Hello again.
I have been busy setting up for Christmas. This is my favorite time of the year and the fact that I have no cash has not deterred me from decorating. If you have glue, glitter, paper and ribbon, you can almost create the entire holiday from scratch.
I have gone a total vintage theme this year and I am in love with it. I will post pictures later this week. I have bought only two things this season. One is the color wheel for my aluminum tree and one giant apothecary jar (that was on sale!) to hold the fake snowballs I made. I want to show the tree with the color wheel, so that is why the pictures will be posted later.
In other wonderful news, my new relationship is going fantastic. I went to Los Angeles for a vacation and oh my gosh, it was nirvana. The sun, the sun, the sun! those people sure have a lot of sun! We spent most of our time in a town that I believe is called Channel Islands, it is by Oxnard or something like that. Anyway, it totally beautiful. It is right on the water and all these houses are located on little canals. I hope to live there someday, right after I win the lottery and can afford something. It was so relaxing and warm, plus the company was awesome.
The kid came home for Thanksgiving and that was just the icing on the cake. He returns home for the Christmas season this week and all will be awesome in my world.
The ex is still a dork. The money and job situation is worse than ever but I am remaining focused and positive. Maybe I will receive a Christmas miracle.
The dogs are both well and just as insane as always. Hope all is well with you and you are having a wonderful start to the holiday season.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Fun facts
Random fun facts of my life these days.
The shoe has decided to grace my life with its presence. I thank the home for returning my shoe right before the 40 days and 40 nights of horrible rain we are having arrived. I really needed it to start building my ark and getting ready for the swarm of locusts that I expect will also show up sometime soon.
My I-phone has decided to speak German and only German. No other languages shall be accepted. What happens if I don't speak German? Nothing. It is trying to teach me a lesson in how pissed off can one person get before they huck the phone into the ocean. What is has taught me is that apple SUCKS and I will never update my I-phone again.
Olive has learned to get into my bed. My high four poster beautiful linen covered sanctuary. I now may or may not be missing a kidney. Also, I will never sleep as deeply as I once did before 68 lbs of dog landed directly on my middle. In the dark. In the middle of the night. Totally unannounced and frankly, unwanted.
My garage has flooded.
My windshield wipers are broken on my car and my model of Range Rover is the ONLY year you need to have a service man put them on. I am number 62 on the wait list and scheduled for the first part of July. That is SO helpful.
I have had to touch goo to unplug the storm drain in front of my home. Of course, I waited until my driveway had flooded with enough pebbles and sand that I could easily open my own gravel pit. Funny enough, I thought the city took care of their own storm drains. Turns out, NO.
The push broom I own has the broom part but no handle. How exactly do you lose the handle to a broom?
I hope everyone is having as much fun in their day to day lives as I am.
The shoe has decided to grace my life with its presence. I thank the home for returning my shoe right before the 40 days and 40 nights of horrible rain we are having arrived. I really needed it to start building my ark and getting ready for the swarm of locusts that I expect will also show up sometime soon.
My I-phone has decided to speak German and only German. No other languages shall be accepted. What happens if I don't speak German? Nothing. It is trying to teach me a lesson in how pissed off can one person get before they huck the phone into the ocean. What is has taught me is that apple SUCKS and I will never update my I-phone again.
Olive has learned to get into my bed. My high four poster beautiful linen covered sanctuary. I now may or may not be missing a kidney. Also, I will never sleep as deeply as I once did before 68 lbs of dog landed directly on my middle. In the dark. In the middle of the night. Totally unannounced and frankly, unwanted.
My garage has flooded.
My windshield wipers are broken on my car and my model of Range Rover is the ONLY year you need to have a service man put them on. I am number 62 on the wait list and scheduled for the first part of July. That is SO helpful.
I have had to touch goo to unplug the storm drain in front of my home. Of course, I waited until my driveway had flooded with enough pebbles and sand that I could easily open my own gravel pit. Funny enough, I thought the city took care of their own storm drains. Turns out, NO.
The push broom I own has the broom part but no handle. How exactly do you lose the handle to a broom?
I hope everyone is having as much fun in their day to day lives as I am.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Laundry Chutes are dangerous
Did you think I was gone for good?
Nope, just trying to get my life sorted out.
I am on a laundry kick. With only one person, you can go a whole lotta time before you do laundry but eventually you open the pants drawer, to find, no pants. Wow! how does that happen? So I put on a pair of sweats and march all the way to the basement. To the basement laundry room where creepy crawlies exist and I try to stay out of it.
How strange! no pants in the laundry hamper. I am officially pant less. I accuse Olive and she wags her tail, which I have no idea what that means and I'm pretty sure she has no idea either. I trot back upstairs, no pants. Now I am not the smartest bulb in the world but I am pretty sure I own pants. Pants that for the life of me I cannot find.
I head over to the laundry chute. Now I have an old house. In the olden days, men planned the homes and built the homes but women were expected to run them. So it is nice in the old house that I drive right into the garage with a lovely tool bench and power galore. Men needed that and it was convenient that it was so close to them. Men however, did not need the laundry room and therefore it is located the furthest distance from the point of dirty clothes, in the basement right next to the furnace, the coal chute, the water tank, and the sump pump to keep the basement dry. I know, it is so brilliant to put it right there.
Of course, three flights of stairs up is where all the dirty stuff accumulates, so they gave the old house a laundry chute, going down. Going up, is a whole different ball game. It involves a woman, baskets, trying to see around the giant load of towels and not falling all the way back down the stairs. Add in two dogs twirling around and it is just a match made in heaven.
So today I peer down the laundry chute. It is dark. I reach my hand down and can feel something, which I desperately hope is clothes. I decide to get the broom. I will use the broom to shove the blockage down the laundry chute. Down the stairs I go and retrieve the broom. Up stairs I go. I shove and shove and push and push. Nothing happens. I have now made a lovely tight brick of clothes that are plugging the chute. I go to the second floor and open up the second door to the chute, nothing, which means it is somehow wedged up on the first floor.
I trudge back upstairs to access the problem. Of course, the dogs think this is a fine game and lets just play it all day long. I sweep the stairs, since they are covered in dog hair and I have the broom out. Then in hits me. I will throw something VERY HEAVY down the opening, it will knock the wedge of clothes loose and victory shall be mine.
Hmmmm! what to throw? Then it comes to me, my shoe. My tennis shoe. I have ginormous feet and that should just send those stupid clothes plummeting to the basement with my shoe on top, like a cherry on top of a sundae. I get the shoe. I go upstairs to the laundry chute. I huck that shoe for all it is worth. I wait for the lovely sound of clothes falling. I hear . . . nothing.
Nothing! that was a giant shoe. How did my brilliant plan not work?
I stare down into blackness. I go back to the second floor and stare up into blackness. I reach up and touch a shoe lace. I yank. Nothing. I yank harder. Still nothing. I go back upstairs, I shove that broom with all my might and I use some curse words for good measure.
Everything gives way. The broom shoots out of my hand and down the chute. I lose my balance and hit my head on the wall. I hear the clothes falling and it is a lovely sound. I am gleeful. I make the dogs sing "I am women, hear me roar."
I run downstairs to see pants, lots and lots of pants. I start to separate the clothes, when it hits me, where is the shoe? Shouldn't the shoe be on top of the heap. Where in the hell is the cherry shoe.
I can barely crawl up the stairs. I totally am in major hatred of the laundry chute. I look up and down on the second floor, I look down from the top floor. I get the broom and huck it down the chute. It comes out, with no shoe. I can feel the laces but no matter how hard I pull that shoe is wedged somewhere in the chute. I am not singing anymore. That shoe is still in there.
So the good news, is I now have pants but I will be wearing flip-flops for the winter since my shoe is vacationing inside my house. Literally.
Nope, just trying to get my life sorted out.
I am on a laundry kick. With only one person, you can go a whole lotta time before you do laundry but eventually you open the pants drawer, to find, no pants. Wow! how does that happen? So I put on a pair of sweats and march all the way to the basement. To the basement laundry room where creepy crawlies exist and I try to stay out of it.
How strange! no pants in the laundry hamper. I am officially pant less. I accuse Olive and she wags her tail, which I have no idea what that means and I'm pretty sure she has no idea either. I trot back upstairs, no pants. Now I am not the smartest bulb in the world but I am pretty sure I own pants. Pants that for the life of me I cannot find.
I head over to the laundry chute. Now I have an old house. In the olden days, men planned the homes and built the homes but women were expected to run them. So it is nice in the old house that I drive right into the garage with a lovely tool bench and power galore. Men needed that and it was convenient that it was so close to them. Men however, did not need the laundry room and therefore it is located the furthest distance from the point of dirty clothes, in the basement right next to the furnace, the coal chute, the water tank, and the sump pump to keep the basement dry. I know, it is so brilliant to put it right there.
Of course, three flights of stairs up is where all the dirty stuff accumulates, so they gave the old house a laundry chute, going down. Going up, is a whole different ball game. It involves a woman, baskets, trying to see around the giant load of towels and not falling all the way back down the stairs. Add in two dogs twirling around and it is just a match made in heaven.
So today I peer down the laundry chute. It is dark. I reach my hand down and can feel something, which I desperately hope is clothes. I decide to get the broom. I will use the broom to shove the blockage down the laundry chute. Down the stairs I go and retrieve the broom. Up stairs I go. I shove and shove and push and push. Nothing happens. I have now made a lovely tight brick of clothes that are plugging the chute. I go to the second floor and open up the second door to the chute, nothing, which means it is somehow wedged up on the first floor.
I trudge back upstairs to access the problem. Of course, the dogs think this is a fine game and lets just play it all day long. I sweep the stairs, since they are covered in dog hair and I have the broom out. Then in hits me. I will throw something VERY HEAVY down the opening, it will knock the wedge of clothes loose and victory shall be mine.
Hmmmm! what to throw? Then it comes to me, my shoe. My tennis shoe. I have ginormous feet and that should just send those stupid clothes plummeting to the basement with my shoe on top, like a cherry on top of a sundae. I get the shoe. I go upstairs to the laundry chute. I huck that shoe for all it is worth. I wait for the lovely sound of clothes falling. I hear . . . nothing.
Nothing! that was a giant shoe. How did my brilliant plan not work?
I stare down into blackness. I go back to the second floor and stare up into blackness. I reach up and touch a shoe lace. I yank. Nothing. I yank harder. Still nothing. I go back upstairs, I shove that broom with all my might and I use some curse words for good measure.
Everything gives way. The broom shoots out of my hand and down the chute. I lose my balance and hit my head on the wall. I hear the clothes falling and it is a lovely sound. I am gleeful. I make the dogs sing "I am women, hear me roar."
I run downstairs to see pants, lots and lots of pants. I start to separate the clothes, when it hits me, where is the shoe? Shouldn't the shoe be on top of the heap. Where in the hell is the cherry shoe.
I can barely crawl up the stairs. I totally am in major hatred of the laundry chute. I look up and down on the second floor, I look down from the top floor. I get the broom and huck it down the chute. It comes out, with no shoe. I can feel the laces but no matter how hard I pull that shoe is wedged somewhere in the chute. I am not singing anymore. That shoe is still in there.
So the good news, is I now have pants but I will be wearing flip-flops for the winter since my shoe is vacationing inside my house. Literally.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Seeing someone
I am seeing someone. It is still early yet, so it is all so new but it is nice.
I had forgotten how wonderful men can be.
It is fantastic to be reminded.
I had forgotten how wonderful men can be.
It is fantastic to be reminded.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Absolutely Nothing to Report.
We have officially entered the horrible rainy season at the coast. Not the kind of rain that actually waters stuff but the misting kind that makes my hair poof up and be seen from space. I totally hate it.
I have power. I now have had power three TOTAL days in a ROW. It is like winning the Power ball only with no money and instead a light bulb that works. Super!
The dogs have been very poorly behaved and I think Olive is going through her terrible two's at 8 months of age. In all things bad, she is well ahead of the curve. In two days, she has chewed up three rugs, 2 shirts, 1 pair of pants and 1 billion unmentionables. You can say "Why don't you pick up your clothes, you messy thing. Didn't your mother teach you any better?" And the answer would be no, she didn't teach me any better but I have picked them up and put them in the hamper. Only Olive has figured out if you throw your giant hairy body against the hamper, it falls over and Boom, all sorts of fun has just been scattered around the laundry room. I am looking for a heavier hamper or a lighter dog, which ever I find first shall solve the problem.
So other than that, it is a very boring mundane existence I am leading. And I am so FINE with that. After all the excitement of the last year, a little boring is nice. I am reading A LOT. I am crafting. I am calm and content. I really hope it takes for a while.
I have power. I now have had power three TOTAL days in a ROW. It is like winning the Power ball only with no money and instead a light bulb that works. Super!
The dogs have been very poorly behaved and I think Olive is going through her terrible two's at 8 months of age. In all things bad, she is well ahead of the curve. In two days, she has chewed up three rugs, 2 shirts, 1 pair of pants and 1 billion unmentionables. You can say "Why don't you pick up your clothes, you messy thing. Didn't your mother teach you any better?" And the answer would be no, she didn't teach me any better but I have picked them up and put them in the hamper. Only Olive has figured out if you throw your giant hairy body against the hamper, it falls over and Boom, all sorts of fun has just been scattered around the laundry room. I am looking for a heavier hamper or a lighter dog, which ever I find first shall solve the problem.
So other than that, it is a very boring mundane existence I am leading. And I am so FINE with that. After all the excitement of the last year, a little boring is nice. I am reading A LOT. I am crafting. I am calm and content. I really hope it takes for a while.
Monday, October 19, 2009
power
Day three without power! Seriously, there is something so wrong in my world. I had a water leak and it leaked into the fuse box and shorted the whole little thing to pieces. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
After I figured out it wasn't the whole neighborhood, and oh wasn't this fun with candles and the fireplace, and it was just me without power. Let's just say I am not the brightest bulb in the package. The fact that I have a street light right outside the front of my house, could have been a clue, IF I HAD A MIND.
Emergency power guy came out. He tried. I had power for 30 minutes before it shorted out again. It was a lot like winning the lottery for 30 minutes before you realize you just wrote down the winning numbers on a piece of paper, they are NOT your numbers, which are not even close to the winning numbers. I almost got warm. I almost had a delicious chicken pot pie cooked. I almost had the coffee done. Pop. Back in the dark. Not fun with candles anymore.
The neighbors came with a flashlight. The emergency power guy came out, nothing he could do. I was sent back in time to the 1800's and I did not like it. I read by flashlight. Went to bed at 9:30, I was bored.
Sunday, no power the entire day. Finally about 4:30 yesterday, they got it almost all back on. Only the oven refuses to participate in the let's get our ass in gear and turn on. Today everybody back again to finish the job.
Nothing in my house is to code. Nothing is easy or located in the place it is suppose to be. My meter box is located too close to an open window. In Seaside, it is a law that you can't have your meter box next to a window because at one time, a meter reader was reading a meter, the homeowner thought she/he was a peeping tom, and shot and killed her/him. Now they also have to wear orange vests, the readers not the meter. That needs to move.
My power into the house is too close to an upstairs window that opens. Since I may open the window and play around with live electrical cords, I now need to hire a window guy to make the window inoperable. I can't make this stuff up.
Right now I have power. Tomorrow no power.
I do have to say that this weekend has really repaired my faith in my fellow men. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, has bent over backwards for me. The power guy worked on his birthday. One power guy babysat the other guy's children so he could go on the roof to repair the lines. The power company came out three times yesterday. The neighbors brought me hot food, had me over for dinner, provided me a warm bed, helped me dismantle my driveway gate so I could leave my house. All this has been done with a smile and a kind attitude.
I feel so lucky to have landed here. Though I also like power. A LOT.
After I figured out it wasn't the whole neighborhood, and oh wasn't this fun with candles and the fireplace, and it was just me without power. Let's just say I am not the brightest bulb in the package. The fact that I have a street light right outside the front of my house, could have been a clue, IF I HAD A MIND.
