Book 'em Sunday - Jen Lancaster

Today for Book 'em Sunday we are featuring Jen Lancaster. You will be super glad we did.
There is nothing funnier than these books, well, the one and a half I have read anyway. I came to the party late, the first book "Bitter is the New Black" came out in 2006 and I just read it yesterday. Now I am on "Bright Lights, Big Ass" and then will come "Such a Pretty Fat" and "Pretty in Plaid."

These are all memoirs and are set in Chicago. They are just a joy to read, I laid out by the pool and just laughed my way through the day. Good thing too, since the thing I birthed locked me outside of my house and then headed for a birthday party CLEAR ACROSS TOWN. When I was slightly shrill about this, it was explained to me that I should be happy he cared about safety. You can't be too safe in our part of town. Indeedy. So I had quite a few hours to kill and I spent them giggling like a maniac.

"Bitter is the New Black" takes us on the journey of having it all and then heading back down the slide to start over. Ms. Lancaster writes with so much humor that even though you want to feel sad, you are too busy saying to yourself "Oh My God, I would SO do that and that and OH for sure that." It makes you feel so much better to know other people are just like you. And they write about it.
I am just in the middle of "Bright Lights, Big Ass" and am enjoying it just as much. I was up till 1 am alternating reading and watching the scary dvd show "The Profiler." Laughter and total terror that is some potent combo. Olive thought I had lost my mind and that is saying something from the dog that has not spent one day sane since we got her. She is quite judgemental.

The first three books are in paperback and the last one just came out in hardback. So if you need a little laughter, and lets face it we all so do, pick up these books and laugh away. Today I am getting my hair done and will be taking one to read. That way all the other women will be able to judge me on why I am cackling like a loon and not the fact that I don't have a wedding ring on my left hand. Shallow, shallow women abound at my salon.

Sun

I am a sun lover. It is not just a crush either, I totally think the sun rocks my world. I feel better, have a nicer attitude and a positive out-look on life in general when the sun shines on me.

The bad thing, is that I am a sun layer outer. I know the dangers. I have read all about sun damage and cancers. I know it makes you look older. It is not a good thing.

What is a good thing is having psoriasis take a break for the summer. Living with an on-going aliment is hard work. You constantly have to juggle things. Do you take the drugs? or not? Do herbal remedies work? or are they a crack pot theory? Eating the right foods vs. what you want to eat. Exercising and maintaining a correct weight. Every day is another day of trying to factor in information into a life that is already crammed with crap to do.

Everyone gives you advice, from friends to doctors to total strangers. Even my doctors can't agree on the advice to give. My family doctor is different from my dermatologist. In the end it comes down to me, and what I feel comfortable with.

For years I did the prescription drug routine and it worked out fine. I had to have tests for liver and kidney problems and the drugs themselves were expensive. The side effects were hard to handle. At best, it kept it at bay but it never really disappeared. It can come and go, or so my doctor says. I have 4 spots that stay and if I get bruised or get a cut, a new spot will arrive but it doesn't stick around.

It is these 4 spots that I would like gone. For the last two years, I gave up the drugs. I switched to herbal remedies and sun. Not tanning booths, since they do not have the rays I need. For an hour a day I lay out side, in the sun. I use a high sunscreen on my face and lips. I wear a hat for my head and sunglasses for my eyes. This week I have done it three days and two of the spots are gone.

My elbows seem to be made of some sort of leather and I'm not sure I can get that to disappear. I can't begin to say how nice it feels. I feel better because I look better. My doctor is not fond of my decision, I am trading one problem for another. Skin cancer is very common and if I was any younger I may not make the same decision. The drugs carry side effects that are hard for me to handle. The sun carries a different set of bad side effects. I weighed the options and decided this was best for me.

I make my kid wear a heavy sun screen. I have never let him swim in the middle of the day. Up until he was 7 years old, he thought everyone had to wear a hat to swim. The dangers of the sun have been explained to him and in this instance, it is "do what I say, not as I do."

