luncheon was scheduled from 10 am- 2 pm. At first I thought, What in the world are we going to do for 4 hours and how badly am I going to want to escape? But after 4 hours had gone by I thought, I wish we had more time together. When the fellowship is real and sweet, it is hard to leave.

***************

I am in the last stages of a cold. The lingering kind that lingers. Annoying. My oldest got the same cold, and we have been consuming tissues like oxygen. Our supply was quickly depleted so I ran out to the store to purchase a few boxes. I went the cheap route. The tissues that I bought are the equivalent of contractor grade sand paper. We need skin grafts to replace what has been worn away from the tips of our noses.

I wish that I was not so cheap.

Parental Love

2010-09-24T08:13:00.001-04:00

Last night I nursed my 6 year old through a migraine. He began to complain at dinner that his head was hurting. I realized then that he had not eaten a lot during the day because we were busy, and he does not complain about being hungry. I told him to finish his dinner he would probably feel better.

He stopped complaining, but he was not right. He asked me to take him up to his bed and once again told me that his head hurt. I helped him brush his teeth and together we performed all of the bedtime rituals. I put him in bed and rubbed his back for about 10 minutes. We said prayers and I went to throw some laundry into the washing machine.

I had just sat down to watch Project Runway when I heard him crying in his room. I went upstairs and found him trembling, crying and writhing on his bed. I knew then that it was a migraine. Having had a few myself, I know all too well the excruciating pain that they produce. I gave him some Motrin. It did nothing. He was shaking so badly I thought that he was going to have a seizure. He was weeping and moaning, and my heart was literally breaking.

Seeing your child in such pain is the part of motherhood that no one prepares you for.

I began to pray and intercede on his behalf. I was begging God to take away his pain, to show His power and heal my boy. At that moment I would have gladly taken his pain as my own just to afford him some relief.

A few moments later he burped, and then he passed gas. My sweet little angel, in all of his pain, said "excuse me." Tears burned my eyes as I held him even tighter.

"My tummy feels sick." he said. I knew that he was going to vomit and I was actually glad as it usually signals the migraine is winding down. Once he vomited he began to feel better, and within 10 minutes he was asleep. His body was simply spent. I sat there with him, stroking his head for a long while after he was asleep.

I gazed down at his little face and his little boy body, and it was like I was looking down at my heart. What a complex affair it is, parenthood. This child walks around, completely separate from me, yet still very much a part of me. When he hurts, I hurt. When he is in pain, I am in pain.

In those moments the levels deepen and I am reminded of how it is for God. I am His child in pain. There I am writhing, moaning and weeping- sick from myself. And there He is waiting for me to get to the end of myself so that He can perform the healing. The process is painful, so painful. But afterward comes the rest.

I am still in process. I know that I will never arrive, at least not here on this earth, but I am learning to let go. I am learning that it takes more faith to allow the healing than it does to stay where I am, in pain and sorrow. I am learning again to intercede on my own behalf and to let God father me, to be vulnerable.

Being a grown-up is when you come to the realization that it is easier to just stop fighting.

Changing Colors

2010-09-23T08:11:00.001-04:00

I have begun decorating for fall and I have been inspired by my own backyard. I admit, I have not wanted to see my summer things go, they are really lovely. Every time I walk past this dresser in my living room I say, Hello gorgeous vignette. Who is the genius that put y'all together?

Not really.

OK, maybe once or twice.

The items pictured are mostly from garage sales. The two glass jars were .50 cents each, and the shells were free. The pitcher was originally an ugly orange but I loved the shape. A little bit of white semi-gloss spray paint and- voila! A lovely makeover for .75 cents. The starfish was .25 cents. My mom bought the candle snuffer for me this past Saturday when we went yard saling. I think it was .50 cents. Everything else I already had, I just shopped the house.

With fall fast approaching, I decided to get my pumpkins in a row. (waka-waka) I did not want to spend a lot of money, so I looked out my front door for inspiration. I also looked in the attic and found some great stuff that I had forgotten about. The good part of moving every year is that everything is new again.

I enlisted Joe's help and off to the woods we tramped. He is a great stick finder. I swear he is part Labrador. We found sticks in various shapes, sizes and colors. I brought them home and spray painted them with some clear coat. It made them a bit shiny and stopped the flaking-some of the sticks are very dried out.

The sticks in the jar alone appeared very...sticky, and brown. Some color was in order. I added some dried flowers and loved the effect. This is my most favorite fall decoration!

I collected acorns from the backyard and tossed some sticks in for good measure. The frame and leaf bowl were garage sale scores for .50 and .25 cents respectively.

I love fall. The bright, warm colors. The sounds of leaves crunching under our feet. The crisp, fragrant air and the clean aroma of leaves. Each season has its own distinct smell, doesn't it?

Are you decorating for fall?

Wicked Awesome

2010-09-21T10:40:00.004-04:00

In 1987 we spent our summer vacation camping in Maine. We actually spent two summers camping there, both were wicked fun vacations. My sister and I met some kids from Massachusetts who introduced us to the word wicked as an adjective. We all became fast friends and spent the entire vacation together. They had these wicked cool accents and we used to beg them to say the words 'poptarts' and 'car', over and over again. Because they were wicked fun, they obliged us.

The words came out sounding like pup-tahhhts, and cahh. There were some other words that we liked to hear them say, mainly because we were not allowed to say them, but I won't repeat them here because this is a G-rated blog, and I am still afraid of my mother's wrath. J/K (Hi, mom! hehehehe) Woah, I just used a texting abbreviation on my blog. I officially have no shame. I am wicked dorky.

That little foray into the past is not the point of this post. Although, I could write a book about the experiences in Maine those two summers. The main point is Wicked. Not the adjective, the Broadway production. My mother, sister and I went to see it Sunday afternoon. We had no idea what the story was other than it involved the Wicked Witch from The Wizard of Oz. It was, as the title denotes, Wicked Awesome!

It was a superb production. Everything from the set, the lighting, the costumes, the singing, the acting, the humor, the emotion, everything drew you in. It grabbed you by the heart and did not release you from its grip. Even now, as I type this, I am transported back to my seat, my eyes glued to the stage. If you have seen Wicked, you know of which I speak.

When we got home, Kevin asked me how it was. I told him it was my favorite. It is so difficult to categorize a favorite, though, because every show that I have seen has been my favorite. So this is my favorite right now. I want to see it again. I want to be in it, for heaven's sake!

I leave you with one of my favorite numbers. It was Wicked funny! Toss, toss!

In which I beg time to slow down so I can blog

2010-09-17T09:05:00.002-04:00

I cannot believe it is Friday! I have been so diligent to blog regularly and now- only one post this week?

Eeeeeeee. Deplorable.

We have been finishing up that big 'ol tree. That big 'ol tree is trying to kill us. It keeps eating Kevin's chainsaw blades costing us more money, which in turn makes me eat copious amounts of Mallomars. Their marshmallowy goodness soothes my frustration.

I have been trying in vain to decorate for fall. All I have accomplished so far is hanging a wreath on the front door. Too bad leaves and acorns strewn about the yard do not constitute proper fall decorating because I am so rocking that look. I am also rocking the inside have not cleaned my house or done laundry in a week look. Nice.

Here is what is making me kinda not care- I am going to see Wicked on Sunday with my mom and sister. We are uber excited! Have you been? Is it amazing? Dish, people!

The family tree

2010-09-14T09:03:00.003-04:00

My husband is a jack of all trades. He has two skill sets that have come in handy when we need some extra money. He used to work for the utility as a tree trimmer. He now works for the utility as a lineman. No, not a linebacker, a lineman. When your power goes out, he is the one who comes to restore it. He does not love to do tree work as it is quite labor intensive and dirty. Plus he always says that the tree looks 100 times bigger than its original size when he has to go and begin the work.

Over the summer, my aunt had a major act of God occur in her backyard. An old tree uprooted after heavy rains came and fell into her neighbor's yard. She has an even older, larger tree sitting right next to the fallen one that was causing her great alarm. She was convinced that it, too, was going to fall squarely on her roof and kill her in her sleep. She asked Kevin to come and look at it. He did not have to, as he knew the tree in question. I know that he was hoping she would not ask him to take it down, but he would never say that. She asked and he obliged. Or rather, she asked me and because he loves me, he obliged.

The tree that needed to be taken down is easily over 80 feet tall. It spanned my aunt's roof and was situated in such a manner that if it the take down of any branch was miscalculated, it would take out neighboring structures. Not exactly the ideal situation for taking down trees. A professional tree crew would use a crane and a bucket truck to complete the work, but we don't have a crane. We have three children who can work, though. And work they did.

Yesterday we all went back to my aunt's house to finish taking down the tree. It is grueling work for Kevin, especially in light of the fact that he worked nights the night before at his regular lineman job. If you have never seen a tree climber in action, look here. He puts on his spikes to aid in climbing, and then his saddle. The saddle is then loaded up with his chainsaw, hand saw, and rigging rope, about 40 extra pounds of gear. It is all climbing and rigging and calculating where to drop branches. It is dangerous, precise work. Imagine swinging from a tree with blades hanging from your waist. You would rather sit by the pool with a good book, right?

John and I work the rope on the ground and Jeremy uses the hand saw to cut off manageable pieces of brush for Joe to drag to the trailer. It is a family affair. I am so incredibly proud of all of my boys. They went to work yesterday with not one complaint that they were hot, or tired, or hungry or just plain ol' did not want to work. They are awesome, all of them.

I am a blessed girl.

Fall schedule and larceny, what a combination

2010-09-09T07:27:00.001-04:00

I have decided that I am not decorating for fall until September 15th. I know you were all on the edges of your seats waiting for that announcement, so now you can move on with your lives. You're welcome.

I told my husband the other day that I was feeling very pressured to decorate for fall.

Pressured by whom he asked.

The internet, I mumbled.

He looked at me quizzically.

I explained to him that on the blogs I frequent people are already ushering in fall. They have begun decorating for fall and making crafts and reveling in the cool weather. I am not ready for this. I am holding, very tightly, to the last days of summer. Oh, I know what I said last week. Am I not allowed to change my mind? Please, I just don't want to be cold.

I had all good intentions of writing up a new Transformation Thursday post featuring the green ottoman that I recovered, but my plan was thwarted by the town thief. My oldest son's bicycle was stolen last night. In truth, he and his cousin had their bikes stolen. They left them out in front of the WaWa. We have told them before not to do this, as they are simply borrowing trouble. Last night they borrowed and bought trouble. He called us to ask for help and we told him to call the police. I drove down to meet them and my husband began trolling the streets for two BMX bikes. Two very expensive BMX bikes.