Emergency power guy came out. He tried. I had power for 30 minutes before it shorted out again. It was a lot like winning the lottery for 30 minutes before you realize you just wrote down the winning numbers on a piece of paper, they are NOT your numbers, which are not even close to the winning numbers. I almost got warm. I almost had a delicious chicken pot pie cooked. I almost had the coffee done. Pop. Back in the dark. Not fun with candles anymore.
The neighbors came with a flashlight. The emergency power guy came out, nothing he could do. I was sent back in time to the 1800's and I did not like it. I read by flashlight. Went to bed at 9:30, I was bored.
Sunday, no power the entire day. Finally about 4:30 yesterday, they got it almost all back on. Only the oven refuses to participate in the let's get our ass in gear and turn on. Today everybody back again to finish the job.
Nothing in my house is to code. Nothing is easy or located in the place it is suppose to be. My meter box is located too close to an open window. In Seaside, it is a law that you can't have your meter box next to a window because at one time, a meter reader was reading a meter, the homeowner thought she/he was a peeping tom, and shot and killed her/him. Now they also have to wear orange vests, the readers not the meter. That needs to move.
My power into the house is too close to an upstairs window that opens. Since I may open the window and play around with live electrical cords, I now need to hire a window guy to make the window inoperable. I can't make this stuff up.
Right now I have power. Tomorrow no power.
I do have to say that this weekend has really repaired my faith in my fellow men. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, has bent over backwards for me. The power guy worked on his birthday. One power guy babysat the other guy's children so he could go on the roof to repair the lines. The power company came out three times yesterday. The neighbors brought me hot food, had me over for dinner, provided me a warm bed, helped me dismantle my driveway gate so I could leave my house. All this has been done with a smile and a kind attitude.
I feel so lucky to have landed here. Though I also like power. A LOT.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
A date? or not?
Ok, this weekend sucked. My power box blew up and I had no power all weekend. It just sucked. The neighbors brought over a flashlight and tonight have invited me for dinner. So it is looking up.
I need help. Your help. How do you know if someone asked you out on a date? I mean if they said "Would you like to go on a date?" Even someone as out of the loop as me could understand that.
What if they said "Would you like to go to dinner?" Is that a date invitation? or a hey I'm being nice to the old single lady next door to me? kind of thing. What if they said "Would you like to come over for a drink?" What does that mean? Are these datey kind of things? How does one know?
I really need some advice on this. Do I get dressed up? Arg! this is hard. Plus, he is really a nice guy and I don't want to do something wrong and end up looking like a serious deranged loon. Do you think I should look for a book? a class? a Ouija board?
Someone, anyone please direct me.
I need help. Your help. How do you know if someone asked you out on a date? I mean if they said "Would you like to go on a date?" Even someone as out of the loop as me could understand that.
What if they said "Would you like to go to dinner?" Is that a date invitation? or a hey I'm being nice to the old single lady next door to me? kind of thing. What if they said "Would you like to come over for a drink?" What does that mean? Are these datey kind of things? How does one know?
I really need some advice on this. Do I get dressed up? Arg! this is hard. Plus, he is really a nice guy and I don't want to do something wrong and end up looking like a serious deranged loon. Do you think I should look for a book? a class? a Ouija board?
Someone, anyone please direct me.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Happy Anniversary to ME!
Happy Anniversary to me! I am celebrating tonight. I am having wine and circus peanuts along with a mini-marathon of The Mentalist on the telly. What a party. Olive will go nuts, for some strange reason the voice of the guy who plays the Mentalist (Simon something or other) drives her into the other room. She is odd, just go with it.
I could show you some more craft projects, but that is boring to you.
I filled out some more job applications, that is boring to me.
It is raining here to beat the band, that is boring for EVERYONE.
I have spent the last few days cleaning the house to have it appraised. The appraiser never showed. I still have a clean house, so that will make the party even more fun.
Last night I went through the Julia Child cookbook that my wonderful neighbor bought for me, and I decided to cook something French to bring to the Halloween party. I hope it works out. It would be just my luck to send everyone to the hospital with food poisoning. Now I need to choose something. Something easy it goes without saying.
I had to call and explain to some companies that I can't pay them right now. They were all super, SUPER nice and extended my payment schedule.
I am selling on Ebay. Right now I am selling off my mermaids. It is hard.
In one year I have become a person I would like to know. In fact, I like me. This is a great anniversary!
Now if only the dogs had sent me a gift, it would totally 100% perfect. They are such lazy asses.
I could show you some more craft projects, but that is boring to you.
I filled out some more job applications, that is boring to me.
It is raining here to beat the band, that is boring for EVERYONE.
I have spent the last few days cleaning the house to have it appraised. The appraiser never showed. I still have a clean house, so that will make the party even more fun.
Last night I went through the Julia Child cookbook that my wonderful neighbor bought for me, and I decided to cook something French to bring to the Halloween party. I hope it works out. It would be just my luck to send everyone to the hospital with food poisoning. Now I need to choose something. Something easy it goes without saying.
I had to call and explain to some companies that I can't pay them right now. They were all super, SUPER nice and extended my payment schedule.
I am selling on Ebay. Right now I am selling off my mermaids. It is hard.
In one year I have become a person I would like to know. In fact, I like me. This is a great anniversary!
Now if only the dogs had sent me a gift, it would totally 100% perfect. They are such lazy asses.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Lucky indeed
So tomorrow is my one year anniversary. The anniversary when I kicked the lying, cheating scum to the curb and said. . . . well, never mind what I said since it was all horrible, mean, and felt oh, so good to say it. One whole year on my own.
Ups and Downs, still more Downs than Ups but starting to balance out. I love the fact that a year has gone by. Now when I look back I have done every day by myself. No more of the "this time last year I was still married. ." nonsense. No Siree, every day mine ALL MINE. Good, bad, and extremely ugly. Still mine.
I have made new friends. I have a Halloween party to look forward to. I have applied for a job. I have fixed things. I have made dishes from new recipes. I have traveled alone, driven alone, and lived alone. All in one year. 365 days. 8766.1536 hours. 525948.766 minutes. 31446925.9936 seconds. All these changes were done in such a short amount of time. With all of these wonderful things, wonderful people, is it wrong to ask for more? I couldn't decide, so I asked anyway and received the best thing ever.
The best thing ever, EVER, is the kid is coming home for a visit. To see me. To come home, my home, his home, our home. With all the bad that he has been through, and trust me when I say a kid SHOULD never have to go through what he did, he still wants to see me. The mother who still feels that she failed him. Let him down. Destroyed his world. This mother gets another great thing.
She who doesn't deserve it, she gets a eighteen year old boy flying all the way home to spend a weekend with his mom.
I am lucky indeed.
Ups and Downs, still more Downs than Ups but starting to balance out. I love the fact that a year has gone by. Now when I look back I have done every day by myself. No more of the "this time last year I was still married. ." nonsense. No Siree, every day mine ALL MINE. Good, bad, and extremely ugly. Still mine.
I have made new friends. I have a Halloween party to look forward to. I have applied for a job. I have fixed things. I have made dishes from new recipes. I have traveled alone, driven alone, and lived alone. All in one year. 365 days. 8766.1536 hours. 525948.766 minutes. 31446925.9936 seconds. All these changes were done in such a short amount of time. With all of these wonderful things, wonderful people, is it wrong to ask for more? I couldn't decide, so I asked anyway and received the best thing ever.
The best thing ever, EVER, is the kid is coming home for a visit. To see me. To come home, my home, his home, our home. With all the bad that he has been through, and trust me when I say a kid SHOULD never have to go through what he did, he still wants to see me. The mother who still feels that she failed him. Let him down. Destroyed his world. This mother gets another great thing.
She who doesn't deserve it, she gets a eighteen year old boy flying all the way home to spend a weekend with his mom.
I am lucky indeed.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Halloween Crafts
My financial situation has hit the OMG we are so sinking like a stone and we are all going to DIE scenario. So that is boring and not any fun to think about, or write about. Until I get it resolved I will be off and on the blogging world.
So, worrying about that is all fun and good but I decided to craft. Halloween crafts. Where I live now I doubt I will get any trick or treaters. My street is mostly second homes and even those are not owned by families with children. The Seattle home on the other hand, was a GOLD mine of children. We would give away over 300 hundred candy bars on that night.
I hit up my local Ross dress for less, the best store EVER, to buy up items that can be remade. I picked up some ugly pumpkins, well the pumpkins weren't ugly but the color was, so I spray painted them white, then using my finger dotted them with black spots. I painted the stems black and gave them a jaunty black and white ribbon. Easy, peasy. On a couple of them, after the white treatment, I took on rub on letters the spelled out Halloween words.
I needed a Halloween gift for the kid. I had some empty boxes I had kept from a paint your own turkey craft we did a few years ago. They came from Pottery Barn and were a pretty nice plain box.
I made two. One to give to my girl friend for her daughter and one for the kid. The one for the kid I'm not going to show, in case (HE HAD BETTER) he reads my blog, I don't want to spoil the surprise. I wish the surprise was that he was coming home, but that is a different blog post.
Anyway, I decoupaged the box in various papers. This is a great project for using up all the little scraps of paper that are left from bigger projects. I set that aside to dry.
I have some rubber stamps that are paper dolls. These are the BEST stamps I have ever bought. They are not made anymore and I really wish I had bought the rest of the outfits. There are lots of companies out there that make doll stamps though, so maybe when my finances turn around I will purchase some other ones. If you are interested, they will be easily found and I have even seen some that you can use brads and make their arms and legs move. SWEET.
I made all the outfits in a Halloween theme. I paper pieced them together so I could use all sorts of different papers. This is very simple and just takes time and glue along with an exacto knife. Cut, glue, cut, glue. I went on a Halloween Ball box and I think it turned out very nice.
I embellished the girls with tattoos, hats and risque undergarments. Colored in their hair, eyes and gave them blushing cheeks. Printed out the words, cut them out, and decoupaged them on to the box. One word of caution, if you have a ink jet printer, decoupage medium will make the colors run. To stop this, you can simply spray a coat of clear coat over the paper, let it dry and then decoupage it. If you have a laser printer, this won't be an issue. In a pinch I have used hairspray but you may run a much better craft room then I do.
One of my blogs I follow has some free clip art, I printed it out, sprayed it, let it dry, cut it out and applied it on the side. Now it is all done except for the mailing.
I have to say I am a little nervous about sending it. I have given many gifts of stuff I have made but this will be my first piece of altered art to someone that is not family. I figure it they hate it, just throw it away and buy something at a store.
So, worrying about that is all fun and good but I decided to craft. Halloween crafts. Where I live now I doubt I will get any trick or treaters. My street is mostly second homes and even those are not owned by families with children. The Seattle home on the other hand, was a GOLD mine of children. We would give away over 300 hundred candy bars on that night.
I hit up my local Ross dress for less, the best store EVER, to buy up items that can be remade. I picked up some ugly pumpkins, well the pumpkins weren't ugly but the color was, so I spray painted them white, then using my finger dotted them with black spots. I painted the stems black and gave them a jaunty black and white ribbon. Easy, peasy. On a couple of them, after the white treatment, I took on rub on letters the spelled out Halloween words.
I needed a Halloween gift for the kid. I had some empty boxes I had kept from a paint your own turkey craft we did a few years ago. They came from Pottery Barn and were a pretty nice plain box.
I made two. One to give to my girl friend for her daughter and one for the kid. The one for the kid I'm not going to show, in case (HE HAD BETTER) he reads my blog, I don't want to spoil the surprise. I wish the surprise was that he was coming home, but that is a different blog post.
Anyway, I decoupaged the box in various papers. This is a great project for using up all the little scraps of paper that are left from bigger projects. I set that aside to dry.I have some rubber stamps that are paper dolls. These are the BEST stamps I have ever bought. They are not made anymore and I really wish I had bought the rest of the outfits. There are lots of companies out there that make doll stamps though, so maybe when my finances turn around I will purchase some other ones. If you are interested, they will be easily found and I have even seen some that you can use brads and make their arms and legs move. SWEET.
I made all the outfits in a Halloween theme. I paper pieced them together so I could use all sorts of different papers. This is very simple and just takes time and glue along with an exacto knife. Cut, glue, cut, glue. I went on a Halloween Ball box and I think it turned out very nice.I embellished the girls with tattoos, hats and risque undergarments. Colored in their hair, eyes and gave them blushing cheeks. Printed out the words, cut them out, and decoupaged them on to the box. One word of caution, if you have a ink jet printer, decoupage medium will make the colors run. To stop this, you can simply spray a coat of clear coat over the paper, let it dry and then decoupage it. If you have a laser printer, this won't be an issue. In a pinch I have used hairspray but you may run a much better craft room then I do.
One of my blogs I follow has some free clip art, I printed it out, sprayed it, let it dry, cut it out and applied it on the side. Now it is all done except for the mailing.
I have to say I am a little nervous about sending it. I have given many gifts of stuff I have made but this will be my first piece of altered art to someone that is not family. I figure it they hate it, just throw it away and buy something at a store.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Spay
Today Olive was spayed. She had no clue what this meant, I on the other hand was overjoyed. I have never actually had a litter of puppies from any of the dogs I have owned over my life, but if they are anything like children I don't want to.
The last Bernese I owned, Alex, I bought to become a show dog. I had big plans. She (and I) were going to be famous. She, because of winning all the dog shows, and I, because I always wanted to run around the ring at the Westminster in a dress and strange flat shoes holding that leash high in the air with the dog prancing beside me. This was my dream.
I contacted breeders. I did my homework. I knew what it would entail and since it seemed harder on the dog then it did on me, I was good to go. I was put on the waiting list for the "perfect dog." I waited and waited and then just for good measure, waited some more. Puppies were born and deemed non-show worthy. Too much white, not enough white, too small, too large. More puppies came and went on to their forever homes, which was not my home. Finally, the call came in. A show puppy was available. I sped to the kennel and brought that little Westminster winner home, thoughts of grandeur occupying my thoughts. I couldn't decide between a shorter dress or a longer, below the knee look. Which would look better with the strange shoes? How should I wear my hair? Where do you buy those strange looking shoes?
I named the future winner Alexandria, after one of my favorite books. I thought that would sound grand when they introduced her to the audience. Her puppies would come from a regal hound with a great sounding name. Turns out there was one small problem with the lovely plan.
The regal hound was a dumb-ass.
Beautiful, yes. Sweet, Oh, yes. Stupid, Oh My God, absolutely.
She was unbelievably dumb. She peed on herself. She ran into the sliding glass door so often, we had to have a curtain made for it. We had to run her to the vets for exams because she cut her head so often. She ate everything she found, keys, coins, small pieces of bark, larger pieces of bark, rocks. X-rays became our gift of choice. Every holiday we exchanged trips to the vet certificates. We broke down and hired someone to help us, since there was no way that dream of taking a victory lap was going to die so easy. They came, they tried, they failed. We hired again. They failed again. We sent her away to become housebroken. She came back, happy, healthy and still able to pee in the house at will.
Then she had her first heat. OH MY GOD! The nightmare still haunts me. I can feel the hives returning to my arms. She was fine with it, after all this was a dog who could happily sleep in her own urine. I was not fine with it. Having white carpet did not make me fine with it. She couldn't go outside. Even though the yard was fenced, every male dog in a 100 mile radius was camped out in our driveway. Vocal complaints about the lack of services provided to them was my daily conversation. The neighbors complained. The front yard started to look like some sort of compost experiment, in fact the inside of the house looked the same. She wanted out to meet her fans and boy did those fans want to meet her!
I was going insane. No longer did visions of trophies occupy my mind, instead it was filled with how much is new carpet, a new yard, bribes to the neighbors going to cost me. How much longer until my house is egged. How much longer can my home smell like a barnyard.
She started pooping in the house.
I shot myself and that dog down to the vet so fast that the pack of suitors were left wondering if the love of their life had been a dream. I had her spayed. She never became housebroken. She never gained an ounce of sense. Running around in circles in the back yard was the closet she came to a winners circle. She never had suitors again. I purchased new carpets for my Valentine's Day present and signed the card "Love Alex." She was a lovely dog. We had her for twelve years. I sometimes miss her when Olive looks at me as she runs into the dining room wall.
