Seven Minutes in Heaven

This morning when the alarm went off, I hit the snooze button.  I tend to avoid doing that.   The snooze only gives me seven more minutes, but this morning I wanted that seven minutes.   I wanted to snuggle up against my husband as he slept away, oblivious to the alarm.  I love how warm and cozy my bed feels when I'm supposed to be getting up.  It's that little bit of childhood comfort coming back to me for a few minutes.  I can snuggle down under my down comforter and rest my head against Steve's shoulder, give myself just a few more minutes of safety and joy.  Heaven my way.  

The singing starts early

Libby has started singing. Her favorite song is Bob the Builder. You can't recognize more than two words in the entire song, but she's got the tune down pat. If I knew how to embed sound files I would do that for you all. Everyone needs to have their heart melt a bit once a day.

The Termite Problem

Steve spent all yesterday tearing out the wall in our livingroom. This is what it looked like at eleven pm:

notice that there is no window in that wall nor is there a door. The still weren't even done framing at that time. Steve's friend Brad helped so much. It's good to have good friends like that who are willing to rearrange their schedules to help us out.

I still don't have dry wall on the wall, but we do have a window and door in place. We are thinking that the termites contained their damage to that one wall. If that is not the case, I really don't want to know. LOL!

Slow Learner

I got a Pottery Barn Teen catalog in the mail the other day. Lots of fun, bright colors and patterns. (BTW, polka dots are back in.) Steve was looking over my shoulder while I flipped through it. I stopped for a moment on the page for this lounge set. "I want that!" he said, stabbing the page. That would be awesome in the family room. (The one we don't have yet.) I looked again at the prices and said, "If you want to spend that much on a couch, I could find a really nice one for that."

"I don't want really nice. I want comfortable and relaxed. I like that one."

"but it's so expensive. I could make it cheaper. Really, all I would have to do is . . . " and I detailed the process of building the lounging couch.

Aparently, I learned nothing from the Evil Skirt episode.

Shoe Torture

The other day I was discussing with my baby sister (who's 24. you never get over being the baby. Of course, I tend to think of her as the baby more now that I have a baby of my own that I would dearly love to stay my baby forever.) where was I? oh yes. Talking. We were discussing me buying shoes. Well, I was discussing. Ranting more like it. I was off on my favorite rant about how no one carries W in cute styles anymore. 10 years ago I could walk into a Payless, find a cute shoe and then find it in W. not now. There are about four W in each size. One basic pump, One ugly loafer (think nursing shoe,) One basic running shoe, and one truly horrendous sandal. The cute ones? the trendy ones that all the teenagers are buying? no wide. In fact, the straps on the sandals are getting tighter. I swear they are.

My sister listens politely for about 3 seconds (you think she might have heard this before?) and says, "well why don' t you just buy a bigger size? Just keep going up until it fits." Which I find out is what she does.

And suddenly, I'm faced with the horrible thought that this is why I can't find inexpensive, wide shoes. Because everyone else does this. And they don't care that the foot bed is too long and the toe of the shoe sticks out farther than it should, so you look like you are a little girl wearing your mother's clown shoes.

I care. Which is why I don't have very many shoes in my closet. There's always a trade off, isnt' there?

something different for me

I don't usually do this. This being put out quotes on my blog. I believe that inspiration is very personal. Something is inspiring to me and makes me think because of the particular place I am in my life. The things I'm struggling with, trying to change, to make better determine what inspires me and I can't pull inspiration from something that doesn't speak to that place. I'm sure other people can. I can't. If I'm not in the right place, often these "inspirational quotes" sound trite and pompous to me.

But today I was in the right place to hear a song for the first time. Sister Hazel, whom I don't normally listen to. This morning, the cd player held a single song burned to CD and it played over twice as I drove to and from the pool. I'll only post the pre-chorus and chorus:

Pre-chorus:
Yeah yeah
I bet you haven't heard
A word I've said
Yeah yeah
If you've had enough
Of all your tryin'
Just give up
The state of mind you're in¡­

Chorus:
If you want to be somebody else,
If you're tired of fighting battles with yourself
If you want to be somebody else
Change your mind...

My mind has been changed just enough recently that I could hear the wisdom in the words. I could hear and say, yes, that works, and yet still see that I have more changing to do. The changes I have made have been good. It has been a struggle to keep going until the results came. But they are coming now and I want more of the good stuff in my life. Changing your mind doesn't happen in a moment. The life epiphany doesn't change you. It helps you see that change is needed. Changing happens over weeks and months. And so I'm changing. Little changes. Step by step. It's a good path.

For the Love of a Skirt: a comedy of errors

Once upon a time there was a skirt. She stood in the store window tempting the passers by. She was a magic skirt. She could make women stop in their tracks and lose the ability to speak and become single minded in the persuit of her.

I was enchanted by that skirt. I thought about her often and thought of how I couldn't have her because mean old Ann Taylor wanted $100 for her and I can't spend that much on one skirt, even if it's the most fabulous skirt ever made. So I decided to copy it and make myself a skirt exactly like her.