As the kids were entering the store, they noticed a group of kids loitering on the sidewalk, and my niece recognized one of the boys from school. When they came out of the store the kids were gone and so were the bikes. It was easy to deduce what had happened.

The police came, took all of our information and told us that they would be on the lookout and would contact us if they found anything. They then headed down to the home of the boy that my niece knows. I wanted to follow them and see if the kicked the door in or used tear gas, but they didn't. They calmly talked to the boy's parents. That could have been so exciting.

We all continued to search in different directions around town. I drove slowly up and down all of the neighborhood streets peering into driveways and behind parked cars. I asked everyone I saw if they had seen some kids riding two bikes, and then proceeded to describe them. No one had. I said- well if you do please call the police because they are stolen. It was like a scene from Pee-Wee's Big Adventure, and I was large Marge. (In case you are not a fan of the classic movie, Pee-Wee's bike is stolen.)

I knew that we were probably not going to find the bike, and I went through the full range of emotions. I vacillated between wanting to throttle my son and buy him a new bike. Between utter compassion and total frustration.

We all arrived home about the same time, and as we were discussing our plan of action for tomorrow, my cell phone rang. It was the police, and they had found John's bike. We could not believe it!

Two boys rode it to the park, sat with it for a while and then got up and left. A man who was shooting some hoops all by himself saw all of this transpire and thought something was fishy so he called the police. Something was fishy because I had circled that park twice and there was no sign of the bike, or the boys.

The police brought the bike to our home. It had a flat tire, but other than that it was in perfect condition. I asked if the man had gotten a description of the boys and the police officers said that he had not because it was so dark. I wanted the bike dusted for latent prints so we could find the perp. And then I remembered that I am a housewife, not an investigator on CSI. And also, the police think I am nuts.

The police seemed to think that the boy whose house they had gone to put the word out to get rid of the bike. I don't know about that. What seems more plausible to me is word got out that some crazy housewife in a Tahoe was combing the streets in search of the bike and threatening people with jail time. I would be scared of me, too.

Beach baby with a pillow

2010-09-07T09:28:00.007-04:00

Yesterday the weather was absolutely beautiful! It was the kind of weather that screamed, "GO TO THE BEACH!" Apparently I was the only one who heard it because when I suggested that we all hop into the truck and head to the beach, my family looked at me as if I had just suggested we dance naked on hot coals. They wanted to go to the skate park.

My husband, sensing my disappointment, suggested that I go to the beach alone. Oh, I could not possibly do that.

Shyeah, right!

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting in the truck with my little bag and cooler. In my bag was my phone, money, new book Blue Like Jazz, baseball hat and towel. In my cooler was water bottles and a few snacky type things. In total it weighed about 6 pounds. What a far cry from when I go with the boys and I end up carrying half my body weight in beach paraphernalia. I forgot how easy it is to get just myself out of the house.

When I arrived at the beach I meandered around on the sand a bit, searching for the perfect isolated spot. I plopped myself on a deserted patch of beach and lay baking in the sun. After about an hour and a half I decided to take a walk around the lovely beach town of Ocean Grove. It was so nice to just walk in silence and take in the sights and sounds of a lazy holiday afternoon.

I went into a store called Cottage Home Interiors, and I wanted to buy one of everything in the store. I wept silently as I turned over price tags. I could make (and have made) the majority of the items in the store for a fraction of the cost that they were being sold for. I spotted a lovely lamp that I plan on reproducing. I decided against taking pictures of the lamp with my camera phone. Tacky.

I headed back to the beach. When I arrived back at my spot, I saw that it was no longer isolated, or quiet. A large group of people with an even larger group of children had convened right next to me. I thought about it for 3 seconds and then I picked up my stuff and moved. I don't feel badly about this choice either. Moments of absolute peace and quiet are so far and few between that I was not chancing this one. I moved right next to a group of senior citizens. I knew that they would not be throwing sand or whining that Hunter took the shovel that they were using. I realize this revelation probably makes me sound like a curmudgeon, but the loudest that it got over with the seniors was when Marge screamed to Harry to stop fumbling with the umbrella, just sit down and read your magazine for pete's sake!

It was bliss.

Also this weekend I also recovered a bolster pillow that I bought it at a garage sale for a dollar. The bolster pillow forms cost more than that. I have been waiting for the perfect opportunity to use the pillow and I found it in my newly recovered chair.

Pillow before:

Pillow after:

Lovely. (Just don't turn it over. I am still working on the finish details.)

One year closer to 40

2010-09-03T08:33:00.007-04:00

Yesterday was an eventful day, two big things happened.

First, I turned 39.

Second, I spent most of my birthday in the ER with my 10 year old who is now the proud owner of 5 stitches in his chin. My poor baby was performing a scooter trick and near as I can figure, he went one way and his scooter went the other way. This poor boy is torn up. In addition to the stitches, he lost half a finger nail, has no skin left on the knuckles of his right hand, cut up his left knee in multiple places and has a black eye. I though that turning 39 was bad, but clearly what happened to him is worse.

This child is always sporting some sort of injury. He received 3 stitches in his head when he was almost 2, and six months later he had his chin glued together with the medical community's version of dura bond. He split his chin open during a game of let's see who can run the fastest and slide the longest on the hardwood floors. When your face meets the floor, at mach speed, there is bound to be some damage.

I am always finding new cuts and bruises on him and frequently exclaim, "What did you do?!"

He always non-chalantly answers, "Oh, I fell."

He remains unfazed by his injuries. He simply accepts them as the unfortunate result of mastering a new scooter trick. I understand this. We are more alike than I once thought, and that makes me appreciate his quirkiness.

So I turned 39 and the world did not end, nor did I suddenly age. (Thank-you, Mary Kay) All of my boys were absolutely wonderful to me yesterday. And my sister gave me the most wonderful, creative gift. She bought me a Vera Bradley zip ID case. Behind the plastic that would be used to display an ID, she slipped in a piece of paper that reads, Garage Sale Money. Inside the case were fives, singles and quarters. Isn't that the cutest thing ever? Does she know me or what? I am completely outfitted for a day of yard saling should Earl stay out at sea.

Earl? Stay out at sea. No one wants you here. We have plans this weekend and your presence would only be a nuisance. Kthanksbye.

What else?

Oh! I sold the ugly brown chair. Now to replace it. One more reason Earl needs to stay away. Didja hear that, Earl?

Lovely weekend to you!

Transformation Thursday

2010-09-02T07:39:00.001-04:00

Back when we found that awesome free dresser on Craig's list, we also bought this chair. The man who was giving away the dresser had had a garage sale the previous weekend and was not able to sell this chair. I was aghast that not one person saw the potential in this chair. What is this world coming to?

The funny part is, I actually loved the fabric just the way it was. It had a 60s vintage feel that I thought was groovy. The bad part was it did not match a single room in my house. When my mom and I reupholstered the couch I knew that the green chair and ottoman had to go, and that this chair would be the perfect replacement, for the over sized green chair at least.

As you can see from the photo, I began deconstructing the chair and then remembered to take pictures. Not so much with the thinking.

The chair was relatively easy to recover as there was not a lot of sewing involved. I did quite a bit of hot gluing of fabric and cording. The chair cushion gave me the most trouble and I injured myself quite badly. I was working the fabric through the machine and got a little carried away with perfection of the seam. What resulted can only be described as horrific.

Graphic image ahead. Put down your snack and cover your eyes.

Yes, I did. I sewed right through my finger nail. I broke the nail and took off a chuck of the top of my finger. The worst part was the force of the needle pushed the nail into the skin and I had to work it out.

Um, ow.

This delayed the completion of the project for about 4 days. My finger is still sore and I have no feeling in the tip. I did not let that stop me, oh no I didn't. I completed the chair Wednesday afternoon.

To say that I am happy with it is an understatement. I am thrilled with how it turned out. The cushion is a mess on one corner but I don't care. I also have not yet stapled the fabric to the sides and back of the chair. That is a job for my husband. And I have not added the zipper to the chair cushion. That is a job for my mom. (Hi mom! :-D)

So it is not perfect, but it sure is purdy!

You know the part in Pirates of the Caribbean 2 where the two pirates Pintel and Ragetti are rowing the boat, having just lost their immortality? Ragetti is reading the Bible preparing to meet his maker and a hilarious conversation ensues.

Pintel: You know you can't read.

Ragetti: It's the bible, you get credit for tryin'.

That is how I feel about this chair. I get credit for tryin'.

What are you going to try to do this week?

September begins

2010-09-01T10:15:00.002-04:00

(Can that title be any lamer?)

I cannot believe that it is September already. Just last week it was June, and we were reveling in the long days of summer that we had stretched out before us. Now, I have the inexplicable urge to sing Neil Diamond songs.

Today I have to conquer Home School Closet #2, I conquered Home School Closet #1 earlier this summer. I took all of the various items that I did not know what to do with and moved them to closet #2, and I can no longer put off the inevitable purge and organize. I am good at purging and organizing, so that does not bother me. But when that closet is completed I have no other excuse to not start another school year. The fact that I have not ordered our curriculum is, well, pathetic. And I know it. Just this week I made the final decision to go with BJU. This is new for us this year and I am hoping that it helps to foster more independence in my older boys while allowing me to spend some much needed one-on-one time with Joe.

I feel optimistic about the coming year. This is a change from last year when all I felt was dread. Home schooling is both a blessing and a trial. I still feel that we are called to it, but I was definitely waning in my desire to continue being the one responsible for my childrens' education. I am renewing my mind and trying to accentuate the positive.

Enjoy this September morn!

I leave you with one of my favorite fall poems.

Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.

-Emily Dickinson

Weather or not

2010-08-31T08:41:00.006-04:00

Last week the weather here in New Jersey began to break, giving us a glimpse of fall. I was sad when my husband came home from work and said, "Summer is almost over." I am not ready for the summer to be over, and please don't rush the fall. Fall means that winter is around the corner and that? Oh, that depresses me. I do not like to be cold.

(In a perfect world it would always be 81 degrees with 13% humidity and no rain. Ever. Does anyone know a place where such a weather pattern exists? Please tell me because I want to go and live there.)

So, the weather here? Let's just say that Mother Nature is fickle. We had a beautiful end of the week and Saturday with temps in the high 70's. On Sunday the heat returned with a vengeance with temps topping out in the mid 90's. This makes me happy.

Lest you think this is a mind numbingly boring weather report, I do have a point.

The boys and I are holding onto our last few carefree, lazy days of summer with a tight fist. We decided to hit the skate park for some high flying antics. That is to say, they perform the high flying antics. I sit in the shade and pray that I don't have to put pressure on gigantic bleeding gashes or call 911 to reattach a severed limb.