No more thoughts of show dogs. I still love Bernese's. They are sweet, kind, beautiful, have a heart of gold and have the silkiest coats EVER. They are however, dumb asses.
Thank Goodness I roll that way.
The last Bernese I owned, Alex, I bought to become a show dog. I had big plans. She (and I) were going to be famous. She, because of winning all the dog shows, and I, because I always wanted to run around the ring at the Westminster in a dress and strange flat shoes holding that leash high in the air with the dog prancing beside me. This was my dream.
I contacted breeders. I did my homework. I knew what it would entail and since it seemed harder on the dog then it did on me, I was good to go. I was put on the waiting list for the "perfect dog." I waited and waited and then just for good measure, waited some more. Puppies were born and deemed non-show worthy. Too much white, not enough white, too small, too large. More puppies came and went on to their forever homes, which was not my home. Finally, the call came in. A show puppy was available. I sped to the kennel and brought that little Westminster winner home, thoughts of grandeur occupying my thoughts. I couldn't decide between a shorter dress or a longer, below the knee look. Which would look better with the strange shoes? How should I wear my hair? Where do you buy those strange looking shoes?
I named the future winner Alexandria, after one of my favorite books. I thought that would sound grand when they introduced her to the audience. Her puppies would come from a regal hound with a great sounding name. Turns out there was one small problem with the lovely plan.
The regal hound was a dumb-ass.
Beautiful, yes. Sweet, Oh, yes. Stupid, Oh My God, absolutely.
She was unbelievably dumb. She peed on herself. She ran into the sliding glass door so often, we had to have a curtain made for it. We had to run her to the vets for exams because she cut her head so often. She ate everything she found, keys, coins, small pieces of bark, larger pieces of bark, rocks. X-rays became our gift of choice. Every holiday we exchanged trips to the vet certificates. We broke down and hired someone to help us, since there was no way that dream of taking a victory lap was going to die so easy. They came, they tried, they failed. We hired again. They failed again. We sent her away to become housebroken. She came back, happy, healthy and still able to pee in the house at will.
Then she had her first heat. OH MY GOD! The nightmare still haunts me. I can feel the hives returning to my arms. She was fine with it, after all this was a dog who could happily sleep in her own urine. I was not fine with it. Having white carpet did not make me fine with it. She couldn't go outside. Even though the yard was fenced, every male dog in a 100 mile radius was camped out in our driveway. Vocal complaints about the lack of services provided to them was my daily conversation. The neighbors complained. The front yard started to look like some sort of compost experiment, in fact the inside of the house looked the same. She wanted out to meet her fans and boy did those fans want to meet her!
I was going insane. No longer did visions of trophies occupy my mind, instead it was filled with how much is new carpet, a new yard, bribes to the neighbors going to cost me. How much longer until my house is egged. How much longer can my home smell like a barnyard.
She started pooping in the house.
I shot myself and that dog down to the vet so fast that the pack of suitors were left wondering if the love of their life had been a dream. I had her spayed. She never became housebroken. She never gained an ounce of sense. Running around in circles in the back yard was the closet she came to a winners circle. She never had suitors again. I purchased new carpets for my Valentine's Day present and signed the card "Love Alex." She was a lovely dog. We had her for twelve years. I sometimes miss her when Olive looks at me as she runs into the dining room wall.
No more thoughts of show dogs. I still love Bernese's. They are sweet, kind, beautiful, have a heart of gold and have the silkiest coats EVER. They are however, dumb asses.
Thank Goodness I roll that way.
I need sleep
So it is late in the middle of the night, and yet again I can't sleep.
Insomnia. What a nightmare. Since everything fell apart in my life, my sleep patterns have left the building. I can't sleep. I'm tired when I go to bed. Tired when I turn out the lights. And then BAM! my brain decides to relive every past experience, my eyes fly open and I retrace my steps. Every night, same story.
During the day, I can't get anything accomplished. I can't focus. My mind wanders and I catch myself staring at nothing. I bump into things. I drop things. I bruise myself almost every day. I know it is because I am so tired.
I had some sleeping pills prescribed and for a while sleep was mine. The insurance company, in all their all mighty wisdom, pays for 13 days a month of sleeping pills. 13 days of sleep. The rest of the month, weaning yourself off the sleeping pills while you stay awake all night.
Hot baths. Hot milk (bluck!). Cold room. Lavender spray on my pillows and sheets. Totally dark room. Exercising regularly. Eating right. No caffeine. Nothing works, Nothing changes.
It is like my mind wants or maybe needs to, replay the entire scenario of my life over and over again. Should have done this. What if I had said this. Where am I going? What am I doing?
Nothing gets resolved. I lay and watch the clock numbers change, one by one. I watch the dark outside become light. I listen to the dogs snore and make rumbling noises. I hear the waves crashing on the shore. I know at some point I fall asleep since the alarm wakes me up. But I feel so tired, so bone numbing tired.
Stress is beating the life out of me. I need some sort of release. Some sort of peace at night. Some way to turn off my mind. Some way to come to grips with not having the answers, of never having the answers. Some way of the questions to stop being asked of me.
I need sleep.
Insomnia. What a nightmare. Since everything fell apart in my life, my sleep patterns have left the building. I can't sleep. I'm tired when I go to bed. Tired when I turn out the lights. And then BAM! my brain decides to relive every past experience, my eyes fly open and I retrace my steps. Every night, same story.
During the day, I can't get anything accomplished. I can't focus. My mind wanders and I catch myself staring at nothing. I bump into things. I drop things. I bruise myself almost every day. I know it is because I am so tired.
I had some sleeping pills prescribed and for a while sleep was mine. The insurance company, in all their all mighty wisdom, pays for 13 days a month of sleeping pills. 13 days of sleep. The rest of the month, weaning yourself off the sleeping pills while you stay awake all night.
Hot baths. Hot milk (bluck!). Cold room. Lavender spray on my pillows and sheets. Totally dark room. Exercising regularly. Eating right. No caffeine. Nothing works, Nothing changes.
It is like my mind wants or maybe needs to, replay the entire scenario of my life over and over again. Should have done this. What if I had said this. Where am I going? What am I doing?
Nothing gets resolved. I lay and watch the clock numbers change, one by one. I watch the dark outside become light. I listen to the dogs snore and make rumbling noises. I hear the waves crashing on the shore. I know at some point I fall asleep since the alarm wakes me up. But I feel so tired, so bone numbing tired.
Stress is beating the life out of me. I need some sort of release. Some sort of peace at night. Some way to turn off my mind. Some way to come to grips with not having the answers, of never having the answers. Some way of the questions to stop being asked of me.
I need sleep.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
For the love of bookstores
I had my big trip into town today. Portland. First time all by myself. I needed to go to Powell's THE BEST BOOKSTORE IN THE WHOLE WIDE UNIVERSE.
Powell's has so many wonderful things that make it the best in the universe. However, putting their books on hold section on the fourth floor is not one of them. I dread climbing all those stairs. In fact I dread it so much, I waited until the very last day to retrieve my books on hold. Tomorrow would be the day I would actually have to pay for shipping, so being cheap, I decided today was the day.
Delightful weather made the driving trip, well, delightful. Sunday there are few cars and even fewer trucks. The lack of traffic made for a very speedy trip. One slow down for Krispy Kreme, yummy, and even better a clean restroom, I was back on the road.
All by myself at Powell's, what is a girl to do? Spend blissful hour upon hour just drifting around looking at books. Maybe I want to learn how to raise cattle, saw a book. Maybe I want to learn to applique, saw a book. Maybe I want to know all about book thieves, saw a book, bought the book. Three stories of every type of book imaginable. Really just a slice of heaven right here on earth.
Then I climbed the fouuuuuuuuuuuuuuur flights up to the hold section. Just imagine I wasn't in shape. I would be on the news right now being shown in a very unflattering light. It was worth it in the end. New books. Well, used books, but new to me, so that counts as new.
I lose all sense of reality in a bookstore. To me, it will be the greatest place ever. The opportunity to be anywhere. To learn anything. To recapture the books I loved as a child. To discover new books that I love as an adult. The smell of pages, of adventures, of wonder, of joy, and of sadness. All can be found on the shelves of a bookstore. Some authors heart and soul sitting right there waiting to be discovered. To be enjoyed, or even to be disliked. Still you will never be the same after the last page is turned. It will be within you from now on.
It is a true beauty that bookstores exist. One I don't take for granted. On the plane to Chicago, two passengers had the new electronic book reader and for a moment I envied them. So many books could fit on there. Just imagine how many books I could be carrying around in my purse AT THAT VERY MOMENT.
Today it dawned on me, I don't want that. I need the pages. I need the texture, the turning of the page, the placing of the bookmark, the book waiting on the table for me to return. I need the ritual, the actual being in the book.
I think that if the author took the time to write it down. We should take the time to turn the actual page, to hold the actual book.
Hopefully, this week you will visit your local bookstore and pick up something that will change your life.
Powell's has so many wonderful things that make it the best in the universe. However, putting their books on hold section on the fourth floor is not one of them. I dread climbing all those stairs. In fact I dread it so much, I waited until the very last day to retrieve my books on hold. Tomorrow would be the day I would actually have to pay for shipping, so being cheap, I decided today was the day.
Delightful weather made the driving trip, well, delightful. Sunday there are few cars and even fewer trucks. The lack of traffic made for a very speedy trip. One slow down for Krispy Kreme, yummy, and even better a clean restroom, I was back on the road.
All by myself at Powell's, what is a girl to do? Spend blissful hour upon hour just drifting around looking at books. Maybe I want to learn how to raise cattle, saw a book. Maybe I want to learn to applique, saw a book. Maybe I want to know all about book thieves, saw a book, bought the book. Three stories of every type of book imaginable. Really just a slice of heaven right here on earth.
Then I climbed the fouuuuuuuuuuuuuuur flights up to the hold section. Just imagine I wasn't in shape. I would be on the news right now being shown in a very unflattering light. It was worth it in the end. New books. Well, used books, but new to me, so that counts as new.
I lose all sense of reality in a bookstore. To me, it will be the greatest place ever. The opportunity to be anywhere. To learn anything. To recapture the books I loved as a child. To discover new books that I love as an adult. The smell of pages, of adventures, of wonder, of joy, and of sadness. All can be found on the shelves of a bookstore. Some authors heart and soul sitting right there waiting to be discovered. To be enjoyed, or even to be disliked. Still you will never be the same after the last page is turned. It will be within you from now on.
It is a true beauty that bookstores exist. One I don't take for granted. On the plane to Chicago, two passengers had the new electronic book reader and for a moment I envied them. So many books could fit on there. Just imagine how many books I could be carrying around in my purse AT THAT VERY MOMENT.
Today it dawned on me, I don't want that. I need the pages. I need the texture, the turning of the page, the placing of the bookmark, the book waiting on the table for me to return. I need the ritual, the actual being in the book.
I think that if the author took the time to write it down. We should take the time to turn the actual page, to hold the actual book.
Hopefully, this week you will visit your local bookstore and pick up something that will change your life.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Thank Gosh for Seals
The last few days of sun have been shining brightly and so I have taken to doing my morning run down the beach. It is cold, which makes me run faster or sometimes turn around and go home faster. Either way it is faster.
The only other nutcases out there are the shell gathers and other joggers. Sometimes the surfers if the waves are doing what they need to do to be ridden. And seals.
The last few days, seals have come to lay on the beach. They catch some rays. Watch the birds. And nap. And watch joggers. I feel like I am in a movie. Jogging next to the ocean, beautiful sun, hard slightly wet sand and now seals. It seems so unreal.
This afternoon I took the dogs down to the beach for their annual frenzy of the day. They yank me down the rocks. They deposit all sorts of dead, smelly things in front of me, in the hopes that I may be up for a game of catch. They chase the waves and bark at birds. The seals were unimpressed, though I had leashed the dogs up before we arrived on the seals. Still there. Still sunning.
Herbie marched on by and didn't even make eye contact. Olive, well, she is quite the loon. Olive is afraid of many, many things. Things that make absolutely no sense to be afraid of. Opening of the bag cupboard in the kitchen will require a mad dash of flight to the safety of the couch. Boxes of any size, empty or full, and she is gone like the wind. The bird eating his seed. Her leash touching her tail. The dude on the Mentalist tv show. The broom. My coat. Oh, the list is varied and really just endless. Today, the seal. She almost ripped her head off her body leaping backwards. The seal didn't move. Olive howled. The seal didn't move. Olive threw her body on the ground. The seal didn't move. She looked around. Herbie marched over and growled at her. She closed her eyes. Open. Seal. Closed. Open. Seal. You could almost see the wheels in her head turning. I was laughing. Finally, I picked her up and set her on her legs. Started to walk. She followed.
The entire rest of the way home, she was certain we were going to be devoured by a seal. She was the most well behaved dog I HAVE EVER SEEN.
I am going to get me one of those seals permanently.
The only other nutcases out there are the shell gathers and other joggers. Sometimes the surfers if the waves are doing what they need to do to be ridden. And seals.
The last few days, seals have come to lay on the beach. They catch some rays. Watch the birds. And nap. And watch joggers. I feel like I am in a movie. Jogging next to the ocean, beautiful sun, hard slightly wet sand and now seals. It seems so unreal.
This afternoon I took the dogs down to the beach for their annual frenzy of the day. They yank me down the rocks. They deposit all sorts of dead, smelly things in front of me, in the hopes that I may be up for a game of catch. They chase the waves and bark at birds. The seals were unimpressed, though I had leashed the dogs up before we arrived on the seals. Still there. Still sunning.
Herbie marched on by and didn't even make eye contact. Olive, well, she is quite the loon. Olive is afraid of many, many things. Things that make absolutely no sense to be afraid of. Opening of the bag cupboard in the kitchen will require a mad dash of flight to the safety of the couch. Boxes of any size, empty or full, and she is gone like the wind. The bird eating his seed. Her leash touching her tail. The dude on the Mentalist tv show. The broom. My coat. Oh, the list is varied and really just endless. Today, the seal. She almost ripped her head off her body leaping backwards. The seal didn't move. Olive howled. The seal didn't move. Olive threw her body on the ground. The seal didn't move. She looked around. Herbie marched over and growled at her. She closed her eyes. Open. Seal. Closed. Open. Seal. You could almost see the wheels in her head turning. I was laughing. Finally, I picked her up and set her on her legs. Started to walk. She followed.
The entire rest of the way home, she was certain we were going to be devoured by a seal. She was the most well behaved dog I HAVE EVER SEEN.
I am going to get me one of those seals permanently.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Adjusting
I think I am adjusting.
I'm not sure to what but I feel better this week. I am coming up on a year since my life broke apart and maybe, just maybe, the worse is behind me. I still have pity parties occasionally but they seem to be coming less with each passing day.
Dealing with ex is still a major pain in my existence. When the house sells maybe even that will go away. I still find it hard to believe I was married to him for so long and now I can't even stand a 3 minute conversation with him. He acts like a moron and it takes every ounce of my willpower to not start screaming obscenities into the phone. The worst part is this is how he treats the kid as well. Doing what he wants, when he wants, how he wants with no regard to anyone around him. Waiting until the kid has .02 cents in his checking account and then giving him money for college. These little things that make such big obstacles in our day to day life and which he finds humorous. Gone, I say, I want him Gone!
Other than that, which really is just a blip on the radar, things are coming along nicely. I still have some scary activities ahead of me. Like dating. Which absolutely terrifies me. The last time I went on a date I was eighteen. Now I am 46 and lets face it pretty much over the hill. I have no clue on how to start and I'm not even sure I want to. It seems quite daunting.
In just one years time, the amount I have learned about myself and what I am capable of is astounding. I never would have believed that I had this in me, this strength. I feel that I have grown by leaps and bounds. Maybe that is why I have a hard time dealing with the ex, he seems weak, petty, annoying. I want to be finished with the old life, the old pain, the old me. Yet, circumstances keep me tied to the past. I have places to go, people to meet, things to do, and I want to get on that. Now.