There is no cure for psoriasis. It could decide to leave on its own, and I for one would absolutely love that! I have done what I can to lessen the outbreaks. I have educated myself. I have lived with this this since I was 23 and have made great strides in keeping it toned down.

Tonight when I looked in the mirror, psoriasis didn't stare back at me. I for one am grateful for that.

Collectible Friday - Dogs

Today it is another beautiful day in Seattle. Yesterday, I weeded the front yard. Today I cleaned and set up the back deck. So for Collectible Friday, I am going to do yet another story of the dogs.

I buy everything in two's now, which really makes absolutely no difference. Olives owns everything. Herbie is a wuss. I am a referee. I buy Yak milk bones. No animals are killed for these bones. Plus, they are white which blends nicely into my rugs decor. Little known fact, they actually make a dog bone out of a cow's penis. I can't even explain the reasoning behind this fact. Did a person see a dog munching down on a cow's nether regions, and exclaim "Why I see a dog bone franchise." I suppose the money spends the same but come on, filling out a document has got to cause a momentary pause when you arrive at the question of "What is the nature of your business?" But anyway I digress.

Yak bones. Herbie loves them and Olive steals them. She has no intention of chewing them, she just prefers to own EVERYTHING. I take one away and give it back to Herbie. Olive wiggles in delight. I sit down. Olive takes the bone. Herbie stares at her. I give it back. Olive wiggles in total delight. This can go on for hours or until I finally just put the bones on top of the counter. Olive thinks they have just disappeared, she is stupid that way. Herbie knows exactly where they are and will whine incessantly. At which point, I go insane and am carted off to a padded room.

Occasionally Olive will taunt him and actually chew the bone. Herbie pretends to sleep, as if this bothers him not in the slightest. In reality, he is fuming inside. He will run and leap on the bed. Olive will follow and sigh in disbelief that the world is so unfair and he has received a super jet pack that propels him places.

Though she is getting closer. Olive has now figured out how to get up on the ottoman occasionally. She has no idea how she does it, but she is pretty sure it involves a secret button in the ottoman. Once she gets up there, she is done, she has no other ideas on what you do when you achieve your goal. Getting down is the hilarious part. The first few times, she simple leaned off and fell over. Now she stands up, straightens all four legs and leaps right up into the air. Sometimes she lands on the floor, sometimes she lands back on the ottoman, but the best is sometimes she is half and half. That is good for a laugh every time.

That Olive she is a hoot.

Pictures in Time

It is a delicious hot, sunny day here. I am super happy. The kid is super happy. The dogs are super happy. Sun really gives the best gifts!

Last week we had our pictures taken by a professional photographer. The kid had his Senior pictures done as well. Last night we got to go and see the finished product. The kid looked awesome. He is very photogenic, which he so did not get from me.

I always look like I should be on a Most Wanted Poster. One of my eyes is lower than the other one, the photographer tactfully said that "everyone is always over critical of themselves." My kid said "What in the hell is wrong with your eye?" It has been that way since birth, which makes me wonder what was going on in the 60's drug wise that I could blame on my mother. I suppose I could look into having one half of my face lifted. Is that even possible? Maybe I could get one of those flippy hairstyles and drape some bangs over the eye. Or an eye patch? I have always wanted to be a pirate.

I need to think about starting to date. Scary! Chainsaw Massacre scary! Now with a funny eye, two insane dogs, one bizarre ex-husband and a 18 year old kid, I am looking like quite a catch. I may just add some cats and a collecting of toilet paper rolls and newspapers to my repertoire and call it good to go.

The kid was excited about his photos and we bought a lot! When he was little I had his photo taken about twice a month and I bought them ALL. Some things never change.

It is funny about photos though, they capture your likeness but they really don't capture your essence. The photos of the kid are awesome. He looks tall and happy. His clothes are nicely arranged and his hair was brushed. Looking at the photos, all I could think about was that is so not him. His mouth was closed in the photo and in real life it is never closed. He talks a mile a minute about everything. His clothes are never put together so nicely, oh he always looks good, it is just a more rumpled look. He is always juggling something, keys, remotes, ball, something. The photos don't show that. They don't show the smirk he wears, the jokes he tells, the gangling walk, the phone that is attached to his hand, the i-pod that dangles from his pocket.