Exhibit A: This is called "something no hander." Something is not the actual name of it, I just can't remember what the first word is. I affectionately refer to it as "could lose your hander." The boys think that I am hilarious.

This boy has no fear, it is hard to believe that I birthed him. I get scared when I have to open Pillsbury muffins. I am sure that one of these days the can is going to burst and I am going to lose an eye.

My child is the one hurtling through the air, with breakneck speed, wearing the black shirt. That is his friend on the left, he aspires to be like my oldest. His mother, and his orthopedist hope otherwise.

No montage is complete without my baby. That nose. Don't you just want to pull it off, dip it in chocolate sauce and eat it? No? Okay, it's just me.

Yesterday we had a high of 96 degrees here. Those ramps are metal, and the park floor is black top. Hot metal + black top = hot enough to pull a baked potato right out of the ground. After 2 and a half hours, the boys were done.

As we were driving home the topic of discussion was the weather, and how the boys are hoping for a break in the temperature. As the last of the sweat was trickling a river down my back, I silently agreed with them.

Fall? We are ready when you are.

Project Runway Season 8

2010-08-27T08:09:00.004-04:00

Once again, Casanova comes through with the funniest lines of the night.

On Tim Gunn's less than encouraging critique of his outfit:

"It's kind of frustrating. Once again, Casanova, you make a senior citizen garment. I don't know what happened to my taste."

Lamenting to the other designers:

"I'm making clothes for old ladies, sluts and flamingo dancers."

On the possibility of quitting:

"Maybe I need to take a break because I'm in the verge to lose my mind...and I'm getting FAT!"

To the last quote I shouted, "WORD!" at the television. Every day I am in the verge to lose my mind, and I feel fat. We are like siblings separated at birth except one of us was born to a Puerto Rican mom and the other an American mom.

I was so happy that he won last night's challenge. Blogger and I are having a fight concerning uploading photos, so to see the winning look, go here. I would wear those pants in a heartbeat!

Every season there is one designer that grates in my nerves, and this year it is Gretchen. I won't hold the things that she says in the one-on-one interviews against her because I have a feeling the producers ask the designers provocative questions to stir up drama. But the stuff that she says and does in the work room? That I will. She can sew, I give her that, but her attitude is awful!

As for the other designers that she was paired with? Well, I was waiting for someone, anyone, to remind her that it a team project, not her project. Their team lost because they allowed themselves to be sucked into the Gretchen is the boss of all of us vortex.

I also can't believe that they went along with her plan for the runway and the judges query. I would have said, "Gretchen meet the bus. Bus, Gretchen."

And the talking?

Oh, the talking!

Come up for some air, dearie.

I was glad the Michael and Nina gave her the what for, she needed knocking down a peg. And don't even get me started on Tim Gunn throwing down at the end!

It was a great episode! What say you?

Children of the corn

2010-08-24T09:33:00.003-04:00

Last week we drove up to my uncle's farm. This is his second year of farming and, wow, what a bounty! We picked corn, fresh green and red peppers, tomatoes, hot peppers, squash and eggplant. We plan on going back for pumpkins in the fall. There is nothing better than sausage and peppers made with home grown, flavorful, organic peppers. Yummy!

Here we are in the corn. It is a kin to committing a crime to see rows of corn and not run into them. My 13 year old was absolutely thrilled beyond words to be ~~forced~~ coaxed into the photo.
I forgot to grab my camera, so my mother stepped in with hers. She has mad photo skillz.

I am so happy that a member of my family has a bountiful garden. It makes up for the fact that I have a black thumb.

The cheese stands alone

2010-08-20T08:09:00.005-04:00

About six weeks ago we bought a new couch for the family room, we found it on Craig's list for $300. The previous owners of the piece had purchased a set of furniture and when it was delivered to their home found that it was too large and did not fit into their space well. It is virtually brand new. (It still has the new furniture smell) It is a beautiful taupe micro fiber sofa. It has deep seats and clean, modern lines. We absolutely love it. The best part of the sofa is that we can all fit on it.

Our old set was an over-sized love seat and chair. The chair was large, but not quite a chair and a half. With three growing boys, and a lack of seating, we were usually all smooshed like grapes unto the furniture. Plus, the furniture had an icky smell. It smelled like feet and Doritos. I guess that is what happens as furniture begins to age, it smells like nacho cheese.

Enter the dilemma. When we got rid of the old furniture, we were left with an empty space. The place where the old chair used to reside was begging for a new chair. So we hit Craig's list again and found what looked to be a promising recliner. I did not want another recliner. I have real issues with recliners. They are for convalescing people, and people with bad arthritis, they don't belong in family rooms. But my husband wanted to be able to put his feet up, and since he is so darn cute, I decided to acquiesce to his request.

The day that we were supposed to go and look at the chair we had a fight. I can't even remember now what we were fighting about, but it seemed very important at the time. Important enough for me to not want to go with him to look at the chair, a decision that would come back to haunt me. Not only did he go and look at the chair, he bought it.

When he arrived back home with the chair and plopped it into its new home, I remembered why I was mad at him- he buys ugly, uncomfortable chairs that don't in any way, shape or form, match our decor. (You can see him through the window in the background of the photo. He's cute, right. The cuteness is what saved him.)

I know what you are thinking- it does not look that bad, and in truth, it doesn't. But, I did not want chocolate brown. I have black tables in that room and pairing black with brown, in my world, is reprehensible. Then I sat in it. To say that it is firm is like saying that the Jonas Brothers are popular. Understatement.

I have short legs, and when I sit on it the backs of my knees do not touch the seat, it is that shallow. And don't even get me started on reclining it. It is difficult, nigh impossible, for the kids and I to recline it without help. It is almost as if this chair was made for hobbits with freakish upper body strength.

In some ways I feel badly for this chair. It is the red headed step child of all of the furniture in our home. The kids would rather sit on the floor than attempt to get comfortable in it. It has to go.

The moral of the story, besides don't fight with your husband, is don't let your husband purchase things from Craig's list without your expressed written permission. And sit in a chair before you buy it.

AWOL

2010-08-19T08:10:00.002-04:00

I know that all 3 of you who read this blog with some regularity have been wondering where I am. Well, I have been busy with house guests. Days seem to fly by in a blur, and before I know it almost a week has gone by with nary a post.

Regular blogging resumes tomorrow, but I leave you with a quote from my 6 year old.

"Mommy," he said the other morning as I was helping him get dressed (yes, I know that he is fully capable of dressing himself, don't judge) "You are such a funny lady." See? It is official. I am funny.
If only it were as easy to make adults laugh as it is children. I just have to blow raspberries on his belly and say the word "poopie."

The joys of boys

2010-08-13T07:51:00.004-04:00

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling as if I never slept a wink. Don't you just hate that? My poor husband is suffering from a nasty sinus infection which means I am suffering by proxy- the only difference being he gets to ingest the codeine spiked medicine, I don't. I mean...I could, but it seems naughty. I know that he is really sick because he is not giving me the play-by-play of his symptoms. He gets into the bed and does not come out except to get more medicine and tissues.

I teach an early yoga class on Thursdays so I had to be up. It is entirely possible for a person to be walking around, giving the appearance of being awake and fully present, when in reality they are still asleep in their comfy bed in their mind. I believe the word I am looking for is zombie. Yes, I was a zombie yesterday.

After teaching I did feel more awake, and when I arrived back home I was ready to face the day. I cleaned the family room until it sparkled finer than frog hair, did a few loads of laundry and cleaned the kitchen.

It was then that I noticed Joe, playing all by himself. He had found dice under the couch and he came to ask me what game it belonged to. I told him that I was not sure, but he could check to see which box it was missing from. He scampered off and I heard the closet door open.

"Mommy?" he called from the living room, "Can I play the game with the pieces that pop out at you when you set the timer?"

"Perfection?" I asked.

"YES!" he said, giggling.

I asked him if I could play with him and he told me that I could, but he had to set the game up first. Oh, what fun we had! We successfully placed all of the shapes into their compartments and had time to spare, so we counted down the seconds, anticipating the POP! of the board and its pieces. We laughed and high-fived each other like dorks.

He looked at me and said, "I love spending time with you." Anything after that is a blur because my heart exploded into a million little pieces and I died from a love overdose. So much love have I for this boy.

We had a treat last night, too. My mother took the boys out to dinner and so Kevin and I were able to go out all by ourselves. It was bliss. I didn't have to take him to the bathroom just as my food arrived and I did not have to cut up his food. It's the little things that I appreciate.

We ate way too much and had wonderful, uninterrupted conversation. We went to Dick's Sporting Goods where I bought a new pair of running shoes. I am happy. So are my knees. We went to that mall and bopped around a bit, but we both really just wanted to go home. Cue the dilemma- the kids did not want us to come home. Right before we left to go to dinner Jeremy asked, "Are you coming home right after you are done eating?" We told him we were not sure. He told us to stay out, that they wanted to be alone with grandma. In fact, grandma wanted us to stay out, too.

We stayed out as long as we could, but coffee and the couch beckoned. We decided to call home to see if it was alright if we come back. Jeremy answered the phone.

"It's mom, can we come back home?"

"Uhhh, no. We're watching a movie with grandma."

"Please, you won't even know we are there."

"No."

At this point I am laughing. "Jeremy, honey, we want coffee, and we don't have anything else to do."

"Alright. But you have to stay upstairs."

Apparently their father and I are kill joys and are not welcome at their chocolate chip cookie/twizzler/movie party. Just wait until they want breakfast, or have no clean underwear, then I will be numero uno once again.

A whittle wood goes a long way

2010-08-12T07:48:00.004-04:00

Jeremy, my 10 year old, decided that this would be the year or the wood whittling. He searched the woods for the perfect piece of wood, and then plopped himself in a camping chair and began to whittle an adorable little pencil. He got the point so sharp that I told him he should stick it into the remains of the previous nights fire, blacken the tip and write with it.

His whittling and wood carving talents garnered him a following, his cousins now wanted knives. Every night, as the adults were preparing dinner, the kids would sit at our camp site with their knives and perfect piece of wood and begin to carve. Every so often someone would yell out, "DON'T GET TOO CLOSE! YOU ARE IN MY BLOOD CIRCLE!" For some reason that always cracked me up.

The girls were carving what looked like arrows, and the boys decided to comb the woods for sticks that looked like bows. What an adventure this turned out to be!

Of course they had to find one for my baby, who is not my favorite, nor is he adorable. Help me. I am captivated by the cuteness.