I'm not sure to what but I feel better this week. I am coming up on a year since my life broke apart and maybe, just maybe, the worse is behind me. I still have pity parties occasionally but they seem to be coming less with each passing day.
Dealing with ex is still a major pain in my existence. When the house sells maybe even that will go away. I still find it hard to believe I was married to him for so long and now I can't even stand a 3 minute conversation with him. He acts like a moron and it takes every ounce of my willpower to not start screaming obscenities into the phone. The worst part is this is how he treats the kid as well. Doing what he wants, when he wants, how he wants with no regard to anyone around him. Waiting until the kid has .02 cents in his checking account and then giving him money for college. These little things that make such big obstacles in our day to day life and which he finds humorous. Gone, I say, I want him Gone!
Other than that, which really is just a blip on the radar, things are coming along nicely. I still have some scary activities ahead of me. Like dating. Which absolutely terrifies me. The last time I went on a date I was eighteen. Now I am 46 and lets face it pretty much over the hill. I have no clue on how to start and I'm not even sure I want to. It seems quite daunting.
In just one years time, the amount I have learned about myself and what I am capable of is astounding. I never would have believed that I had this in me, this strength. I feel that I have grown by leaps and bounds. Maybe that is why I have a hard time dealing with the ex, he seems weak, petty, annoying. I want to be finished with the old life, the old pain, the old me. Yet, circumstances keep me tied to the past. I have places to go, people to meet, things to do, and I want to get on that. Now.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
A weekend
I would love to give you a post of the meaning of life and some beautiful rambling prose of the oceans wild, instead I have been dealing with home ownership crap. Which no matter how you write it will never sound beautiful.
I know I am luckier than some to own my home and in such a spectacular setting, that being said, it is hard work to keep this sucker up and trying to hold its own against the elements. We are losing. Though after this weekend, we have made up some ground.
This was a weekend/summer home. If there were problems, people came and fixed them, I just wrote the check. That has changed. I could write the check, there are just no funds to cover it. Plus, since I now live here full time, I want to learn some of this stuff. Though not ever the gutters, AGAIN. Seriously, this is a disgusting job and I really felt quite faint throughout the ordeal. Also, I got all wet. And cold. And covered with goo that I DON'T even want to know its origins. It ended up with a little bit of the gutters that I can't reach, even with a ladder and now the weeds that are flourishing there, have been taunting me all day. ALL DAY I SAY! And for some small weeds they can really talk smack. I tried putting the hose on the super powerful stream and was promptly rewarded with a face full of goo but the weeds are standing tall.
I moved on.
Moved on to washing the deck. This deck is very slippery when wet. I have floated across it many a time in my flip-flops, hoping that I won't take a header over the edge before I gain some sort of traction. I bought the 30 second cleaner at the hardware store, that I went to totally forgetting I still had a face full of goo from the gutters. I know that the guys in my town can hardly wait to start dating a chick that leaves her home with wet moss on her face. So the 30 second cleaner, cleaned just like it promised. What it forgot to say was that your deck will become more slippery than anything ever seen when applied. Good news, the railing stopped my free fall. Deck cleaned.
Today I spent the morning applying the stain. I bought a tool that made it easier, supposedly. Of course being such a genius, I first stained my feet, my shoes, my pants, and a good portion of the lawn before getting the hang of the on and off switch. Tonight it is drying and looks ok.
None of these things are amazing events. They won't make the paper or the news, but tonight drinking my latte and staring out the window at the deck, I am proud. I did this. I saw. I conquered. Sure the gutters can say they kicked my ass but they would be wrong. I am strong and powerful and those weeds are GOING DOWN.
I know I am luckier than some to own my home and in such a spectacular setting, that being said, it is hard work to keep this sucker up and trying to hold its own against the elements. We are losing. Though after this weekend, we have made up some ground.
This was a weekend/summer home. If there were problems, people came and fixed them, I just wrote the check. That has changed. I could write the check, there are just no funds to cover it. Plus, since I now live here full time, I want to learn some of this stuff. Though not ever the gutters, AGAIN. Seriously, this is a disgusting job and I really felt quite faint throughout the ordeal. Also, I got all wet. And cold. And covered with goo that I DON'T even want to know its origins. It ended up with a little bit of the gutters that I can't reach, even with a ladder and now the weeds that are flourishing there, have been taunting me all day. ALL DAY I SAY! And for some small weeds they can really talk smack. I tried putting the hose on the super powerful stream and was promptly rewarded with a face full of goo but the weeds are standing tall.
I moved on.
Moved on to washing the deck. This deck is very slippery when wet. I have floated across it many a time in my flip-flops, hoping that I won't take a header over the edge before I gain some sort of traction. I bought the 30 second cleaner at the hardware store, that I went to totally forgetting I still had a face full of goo from the gutters. I know that the guys in my town can hardly wait to start dating a chick that leaves her home with wet moss on her face. So the 30 second cleaner, cleaned just like it promised. What it forgot to say was that your deck will become more slippery than anything ever seen when applied. Good news, the railing stopped my free fall. Deck cleaned.
Today I spent the morning applying the stain. I bought a tool that made it easier, supposedly. Of course being such a genius, I first stained my feet, my shoes, my pants, and a good portion of the lawn before getting the hang of the on and off switch. Tonight it is drying and looks ok.
None of these things are amazing events. They won't make the paper or the news, but tonight drinking my latte and staring out the window at the deck, I am proud. I did this. I saw. I conquered. Sure the gutters can say they kicked my ass but they would be wrong. I am strong and powerful and those weeds are GOING DOWN.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Early afternoon buffet
So here at the coast we are yet again having some sort of fish run. Earlier in the summer we had herring and anchovies. Now it is something larger and equally as gross as the early fish. The birds love this and that makes me happy. They leave a trillion disgusting fish skeletons with the heads still attached EVERYWHERE, this makes me not happy.
Now you might say to yourself "why does this have anything to do with you, birds need to eat too, you selfish horrible hater of nature?"
The reason would be that since I own the bird brain of dogs (cute, the way I threw in bird there! just keepin' ya on your toes) Olive will eat the remains, free of charge, happy to do it.
Not just one, or two, or twenty, or 100 but every single one she finds. I've yet to see her not eat one. Again no need to explain that fish bones are not good for dogs. I'm all over that page. Explaining it to Olive, a whole different ball game.
Yesterday I thought it was a fluke. She saw, she scarfed, she waited until she got home to puke, she is kind that way.
Today, same thing, only now she is on to me and while she can't remember we have a dining room wall and runs head first into it every morning on the way to breakfast, she can remember that if you get to close to me I will put the leash back on and that will close down the early afternoon buffet. So she dances and prances and wags her tail all with a horrible fish skeleton dangling from her mouth. Luckily I have a heavy constitution, even so it is truly one of the most disturbing sights you will see.
These are remains that not even CROWS will eat and I thought they ate everything. Yet, there is my dog chowing down and hoping to find some dipping sauce to go along with the meal.
We cut our walk short. We will not be walking on the beach until whatever is vacationing here is gone. Soon I hope.
Of course, walking home a gull flew overhead and dropped a skeleton in front of the worlds dumbest dog. I think I may have a dislocated shoulder from her lunging for the dessert that plopped right from the sky. Now she sits in the front yard, scanning the heavens, in the hope that a small evening snack will appear.
Now you might say to yourself "why does this have anything to do with you, birds need to eat too, you selfish horrible hater of nature?"
The reason would be that since I own the bird brain of dogs (cute, the way I threw in bird there! just keepin' ya on your toes) Olive will eat the remains, free of charge, happy to do it.
Not just one, or two, or twenty, or 100 but every single one she finds. I've yet to see her not eat one. Again no need to explain that fish bones are not good for dogs. I'm all over that page. Explaining it to Olive, a whole different ball game.
Yesterday I thought it was a fluke. She saw, she scarfed, she waited until she got home to puke, she is kind that way.
Today, same thing, only now she is on to me and while she can't remember we have a dining room wall and runs head first into it every morning on the way to breakfast, she can remember that if you get to close to me I will put the leash back on and that will close down the early afternoon buffet. So she dances and prances and wags her tail all with a horrible fish skeleton dangling from her mouth. Luckily I have a heavy constitution, even so it is truly one of the most disturbing sights you will see.
These are remains that not even CROWS will eat and I thought they ate everything. Yet, there is my dog chowing down and hoping to find some dipping sauce to go along with the meal.
We cut our walk short. We will not be walking on the beach until whatever is vacationing here is gone. Soon I hope.
Of course, walking home a gull flew overhead and dropped a skeleton in front of the worlds dumbest dog. I think I may have a dislocated shoulder from her lunging for the dessert that plopped right from the sky. Now she sits in the front yard, scanning the heavens, in the hope that a small evening snack will appear.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
I'll hold the lamp
So today it is a craft project reveal.
I have this light in my dining room. I bought it a few years ago and it is not every one's cup of tea but I like it, only it is a little plain.
I thought of painting it but since I paint everything these days and I was seriously missing my decoupage medium, I chose to decoupage it.
I decided to use tissue paper. I want to thank Starbucks for the lovely tissue paper. In this economy, you are lucky to even get a nice bag, so I was pleasantly surprised when I bought a cup and they wrapped it in lovely paper. Being a pack rat, I put it away for a future project. Today I used it. The tissue paper came in a light white with brown words and a light brown with white words. I used one color on each hand.
Working with tissue paper is different than other paper. The same reason that makes it wonderful to use, is the same reason that makes it a pain in the ass to use, it is fragile. I don't use it for projects where a smooth surface is required, since it hardly ever lays flat, but in this case, hands, the wrinkly the better.
I ripped up the tissue paper. I wanted rough edges and different size pieces. Then I went to town. First layer the decoupage medium on and lay the paper down. Add more medium on top. Pat the paper down, this will work better than brushing which has a tendency to tear the paper. Even if that happens, who cares, it will look great when you are done. I take a smaller brush, that is dry, and I use that to poke the paper into the crevices. I use the end of the brush to roll out any glue bubbles and to make sure the edges are sealed nicely. You don't have to do this, what ever floats your boat. Using decoupage is a wonderful medium, there is absolutely no right or wrong way. It is whatever you like.
I used some black tissue paper to make it seem like a light base that she is holding and because these days I am all about the tats, I gave the other hand a tattoo, that says live with intention.
I need a different light bulb in the base, one that seems more like a candle which I ordered from a company in Portland today.
I like it, though if I had to do it over again, I think I would make both hands the same brown paper. I like the finish on that paper more than the white, but not enough to redo it right now. Also I may do some painting on the fingernails and add some rings and things, not really sure yet. I have that whole less is more thing going on in my head and I can't decide if it will hang around or not.
Not everyone will like the fact that I have hands protruding from the wall and that is A-OK, for me it works. So look around your house and see if you can redo something into a statement all about your tastes.
I leave you with a photo of Herbie and Olive sleeping. I think Herbie must have some sort of tumor since he never lets Olive sleep next to him. Right after I took the photo, she touched his paw and that was the end of the peaceful kingdom. It was beautiful while it lasted.
I have this light in my dining room. I bought it a few years ago and it is not every one's cup of tea but I like it, only it is a little plain.
I thought of painting it but since I paint everything these days and I was seriously missing my decoupage medium, I chose to decoupage it.I decided to use tissue paper. I want to thank Starbucks for the lovely tissue paper. In this economy, you are lucky to even get a nice bag, so I was pleasantly surprised when I bought a cup and they wrapped it in lovely paper. Being a pack rat, I put it away for a future project. Today I used it. The tissue paper came in a light white with brown words and a light brown with white words. I used one color on each hand.
Working with tissue paper is different than other paper. The same reason that makes it wonderful to use, is the same reason that makes it a pain in the ass to use, it is fragile. I don't use it for projects where a smooth surface is required, since it hardly ever lays flat, but in this case, hands, the wrinkly the better.
I ripped up the tissue paper. I wanted rough edges and different size pieces. Then I went to town. First layer the decoupage medium on and lay the paper down. Add more medium on top. Pat the paper down, this will work better than brushing which has a tendency to tear the paper. Even if that happens, who cares, it will look great when you are done. I take a smaller brush, that is dry, and I use that to poke the paper into the crevices. I use the end of the brush to roll out any glue bubbles and to make sure the edges are sealed nicely. You don't have to do this, what ever floats your boat. Using decoupage is a wonderful medium, there is absolutely no right or wrong way. It is whatever you like.
I used some black tissue paper to make it seem like a light base that she is holding and because these days I am all about the tats, I gave the other hand a tattoo, that says live with intention.
I need a different light bulb in the base, one that seems more like a candle which I ordered from a company in Portland today.
I like it, though if I had to do it over again, I think I would make both hands the same brown paper. I like the finish on that paper more than the white, but not enough to redo it right now. Also I may do some painting on the fingernails and add some rings and things, not really sure yet. I have that whole less is more thing going on in my head and I can't decide if it will hang around or not.Not everyone will like the fact that I have hands protruding from the wall and that is A-OK, for me it works. So look around your house and see if you can redo something into a statement all about your tastes.
I leave you with a photo of Herbie and Olive sleeping. I think Herbie must have some sort of tumor since he never lets Olive sleep next to him. Right after I took the photo, she touched his paw and that was the end of the peaceful kingdom. It was beautiful while it lasted.
A billion degrees
So what does everyone do when it is one billion degrees and the first day of Fall? Decorate their fireplace mantle? Why, you do it too? that is what I did today.
It is hot here. 92 to be exact. Now this might not be hot where you live, but by the coast it is pretty darn warm. It smells like seaweed and crabs. There is no breeze and we actually have a layer of smog, which will make for a nice sunset later but right now looks a little gross.
So after watering the outside plants, I looked around for a project that just requires time and no cash, since I don't got any of one and a whole bunch of the other. I have been looking for a job but it is slow going, so for the time being I am trying to keep busy and remain positive.
On to the fireplace. I love fireplaces and would happily have one in every room of my home. The one in the living room is really nice. I switched it over from wood to gas a few years ago since I had some issues with birds flying down the chimney and residing on the bottom of the fireplace. I had a chimney top put on, still down they came. Finally, I just switched it over and have been thrilled with it since.
This fireplace has a large mantel with POWER right in the middle of it. The best thing ever. I wish all fireplace mantels would come with power, it makes the holidays so much simpler.
Now I know the whole thing about "Less being More" and "Simple is better" and "decorating with 3's or 5's instead of 2's." I know all of these things and I don't follow one of them. Less is never more for me. I try and dream of a minimalist room but it happens to not be in my dna. I like stuff. I would like less stuff but still I like a lot of stuff.
Here is the before:
And here is the after:
Some things remained the same since I have no where else to put them that they will be safe. The red mannequin came from the Revlon counter in the San Francisco Nordstrom. A few years ago they sold off some store room stuff from the early years and I was lucky enough to get this and a Revlon mirror, which I use in my bathroom over the sink. The little lamp is made of celluloid and spins when it is turned on, there are four different bathing suit beauties. The giant stork is also celluloid and I like him.
Those are the stock items, they don't change. The little green cabinet houses part of the frog collection, it could move, I just happen to like it there. So today I added the bird house with a goat on the front porch, who knows why, I just walk to a different drummer. Also books, because they are my true love. I made the boo banner and the white pumpkin for Halloween. Instead of a garland hanging in front of the fireplace, I hung vintage sand shovels.
Under my cloche are three vintage weebles, Fred, Wilma, and Pebbles Flintstones. I may start to collect little weebles, since they wobble but they don't fall down. I haven't quite made up my mind yet, but the Flintstones are here to stay. Yabba Dabba Do!
I put up the pitcher and the plate of my vintage dog china. Since the move I haven't been able to locate the cup and I hope I packed it. I rounded out the rest of the mantle with a set of polar bears, another light, and a bunch of candles.
I like it. I know it is still crowded and not really balanced and yadda yadda yadda but it is my mantle so it stays. At least until I unpack another box and find yet another thing I JUST CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT.
P.S. - The heat has fried my brain! I didn't take a picture of the weebles, anyway here they are in all their little wobbly glory. Enjoy!