It's at this point that I began to realize that the Beautiful Skirt was evil. You would have thought that I would have had some idea before this, what with the enchantment of a one track mind and imposed covetousness, but no. I missed it. Yes, Beautiful Skirt was angry that I would attempt to copy her fabulousness, especially with cheap JoAnn's fabric. (ok, it was expensive fabric for JoAnn's , but that's not saying much.) I made a trip to JoAnn's to buy the fabric. I was also buying fabric for a skirt for my daughter and I found a cute print for a second skirt for myself. The first indication of the curse that was on this project was when I had finally chosen everything, I looked at the clock and I had to leave my mother with an armload of fabric because I had to leave right that minute or my kids would be home from school before I got there. She bought the fabric for my daughter's skirt but I had to go back to get the fabric for Beautiful Skirt's Imposter.

I went back and of course I forgot my 40% off coupon, thus costing myself $6.

The Evil Skirt expanded her curse to all my projects as I prepared to sew. I washed the fabric that could be washed. Then I tried to cut out Sarah's skirt. Tried. The fabric had shrunk and I no longer had enough no matter what I tried. I slipped into denial as I manuvered printed tissue all over the fabric. There had to be some way. Oh, Beautiful Skirt was evil. Sarah's skirt was supposed to be her Easter present and, me being me, I had started this project with less than a week to go. I gave up on the first piece of fabric and had to make an evening run to JoAnn's to buy a second piece. I chose to get what I thought would be just enough to finish cutting out the skirt if I used the first piece as well. I brought that home and washed it. Then I discovered that I had bought the wrong color of lavendar linen. oh yes, I did. Luckily I slipped under the curse by managing to squeeze the whole skirt onto the second piece. The curse on that skirt was mostly broken at that point, but Evil Skirt wasn't done with me yet.

So I went to cut out my other two skirts. The lovely Imposter and the kicky print. I didn't have enough fabric for the contrast fabric on the Imposter. yes. Another trip to JoAnn's. Did I mention that JoAnn's is a 15-20 minute drive from my house? I went to cut out the kicky print. a cute tropical red and white print that was supposed to be made into a slightly longer than knee length number with inverted pleats all the way around with a lining to add body. Only I didn't have enough fabric. This time I was six inches short. There is no way to adjust the pattern. I'll have to use a different one, so there will be no fashionable, kicky inverted pleat skirt for me.

I persevered through the bramble forest, my mind focused on achieving the castle and wearing a fantastic skirt to the ball. Evil Skirt pushed onward with her curse. Causing much ripping of seams as I made more mistakes on one piece than I have made since I was twelve, including the oh so fun ripping of a seam at least two yards long. But I did it. I broke through the curse at one thirty Sunday morning. The skirt was done.

I proudly wore it on Sunday, a visual display of my victory over evil.


The moral of this story is of course, if you see the perfect skirt in the window of a store, do not attempt to sew a copy. Just buy the darn thing and save yourself the torture.

Why Every Woman In the World Needs a Digital Camera

this, my friends, is worth the price of the digital camera:



this is also why men who's wives have blogs, should really refrain from wearing their daughter's birthday tiara.

(oh, the chicken suit was for a Cub Scout den meeting.)

Fashionista Wanna-bes

Knee high boots were so cool when I was a teen. They were also expensive and I was expected to buy all my own shoes. I never had a pair. I think I was a bit scared of them. They were the ultimate cool person shoe. They had to be worn with just the right outfit or you looked like an idiot. I still wanted them, I was just too chicken to do it.

So last fall, Steve and I were at Wally's and they had a pair of knee high boots in the perfect color and just my size (which is rare at discount places because I wear a wide.) I did not want this latest reincarnation of the fashion to pass me by. I love them. I wear them quite a bit. A couple of weeks ago when I was wearing them Sarah asked if she could have a pair like mine.

Of course!

So Saturday when we were at Wally's buying her jeans, we found boots on clearance in her size. And wouldn't you know it, they had them in Rilla's size too.

Don't we look cute?

Uninvited Guests

We have some guests in our house that we did not ask to come. We actually went out of our way to make sure they didn't. Commited premediated murder. They must have gas masks, because they made it through that incident and carried on with their deconstruction of the livingroom wall.

Steve discovered the termites on Saturday when he was replacing the front window. We knew there was dry rot. We expected some past termite damage just because they are so prevalent in this area. We did not expect to find living creepy crawlies crawling in our wall. We did have a pest inspection and termite spray done when we bought this place after all.

When we bought this house, we knew we were buying a fixer upper. We did that on purpose in order to increase our equity by doing most of the work ourselves. I did not intend for part of that work to be tearing down my livingroom wall. I just got my shelves hung!

Ah, the joys of home ownership.

Gotta Love Costco

We're standing in the baking aisle at Costco discussing which bag of chocolate chips to buy, the 3lb bag or the 10lb bag. I reached for the 10lb bag.