Before he shot his arrow, he told me that I had to countdown and say blast off. 3-2-1-BLASTOFF! We did that about 6,842 times, give or take.

And here he is, the mastermind. Jeremy is like MacGyver. He can take an ordinary item and turn it into something fun and awesome. What a mind he has. If only I was half as creative as this awesome kid.

He wanted me to capture the arrow as if flew out of the bow, but I could not do it with the zoom lens. And let me tell you, those arrows really took flight and flew some distance.

I love the way the woods beckon the kids to be inventive. I love the way the books that we have read this year and listened to on tape have helped to channel their creativity. The Sign of the Beaver and Farmer Boy directly influenced the projects they worked on in the woods. I have great kids. I really do.

Vacation Wrap-up: The running edition

2010-08-11T08:22:00.000-04:00

We camp in the town of Hague, which is right next to the town of Fort Ticonderoga. Fort Ticonderoga being famous for the pencils, and of course, the fort. It is rich with history and breathtaking scenery.

I love running on the mountain roads. One of the first things that you come to when you leave the campsite is a cemetery. When we were children my sister and I used to hold our breath as we drove past the cemetery, believing that we would add extra minutes to our lives. Our parents encouraged this fun little practice simply because the few moments of silence added extra minutes to their sanity. Apparently we were loud and silly.

The sight of Old Glory waving gently in the warm breeze over a memorial to fallen soldiers reminds me once again of what a privilege it is to live in a free country.

This view is the reason that I ran 8 miles a day. I simply could not get enough of the vast blue sky, the voluminous clouds and the immense rolling hills. This landscape far exceeds the suburban streets that I call home.

Another thing that caught my eye were the barns. I love this red one, the way the color pops against the lush green of the mountain that stands guard over it.

And this lovely old repository. I was so tempted to enter the barn and snoop around inside. How amazing would it be to tear that wood down and make a dining table out of it? My mind was absorbed with all of the possibilities.

This amazing stone church is perched atop the cemetery. Not only is it lovely outside, but inside is loaded with character and offers a cool respite from the heat. I did not take pictures of the interior because it seemed disrespectful to me.

The view from the top. I would arrive at my destination and look back at where I had just come from and feel a tremendous sense of satisfaction. I loved the way it felt as I ran back down the mountain. The way the mountains surround you, protecting you from harm, and sheltering you within their majesty. It is like feeling God hug you.

I long for next August when we will return so I can do it all again.

Vacation Wrap-up

2010-08-10T08:59:00.005-04:00

Well, hello.

We returned home from vacation Saturday night. We were camping for a week up at Roger's Rock Campsite located on the beautiful Lake George. There is no cell phone reception, and there is certainly no Internet service, so I was completely AWOL from the intrawebz. It was wonderful.

As we were driving up the mountain on Saturday morning, I was watching the temperature gauge on my rear view mirror. It kept going down. Not a good sign when you plan on bunking in a tent and your sleeping bag is just inches from the cold ground. When we arrived at the camp ground it was 65 degrees which for all intents and purposes is a comfortable temperature, but in the woods it feels colder. As it turned out the temperature would drop that night into the low 40's. I was fah-reezing. And I did not sleep well because I was afraid that my boys were fah-reezing, so I kept waking up. Plus, when it gets cold like that, the air in the mattress begins to decrease creating a hammock like effect wherein my husband and I kept sliding into the center. It was like we were sleeping in a giant taco shell only without the salsa.

We woke up on Sunday morning to what would be a beautiful day. So beautiful in fact that we headed to the lake in town and had a rousing game of wiffle ball. There is a lake on the campground, but there are some issues, the rules are quite stringent. You can't use masks, snorkels, or play ball in the water. You can only use Coast Guard approved floatation devices, and we all know what fun it is to swim in a life jacket. And, the C.G. approved ones have the strap that goes from the back of the jacket, between the swimmers legs, and snaps in the front. When you have boys, things end up getting smooshed. There are a whole host of other rules, too, basically- YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RESEMBLING FUN!

My boys do not use life jackets, but they do like to float on a raft every once in a while, so we head to the Hague beach where the only rule is HAVE FUN! - just don't throw sand.

One of the best aspects of our family vacation is the cousins. The older boys on the left are so good to the younger kids. They play ball with them, swim with them, take them out on the jet skis, bring them fishing, hunt for craw-dads, and just speak to them like they are on equals. I love the older boys.

That's my baby up there, getting ready to drive that ball out of the park.

He is adorable, but he runs like that lady on Seinfeld who never swings her arms.

Up next is Jeremy. He knocks it out of the park.

The Hague beach in all of its glory.

I did not want to leave the woods at all this year. I was content to live there for the rest of my life, it possible. I am like Henry David Thoreau.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

Tune in tomorrow to see the scenery from the 8 mile route that I ran almost everyday.

Project Runway Season 8

2010-07-30T11:51:00.000-04:00

What a great episode, it promises to be a fabulous season. I loved the twist at the beginning, and Casanova's line, "We are still auditioning, that's weird." Hello, Designers, are you new here? Of course there was a twist! This is the same show that had a whole group of people designing clothing from a candy store. Twizzler dress anyone? It's a dress! It's a snack!

So far Casanova is my favorite, his accent kills me. And he delivered the best line of the night. "I took, like, one of my fay-vo-reete pahnts, it's one tao-sand seventy dol-hares." He spent on one pair of pants what most people in Bulgaria make per year. He was beside himself watching Valerie cut them up.

I was sad to see McKell go, I liked her personality- and her hair. I thought that Tim was very genuine in his sadness at McKell going home, too. I love Tim. I would love to have him follow me around all day critiquing the things that I do.

Me: Tim, do you think that I should make pork chops for dinner?

Tim: Pork chops are very provocative.

Me: Tim, are you ready to go to the gym?

Tim: Let us caucus further concerning the gym.

Me: Tim, what do you think of this blouse?

Tim: The cap sleeve worries me.

What a fun and adjective full day that would be!

Thank-you for all of the kind compliments on yesterday's post. I am always in a quandary about posting my things on those linky parties. I love to see what others have done, and yet I feel goofy about them seeing what I have done, I can't explain why.

Up next is the ottoman, or otterman, as I recently saw someone on Craig's list post.

Transformation Thursday

2010-07-29T07:42:00.001-04:00

I am a putz. Seriously. I somehow deleted the before picture, and I was being so diligent to chronicle the whole project. Wah! You can see the couch as it was before, but not in all of its glory, just piece meal.

We bought this couch (And chair and ottoman) last summer from a friend of ours that was having a garage sale. It has great bones. It is the kind of couch that hugs you when you sit in it. The seat cushions are deep and the back cushions are high. It invites you to nap and rewards you with a restful slumber. Now, if only I could teach it to make coffee and do the laundry, that would be something. We paid $150 for it and I know that we got a good deal. To be honest, I have never loved the green color of the ottoman and the club chair, and the couch pattern, although lovely, said fall to me all the time. I let those things go because the furniture itself was in such great condition and I knew that it was coming from a clean home.

I decided to slip cover the couch and I knew that it would be a big job, so I waited until my mom arrived to begin the undertaking. I picked her up from the airport Wednesday evening and we began working Thursday morning.

We decided to use the existing fabric as our pattern, and to save money, salvaged all of the cording. There is my mom, hard at work. She is really the brains of the operation.

We had the Batman house and all of its figures out just in case we needed some super hero help. It turns out that Batman can't sew worth a lick and the Joker just complains that Batman is a goody two shoes. The two of them are about as useful as a back pocket on a shirt.

Here we have the aptly named right side of the couch. This was my mom's side. The cording is perfect as are the pleats and the fabric fits the arm like a glove.

And here we have the wrong side of the couch. My mother is fixing my novice work. I told her that my side looks like a ghetto slip cover. She laughed and consoled me by saying that this is not beginner sewing, and the ghetto should be proud to sport such a slipcover.

My mother is a very good seamstress, and I do exactly what she says. She was giving me directions on pinning the cording to the fabric and I asked her if it would be easier to do it another way, and then I described the way to her. She said that, yes, that would be an easier way, but this is not sewing 101. I got a baptism in fire, m'dears.

My sewing skills improved. I had a cordingpalooza Sunday night and sewed until my fingers bled. I also made the back cushions. I was beyond thrilled with myself, and attempted a one person high five. It turns out that a one person high five is really just clapping.

The finish work was brutal. We stapled the skirting onto the couch, but had some issues. We had to ask my husband come in with the nail gun to help us because the electric stapler was useless against the wood of the frame. The bottom cording is hot glued on because it was just easier. I sustained a life threatening glue injury. All I have to say about that is finger prints are over rated. The glue gun is hot, y'all.

I love the little pleats on the arm.

There she is in all of her glory. I christened it yesterday with a little snooze.

My mother said, when we finished, "Can you believe we did that?" Yes, I can. We jumped into it before we could think about it. This was not just a slipcover job, we re-upholstered this sucker.

Mom, we rule! (Well, you rule. I just do what you tell me to.)

**UPDATED*** Didja know that tonight begins the new season of Project Runway? Let's dish tomorrow.

Carefully tying together Hillbillies and pedicures

2010-07-28T08:23:00.010-04:00

Yesterday, quite spontaneously, my mother and I went to get pedicures. I chose a lavender color, something I would not normally choose. I usually pick some shade of coral that ends up looking like the exact shade of coral that the nail tech just removed, only with a different name. The name of my color is called, Easy to Get. Hmmmm.

My mother and I were telling the ladies that were doing our toes that we were getting ready to go camping. They were simply fascinated as to why we would choose to go into the woods with no running water, no electricity and no cell phone service. Fascinated and intrigued, they were. They peppered us with honest and genuine questions and really seemed to come around to the idea. One of the ladies even asked me to write down some basic information as to where we camp. I think that we are going to see them in the woods sometime soon.

We are packing this week in preparation to leave for vacation. We are going camping up in the beautiful mountains of Lake George NY, we do it every year and it never gets old.

Kevin has a new plan for packing this year. He is bringing the trailer. Apparently we are kicking it Sanford and Son style. His exact words were, "I am going to line the trailer with firewood and then lay a tarp over it to secure it. Then I am going to pack the camping stuff on top of it and lay another tarp to secure that. That way, everything will be on the trailer and the vehicles will be empty. We will have more room inside."

I love that he is always looking out for our comfort, but the image that popped into my mind was this.

The only difference is our dog is smaller.

It does, however, beat the year that we had a huge, and I mean huge fight the night before we left for vacation and Kevin, out of sheer frustration with me, just simply threw everything into the back of the pick-up truck. That was fun. I am glad that we don't do that anymore.