It is hot here. 92 to be exact. Now this might not be hot where you live, but by the coast it is pretty darn warm. It smells like seaweed and crabs. There is no breeze and we actually have a layer of smog, which will make for a nice sunset later but right now looks a little gross.
So after watering the outside plants, I looked around for a project that just requires time and no cash, since I don't got any of one and a whole bunch of the other. I have been looking for a job but it is slow going, so for the time being I am trying to keep busy and remain positive.
On to the fireplace. I love fireplaces and would happily have one in every room of my home. The one in the living room is really nice. I switched it over from wood to gas a few years ago since I had some issues with birds flying down the chimney and residing on the bottom of the fireplace. I had a chimney top put on, still down they came. Finally, I just switched it over and have been thrilled with it since.
This fireplace has a large mantel with POWER right in the middle of it. The best thing ever. I wish all fireplace mantels would come with power, it makes the holidays so much simpler.
Now I know the whole thing about "Less being More" and "Simple is better" and "decorating with 3's or 5's instead of 2's." I know all of these things and I don't follow one of them. Less is never more for me. I try and dream of a minimalist room but it happens to not be in my dna. I like stuff. I would like less stuff but still I like a lot of stuff.
Here is the before:
And here is the after:
Some things remained the same since I have no where else to put them that they will be safe. The red mannequin came from the Revlon counter in the San Francisco Nordstrom. A few years ago they sold off some store room stuff from the early years and I was lucky enough to get this and a Revlon mirror, which I use in my bathroom over the sink. The little lamp is made of celluloid and spins when it is turned on, there are four different bathing suit beauties. The giant stork is also celluloid and I like him.
Those are the stock items, they don't change. The little green cabinet houses part of the frog collection, it could move, I just happen to like it there. So today I added the bird house with a goat on the front porch, who knows why, I just walk to a different drummer. Also books, because they are my true love. I made the boo banner and the white pumpkin for Halloween. Instead of a garland hanging in front of the fireplace, I hung vintage sand shovels.
Under my cloche are three vintage weebles, Fred, Wilma, and Pebbles Flintstones. I may start to collect little weebles, since they wobble but they don't fall down. I haven't quite made up my mind yet, but the Flintstones are here to stay. Yabba Dabba Do!
I put up the pitcher and the plate of my vintage dog china. Since the move I haven't been able to locate the cup and I hope I packed it. I rounded out the rest of the mantle with a set of polar bears, another light, and a bunch of candles.
I like it. I know it is still crowded and not really balanced and yadda yadda yadda but it is my mantle so it stays. At least until I unpack another box and find yet another thing I JUST CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT.
P.S. - The heat has fried my brain! I didn't take a picture of the weebles, anyway here they are in all their little wobbly glory. Enjoy!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Creativity
Here we are all adjusting to living without a school schedule. I have started to try and get up at the normal time. Do my normal things. I'm not quite there yet but I have made a good start.
Today was the first day I went back to crafting. I have no crafting talent anymore. I don't know what has happened. I guess it fell out of the moving truck on the way here, or maybe I didn't pack it at all.
I sat and looked at my supplies, all in a big mess. I pulled out my projects that I had started for Halloween, they were horrible. I now craft in the basement. It is bigger than my last space but it is not filling me up with creativity.
I'm hoping that this is all temporary. After all I have gone through some major changes all at one time, at least that is what I am telling myself.
Could it be that talent evaporates? You have a finite amount and once it is gone, Good by! Can it be that you just feel overloaded and tired? so creativity just takes a back seat? or in my case, no seat at all. It missed the bus altogether.
I hope not. Crafting is what I am good at. Not just good, great. I will be heartbroken if it is gone.
So I guess I will watch tv, read a book, walk on the beach and maybe, just maybe, when I least expect it, Creativity will tap me on the shoulder and want to walk with me for a while.
Today was the first day I went back to crafting. I have no crafting talent anymore. I don't know what has happened. I guess it fell out of the moving truck on the way here, or maybe I didn't pack it at all.
I sat and looked at my supplies, all in a big mess. I pulled out my projects that I had started for Halloween, they were horrible. I now craft in the basement. It is bigger than my last space but it is not filling me up with creativity.
I'm hoping that this is all temporary. After all I have gone through some major changes all at one time, at least that is what I am telling myself.
Could it be that talent evaporates? You have a finite amount and once it is gone, Good by! Can it be that you just feel overloaded and tired? so creativity just takes a back seat? or in my case, no seat at all. It missed the bus altogether.
I hope not. Crafting is what I am good at. Not just good, great. I will be heartbroken if it is gone.
So I guess I will watch tv, read a book, walk on the beach and maybe, just maybe, when I least expect it, Creativity will tap me on the shoulder and want to walk with me for a while.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Twins
I am back from my whirlwind trip to Chicago. Fast and Furious. It was all good. Chicago is one expensive city.
The kid is all moved into his dorm. He resides on the fourth floor, with no elevator I might add, so carrying that mini-fridge was very hard on the cab driver we hired. It was also hard on the helper dude who carried up the 44 lb suitcase that I was in charge off. I carried up some bottled water and that was HARD, I also had my purse, so I was really working it.
Dropping off your college kids, is quite the experience. As far as I could figure it went something like, the moms crying and carrying in Rubbermaid clear containers marked with cookies and beautiful bedding, the dads hardly slowing the car down and trying to get the kids to just leap out.
The girls are SO WAY AHEAD of the boys it isn't even funny. The boys bring a pen, a mini-fridge and pants. The girls, they bring the entire pottery barn catalog as well as a small terrace that comes complete with flowers, a chaise lounge and a water feature. The boys have two small boxes and the girls need twelve camels to carry their items. I want a girl!
We headed to Target to buy the multitude of weird items that a dorm room needs. A clock, a light, clear plastic containers, hangers, something called a shower caddy, and flip-flops you can wear in the shower. All of our items are beige, black or white. The girls, get turquoise, pink, purple, yellow, magenta, mint green, light blue, the entire pastel color wheel is theirs.
I tackled a Target employee and got the last mini fridge in the entire town. Yeah me. It is black. Not yeah me. I bought black hangers, white containers. I did sneak in a lime green little table because I am such a rebel.
We bought our items. We paid for our items. We loaded our items in the cart. I turned around to get the receipt from the cashier. Someone stole my cart. Yep, my cart. RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TARGET STORE. At first your mind goes blank, GONE, the entire cart, THE HANGERS. Someone seriously just stole HANGERS. AND A SHOWER CADDY. This is one desperate thief.
The cashier asks me "Did I take it out to the car?" "The car!" I shout "I have been standing in front of you the ENTIRE time having a conversation. Did you think I blinked myself to the parking lot and back in the time it took to ring up the pack of gum?" The cashier gets another cashier and yet another. It is a small gathering of cashiers to discuss my cart. Where is my cart? WHERE IS MY CART? The police are called. The story is told. MY CART. MY. CART. IS. GONE. Gone, it is not that hard to explain. One moment, here. Next moment, Gone.
Target has no idea what to do. They twirl around. They look at the return counter. They check out the snack bar. They walkie-talkie, which I can only assume would be more cashiers. Maybe they are the brilliant cashiers and can find my cart. I am getting angry. The kid is staring at me.
Next thing I know, a old man, a very, very old man comes up to me and says "This is not my cart." I look at the cart. It is my cart. He explains that as he was loading it into his car, none of these things were items he could remember buying. He did not need a lamp or flip flops that can go into the shower. He had gone into the restroom, came out and just grabbed whatever cart was closest to him and headed out to the parking lot. Oh he was sorry. In fact, he said, look here, this is my cart. Look at how similar they are. Twins if you will. Identical twins. I look. I look again.
His cart had a container of gatorade. Yep, twins.
The kid is all moved into his dorm. He resides on the fourth floor, with no elevator I might add, so carrying that mini-fridge was very hard on the cab driver we hired. It was also hard on the helper dude who carried up the 44 lb suitcase that I was in charge off. I carried up some bottled water and that was HARD, I also had my purse, so I was really working it.
Dropping off your college kids, is quite the experience. As far as I could figure it went something like, the moms crying and carrying in Rubbermaid clear containers marked with cookies and beautiful bedding, the dads hardly slowing the car down and trying to get the kids to just leap out.
The girls are SO WAY AHEAD of the boys it isn't even funny. The boys bring a pen, a mini-fridge and pants. The girls, they bring the entire pottery barn catalog as well as a small terrace that comes complete with flowers, a chaise lounge and a water feature. The boys have two small boxes and the girls need twelve camels to carry their items. I want a girl!
We headed to Target to buy the multitude of weird items that a dorm room needs. A clock, a light, clear plastic containers, hangers, something called a shower caddy, and flip-flops you can wear in the shower. All of our items are beige, black or white. The girls, get turquoise, pink, purple, yellow, magenta, mint green, light blue, the entire pastel color wheel is theirs.
I tackled a Target employee and got the last mini fridge in the entire town. Yeah me. It is black. Not yeah me. I bought black hangers, white containers. I did sneak in a lime green little table because I am such a rebel.
We bought our items. We paid for our items. We loaded our items in the cart. I turned around to get the receipt from the cashier. Someone stole my cart. Yep, my cart. RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TARGET STORE. At first your mind goes blank, GONE, the entire cart, THE HANGERS. Someone seriously just stole HANGERS. AND A SHOWER CADDY. This is one desperate thief.
The cashier asks me "Did I take it out to the car?" "The car!" I shout "I have been standing in front of you the ENTIRE time having a conversation. Did you think I blinked myself to the parking lot and back in the time it took to ring up the pack of gum?" The cashier gets another cashier and yet another. It is a small gathering of cashiers to discuss my cart. Where is my cart? WHERE IS MY CART? The police are called. The story is told. MY CART. MY. CART. IS. GONE. Gone, it is not that hard to explain. One moment, here. Next moment, Gone.
Target has no idea what to do. They twirl around. They look at the return counter. They check out the snack bar. They walkie-talkie, which I can only assume would be more cashiers. Maybe they are the brilliant cashiers and can find my cart. I am getting angry. The kid is staring at me.
Next thing I know, a old man, a very, very old man comes up to me and says "This is not my cart." I look at the cart. It is my cart. He explains that as he was loading it into his car, none of these things were items he could remember buying. He did not need a lamp or flip flops that can go into the shower. He had gone into the restroom, came out and just grabbed whatever cart was closest to him and headed out to the parking lot. Oh he was sorry. In fact, he said, look here, this is my cart. Look at how similar they are. Twins if you will. Identical twins. I look. I look again.
His cart had a container of gatorade. Yep, twins.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Sadness
Tonight the kid and I had his big going away to college dinner. We got all dressed up and headed to Gearhart to celebrate.
While I sat there and listened to him talk about his future, his plans, his hopes and dreams, his life, I remembered 8 years ago.
He was heading off to his first day of fifth grade. His first day at a new school. The tv was on, which was odd since we never had it on in the morning. I was nervous. He was nervous. We were hardly paying attention to anything but the butterfly feelings we were experiencing. The tv was in the back ground. When the tv suddenly became the focus. The events that were taking place. The horror that was unfolding before our very eyes. It was as if the entire morning took on a slow motion effect, I couldn't look away. I turned off the tv and headed off to school, his first day, now not important and yet, so important, as if I was searching for normal that wasn't going to be found ever again.
The school was packed. Parents shocked and kids, thankfully, unaware. We left in huge groups. People we didn't know meeting up with other people we didn't know and yet we needed them. We grouped together on the sidewalk and watched tv through the window. And cried. And didn't understand. And hurt. Oh, the hurt, so unbelievable painful. Hugged and moved on to our cars and headed to our home. Home that a few hours ago had been a sanctuary and now, now just seemed broken.
The ex and I walked our dog. Our neighborhood was quiet, since we are on the flight path and all flights had been grounded. The neighbors were out, somber, scared, shaken, just like we were. Hugs were exchanged. For a moment, we were all one. One large group trying to make sense of a senseless act. Trying to decided how to regroup, how to explain to children the unexplainable. How to make sense of something that had no rhyme or reason. In the end, it was people hugging, crying and just giving in to the emotion of unbelievable sadness.
Now it is eight years later. Time has gone on and the raw emotion of that day has passed. Yet, has it really? Doesn't everyone remember where they were? How they felt? What they did? How they reached out? That kindness and compassion were what we gave away in abundance. Expecting nothing in return. Isn't that how it is suppose to be?
Tonight, as I watched a bubbly, enthusiastic eighteen year old get ready to embark on the start of his adult life, I gave a thought to that day, and the parents who don't get to have this moment. My heart broke all over again.
While I sat there and listened to him talk about his future, his plans, his hopes and dreams, his life, I remembered 8 years ago.
He was heading off to his first day of fifth grade. His first day at a new school. The tv was on, which was odd since we never had it on in the morning. I was nervous. He was nervous. We were hardly paying attention to anything but the butterfly feelings we were experiencing. The tv was in the back ground. When the tv suddenly became the focus. The events that were taking place. The horror that was unfolding before our very eyes. It was as if the entire morning took on a slow motion effect, I couldn't look away. I turned off the tv and headed off to school, his first day, now not important and yet, so important, as if I was searching for normal that wasn't going to be found ever again.
The school was packed. Parents shocked and kids, thankfully, unaware. We left in huge groups. People we didn't know meeting up with other people we didn't know and yet we needed them. We grouped together on the sidewalk and watched tv through the window. And cried. And didn't understand. And hurt. Oh, the hurt, so unbelievable painful. Hugged and moved on to our cars and headed to our home. Home that a few hours ago had been a sanctuary and now, now just seemed broken.
The ex and I walked our dog. Our neighborhood was quiet, since we are on the flight path and all flights had been grounded. The neighbors were out, somber, scared, shaken, just like we were. Hugs were exchanged. For a moment, we were all one. One large group trying to make sense of a senseless act. Trying to decided how to regroup, how to explain to children the unexplainable. How to make sense of something that had no rhyme or reason. In the end, it was people hugging, crying and just giving in to the emotion of unbelievable sadness.
Now it is eight years later. Time has gone on and the raw emotion of that day has passed. Yet, has it really? Doesn't everyone remember where they were? How they felt? What they did? How they reached out? That kindness and compassion were what we gave away in abundance. Expecting nothing in return. Isn't that how it is suppose to be?
Tonight, as I watched a bubbly, enthusiastic eighteen year old get ready to embark on the start of his adult life, I gave a thought to that day, and the parents who don't get to have this moment. My heart broke all over again.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Just call me Ms. Fancy Pants
I have tv in MY BEDROOM. I'm a fancy pants.
This tv has resided in my kitchen for two years. Yep, TWO YEARS, PEOPLE. I have used it as an island, an additional serving table, and a place to hold laundry.
It has sat there so long, in the box, that the warranty expired, AS WELL AS THE ADDITIONAL YEAR we bought.
Now it resides in a cabinet over the fireplace. A cabinet built by some nice handy dandy construction men and painted by the kid and I. Today the construction men came back and plopped that tv in and got the cable going as well.
I will need to do some sort of project on the doors since they are just white right now but it looks super.
The kitchen is spacious and almost looks naked without the giant brown Costco box. I don't miss it.
This is one of the best things about my schedule, I just got it done. The ex put everything off till the next day, or the day after that, or the year after that. In the long run, I saved a boatload of money by hiring the construction men. They came, they saw, they built, and they left. No running 32 times to Home Depot, no mismeasuring, no blowing fuses, no trips to the hospital. Just two days of work and DONE. And it works, with only ONE REMOTE.
The tv in the living room, which was installed by the ex, takes 6 remotes, reaching behind the tv and flipping some switches on this little box until the picture comes on, aiming one remote at the ceiling, another remote at the floor, and turning around 3 times counterclockwise and finally crying "Oh for the love of all things holy just bring up the flippin' episode of GLEE." Sometimes it works and other times I lay on the floor and cry.
Now I can just go upstairs, open a door, push a button and that is it. No crying, which will save me so much more time to whine about the stuff that is really important, HOW IN THE HELL CAN OLIVE STILL GET OUT OF THE YARD BUT NOT GET BACK IN.