"Are you sure . . . " and Steve trailes off.

"You weren't about to ask me if I was sure if I could use 10lbs of chocolate chips were you?" I respond incredulously.

That's just a silly question. Any woman who can write a five paragraph essay on cookie baking can most definitely use 10lbs of chocolate chips. I thought he knew me better than that.

my life summed up on Google

Someone today found my blog with this search:

Bedlam insane women pictures

A more accurate search term for my blog can not possibly exist.

A Confession

Steve and I chat at movies. Steve is really bad. He actually heckles the screen, even with movies he likes. Quietly, but he's still talking. In a packed theater, viewing Return of the King on opening weekend, we're watching the end, the part where Frodo can't go on. He's crawling up the mountain and too exahsted, stops moving. Sam delivers his great line "I may not be able to carry it, but I can carry you!" picks up Frodo and struggles up the mountain. I have tears in my eyes and I'm all caught up in the moment and Steve leans over to me and says:

"Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!"

It's very hard to laugh that hard quietly.

So we have sort of stopped attending on opening weekends. You can thank us now.

Wednesday night was perfect though. Steve took me to a movie and dinner for my birthday. We do that so very seldom that it was a fun treat. We went to see Failure to Launch. A very cute rewrite of How to Lose a Guy. The theater was blissfully empty. We were the only two people in the movie. We could chat and laugh as loud as we wanted. It was like watching movies at home (if you don't like talking during a movie, don't come to our house) only with great sound and a big screen. Loved it.

Now all I have to figure out is how to get a baby sitter on a school night on a regular basis. ;)

A big Thank You

first, thanks everyone for your well wishes. I had a fantastic birthday. I spent a wonderful day with a good friend and a wonderful evening with the man I love. I had hugs and kisses from my children and phone calls from loved ones. It couldn't have been more perfect.

I know as an adult it's very easy for birthdays to be just another day and I firmly believe that everyone should have at least one day a year that celebrates how wonderful you are as a person, even if you aren't turning six.

I stopped wishing other people would make my birthday special for me a long time ago. Instead I celebrate myself and invite everyone to celebrate with me. Who could read my mind anyway? No one knows what I want unless I say what I want, so now I make my own plans. Steve is wonderful and enjoys helping me celebrate. I think my friends make a bigger deal out of my day because I'm making a big deal out of it. It's my birthday. It's my day. Yes, I'm turning 32 and that means I'm getting older, but I'm still here. I exist. I have a good life. That life is worth celebrating. It's very easy for me to get caught up in the daily grind, the little things that chip away at the good stuff. For one day I make it a special point focus on the good.

And it was a good day. thank you for helping me with that.

The Big Picture

I bought this book a few weeks ago. I had heard so much buzz about the Big Picture, how good it was and all that. It sold out of it's first printing in a matter of weeks, so I'm thinking the buzz is probably pretty accurate.

I finally sat down and really read it last night. The philosophy of the book is totally my philosophy. Don't worry about scrapping every picture. Do the everyday. Capture your real life. all those things. It was like a little piece clicking into my brain. I don't have to stress myself out about scrapping. I don't have to be perfect. I don't have to get everything published (or anything for that matter.) I can just enjoy the process.

So I did.

It's very derivative of Stacy Julian's work in the book, but that's ok. It took me all of 15 minutes to do. And it was fun. And I used a bunch of stuff I haven't touched for years. I need to do more like that.

I'll still submit to magazines. But I'm not going to keep track. I'm not going to scrap for the calls. I'm not going to stress. I have to have this epiphany about every six months or so it seems. I'm hoping this time it sinks in.

So You Do What To Your Face?

Last night Steve and I were sitting on the couch talking and playing around. He has very loose skin on his face and loves to mush it around. He mushed it all together in the center and said something goofy. I laughed and said, "no, you say 'hello, my name is chubby'." He said "what?"

"Chubby. you know, the Chubby stories."

He gave me a very blank look.

"you don't know the chubby stories."

"no."

and my world view was rocked just a bit.

Steve and I didn't know each other growing up but we lived 45 miles apart. There was definite communications between our towns. He knows about Orange you glad I didn't say bananna, pinching on St. Patrick day, noogies, the proper response for "and now you know!" All the standard playground jokes. How could he not know Chubby? Chubby was part of growing up. There were four stories of the adventures of the little Chubby which must be told with your hands at the side of your face squishing it all in, a very goofy way to tell a story, which is why it's so funny to an eight year old. You don't even laugh at the story, mostly because it's pretty dumb, it's the way the person telling the story looks. Chubby is about as un PC as you can get and if I hadn't heard them growing up I would probably be slightly miffed hearing them for the first time now.

Instead, I tried to tell my husband the Chubby stories last night (complete with actions) and I was laughing too hard to get it out.

Ah Chubby . . . . sigh. good times. good times. tell me the rest of you know Chubby.