Garage sale round-up

2010-07-27T09:01:00.001-04:00

This past weekend I was only able to get to a few garage sales. First it was hotter than hell's waiting room, second I got a visual migraine that threw me for a loop- they wipe me out for hours.

I was blessed, however, with good garage sale fortune. I found a Prada bag for $2.00. I don't think that it is a real Prada, and that is fine. I just loved the color and the style. It will be a great bag for the fall. I found a great pair of winter gloves for $1.00. Gloves and socks, the two things that I cannot keep pairs of. Why is that? What makes someone take off one glove and discard the other? Mind-boggling, it is.

That yellow pail, it was fifty cents. I am using it as a garbage receptacle in my family room bath. Lurve it. I scored a wisteria scented Yankee candle for seventy-five cents, and two candle holders for $1.00 each.

My mother is here, which is why I have been so scarce on the interwebz. We are just finishing up re-upholstering and slip covering my living room couch. I will reveal it on Thursday.

Does anyone get visual migraines? What is up with these things? I can't identify the trigger because they are so random in their occurrences. Any input is appreciated.

The defunct marathon

2010-07-21T08:22:00.003-04:00

Poor Camille, she is waiting for a new marathon post. The truth about why I have been dragging my feet is I was waiting to see of I got into the NYC marathon again this year, I was going to dovetail the details together. Alas, I did not. I had asked my old high school boyfriend if he could gt me into the marathon because he has connections. This guy and I, we dated for almost a year. He was, I thought, The One.

Then.

He went off to college, I stayed home for college, and he met someone else. Class act that he was, he called me, on the telephone, to break up with me. I was utterly destroyed for months by what he did.

And.

AND!

He would not even send me my things. Things of mine that I had given to him that I wanted back. My dad, a Jersey City police officer, drove up to his college to retrieve them.

**Sidebar** I adore my dad, he is my knight in shining armor. My dad is the reason that I married such a good man, I had a great example of a real husband and father.

So my dad drove up to the college, and my putz of an ex-boyfriend would not even come down to face him. He sent down a mutual friend of ours, who attended the same college, with my things.

Why I am friends with this person on Facebook is still a mystery to me. I myself am a putz. I figured the least he could do was get me into the marathon. He did not, and he did not even tell me that he did not. I had to send him a message to ask him. GAH!

The NYC marathon is not happening this year. I am open to other marathons. I am also open to running a marathon with someone else. Are you running any marathons?

Today my husband is taking me to Ikea. You know what that means, dontcha? Meatballs! Yummy! Also we are going to look at their kitchens. Our kitchen has...issues. But that is another post for another day. Tune in for it. You will be amazed to see where our dishwasher resides.

P.S. You should read Camille's blog. She lives on a farm and she home schools her children and she runs and she is absolutely gorgeous.

Garage sale round-up

2010-07-19T08:00:00.004-04:00

A more apropos title would be, the garage sales that weren't. Saturday was a very disappointing day, save for the argument that I witnessed between an owner and a patron over the price of fake flowers. Seriously New Jersey people, not everything can be haggled down to a quarter.

I went to 5 garage sales before I found one that was a) set-up and b) organized. Having had garage sales myself, and being an avid yard saler, I know what people tend to like. They like quasi-neat tables set up with the majority of the items priced. I fully understand that sometimes things just get tossed on the table in hopes that some poor slob will make an impulse purchase and you make up a price on the spot. I also understand that there are boxes of paraphernalia that simply get tossed into the mix. Boxes that have become a catch all for junk that we no longer need or want, except to disappear.

I went to one garage sale where three women were selling their things together. The yard was littered with Rubbermaid totes and empty tables. As I approached, one of the women called out to me, "Just pick through the totes and sent anything that you don't want down on a table."

Back the trolley up, sister.

You understand what she was saying, right? Basically she was hoping that we, the customers, would set up her shop. Thanks, but no thanks. I grabbed Joe's hand and skedaddled. The next few garage sales were no better.

I did manage to find a really adorable hot pink Guess skirt that is perfect for wearing as a bathing suit cover-up. It was fifty cents. I also found a sweet little black and white bolero jacket from Forever 21, also for fifty cents. That was really it.

My older boys are gone and it is quiet. Very quiet. They left yesterday for camp. They were not sad at all to leave me, which made me simultaneously happy and sad. John refused to pose for pictures saying he was embarrassed. Jeremy still goes with the flow. (The teenage hormones have not kicked in.)

Here my boy is demonstrating the fine art of pointing. Too bad there is no merit badge for that.

He is perfecting "The look." The look that says get away from me with the camera, but take pictures of me. He is torn between wanting to be cool and wanting to hug his mom. It's cool to hug your mom!

As they depart I yell, "SAY CHEESEBALLS!" This garners a slight smile.

They will be back on Saturday. I am not looking forward to the laundry that they will bring.

In which I jump from topic to topic without rhyme or reason

2010-07-16T08:44:00.006-04:00

Last night I went to bed at 2:38. Why did I do that?

I was sitting in the family room, reading my book, thinking, "I am going to pay for this in the morning."

It is the morning. I am paying. I am hoping that the coffee kicks in soon. I am considering eating the actual coffee beans if it does not.

Tomorrow my older boys leave for scout camp. This will be the first time for Jeremy, and I am a little nervous. He is almost 11, and quite independent for his age, but he is still my baby. I said to him earlier this morning, "You are leaving tomorrow. I am going to miss you."

He casually answered back, "I am going to miss my new scooter, Sami, and you, too, mom."

Scuse me? An inanimate object and a dog who eats her own pooh outrank your mother who cooks for you and cleans for you and does all manner of things that make your life happy and fulfilled. Not to mention I bought the new scooter with my secret Paypal slush fund. He laughed and tried to back peddle, but it was too late. The pooh eating dog wins out over me.

Whatev.

Last night, before he went to work, Kevin shared this with me. We are seriously considering going. Does that make us lame? Mmmmbop?

I can't wait to hit some garage sales this weekend. With no rain in the forecast it promises to be a thriftingpalooza. And then I am going to start work on my couch. I am jumping into the slip covering fray. I am both nervous and excited. I chose this fabric to cover the couch.

Of course the color appears distorted from the in real life color, the computer monitor does not do it justice. The background color is khaki, and I am going to slip cover the ottoman and the oversized chair in a khaki cotton duck because I am afraid the toile will overpower the room. One toile piece, I think, will be just perfect. I was inspired by Nester to go for it.

I have to go now and get ready to head out for the gym. This is my last class for the week, I can't wait for it to be over. I am so feeling my age lately, and I am not that old. Eight years ago, I would teach between 7 and 10 group fitness classes per week and still be raring to go.

Now?

Oh, dear. I ache. My hiney is screaming and my biceps are ready to revolt. But I am thankful for the work and the extra money that it provides for garage sales, and fabric, and strawberry frosted Dunkin' Donuts.

Later gators!

It's a secret no one knows

2010-07-14T08:23:00.004-04:00

Upon returning home Saturday from some errands, I found Kevin in the garage. He was on a major cleaning/organizing kick, and there was music playing.

Strange music.

I stopped and took a listen.

...Ba du bop, Ba du dop...

"Are you...are you listening to Hansen? The Mmmbop song?" I asked him.

He looked at me sheepishly and replied, "Yes. They are really good. They are the love children of Jerry Garcia. (pause) I have the CD."

"Oh, you have really sunk to a new low here." I said as I prepared to take my leave from the teeny bopperpalooza that was once my garage.

"Do you want me to copy it onto your iPod for when you run?" he yelled.

"You know it."

We are closet Hansen fans. They really can sing and they are talented. I have respect for anyone who can pick up an instrument and make actual music instead of just playing an air guitar like I do.

You knew that was coming right?

In exactly one week from today my mother arrives for a visit. I cannot wait. I miss her. Plus, I have a lot of projects for her. hehehe.

Also, I think that I have an ingrown toe nail. If you have ever had one, can you please tell me so that I can properly diagnose myself. I can't decide if it is worth a trip to the doctor or just suck it up.

Garage sale round-up

2010-07-13T08:49:00.004-04:00

This past weekend was a blur of activity. I committed to helping out with the Body Pump launch at the gym where I teach group fitness. The classes that I agreed to help with both took place in the morning on Saturday and Sunday, the prime yard sale time. I had to get really creative with my time to be able to hit a few sales.

I found this adorable plant stand and basket for $2.00. The stand was originally bronze and the basket was brown. I knew that it would look better black, because mostly everything does. Please pay no attention to the pink stucco. I removed some of the color when I got overzealous with the power washer last September. Plus, we are going to put siding over the stucco because, ew, stucco. Also, do yourself a favor and never let anyone convince you to put ceramic tile on your front stoop. I seriously do not know what the previous owners were thinking. Ceramic tile + cold = cracks. And then there is ceramic tile + ice = treacherous.

I had to make a trip to our local mom and pop hardware store, yet again, for spray paint. As a side note, when I was googling spray paint colors, a prompt came up for inhalant abuse. Apparently people get high by breathing in the fumes from aerosol cans. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if someone inspected my recycling bins, they are riddled with empty spray paint cans. It does appear rather incriminating. Granted, it is not like getting caught with a sawed off shotgun and black plastic garbage bags, but still.

I also found this little candle holder for $0.50, it was originally yellow. Not a banner yard sale day, but satisfying nonetheless.

A few things

2010-07-09T08:04:00.001-04:00

1. I am going to make up shirts that say, "(blank child that is going to prematurely age me) please use wisdom. I do not want to go to the ER today."

2. I officially have Hobby Lobby envy. It is just not right that there are no Hobby Lobby stores in New Jersey. We have the highest per capita taxes, and terrible air quality. The least the powers that be could do is get me a Hobby Lobby to make up for all that is wrong.

3. We found a couch on Craig's List and are going to get it today. This may not seem like earth shattering news to you, but this is a big deal. Our current set has...issues. It is a couch that has recliners. When you pull the side cord, the foot rest pops out which is a lovely feature. Except for the fact that one of the recliners is busted beyond repair and the foot rest part flies up on its own at the most inconvenient times, like when you are standing in front of it and it takes out your shins. Ow. Also, the pull cords to lift the footrests are deep in the sides of the couch which, again, is lovely because the hardware is hidden, but the pouches collect unwanted items. In the years since having this set I have found a wide assortment of food stuffs, legos, toothpicks, fingernails, matchbox cars, money, socks, utensils, Playmobile, and various and sundry items that were not meant to be there. To this couch I say, good riddance!