This tv has resided in my kitchen for two years. Yep, TWO YEARS, PEOPLE. I have used it as an island, an additional serving table, and a place to hold laundry.
It has sat there so long, in the box, that the warranty expired, AS WELL AS THE ADDITIONAL YEAR we bought.
Now it resides in a cabinet over the fireplace. A cabinet built by some nice handy dandy construction men and painted by the kid and I. Today the construction men came back and plopped that tv in and got the cable going as well.
I will need to do some sort of project on the doors since they are just white right now but it looks super.
The kitchen is spacious and almost looks naked without the giant brown Costco box. I don't miss it.
This is one of the best things about my schedule, I just got it done. The ex put everything off till the next day, or the day after that, or the year after that. In the long run, I saved a boatload of money by hiring the construction men. They came, they saw, they built, and they left. No running 32 times to Home Depot, no mismeasuring, no blowing fuses, no trips to the hospital. Just two days of work and DONE. And it works, with only ONE REMOTE.
The tv in the living room, which was installed by the ex, takes 6 remotes, reaching behind the tv and flipping some switches on this little box until the picture comes on, aiming one remote at the ceiling, another remote at the floor, and turning around 3 times counterclockwise and finally crying "Oh for the love of all things holy just bring up the flippin' episode of GLEE." Sometimes it works and other times I lay on the floor and cry.
Now I can just go upstairs, open a door, push a button and that is it. No crying, which will save me so much more time to whine about the stuff that is really important, HOW IN THE HELL CAN OLIVE STILL GET OUT OF THE YARD BUT NOT GET BACK IN.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Fall
So this weekend we had our first big storm. It said "Fall is on its way!" I chose to cover my ears and hide my head in the sand.
What a simply delightful summer this has been. Maybe it is because things are looking up for me or it could because I feel happier than I have in years. The days have been warm, sunny and full of lovely times. The kid and I have gotten along well and settled into our new life.
I think summer rewarded us this year. Finally it has let me catch a break, I have taken a breath, regrouped, and am now on my way.
The storm this weekend was a doozy. The wind howled and hit the house with a fury. The rains came down, sideways, and up from the ground all at once. Lightening lit up the sea and thunder shook the single panes of glass. As always, the house held its ground and at one time I'm pretty sure I heard it shout back with anger.
The dogs curled up by the fire and growled when the thunder attempted to enter the home. The lights flickered off and on but the candles provided all the light I needed. The bird chirped his displeasure of the whole fiasco until I covered him up for the night. Soon the sounds of the storm were even too much for me and I headed off to bed.
I had the fire going in the bedroom and the bed was filled with cushy, vintage linens. The four poster bed felt like a safe harbor and I was glad to snuggle down. The laptop was fully charged and ready for a night of tv viewing, with or without power. The lights were off and the fire light made shadows on the walls. The storm came in with more fury, I turned up the volume and adjusted the comforter higher around me. The house stood still but the wind came in through the windows with a slightly whining sound, just enough to make the candlelight flicker.
In a weird way, it was nice. So powerful. So mean and fearful. So very loud. I turned off the laptop and blew out the candle. Laid in the cushy, warm bed and listened to the storm. In the morning, gone. Blue skies and sun greeted me through the window. Almost like a fight. You think it will last forever, things will never go back the way they were. It does. The sun came through the window. The surfers were back out on the wild, wild waves. The wind had hidden away for the day and soft, fluffy clouds floated by.
So even though summer hasn't officially ended, I know it will, sooner than I would like and I am ok with that. Bring on the storms, I know I am more than capable of handling them. In fact, I like them.
What a simply delightful summer this has been. Maybe it is because things are looking up for me or it could because I feel happier than I have in years. The days have been warm, sunny and full of lovely times. The kid and I have gotten along well and settled into our new life.
I think summer rewarded us this year. Finally it has let me catch a break, I have taken a breath, regrouped, and am now on my way.
The storm this weekend was a doozy. The wind howled and hit the house with a fury. The rains came down, sideways, and up from the ground all at once. Lightening lit up the sea and thunder shook the single panes of glass. As always, the house held its ground and at one time I'm pretty sure I heard it shout back with anger.
The dogs curled up by the fire and growled when the thunder attempted to enter the home. The lights flickered off and on but the candles provided all the light I needed. The bird chirped his displeasure of the whole fiasco until I covered him up for the night. Soon the sounds of the storm were even too much for me and I headed off to bed.
I had the fire going in the bedroom and the bed was filled with cushy, vintage linens. The four poster bed felt like a safe harbor and I was glad to snuggle down. The laptop was fully charged and ready for a night of tv viewing, with or without power. The lights were off and the fire light made shadows on the walls. The storm came in with more fury, I turned up the volume and adjusted the comforter higher around me. The house stood still but the wind came in through the windows with a slightly whining sound, just enough to make the candlelight flicker.
In a weird way, it was nice. So powerful. So mean and fearful. So very loud. I turned off the laptop and blew out the candle. Laid in the cushy, warm bed and listened to the storm. In the morning, gone. Blue skies and sun greeted me through the window. Almost like a fight. You think it will last forever, things will never go back the way they were. It does. The sun came through the window. The surfers were back out on the wild, wild waves. The wind had hidden away for the day and soft, fluffy clouds floated by.
So even though summer hasn't officially ended, I know it will, sooner than I would like and I am ok with that. Bring on the storms, I know I am more than capable of handling them. In fact, I like them.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Older, happier me!
I have gained some weight. Not a lot, not like, oh, say 80 lbs or anything, more like 5 or 8 lbs.
One of the key aspects to getting older, is the notion of not sweating the small stuff. Shrugging your shoulders and just letting go. Whatever!
The younger me would have had a fit. Would have fought tooth and nail over everything. Must win the battle, the war, and everything in between. The older me, not so much. Am I tired? Am I wiser? Am I laying on the ground with the stuffing beat out of me and I just can't rise anymore?
No. I'm just smarter.
I know the treadmill is waiting in the garage. The I-pod is loaded with fast paced songs that equal the amount of time I need to stay on the treadmill. The fridge has spinach, carrots, and a chicken breast awaiting a salad to be made. The 100 calorie packs are lined up like little ducks all in a row. The new exercise outfit is one size too small, so it squeezes me in all the wrong places.
All this I know. Just like I know that the weight will go back down and in all honesty will probably go back up sometime as well. Just like I know that I will feel like death on the treadmill the first few times.
Because I am older and wiser, I am content with the knowing and the doing. I don't spend so much time fighting against the ropes, I just put on my big girl panties and DO it. I know I will succeed and be happy because of it. This is what getting older has taught me. Patience, perseverance, ability, and the knowledge of how to put it all together.
Youth is good. I am reminded of youth, when I sit cross-legged for too long and get up to the sound of some large crackle sounds, which I am pretty sure, can't be good news. I like youth but truth be told, I like the age I am now just fine. I like the face that stares back at me from a mirror, lines and all. I like the body I have, even heavier than I would like to be.
I like the whole package of me. It reminds me of where I have been and where I am going. I like the comfort of age, the acceptance that I will never be a ballerina or a trapeze artist. I like knowing I am funny and kind, that I am not patient, and I tend to talk over people.
The youthful me would have been bothered and fretful about the things I am not. The older me is happy that I am here, right here and now, flaws, treadmills, salads, and all.
One of the key aspects to getting older, is the notion of not sweating the small stuff. Shrugging your shoulders and just letting go. Whatever!
The younger me would have had a fit. Would have fought tooth and nail over everything. Must win the battle, the war, and everything in between. The older me, not so much. Am I tired? Am I wiser? Am I laying on the ground with the stuffing beat out of me and I just can't rise anymore?
No. I'm just smarter.
I know the treadmill is waiting in the garage. The I-pod is loaded with fast paced songs that equal the amount of time I need to stay on the treadmill. The fridge has spinach, carrots, and a chicken breast awaiting a salad to be made. The 100 calorie packs are lined up like little ducks all in a row. The new exercise outfit is one size too small, so it squeezes me in all the wrong places.
All this I know. Just like I know that the weight will go back down and in all honesty will probably go back up sometime as well. Just like I know that I will feel like death on the treadmill the first few times.
Because I am older and wiser, I am content with the knowing and the doing. I don't spend so much time fighting against the ropes, I just put on my big girl panties and DO it. I know I will succeed and be happy because of it. This is what getting older has taught me. Patience, perseverance, ability, and the knowledge of how to put it all together.
Youth is good. I am reminded of youth, when I sit cross-legged for too long and get up to the sound of some large crackle sounds, which I am pretty sure, can't be good news. I like youth but truth be told, I like the age I am now just fine. I like the face that stares back at me from a mirror, lines and all. I like the body I have, even heavier than I would like to be.
I like the whole package of me. It reminds me of where I have been and where I am going. I like the comfort of age, the acceptance that I will never be a ballerina or a trapeze artist. I like knowing I am funny and kind, that I am not patient, and I tend to talk over people.
The youthful me would have been bothered and fretful about the things I am not. The older me is happy that I am here, right here and now, flaws, treadmills, salads, and all.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Internet
So hammering, sawing and punching new holes in my walls have ensued.
Since I was in for a penny, in for a pound kind of mood, I decided to get internet. I have internet, I think. Though it seems to come and go at will, and it is not my will that it is interested in. During the day, when I am busy and not on my computer, full speed internet. At night, when I have time and am on my computer, no speed internet.
I have bought new modems and new routers. I have changed from one company to the next and back again. I have purchased upgrades for computers. I have tried laptops and desktops. All have been to no avail. Sometimes it is on and sometimes it is off.
The kid can't get it in his room, which is right off the kitchen, but we can get it in the back yard. We can get it down the hall but not in the room where the router resides. We are in quite a pissy mood about this, well, mostly me and I'm pretty sure it is because I am in a pissy mood about everything.
Lovely internet dude shows up today. He is also the tv dude. We have tv. We have internet, as long as we ARE SITTING RIGHT ON THE ROUTER. What the hell! I don't own a mansion. My walls are not made of heavy steel. Crap, when it rains and the wind blows, you can feel it right in the living room. This house is not air tight. Yet, we are locked up like the federal depository when it comes to internet. Yep, that internet is NOT traveling.
The dude moves this and that. Unplugs this and that. Pushes this button and that button. Nothing. I can get the internet, the kid cannot. The kid can get internet, I cannot. On and on it goes. The dude starts to get annoyed, as if I had planned this very fun activity for his Thursday ON PURPOSE.
Finally, he decides he has done his level best to get us internet and so his job is done. As a parting gift, he explains he gets the internet AT HIS ENTIRE HOUSE and good luck to us. If we need additional service, please just give them a call back. ADDITIONAL SERVICE my ass! I need the regular service. I want internet in my whole home. The internet that I am paying for.
Now I have two internet companies. One so I can have internet and one so the kid can have internet. It is costing me a friggin fortune. I will just live with it for the time being since I have so much other stuff on my plate, but man, I really, really wish something, ANYTHING, in my life would have a easy button attached to it.
Since I was in for a penny, in for a pound kind of mood, I decided to get internet. I have internet, I think. Though it seems to come and go at will, and it is not my will that it is interested in. During the day, when I am busy and not on my computer, full speed internet. At night, when I have time and am on my computer, no speed internet.
I have bought new modems and new routers. I have changed from one company to the next and back again. I have purchased upgrades for computers. I have tried laptops and desktops. All have been to no avail. Sometimes it is on and sometimes it is off.
The kid can't get it in his room, which is right off the kitchen, but we can get it in the back yard. We can get it down the hall but not in the room where the router resides. We are in quite a pissy mood about this, well, mostly me and I'm pretty sure it is because I am in a pissy mood about everything.
Lovely internet dude shows up today. He is also the tv dude. We have tv. We have internet, as long as we ARE SITTING RIGHT ON THE ROUTER. What the hell! I don't own a mansion. My walls are not made of heavy steel. Crap, when it rains and the wind blows, you can feel it right in the living room. This house is not air tight. Yet, we are locked up like the federal depository when it comes to internet. Yep, that internet is NOT traveling.
The dude moves this and that. Unplugs this and that. Pushes this button and that button. Nothing. I can get the internet, the kid cannot. The kid can get internet, I cannot. On and on it goes. The dude starts to get annoyed, as if I had planned this very fun activity for his Thursday ON PURPOSE.
Finally, he decides he has done his level best to get us internet and so his job is done. As a parting gift, he explains he gets the internet AT HIS ENTIRE HOUSE and good luck to us. If we need additional service, please just give them a call back. ADDITIONAL SERVICE my ass! I need the regular service. I want internet in my whole home. The internet that I am paying for.
Now I have two internet companies. One so I can have internet and one so the kid can have internet. It is costing me a friggin fortune. I will just live with it for the time being since I have so much other stuff on my plate, but man, I really, really wish something, ANYTHING, in my life would have a easy button attached to it.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Searing off my retinas
Tomorrow starts my first, on my own, remodeling project.
The giant tv that has resided in my kitchen FOR TWO WHOLE YEARS, will finally be placed on the wall in my bedroom. What makes this even sadder, is the fact that I didn't want the tv in the first place.
The ex did. Maybe that should have been the first clue that some was wrong in my marriage, but I was oblivious. I don't watch that much tv in bed. I do however, play on my computer and read my blogs in bed, but the tv not so much.
Now it will be different. First off, this tv is HUGE. I will be able to see every show from the moon. When I lay in bed, it will feel like the actors are actual HUMAN SIZE. I will be scared.
Of course this is not stopping me from installing the thing. Mostly because for the last two years, I have had a giant hole in the wall awaiting the tv. The ex never could quite finish the job. He could start and then just drift on to something else, leaving the first job half done and a giant mess.
Since I have to have a tv, I am also installing a dvr. I think my tv's should work a little harder than they do. So now they will need to go out and FIND my tv shows and BRING THEM BACK TO ME.
So, if all goes according to plan, and let's face it, this is my life we are talking about, SO THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, on Saturday I will be watching actual human size people solving crimes right in my bedroom and searing off my retinas. Good times are coming.
The giant tv that has resided in my kitchen FOR TWO WHOLE YEARS, will finally be placed on the wall in my bedroom. What makes this even sadder, is the fact that I didn't want the tv in the first place.
The ex did. Maybe that should have been the first clue that some was wrong in my marriage, but I was oblivious. I don't watch that much tv in bed. I do however, play on my computer and read my blogs in bed, but the tv not so much.
Now it will be different. First off, this tv is HUGE. I will be able to see every show from the moon. When I lay in bed, it will feel like the actors are actual HUMAN SIZE. I will be scared.
Of course this is not stopping me from installing the thing. Mostly because for the last two years, I have had a giant hole in the wall awaiting the tv. The ex never could quite finish the job. He could start and then just drift on to something else, leaving the first job half done and a giant mess.
Since I have to have a tv, I am also installing a dvr. I think my tv's should work a little harder than they do. So now they will need to go out and FIND my tv shows and BRING THEM BACK TO ME.
So, if all goes according to plan, and let's face it, this is my life we are talking about, SO THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, on Saturday I will be watching actual human size people solving crimes right in my bedroom and searing off my retinas. Good times are coming.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sickly
For the last few days I have been sick. I have enjoyed this. It wasn't the sick where you are REALLY SICK and FEEL YOU MAY DIE AT ANY MOMENT. More of the kind where you just feel run down and that life is totally kicking your ass!
I assign time limits to my being sick. A cold - 1 hour. A headache - 30 minutes. A stomach ache - 15 minutes. Anything blood related - like a paper cut - 5 seconds (I really hate the sight of blood). It has been so long since I had the flu (knock on wood) or anything major that I have no time references for those. These time limits in no way work but I feel more in control if I tell my body to stop acting like a big cry baby and get well.
My body pretty much replies the same way every time - "SUCK IT!" and then it continues on its sickly way.
This time I just went with the flow. I wore sweatpants and a tank top. Put my hair up in a pony tail. Had a glass of water. Watched my delightful la femme Nikita (that Michael, what a very yummy man! - I'll take one to go, please) and basically played slug for two days.
I did nothing but sleep and lay in bed while whatever it was beat the stuffing out of me. Then like it had arrived, it was gone.