4. I am having weird food cravings. Like I want to eat a stick of butter. That's new.

5. Poison ivy update, because I know that everyone is living for moment that my poison ivy runs its course. A lot of clearing up. So far no scarring, because I thought there would be after The Great Scratching Fiasco of Wednesday.

6. I am looking for suggestions for books on gardening. What book has revolutionized your outside living?

I am off to find some butter.

Transformation Thursday

2010-07-08T07:30:00.003-04:00

Thanks again to House of Wepworths for the opportunity to show what we homemakers have been busy doing. I have been amazed at the creativity and ingenuity of the women whose blogs I visit via HoH. And, she featured my dresser from last week! How awesome is that?

Last month, when my mom was visiting here from Florida, we hit some garage sales. My mom is like a good luck charm because we found awesome stuff! We bought something at every yard that we visited. This chair caught my eye because of its legs.

If I were a man I would be all about the legs. She also has a great back. Even though it was purple, I could not pass it up, especially when I inquired about the price. The owner told me it was $3.00. I ran and grabbed it faster than as you can say, Boo.

I repainted the chair white and then recovered it in a lovely Waverly paisley. I loved the paisley so much that I made some drapes out of it, too. A pair of thrift store sheers that I scored for $5.00, completes the window.

We are fortunate enough to have an office/guest room in our home. I wanted this room to have a real feminine feel and I think that I am on my way to achieving that. I still have a computer desk that needs to be painted white, and when my mom visits she is going to help me with putting up some wainscot wallpaper. Hi, mom!

Thanks for all of the sympathy and well wishes concerning my scourge. I am on my second round of steroids and feeling better. I have been swimming in the pool everyday and that has helped tremendously. If you ever get poison ivy please let me know so that I can send you all of the sympathy in the world. And also chocolate.

Thanks for stopping by! I can't wait to see what you have done this week!

In which I am still plagued by the ivy poison

2010-07-06T09:29:00.002-04:00

Can you stand another poison ivy post? I know that most of you are thinking, "Enough already. No one ever died from poison ivy."

And.

I get it, I really do. But seriously, y'all, I have had enough. I am going to regal you with photos that I took. I feel like this should be documented for posterity.

Here are my legs. It looks like someone wielding a poison ivy cat o' nine tails done whipped me good. This is straight up nasty. Ew. Also, I have been unable to shave my legs during all of this and the hair has grown so unbelievably long I am actually in awe of it. I am considering cutting it off and weaving quilts out of it for the homeless. Nothing says I care about you more than a blanket weaved from human hair.

My left arm and a better shot of my leg. I have the same splotches show here on some private upper body regions. One would think that I was gardening topless from where the rash has materialized, but I don't do that anymore.

Ah, yes. My right arm. The underside looks exactly the same as the outside part. Not only is it painful, it is embarrassing. The song Strawberry Fields Forever and the urban legend about what the song really means springs to mind when I look at it.

I asked Kevin if he was embarrassed to be seen out with me and he said, Why? Because you look like a heroin addict? Everybody is a comedian. He has had poison ivy a countless number of times, he even dealt with a nasty breakout of poison sumac on vacation one year, so he knows what I am experiencing. He said to me the other night, "Now you know what it has been like for me."

Yes. Yes I do. But now I care more because it is happening to me. I told him that this is the worst thing to ever happen to me, from a physical appearance standpoint, in my entire life. And that includes the time when I was a sophomore in high school and my mother gave me a spiral perm. Remember the spiral perms that were all the rage in 1987? Well, we thought that if we used the really small perm rods we could achieve the same look. Turns out it gave me a kinky, tight perm that in no way shape or form resembled the spiral perm look. To say that my hair was poofy and big is an understatement. I sang in the high school choir and our teacher had to position people around my hair. The entire alto section was askew because of my foray into the spiral perm arena.

Anyhoodle. I have tried everything. Steroids. Cortisone cream. Zanfel. Epsom salt baths. Aveeno baths. Baking soda paste. Apple cider vinegar. Toothpaste. Alcohol. (Not the drinking kind...although I have come close) Aloe vera. Plantain. Goldenseal. Diaper rash cream. Anything you can imagine, I have tried. I have come to the conclusion that I am immune to modern medicine. This is a scourge on me.

It is true, I will not die from poison ivy, I just feel like I will.

Wah.Wah.Wah.

***I don't know why the comments are not showing up. Blogger and I are not getting along today.

Trauma averted

2010-07-05T08:40:00.008-04:00

Independence Day is a holiday that we have approached with much trepidation in the past five years. We do so because of the fireworks and the inevitable trauma that would ensue. In the past Joe has hated it with a capital Loathe. He would not just cry, he would shrieke, and his whole body convulsed with fear. His pudgy baby hands would be wrapped so tightly around my neck that I would need another person to pry him off of me.

The first year that we took him to the fireworks we lived in Wilmington, NC. We went to the fireworks display that is held in downtown Wilmington, one of our most favorite sites. When the fireworks began, Joe was...I would not say intrigued, but rather stunned. Stunned by the noise and the visual display. He was only two and a half, and it was all new to him. We were standing on the restaurant and boutique lined street that overlooks the Cape Fear river when the fireworks began. He cried so piteously that a waiter from a restaurant came out and asked if I wanted to bring him inside. Shortly after that exchange the fireworks ended. We headed home with our traumatized baby. The next year we avoided the fireworks, or rather Joe and I did, Kevin took the older boys.

Last year Joe was wooed into attending the fireworks simply because there were inflatables and ice cream at our towns pre-show display. During the actual fireworks he whimpered and had me cover his ears. He had his eyes closed tightly for the duration, opening them only to ask me, "Are they done yet?" It leaves a person mother feeling awful. Thinking that you are making holiday memories with your child only to have it come back and bite you in the butt.

This year was different. He not only kept his eyes opened, but he smiled and enjoyed the fireworks. The cotton candy that I bought from one of the vendors also helped.

I, on the other hand, was itchy through the whole display. Lord have mercy. I am so ready for this poison ivy to be done. I am still coming out with patches of it, if you can believe it.

Three things are keeping me sane.
Number 1: bagels with cream cheese.

Number 2: The Help by Kathryn Stockett. If you have not read this book, go out and get it. Now. GO! I love this book. I could not put it down. It had me laughing and then it had me crying. If it is possible for a book to grow arms and reach out and grab you, this book did that. As I was approaching the final pages I slowed my reading down simply because I did not want to leave Jackson, or Minny, or Abiliene. They are like my good friends and I miss them.

Dear Miss.Stockett,
Please write another book. Go on. I will wait.

Thank-you,
Mrs. Gardner

Number 3:

CSI

2010-07-01T08:30:00.010-04:00

Well, I am still suffering from poison ivy. Last night, as I was combing the interwebz for fast poison ivy cures, I came upon a message board for gardeners and the number one recommendation for quick relief was Zanfel. I hopped into my Tahoe and drove as fast as I possible could to the drug store only to find that they were all out of it. I went to Shop Rite and combed the first aid aisles, and they had none. I seriously started to cry. A man who works at Shop Rite asked me if I was alright and I told him that I was dying. Clearly this man is married to a drama queen such as myself because he did not bat an eye, he just asked me, "What from?" I told him poison ivy, and he said that the really expensive stuff is kept behind the pharmacy counter.

I went to the pharmacy counter and there it was. The only one left. The pharmacist said, "This is really expensive," to which I replied, I.don't.care. At this point I am ready to find a witch doctor and let them cast a spell on me using goat's hair, fairy dust and yak farts.

Since life does not stop even though I am miserable, I give you the main point of today's post which is Transformation Thursday courtesy of House of Hepworths. Today I am featuring the dresser that I got free off of Craig's list.

Here is the before, complete with the handles smiling at you like they know something that you don't.

Here is an almost after picture. I will not regale you with my tales of woe concerning Valspar paint. Let's just say that should Valspar come a knockin' at my door wanting to purchase ad space I will slam the door in their face. Not all black paint is created equally, I found out the hard way. It is what I deserve for not using my old stand-by, Benjamin Moore. How do I love thee, Benjamin? I should have waited until I had the right paint, but I suffer from havetodoitnowbecauseIcan'twait syndrome. You can clearly see that the doors and the leg are two diffferent colors. A neurotic like me would never be able to live like that. I would need to take a valium to calm me down every time I sat in the family room.

Now, here is the real after. The knobs were a splurge, but I had to have them, they are real glass. Since the dresser itself was free and we sold the other piece that we had to house the TV, I decided that the splurge was OK.

My poor photography skills do not do this dresser, nor the knobs justice. It is my most favorite piece of furniture.

Wow. That really is a bad picture what with the flash and all. If I wasn't so itchy I would care more.

Thanks for stopping by!

Contact Dermatitis...

2010-06-30T09:38:00.002-04:00

...otherwise known as Poison Ivy.

I have poison ivy, and it is not fun. It is itchy and gooey and gross. I actually can't believe that I have it because I swore that I was not allergic to it. My dear husband, who used to do tree work for a living, frequently contracted poison ivy, and me, being in close proximity to him, never got it. In my pea brain that meant I was immune to the allergen. Oh, ignorance is bliss, until it covers you in its oil and makes you so itchy that you want to scream.

I became infected with poison ivy while helping my husband take down a tree for my aunt. I am the ground crew meaning I drag brush and rake up debris. John has the fun job of being the rope guy. He gets to hold onto the rope while Kevin cuts the limbs. I sometimes get bumped to assistant rope girl when there is an exceptionally heavy limb to fell.

I have googled home remedies for poison ivy and there are some really good ones out there. Apple cider vinegar helps with the itch. Baking soda also helps with the itch and acts as a drying agent. Goldenseal counteracts the itch and promotes skin healing. And, of course, good 'ol hydro cortisone cream soothes the itching and burning. One website also said to use bleach to dry it out and help diminish the itch, and out of sheer desperation I would have used it, but we did not have any.

So last night I was dabbing apple cider vinegar on my arms to keep from scratching, and it really did help. Before I went to bed I slathered goldenseal and hydro cortisone cream all over arms and then lightly dusted myself in baking soda. I felt like a breaded chicken cutlet. I also reeked of salad. I ingested copious amounts of Benadryl and called it a night. Who says housewives don't know how to have a good time?

This morning I am happy to report that the rash has lessened in its severity and has stopped spreading. I am not happy to report that my bed is covered in baking soda and feels like someone dumped a pail of beach sand in it.

Today I will resist the urge to scratch. I will continue to smell like a garden salad though.

Garage Sale Round-up

2010-06-28T08:31:00.001-04:00

Behold! The booty!