And I lost weight. What a deal!
I assign time limits to my being sick. A cold - 1 hour. A headache - 30 minutes. A stomach ache - 15 minutes. Anything blood related - like a paper cut - 5 seconds (I really hate the sight of blood). It has been so long since I had the flu (knock on wood) or anything major that I have no time references for those. These time limits in no way work but I feel more in control if I tell my body to stop acting like a big cry baby and get well.
My body pretty much replies the same way every time - "SUCK IT!" and then it continues on its sickly way.
This time I just went with the flow. I wore sweatpants and a tank top. Put my hair up in a pony tail. Had a glass of water. Watched my delightful la femme Nikita (that Michael, what a very yummy man! - I'll take one to go, please) and basically played slug for two days.
I did nothing but sleep and lay in bed while whatever it was beat the stuffing out of me. Then like it had arrived, it was gone.
And I lost weight. What a deal!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
My new BFF
I have been spray painting plastic outside furniture.
This is the best invention EVER. It seems all the outdoor furniture you buy, is some horrible color of black, or dark green, or even worse, WHITE. I have the dark green color. It was Costco, circa 2001. It has seen better days but I can't afford anything new right now, so I have just sucked it up.
Until a few days ago.
I stopped at the local hardware store the other day to pick up primer. On the way out the aisle, I saw plastic spray paint. I stopped. There was the normal colors, white, black, dark green, BLACH. But right below it, lovely colors, blues, light yellows, purple, pink, mint green. Just lovely. I picked up the hydrangea blue color. It was a lovely light blue, so I bought a can.
I first tried it on the dark green chair, the color ended up being a little darker because I didn't prime the chair first. I'm sure if I had primed it white, the color would have been a lovely light shade of blue. The darker color is fabulous though. Today I am doing the white chair, and it is turning out just wonderful.
It has made the chairs seem so beachy and new! I just gave them a quick wash outside with soap and water, then went to town. In a beach environment, I am going for a casual, comfy look, so I wasn't too careful with the paint. After the chairs, I am doing the little table that goes between them pink with a hydrangea blue middle. Then the dining table is going to be yellow with blue hydrangea chairs. The cushions are green and white, so I will have to find something to cover them in, maybe a white chenille.
My deck will look festive, and new and the best part is that it didn't cost an arm and a leg.
My new BFF is spray paint for plastic.
This is the best invention EVER. It seems all the outdoor furniture you buy, is some horrible color of black, or dark green, or even worse, WHITE. I have the dark green color. It was Costco, circa 2001. It has seen better days but I can't afford anything new right now, so I have just sucked it up.
Until a few days ago.
I stopped at the local hardware store the other day to pick up primer. On the way out the aisle, I saw plastic spray paint. I stopped. There was the normal colors, white, black, dark green, BLACH. But right below it, lovely colors, blues, light yellows, purple, pink, mint green. Just lovely. I picked up the hydrangea blue color. It was a lovely light blue, so I bought a can.
I first tried it on the dark green chair, the color ended up being a little darker because I didn't prime the chair first. I'm sure if I had primed it white, the color would have been a lovely light shade of blue. The darker color is fabulous though. Today I am doing the white chair, and it is turning out just wonderful.
It has made the chairs seem so beachy and new! I just gave them a quick wash outside with soap and water, then went to town. In a beach environment, I am going for a casual, comfy look, so I wasn't too careful with the paint. After the chairs, I am doing the little table that goes between them pink with a hydrangea blue middle. Then the dining table is going to be yellow with blue hydrangea chairs. The cushions are green and white, so I will have to find something to cover them in, maybe a white chenille.
My deck will look festive, and new and the best part is that it didn't cost an arm and a leg.
My new BFF is spray paint for plastic.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Feelin' the Love!
How an eighteen year old boy tells his mom he loves her.
I know you guessed he simply says "I love you, mom." No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Did you guess he hugs her? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Sends her a lovely card? Does the dishes for her? Cleans the house? Does the laundry? Turns off the lights when he leaves the room? Closes the front door so the dogs don't escape? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Lets her watch her tv shows? Listen to her music in the car? Doesn't roll his eyes and throw himself on the floor in the grips of phantom pain when he hears what is for dinner? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Comments on what an excellent driver she is? How nice she looks today? How sorry he is that her drivers license photo is the MOST UNATTRACTIVE PHOTO IN THE ENTIRE WORLD? That she is an superb parker? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Nope, the way you tell when an eighteen year old loves you . . . .
Is when he says please, OH PLEASE, don't volunteer at the animal shelter because their waiver form says they won't let you sue when you get rabies.
Yep, I am feelin' the love.
I know you guessed he simply says "I love you, mom." No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Did you guess he hugs her? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Sends her a lovely card? Does the dishes for her? Cleans the house? Does the laundry? Turns off the lights when he leaves the room? Closes the front door so the dogs don't escape? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Lets her watch her tv shows? Listen to her music in the car? Doesn't roll his eyes and throw himself on the floor in the grips of phantom pain when he hears what is for dinner? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Comments on what an excellent driver she is? How nice she looks today? How sorry he is that her drivers license photo is the MOST UNATTRACTIVE PHOTO IN THE ENTIRE WORLD? That she is an superb parker? No. Never. Ever. EVER.
Nope, the way you tell when an eighteen year old loves you . . . .
Is when he says please, OH PLEASE, don't volunteer at the animal shelter because their waiver form says they won't let you sue when you get rabies.
Yep, I am feelin' the love.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Pieces
We are on the count down to college.
I thought I was ready. I am a big fat liar.
I'm not.
He is ready. So energized, so happy, so excited.
I'm sad.
I can't talk about it.
I can't write about it.
My heart is broken in a million pieces.
I thought I was ready. I am a big fat liar.
I'm not.
He is ready. So energized, so happy, so excited.
I'm sad.
I can't talk about it.
I can't write about it.
My heart is broken in a million pieces.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Something is very wrong here!
Every day I try and do one thing that absolutely terrifies me. Today I tried to get health insurance.
I have been one of the lucky ones in this department. I have always had insurance since I was an adult. When I worked, I provided my own health care. After I became a stay at home mom, it was provided via the exes work. Now I am not working and I am not married, so I need to carry something on my own.
The kid is carried on the exes policy, so it is just me. Just old, totally unhealthy, me. I think I am very healthy. The insurance companies think otherwise. I have psoriasis, which is something you are born with. It is a skin disorder. I spend maybe $200.00 a year on lotion. It is the kiss of death in the insurance world. I get lumped with the same group as HIV/AIDS. It is labeled as "chronic" which it is, it just has different severity levels. I'm low. No one cares.
Since my life has gone tipsy-turvey, I take high blood pressure medicine. Another kiss of death. I have lost a bunch of weight, red flag. I had a C-section, red flag. The list goes on and on. I will never understand how a country as large and as intelligent as ours, can let this health care problem run unchecked. The insurance companies dictate and we follow, or in my case, don't follow.
Not one of us is perfect. Yet, we allow the insurance companies to say "NO, you are too fat" "NO, you are a smoker" "No, you are blond" "No, you are something or other" Sure I know all the talk of rising premiums. The cost that comes with obese people, or smokers, or people who don't exercise, or people with chronic illness, is amazing. Though even if you start to change your life, you are still penalized. Yes, I was fat at one time, sure the odds are good that I may be again, but the odds are also there that I may never be fat again. I exercise now, I hate it but I do it. I will continue to do it because I know the benefits it provides.
I hope to be off the high blood pressure medicine, but what if I can't achieve that goal? I am to have no coverage because I don't fit the profile for a "HEALTHY LIFESTYLE?" I run 5 miles a day, I eat low-fat, I watch what I drink, I maintain a positive attitude, and yet, I am "A high risk candidate."
Something is very wrong here.
I have been one of the lucky ones in this department. I have always had insurance since I was an adult. When I worked, I provided my own health care. After I became a stay at home mom, it was provided via the exes work. Now I am not working and I am not married, so I need to carry something on my own.
The kid is carried on the exes policy, so it is just me. Just old, totally unhealthy, me. I think I am very healthy. The insurance companies think otherwise. I have psoriasis, which is something you are born with. It is a skin disorder. I spend maybe $200.00 a year on lotion. It is the kiss of death in the insurance world. I get lumped with the same group as HIV/AIDS. It is labeled as "chronic" which it is, it just has different severity levels. I'm low. No one cares.
Since my life has gone tipsy-turvey, I take high blood pressure medicine. Another kiss of death. I have lost a bunch of weight, red flag. I had a C-section, red flag. The list goes on and on. I will never understand how a country as large and as intelligent as ours, can let this health care problem run unchecked. The insurance companies dictate and we follow, or in my case, don't follow.
Not one of us is perfect. Yet, we allow the insurance companies to say "NO, you are too fat" "NO, you are a smoker" "No, you are blond" "No, you are something or other" Sure I know all the talk of rising premiums. The cost that comes with obese people, or smokers, or people who don't exercise, or people with chronic illness, is amazing. Though even if you start to change your life, you are still penalized. Yes, I was fat at one time, sure the odds are good that I may be again, but the odds are also there that I may never be fat again. I exercise now, I hate it but I do it. I will continue to do it because I know the benefits it provides.
I hope to be off the high blood pressure medicine, but what if I can't achieve that goal? I am to have no coverage because I don't fit the profile for a "HEALTHY LIFESTYLE?" I run 5 miles a day, I eat low-fat, I watch what I drink, I maintain a positive attitude, and yet, I am "A high risk candidate."
Something is very wrong here.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Love that puppy away
Delicious weather we are having. Sunny, warm and it is just wonderful to go for long walks on the beach. We bring the dogs.
Everyone wants to talk to us about Olive. We are going to have a t-shirt made up for her to wear that states:
Herbie just marches on and pays no never mind. As far as he is concerned, Olive is a nut case and he lives for the day she disappears from his sight.
Today we stopped and had pizza in town. This is the only restaurant that has tables outside for the morons who bring their dogs into town. Also, it is a lovely place to stop and pollute the world with cigarette smoke while people eat. When lo and behold, we ran into another couple that had a Bernese Mountain dog. It was a male, about 5 months old. The look on Herbie's face was priceless.
Oh, what has the world done to me, THERE IS ANOTHER ONE. It is coming BY ME. It is STOPPING BY ME. It is SMELLING ME. SAVE ME.
When all of a sudden a change came right over Herbie. He started whining and leaping and just making the biggest fuss over that puppy. It was like he had just won the lottery, received the best Christmas gift ever, and his food bowl was NEVER ENDING. That puppy didn't know what to do, he had never been loved like this before. Frankly, it was a little frightening both to us and the puppy. Olive stared at Herbie, why he could be friendly! to a strange dog! not the dog that resided in the same home with him. The dog that sucks his head to get to the creamy center, the dog that yanks Herbie's leg while he sleeps to wake him up, the dog that will drink from the water bowl and dry her face on his back! The dog that thinks Herbie rises and sets with the sun. Her face registered disbelief.
Then it dawned on us. When Herbie first met Olive, he was the crankiest, meanest pug. He snarled and growled. He refused to be nice, or even tolerate her being in the other room. He was horrible. Still she stayed. Now it was like a light bulb had gone off in his head. I know YOU BE REALLY SUPER NICE TO PUPPIES AND THEY GO AWAY. If YOU ARE MEAN, THEY LIVE WITH YOU FOREVER!. I AM GOING TO LOVE THAT PUPPY AWAY.
The look on his face when that puppy continued down the street was priceless. Then he turned around and bit Olive's face.
Olive was happy to know the old Herbie was back.
The end.
Everyone wants to talk to us about Olive. We are going to have a t-shirt made up for her to wear that states:
- Why, yes, I am going to be a big dog!
- Oh My, thank you I do have big paws.
- Why, really! truly! I am going to be a big dog!
- Yes, I do contain quite a bit of fur.
- Enough already, I am going to be a ginormous dog!
- No, I am not an Australian Shepard, A Newfoundland, or from the Samoa Islands.
- Yes, eventually I will be big enough to bring down a buffalo.
Herbie just marches on and pays no never mind. As far as he is concerned, Olive is a nut case and he lives for the day she disappears from his sight.
Today we stopped and had pizza in town. This is the only restaurant that has tables outside for the morons who bring their dogs into town. Also, it is a lovely place to stop and pollute the world with cigarette smoke while people eat. When lo and behold, we ran into another couple that had a Bernese Mountain dog. It was a male, about 5 months old. The look on Herbie's face was priceless.
Oh, what has the world done to me, THERE IS ANOTHER ONE. It is coming BY ME. It is STOPPING BY ME. It is SMELLING ME. SAVE ME.
When all of a sudden a change came right over Herbie. He started whining and leaping and just making the biggest fuss over that puppy. It was like he had just won the lottery, received the best Christmas gift ever, and his food bowl was NEVER ENDING. That puppy didn't know what to do, he had never been loved like this before. Frankly, it was a little frightening both to us and the puppy. Olive stared at Herbie, why he could be friendly! to a strange dog! not the dog that resided in the same home with him. The dog that sucks his head to get to the creamy center, the dog that yanks Herbie's leg while he sleeps to wake him up, the dog that will drink from the water bowl and dry her face on his back! The dog that thinks Herbie rises and sets with the sun. Her face registered disbelief.
Then it dawned on us. When Herbie first met Olive, he was the crankiest, meanest pug. He snarled and growled. He refused to be nice, or even tolerate her being in the other room. He was horrible. Still she stayed. Now it was like a light bulb had gone off in his head. I know YOU BE REALLY SUPER NICE TO PUPPIES AND THEY GO AWAY. If YOU ARE MEAN, THEY LIVE WITH YOU FOREVER!. I AM GOING TO LOVE THAT PUPPY AWAY.
The look on his face when that puppy continued down the street was priceless. Then he turned around and bit Olive's face.
Olive was happy to know the old Herbie was back.
The end.
Friday, August 21, 2009
pain
I took yesterday off because I finished my tattoo.
It HURT. A BOATLOAD! I because why, yes, I am an amazing woman, thanks for asking, sat for over two hours while they filled in the color.
Yes, it was my decision to get it. I am re-thinking the idea of getting another one. It hurt. A lot.
The first time they drew the outline and did the shading. That was more of an annoying sensation than an actual pain sensation. Yesterday, no annoying sensation, just pain.
At first, I'm like, WOW! good lord that was slightly painful. Then it was OH MY GOD, that is pretty painful. Then it was I AM FOR SURE GOING TO DIE RIGHT HERE IN THIS CHAIR. Yet, I stuck around. I sucked it up, didn't say anything, plastered a smile on my face and tried to find my Zen.
No Zen was to be found. He had left the building. Apparently he was pretty irate.
I laughed and joked. Told interesting tales of the moronic ex. Watched the people come in and out for piercings. Watched the people come in and make appointments for tattoos. Clenched my teeth so hard, my jaw aches today.
Now why I didn't leave? Other than the fact that my arm would have looked totally stupid with half an octopus colored in.
There was one other person in the room getting a tattoo. It was a guy. A guy who had the most amazing arm tattoo going on. A guy who never flinched or wiggled or moaned or asked repeatedly, HOW MUCH LONGER. A guy who was facing MY DIRECTION. I was in his direct line of vision. I didn't know him. I wasn't going to ever see him again in my life. Yet, for some odd reason, he wasn't going to see me act like no girly girl. No way, I don't care if that tattoo was going to take 5 hours, I was going to sit there until he either left, at which case, I would fling myself out of the chair and run screaming out into the street, or that tattoo was going to be done.
Being done came first. THANK GOODNESS. I paid with a huge smile and explained, Why that wasn't as bad as I had expected, it was a walk in the park, a piece of cake, a day of sunshine. AS LONG AS ALL THOSE THINGS INCLUDED MY ARM BEING EATEN BY A WOOD-CHIPPER. I left and whined my way through the evening.
I never said I wasn't a girly-girl in my OWN HOME.
It HURT. A BOATLOAD! I because why, yes, I am an amazing woman, thanks for asking, sat for over two hours while they filled in the color.