I had lady luck on my side Saturday morning. I went to 6 garage sales, bought 11 items and spent $8.00. Saturday was the day of the quarter. The phrase most heard was, "Just make it go away." Shazam! Me likey.

Four of the things that I bought were not worth photographing. They are shovels. Right across the street from our house is a park. In that park is a huge hill which is better known as "The Trails." The Trails is basically a set of jumps and tabletops that the boys ride on their bikes. They require maintenance. With shovels. Shovels that seem to disappear. Apparently they really do grow legs and walk away. This makes my husband grumpy because every once in a while he likes to dig for buried treasure, and he can't find his shovel. (Not really.) So every so often I tap into my garage sale budget and buy shovels for my husband so that he can dig stuff up. This makes him very happy.

I bought an awesome picture frame from a woman who recently cleaned out her grandmothers house. She said it was from the 1940s. I took the glass out to clean it, and I loved the way that it looked just open. I also cut my thumb on the glass, it is not like the glass in modern day frames.

I have been looking for some foam to make pillows for a day bed that we have in our office/guestroom, and I found the perfect one for a bolster. I also found some awesome garden stakes, a round table, and a candle holder with some hideous purple beads hanging off of it, but I loved the color and shape so I bought it knowing that all I needed to fix it was a pair nose pliers. I popped those ugly beads off and it was a new piece.

So round it up! What did you find this weekend, and what do you plan on doing with it?

Pictures of the dresser intervention are forthcoming. It is one of my favorite pieces of furniture now.

Summer TV

2010-06-25T08:51:00.001-04:00

So You Think You Can Dance is one of the television shows that we like to watch during the summer. Let me stress, we like the dancing only. Cat Deeley, the host, is straight up annoying. She is British, and I have nothing personal against the Brits, they are a perfectly lovely people group, it is just Cat. The way she mispronounces words drives us to distraction! There is no "R" at the end of the word America. And, furthermore, it is judges", not "jidges."

I don't know who it is that is responsible for dressing Cat, but they need to seriously rethink their fashion philosophy. Half the time Cat takes the stage she looks like a craft project gone horribly wrong, or a Muppet exploded and she was caught in the spray of feathers, glitter and googly eyes. I will say this though, the girl has great legs!

This is my favorite dance so far this season. I wish that the story leading up to what inspired the choreography was included because it makes the dance that much more powerful. It is based on a woman finding herself in an abusive relationship, something I cannot relate to but can definitely feel through the the story of the dance.

Amazing. If only I could dance like that. When I dance I resemble a dancing elephant in the circus, that is never a good look for television.

On a completely unrelated note, I am loving Beyonce. First Glee reeled me in with "All The Single Ladies" and now I find myself humming "If I Were a Boy."

What are you watching this summer?

Pour moi?

2010-06-22T07:47:00.004-04:00

Imagine my surprise when I ventured on over to Arbor House Lane this morning to check in with her, and saw that she had presented me with an award! I feel as if I should have a speech prepared. I am hardly ready for the Kodak Theater stage as I just woke up and am suffering from bedhead and I have sheet marks on my face, plus my Versace gown is at the cleaners.

Since taking a blogging hiatus it has been slow going in restoring a readership and comments. Some days I just blog for me, and the "comments 0" at the end of the post does not bother me. But then there are other days when I think, "No one thinks that was funny?" It is like that scene in You've Got Mail when Meg Ryan arrives home after waiting at the coffee shop for her mystery man only to have a horrific encounter with Tom Hanks, and then she checks her e-mail to see why her mystery man stood her up, and her inbox reads, No mail. Poor Meg.

And then I am reminded of the old saying, I am not much but I am all I think about. That reality check brings me back to the Earth and I once again blog for me. But the truth is, I love reading your comments. It makes me happy. Don't you want to make me happy? This award makes me happy because it means that my mother is not the only one reading my blog.

Here are the terms and conditions:

Thank the one whom passed the award to you.
Tell 7 things about you.
Pick 15 bloggers to pass the award onto.

Seven things about me? I think that I am going to go way back into the archives for this one. This is from January 2008, and they still apply.

1. I can't eat Life Savers one at a time. I have to put two in my mouth at the same time. Every time.

2. In high school I was involved in a french fry fight in a McDonalds and asked to leave said Mickey D's by... gulp... a policeman.

3. I hate balloons.

4. Opening cans of refrigerated biscuits scares the daylights out of me. I anticipate the POP and I gasp. Every.Single.Time. I think that I am prematurely gray because of this.

5. Shopping in messy stores makes me nervous. I begin refolding clothes and straightening hangers until good sense kicks in and I just leave.

6. I once barfed up rotini and haven't been able to eat it since.

7. I still believe that there is a chance for me to become an Olympic figure skater. I just need a leotard and a partner.

Now for the 15 people to pass this award to:
1. Dy Classic Adventures
2. Amy Did I Say That Out Loud?
3. Amy My Foil Hat
4. Hillary No Harm Done
5. Donna Quiet Life
6. Cranberry Cottage
7. Val Urban Mom

I can only pick 7. I hope that is not awful. A lot of the other blogs that I read, I don't always comment on, and I don't want to go giving out awards to people that I don't know because I am vain and I don't want them to think that I am crazy or pathetic.

Thank-you again to Arbor House Lane. You made my day!

The Pool that Almost Wasn't

2010-06-21T08:08:00.001-04:00

Last September, when we moved into this house, one of the things that we were most pleased about was the pool. We have always had above ground pools, but now we had an in ground pool. As a child growing up in my parents' house we had an in ground pool. Some of my most treasured memories involve that pool and time spent lounging around it, and I was hoping that we would build our own family memories in ours.

The pool was covered when we moved in. Looking back now that was a blessing. In truth, the whole backyard was covered. Overgrown, weedy, depressing. It was almost as if the previous inhabitants had not even known that there was a backyard. Oh, it was a mess! (More on that in another post.) This is what we found when we uncovered it.

Umm, Ew? Trust me when I tell you that landfill smells more pleasant than that water did. Landfills, at least, attract seagulls. All this attracts are mosquitoes.

The reveal of this pool presented us with quite a conundrum. In addition to being a toxic stew, it is a wood wall pool, with potential wood rot. I don't like wood rot, nor do I like toxicness. (I do like making up my own words, though.)

We had one pool company look at it and a man told us that the wood wall would cave in when they took the old liner down. Also, to put up some new walls would cost us a small fortune. That man also said a very bad word. We decided to not use him.

We had another man tell us that this pool could not be fixed, but he could put in a new concrete pool for the low, low price of $30,000. Thanks, but no thanks. We live on a budget and actually do like to eat and pay our mortgage.

Then we found Dan. Dan the pool man and his merry band of pool helpers. Dan not only gave us the best price, but he never once told me that my walls would fall down or mentioned rot or said bad words. He just said, "It will be alright."

And it was. The walls did not cave in, there was no rot and we did not break the bank.

After the new liner was put in we had the task of filling the pool. We were so happy just looking at a clean, cootie free liner that we actually just stood there and watched the pool fill. Can you stand the excitement?

Ah-aha! Behold! Now, instead of dumping bleach into the pool to annihilate the mosquito larvae and begging our neighbors' forgiveness for the eye sore that is our backyard, we frolic and swim and whistle Yankee-Doodle Dandee.

Joe invites everyone over for a pool party. So when can you be here?

Field Day

2010-06-18T07:30:00.005-04:00

Yes, the hottest day of the week and I have the privilege of standing in a field wilting in the sunlight. I am assigned to the Water Balloon Toss activity station. I asked the Magic 8 Ball if it foresaw wetness in my future and the answer was, Signs point to yes.

(Note to self, rethink wearing that white T-shirt.)

My older boys are excited because we participated last year and it was oodles of fun. The best part, for me, was watching them use a hula hoop.

What can I say, he's got my style. Hands flailing, hips shaking, it's like that every day here.

Clearly we need to discuss with this boy the difference between his neck and his waist.

And, of course. Is there nothing more precious than my baby in a potato sack? The Cuteness. It destroys me. Pardon the extreme blur. I was in the denial phase of my vision going south and did not have my glasses.

I am glad that today is field day. It marks the official end of the school year. And that is reason to celebrate.

Now, where did I leave my hula hoop?

Mustang Sally and her Shoes

2010-06-16T09:43:00.003-04:00

Last night, on the way home from scouts, there was a car in front of us. I recognized it as simply a Mustang, but my boys saw it as something else altogether.

"Sweeeet. Stock tires."

I have no idea what that means but all of three of them seemed to know so I nodded in agreement.

"Look at the perfect condition it's in."

Granted, it was a lovely old car, but it was still just...a car. It dawned on me then, they see cars the way that I see shoes and housewares. To them it is just a shoe. To me it is a stock shoe, worthy of a "Sweeeet."

Boys and girls are so different. It keeps it interesting, at least.

More Flags, More Fun!

2010-06-15T08:31:00.004-04:00

For the past couple of years we have participated in the Six Flags reading program, it is called Read to Succeed. Basically your child has to read for six hours, a goal that is usually accomplished in less than a week around here. When you have completed your reading you send in your form and a few months later you receive your free tickets. One of the bonuses of the program is that teachers can also participate so I kept a log and faithfully did my reading. What a chore! (Not)

Our tickets came in the mail two weeks ago and we decided to hit Great Adventure on the first day that the tickets allowed us to, June 14. The day dawned overcast and muggy with a slight chance of a thunderstorm. Add to that the fact that the public schools are still in session and you have the recipe for a perfect park day. The crowds were light, the cloud cover kept us cool.

We had three get in free tickets and one BOGO ticket. We bring our own food and have a tailgate lunch party to further keep costs down so that we can spend money on more important things, like funnel cake and cotton candy. Funnel cake and cotton candy, also known as The Dinner of Champions, is an essential, if not necessary part of the Great Adventure experience. Oh, the sweet cottony, powdered sugar joy!

This year I was the designated rider of roller coasters with the older boys. In past years Kevin has done it, but this year he was just not feeling it so I stepped up, a decision I would regret after riding Nitro.

As a young child I loved the big coasters. I loved going upside down and spinning around and hanging precariously over the cement from a shiny metal car filled with screaming people. Something happens, however, after the age of 35 that makes that once thrilling experience a vertigo inducing, nausea activating, fear generating all around unpleasant affair. Nitro did that to me. My boys, on the other hand, loved it and rode it over and over. Thank-you short lines!

After riding Nitro I was completely shaken up. Literally. I felt as if someone had taken my head, loosened the dura mater, grabbed my head and stuck into one of those things at Home Depot that they use to mix paint after they have added the colors to the gallon container. It was awful, I wanted to lie down or cry or eat more funnel cake.