Yes, it was my decision to get it. I am re-thinking the idea of getting another one. It hurt. A lot.
The first time they drew the outline and did the shading. That was more of an annoying sensation than an actual pain sensation. Yesterday, no annoying sensation, just pain.
At first, I'm like, WOW! good lord that was slightly painful. Then it was OH MY GOD, that is pretty painful. Then it was I AM FOR SURE GOING TO DIE RIGHT HERE IN THIS CHAIR. Yet, I stuck around. I sucked it up, didn't say anything, plastered a smile on my face and tried to find my Zen.
No Zen was to be found. He had left the building. Apparently he was pretty irate.
I laughed and joked. Told interesting tales of the moronic ex. Watched the people come in and out for piercings. Watched the people come in and make appointments for tattoos. Clenched my teeth so hard, my jaw aches today.
Now why I didn't leave? Other than the fact that my arm would have looked totally stupid with half an octopus colored in.
There was one other person in the room getting a tattoo. It was a guy. A guy who had the most amazing arm tattoo going on. A guy who never flinched or wiggled or moaned or asked repeatedly, HOW MUCH LONGER. A guy who was facing MY DIRECTION. I was in his direct line of vision. I didn't know him. I wasn't going to ever see him again in my life. Yet, for some odd reason, he wasn't going to see me act like no girly girl. No way, I don't care if that tattoo was going to take 5 hours, I was going to sit there until he either left, at which case, I would fling myself out of the chair and run screaming out into the street, or that tattoo was going to be done.
Being done came first. THANK GOODNESS. I paid with a huge smile and explained, Why that wasn't as bad as I had expected, it was a walk in the park, a piece of cake, a day of sunshine. AS LONG AS ALL THOSE THINGS INCLUDED MY ARM BEING EATEN BY A WOOD-CHIPPER. I left and whined my way through the evening.
I never said I wasn't a girly-girl in my OWN HOME.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Cobbler
Today I channeled Little House on the Prairie. I froze berries for the winter and I made a homemade cobbler from SCRATCH.
I know, what in the hell is happening to me.
I wish I knew.
The blueberry cobbler was a hit. I don't eat blueberries, but the kid does and he loved it. I used the Betty Crocker cookbook from my childhood. My mom gave me this cookbook years ago. I like to think it was a wonderful gesture and not a plea for me to PLEASE, OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD, PLEASE learn to cook.
After all, I did fail home economics three times in a ROW, until they moved me to the watering the plants class. I passed that one, or I could still be in high school. Cooking, sewing, all things home related, I pretty much sucked at them all. Still do. Didn't care then. Don't care now.
Only now, I try harder. I have had limited success in this endeavor. I have kept the kid alive for well over 18 years and if you knew my cooking skills, you would nominate me for mother of the year. So I go with my tried and true recipes, tacos, spaghetti, popovers, wok, baked chicken, that sort of stuff. Salad and a lovely bread product generally round out the meal.
I use the motto "It'll keep you alive til morning." Sometimes since the kid is eighteen, I go with the motto "shut up and eat it, or make something yourself." I didn't say I was in the running for mother of the year every day.
But sometimes I surprise even myself and open the tattered, stained, broken spine cook book and look through the pages. The pages that show the way through my childhood. You can tell we loved biscuits, pies, and cakes. The cookie chapter is pretty obliterated with spots of cookies past. The vegetable pages are as new as the day they were printed as are the meat pages. My mother didn't eat meat, so I assume she just sailed right by those chapters. The cobbler page, well it told a lovely tale of berries and hot summer nights. Of ice cream and the tart taste of fruit. The ending of long, free days and the start of school. I decided that is one memory of mine that I will pass on to the kid.
From the look of the cobbler, he has taken that memory right to his stomach.
I know, what in the hell is happening to me.I wish I knew.
The blueberry cobbler was a hit. I don't eat blueberries, but the kid does and he loved it. I used the Betty Crocker cookbook from my childhood. My mom gave me this cookbook years ago. I like to think it was a wonderful gesture and not a plea for me to PLEASE, OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD, PLEASE learn to cook.
After all, I did fail home economics three times in a ROW, until they moved me to the watering the plants class. I passed that one, or I could still be in high school. Cooking, sewing, all things home related, I pretty much sucked at them all. Still do. Didn't care then. Don't care now.
Only now, I try harder. I have had limited success in this endeavor. I have kept the kid alive for well over 18 years and if you knew my cooking skills, you would nominate me for mother of the year. So I go with my tried and true recipes, tacos, spaghetti, popovers, wok, baked chicken, that sort of stuff. Salad and a lovely bread product generally round out the meal.
I use the motto "It'll keep you alive til morning." Sometimes since the kid is eighteen, I go with the motto "shut up and eat it, or make something yourself." I didn't say I was in the running for mother of the year every day.
But sometimes I surprise even myself and open the tattered, stained, broken spine cook book and look through the pages. The pages that show the way through my childhood. You can tell we loved biscuits, pies, and cakes. The cookie chapter is pretty obliterated with spots of cookies past. The vegetable pages are as new as the day they were printed as are the meat pages. My mother didn't eat meat, so I assume she just sailed right by those chapters. The cobbler page, well it told a lovely tale of berries and hot summer nights. Of ice cream and the tart taste of fruit. The ending of long, free days and the start of school. I decided that is one memory of mine that I will pass on to the kid.
From the look of the cobbler, he has taken that memory right to his stomach.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Driving
Today was my wedding anniversary.
I spent it at the DMV getting an Oregon drivers license. It was a serious hoot.
I have a license. I love my license. I don't love the DMV. I don't love taking tests. I really don't love being in the DMV talking the "knowledge" test. First I read the driver's manual. I now can quote the speed limit on alley ways, driving on the beach, and what to do if my hood flies open.
I now can point out when deer may be crossing, what to do if I see a blind man, and how far my load can extend past the front of my hood. Also, in Oregon my license allows me to drive a fire truck or an ambulance. I'm telling you the benefits of this state ROCK. I am SO going to get me a fire truck. It's legal and I intend to enjoy that perk, especially the siren.
I brought in all the pertinent paperwork, old drivers license, passport, mail with my current address, birth certificate, cash (no bank cards here!), yep, I was prepared. No, I wasn't. I have misplaced my ORIGINAL social security card, you know the one from the DARK AGES WHEN THEY GAVE IT TO ME, so nope no license for me. I did however, get a lovely piece of paper surrounded with a lot of yellow highlighted areas telling me what to do in this case. #1 - bring in Social Security Card, geez! why didn't I think of that. My Oregon Health card, hello, no license yet, I'm pretty sure I don't even know what the Oregon Health card is. My military record, Nope. Finally, one of them was a tax document, fine, I may have that one.
The kid wasn't faring much better. He at least had his Social Security Card, his mail to his current address, his license, and he didn't have his passport. Ok, we both had to head home.
First we got to take the knowledge test. We both passed. Guess which one of us did better than the other? Clue: It is not the one having a glass of wine tonight.
We headed home, collected some more documents and headed back to the DMV. Received our licenses. Know why I am having a glass of wine tonight?
Because I thought I heard the man say "don't look happy until after the flash." When in actuality he said "look happy until the flash." Yep, I am standing straight faced looking very deranged and wanted in my photo. I seriously look stoned. *Sigh* This is my photo for the next bunch of years. I'm pretty sure, I will always get a ticket and I lay odds that my mug photo will end up looking so much better.
The kid. . . oh, he looks fabulous. It is good to be young and have good hearing. Especially at the DMV.
I spent it at the DMV getting an Oregon drivers license. It was a serious hoot.
I have a license. I love my license. I don't love the DMV. I don't love taking tests. I really don't love being in the DMV talking the "knowledge" test. First I read the driver's manual. I now can quote the speed limit on alley ways, driving on the beach, and what to do if my hood flies open.
I now can point out when deer may be crossing, what to do if I see a blind man, and how far my load can extend past the front of my hood. Also, in Oregon my license allows me to drive a fire truck or an ambulance. I'm telling you the benefits of this state ROCK. I am SO going to get me a fire truck. It's legal and I intend to enjoy that perk, especially the siren.
I brought in all the pertinent paperwork, old drivers license, passport, mail with my current address, birth certificate, cash (no bank cards here!), yep, I was prepared. No, I wasn't. I have misplaced my ORIGINAL social security card, you know the one from the DARK AGES WHEN THEY GAVE IT TO ME, so nope no license for me. I did however, get a lovely piece of paper surrounded with a lot of yellow highlighted areas telling me what to do in this case. #1 - bring in Social Security Card, geez! why didn't I think of that. My Oregon Health card, hello, no license yet, I'm pretty sure I don't even know what the Oregon Health card is. My military record, Nope. Finally, one of them was a tax document, fine, I may have that one.
The kid wasn't faring much better. He at least had his Social Security Card, his mail to his current address, his license, and he didn't have his passport. Ok, we both had to head home.
First we got to take the knowledge test. We both passed. Guess which one of us did better than the other? Clue: It is not the one having a glass of wine tonight.
We headed home, collected some more documents and headed back to the DMV. Received our licenses. Know why I am having a glass of wine tonight?
Because I thought I heard the man say "don't look happy until after the flash." When in actuality he said "look happy until the flash." Yep, I am standing straight faced looking very deranged and wanted in my photo. I seriously look stoned. *Sigh* This is my photo for the next bunch of years. I'm pretty sure, I will always get a ticket and I lay odds that my mug photo will end up looking so much better.
The kid. . . oh, he looks fabulous. It is good to be young and have good hearing. Especially at the DMV.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
just a day!
So it is a delicious Sunday down here on the coast. These sunny, warm days are so wonderful, I think made better by the fact that you know they won't be here long and it will be back to cloudy weather.
I have finished up the front flower bed, for the moment at least. The flowers are a little shabby but they fit right in with my shabby chic decorating style. Yesterday, at the nursery I found this lovely vine with the palest of orange flowers. The flowers are so soft, almost like velvet, I know 
this for a fact, since I petted it for quite a few minutes. It probably won't survive the winter, and it really didn't make sense to buy it this late in the season, but it was so pretty I couldn't resist. I may try and protect it through the winter. We will see how my green thumb, or lack thereof progresses through the fall.
I added some pink geraniums for a burst of happy color and threw some other plants around. Next summer I will have more time and energy to devote to making a true English garden. Today we headed into Gearhart, a town North of Seaside. It is very small, and quaint. They have a little nursery and since I needed potting soil, we stopped in. They had a delicious smelling jasmine plant, which I bought. With the exception of Gerber Daisy's, which are my favorite flower, I love jasmine. It smells divine and is so easy to grow. I planted it right by my front door, so hopefully next summer my house will smell heavenly.
We stopped at the little cafe and had lunch. Today reminded me of every thing I love about summer. It seems that we just wondered around, with no real purpose or destination in mind. This is what living in a coast town is like. You are always on "island time", which is not always a good thing but it is what it is. Though on Monday thru Friday, I mostly complain about "island time"
The anchovies and herring are running down here. Every night the whales come into feed. It is quite the sight to see. I tried to take a photo with my little camera, but it really doesn't capture the magnificence of them.
The tourists (and truth be told, the locals) love them and every night I sit on my back deck, while the "ooh's and aah's" drift up from the shore. The ocean is covered in birds as well, so it is quite the cacophony of nature.
I have finished up the front flower bed, for the moment at least. The flowers are a little shabby but they fit right in with my shabby chic decorating style. Yesterday, at the nursery I found this lovely vine with the palest of orange flowers. The flowers are so soft, almost like velvet, I know 
this for a fact, since I petted it for quite a few minutes. It probably won't survive the winter, and it really didn't make sense to buy it this late in the season, but it was so pretty I couldn't resist. I may try and protect it through the winter. We will see how my green thumb, or lack thereof progresses through the fall.I added some pink geraniums for a burst of happy color and threw some other plants around. Next summer I will have more time and energy to devote to making a true English garden. Today we headed into Gearhart, a town North of Seaside. It is very small, and quaint. They have a little nursery and since I needed potting soil, we stopped in. They had a delicious smelling jasmine plant, which I bought. With the exception of Gerber Daisy's, which are my favorite flower, I love jasmine. It smells divine and is so easy to grow. I planted it right by my front door, so hopefully next summer my house will smell heavenly.
We stopped at the little cafe and had lunch. Today reminded me of every thing I love about summer. It seems that we just wondered around, with no real purpose or destination in mind. This is what living in a coast town is like. You are always on "island time", which is not always a good thing but it is what it is. Though on Monday thru Friday, I mostly complain about "island time"The anchovies and herring are running down here. Every night the whales come into feed. It is quite the sight to see. I tried to take a photo with my little camera, but it really doesn't capture the magnificence of them.
The tourists (and truth be told, the locals) love them and every night I sit on my back deck, while the "ooh's and aah's" drift up from the shore. The ocean is covered in birds as well, so it is quite the cacophony of nature.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Dirt
We are making HUGE strides in forming a home here in our small neck of the woods. Today I bought plants for the front yard.
It is a little late in the flower season, but my motto, better late than never seems to apply here. Our yard is mostly grass with a small flower bed by the front of the house. I go with the "Cottage Garden" look. Ornamental grasses, roses and hydrangeas make up the majority of the plants. During the summer months I throw out some geraniums and call it good to go. Also, I have some lavender bushes and a few Daisy's that come and go with the winter weather.
I had started weeding out the bed last week when I saw a snake, I have not been back. I wanted to give it ample time to move along. The dogs were no help in this snake sighting. Herbie can't see anything unless it is green and round or touches his food bowl. Olive, well, she is just a dim-wit. Though she did enjoy the scream of terror I omitted, and want to immediately jump on me and head butt my mid-section. Because nothing says snake fun like a ruptured spleen.
So, I have not been back to the flower bed of terror until today. Nothing really says home ownership like dirt. It is very therapeutic to dig in the dirt, those toddlers are really on to something. The sun warms the earth while the flying insects hum little tunes. I put out all my doodads, plant my plants and let the simple task of planting soothe me.
When you start to control the chaos around you, it is amazing how much better you feel. Even though yard work is not my thing, really any work is not my thing, it is such a feeling of satisfaction when you accomplish something. Even just putting geraniums into the dirt. Their little pink heads look happy and that in turn makes the house look happy. Which in turn makes me a happy camper.
I do have warn you though, gardening can lead to other home activities, tonight I baked cookies. Oh, not from scratch, I have not lost my entire mind yet, but from a cookie tub. They were good! If I start to know how to make a meat loaf or start ironing my sheets, I am moving back to the big city!
It is a little late in the flower season, but my motto, better late than never seems to apply here. Our yard is mostly grass with a small flower bed by the front of the house. I go with the "Cottage Garden" look. Ornamental grasses, roses and hydrangeas make up the majority of the plants. During the summer months I throw out some geraniums and call it good to go. Also, I have some lavender bushes and a few Daisy's that come and go with the winter weather.
I had started weeding out the bed last week when I saw a snake, I have not been back. I wanted to give it ample time to move along. The dogs were no help in this snake sighting. Herbie can't see anything unless it is green and round or touches his food bowl. Olive, well, she is just a dim-wit. Though she did enjoy the scream of terror I omitted, and want to immediately jump on me and head butt my mid-section. Because nothing says snake fun like a ruptured spleen.
So, I have not been back to the flower bed of terror until today. Nothing really says home ownership like dirt. It is very therapeutic to dig in the dirt, those toddlers are really on to something. The sun warms the earth while the flying insects hum little tunes. I put out all my doodads, plant my plants and let the simple task of planting soothe me.
When you start to control the chaos around you, it is amazing how much better you feel. Even though yard work is not my thing, really any work is not my thing, it is such a feeling of satisfaction when you accomplish something. Even just putting geraniums into the dirt. Their little pink heads look happy and that in turn makes the house look happy. Which in turn makes me a happy camper.
I do have warn you though, gardening can lead to other home activities, tonight I baked cookies. Oh, not from scratch, I have not lost my entire mind yet, but from a cookie tub. They were good! If I start to know how to make a meat loaf or start ironing my sheets, I am moving back to the big city!
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