My boys were genuinely upset that I was feeling so ill. After they were assured that I would not die right there in front of the Wiggles Park they asked if they could ride Nitro again. Apparently no one loosened their dura mater. Youth, it is wasted on the young. We let them go and took Joe to ride the roller coaster at the Wiggles park.

Kevin also turned Joe on to the Buccaneer. Joe was hesitant at first, but we convinced him that it would be fun because- HEY! IT'S A PIRATE SHIP! Joe was fine, I was not. I should have waited longer after disembarking from Nitro because the forward and backward motion, combined with the gravity defying weightlessness of the swinging made me so nauseous that I had to close my eyes and breathe deeply to ward off the second coming of the cotton candy. Dear me, when did I get so old and decrepit?

We had a wonderful day together. We laughed and cracked jokes and acted ridiculous. It was awesome!

And I have a whole year to recuperate.

Bad mother

2010-06-08T08:38:00.003-04:00

Few things in the world make you feel worse as a parent than when your child comes to you and says, "The tooth fairy forgot to take my tooth last night."

Talk about feeling like a putz. My mind began to race with excuses, and I found myself becoming irritated with Kevin because he put Joe down last night. He should have remembered. (I was hard at work putting another coat of paint on the dresser.)

*Dad forgot to tell her.

*I forgot to tell her.

*She called in sick.

*She is on strike until the union settles.

I could not bear to look at his face. So I said, "Let me go and check. Maybe she came while we were outside with Sami." I quickly ran upstairs, making a detour to my bedroom first, and grabbed four quarters from the change jar.

"Joe," I called, "Come and check again."

"Okay!" he cheerfully answered.

As I began to make his bed, he inspected the tooth pillow pocket. "Ooooohhh!" he cried. "She didn't forget about me."

And then my heart exploded.

How could I be so forgetful?

Joe was fine, though, and quickly forgot the tooth fairy's shunning of him as he plotted how he was going to spend his money.

File under: You stink as a mother.

Take me out to the ballgame

2010-06-07T07:39:00.003-04:00

It has been years since I have been to a baseball game. The last time I went was to see the Mets play, and that was when I was engaged, so...16 years ago? Yikes. That game, I remember, was a lot of fun. We had great seats and David Segui signed my sister's sneaker. She had a pair of Keds that resembled a baseball.

Yesterday we did baseball on a less grand scale. We took the boys to see the Lakewood Blueclaws, a local minor league team, as part of our cub scout summer outings extravaganza. This was the first official outing for our newly crossed over Tiger Cub.

To say that it was hot yesterday is an understatement, sitting on the surface of the sun would have been cooler. The only option for keeping cool was to spend obscene amounts of money on lemon Italian ice, and cotton candy. Eating cotton candy in the NJ humidity is always a sticky situation. It never ends well.

Today we are off to our last day of co-op. To say that I am glad that co-op is over is also an understatement. I enjoyed teaching at the co-op and the boys enjoyed their classes, but I sign up for these things and then I remember that I am not a joiner, and I don't like leaving my house.

Next year we will not be participating in co-op. We have too many other outside activities that have prevented us from having a full school week. So here it is June, and we should be wrapping up our school year, but we are still in the thick of it and that makes me cranky. No one likes a cranky mother.

Oh, and I painted the dresser. I have to do one more coat of sanding and painting and put the knobs on, but I absolutely love how it looks. I will post after pictures as soon as I am done.

Intervention!

2010-05-28T09:00:00.000-04:00

Help me. I am in a decorating quandary.

About a month ago we found this dresser on Craig's list. I was perusing the free section of Craig's list and saw this gem. I loved the seeming strength of it with the six legs, and I loved the shape of the legs. Someone in this house should have shapely legs.

I really wanted to act on it, but I honestly had no idea where we would put it. A short while later Kevin yelled down from the office, "Did you see that free dresser on Craig's list?" I like to call that a green light, we are simpatico. Many times I see great free items on Craig's list, and I have to control myself because I could easily fill this house with furniture like one of those people on the A&E show Hoarders. Oh, my.

We contacted the owner and set up an appointment to go and pick up the dresser. When we saw it we knew that we had hit the jackpot. This sucker is solid wood, not particle board. Kevin suggested we use it as a television stand in the family room. I bristled at the thought for one reason only. We had bought a beautiful armoire when we lived in North Carolina.

I have not yet chronicled here why we moved or my feelings concerning our move back to New Jersey, and I won't now because I will become all maudlin. I will only say that the armoire represented our life there and the thought of getting rid of it would take some getting used to, and some letting go of the past. I have been doing that recently and decided that we should use the dresser.

We moved the armoire out and the dresser in. From the beginning I had the thought to paint it black. Or white. Or maybe green. Or possibly leave it in its original wood. Clearly, I have no idea what to do with it. Indecision is a new neighborhood for me. I am very good at making decisions and going with them. But this dresser...it confounds me. So I need your help.

What should I do with it? And don't say, "Take clearer pictures of it." I am half blind in the morning.

I am open to anything. Painting. Sanding. Refinishing. Changing the hardware. So please, hit me with your best ideas. I know the knobs are broken, we have the missing pieces. I was thinking of using these drawer pulls from Anthropologie on the top drawers and them doing something different with the ones on the bottom so that we don't have glass overkill.

Help!

Please.

Thank-you.

Operating Heavy Machinery

2010-05-27T07:25:00.002-04:00

Oh, hello. Are you still there?

This is my woefully neglected blog. Woefully neglected because I was run over by a steam roller full of "life". Yes, life has been busy, and exhausting.

We are busy wrapping up the end of year for scouts, pioneer club, and co-op. Notice I did not mention school. Sadly, that will not be over until sometime in July, hopefully. Taking a long winter break always sounds so good in the winter, when we are taking the break in Florida with my parents. But when reality sets in and I am still knee deep in geometry, handwriting, and history in June, well, I want to stab myself in the head with a fork.

Pray for me.

Johnny Winter is killing me

2010-05-20T09:21:00.003-04:00

The silly bandz craze has hit us. As of now, he only has the ones that are shaped like cars and trucks. Because he is so young, and really does not know any better, I don't think that this is an issue. He is just thrilled to be a part of the fad. And, oh my gosh, how cute is this child?

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Kevin worked nights last night and that for me, as always, means that I did not sleep well. A few weeks ago a friend of mine called me to let me know that a sex offender had just gotten out of prison and was living just two blocks away from us. I was extremely upset because I had finally unpacked the last of the boxes and now we were going to have to move again. My husband assured me that moving would not be necessary.

I was not alone in my upsetness and fear. My neighbors were also alerted to the news and rallied. They printed up some flyers and distributed them to all of the residents within the criminals radius. We had a long conversation with the boys about what they should do should they see this person. We also found out that one of the neighborhood girls had just seen the person, at the park! Why? I ask you, Why are convicted sex offenders allowed to live near parks?

These are a few of the laws that we residents of New Jersey must obey:
-It is illegal to wear a bullet-proof vest while committing a murder.
-You cannot pump your own gas.
-You may not slurp your soup.
-It is illegal to delay or detain a homing pigeon.

Heaven forbid we offend someone's sensibilities by slurping our soup, or detain a homing pigeon from delivering its news that, what? The Redcoats are coming?

But, yes, let's expose our children to a sex offender in a park. Stupid New Jersey. Stupid laws that protect the scum of the earth instead of law abiding citizens. Gah!

Anyway. I barely slept and now, for some strange reason I have the song Rock and Roll Hootchie Koo running through my head. Maybe now you will, too.

I'm sorry.

This and That

2010-05-19T08:55:00.004-04:00

John is in the middle of reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer for school. At first the language and Twain's style of writing had him in a sour mood. I began to read aloud to him from the book and the situation took a turn. Suddenly, he was enjoying the book and was eager to read it on his own. Now, every so often, I will hear him laughing to himself, or calling, "Mom! Listen to this!." He proceeded to read to me the line, "What a curious kind of fool a girl is," and then laughed out loud to himself.

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Joe has discovered silly bandz. He asked me to take him to the dollar store today to buy some. A boy who loves cheap dollar store junk? I know now that he is truly my son, despite looking exactly like his father.

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Last Friday Kevin and I went to garage sales together. I saw it going a lot differently in my mind than the reality that played out. I over-romanticized the morning together. Things that don't bother me at all bother him a lot. For instance, I see no reason to panic when the truck is low on gas. As long as the gas light does not come on we are good, and even when it does come on, we can still go for miles. I like to live on the edge, I explained to him. Anyone can drive around with a full tank of gas, but only thrill seekers drive around on almost empty. For me getting gas = irritating.

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I dream about jelly beans. I think that I am going to have to order some from Amazon.

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Marathon post coming soon!

Fashion Friday: The home school edition

2010-05-14T08:13:00.002-04:00

Home schoolers get a bad fashion rap, I know we do. The very word "home schooler" conjures up notions of denim jumpers, high neck blouses, and sensible shoes. Not a very provocative image, right?

I am here to denounce the myth that home school fashion is dowdy, frumpy and otherwise geeky. As a side note, did you know that Webster defines a geek in the following manner: a carnival performer who performs sensationally morbid or disgusting acts, as biting off the head of a live chicken. First of all, ew. Second, raise your hand if you knew that.

Anyway. On Mondays I teach at a home school co-op. Every Monday I look forward to seeing the stylishly dressed and quite beautiful moms. No carnival freaks at our co-op. No sir-ree! In the words of the ever brilliant and always stylish, Tim Gunn, they make it work. If you are a home school mom, and you are stuck in a fashion rut, this post is for you.

Can we talk about The Mom Jean? They are a sacrilege to denim. Jeans should never ride up so high that the line between your bra and your pants is indistinguishable. I am not saying that you have to go the low rise jean route, just explore other options. This is a great tutorial on how to buy a great fitting pair of jeans. And they don't have to be expensive.

Cute tops like this and this can be worn with jeans or shorts. You can be stylish at the park play day or on a field trip. And then there are these two tops. Oh, I love! I love!
I know what you are thinking, and yes, you can wear ruffles to the grocery store, or Home Depot, or to a tractor pull. Remember, in the wise words of Clairee Belcher, "The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize." Wise, wise words. Heed them, my friends.

Sundresses are always another option. There is something about putting on a dress that makes me feel instantly feminine and beautiful without being over dressed. This dress and this dress, both from Forever 21, would work for a mom who wants to be fashion forward, yet still dress modestly and age appropriately.

Today I am off to the ENOCH home school convention. I love the convention. Books, vendors, friends, coffee. What more could a girl ask for? Now, off to shower and dress up in something cute!