I'm glad to have this moment in time captured on paper. A brief pause before we take off for parts unknown. I'm happy to have a picture of him and I together on our home street. And I'm even glad for the small-eyed photo of me. I'm super glad for the Senior picture of the kid.

I'm just thankful that I am around the real thing.

Running Nowhere Fast

Because I work SO much better under pressure. I now have less than one month to lose 10 lbs. What the hell was I thinking? When I bought the lovely graduation dress in DECEMBER, the actual event seemed miles away.

I thought I would do it in December, but the holidays came and I wanted candy. January was raining. February was raining and had Valentine's Day candy. March was raining. April was raining and had Easter candy. Now it is May, the end of May, which has involved little rain, no candy holidays and still my ass is not on that treadmill.

Today is my second day IN A ROW that I have been in the garage on the treadmill. It would be three but I thought I saw a spider and it scared me back into the house. It is not going well.

I hate exercising! Hate, Hate, Hate it. I can do the eating right. I can drink all the water I am supposed to. Getting on that treadmill, Oh it just fills me with dread.

In less than two months, I turn 46 (Wow! that is old!) and some point I want a victory lap. I don't want a goal weight. I think I need to realize that the parts that are sagging are not going to miraculous return to their original upright position. I am not holding back the hands of time, instead I am running like a mad woman to not be swallowed up by horrible chicken arms. And that weird flap of skin that women get on their neck. And a sagging ass.

Wow! I think that just worked. Those last sentences frighten me so much that the treadmill almost seems like a friend. I need to run now and put this on a banner that will hang right in front of my eyes.

A House for Me!

Since I now will be inhabiting a home all by myself, I want it to look just like me. Feel like me. Of course the kid will still be home for most of the summer and then he will return for vacations and such. The dogs will reside and destroy things with me. Even the lone parakeet is moving with me. But I want it to be laid out for my life and taste.

I have been planning rooms. I made little diagrams, made little pieces of furniture, rugs, art and cut them out. I have listed the changes I want to make. The furniture I want to add and delete. Oh Gosh, it is fun. I own a boatload of architectural salvage, stuff I have accumulated for when we would finally have the time to install it. Well, that time is fast arriving.

Only now it is not a "we" but an "I" and it is turning out even better than I thought. I am having bookcases built everywhere they will fit, all made out of salvage. Finally my books will be all around me. I have lots of art walls. Walls that will probably just be a big hodge podge of what I like. I am having another fireplace added. I adore fireplaces, the more the merrier. I am turning the biggest room, the basement, into my craft room. Finally, enough space for me to spread out.

My exercise equipment will be indoors instead of the garage. My holiday decorations will reside with me instead of a off-site storage unit. It will be messy and cozy. It will have dog hair and dog toys. It will be loud with my I-pod. It will break all the decorating rules. I will crowd my shelves with books, books and more books. My furniture won't match and dogs and feet can be on the couch. It will be vintage and have the largest COFFEE sign on one wall that you have ever seen. An old cigar cabinet from Pike Place Market will hold, well, I have no idea what it will hold, but it is a lovely cabinet.

A Babe Ruth bat will co-habituate with a original Blue Dog painting. One whole wall is nothing but handmade art. My lovely four poster bed will be filled with delicious linens and two giant dog beds will take up the rest of my room.

But mostly it will be filled with new beginnings and new times. The old items will remind me of my past, good, bad and ugly. The additions will point the way to a new future. Change is hard, it is also necessary. Without change growth isn't possible. And I want to grow and change. I want to become a better me, a different me. I want to keep so much of the past but I want to embrace the future wholeheartedly as well. Plus, I want to decorate.

What's for Dinner?

Happy Memorial Day!

I love three day weekends. I love the sleeping in part. The no schedule part. And the no making dinner part.

I don't like to cook. I like to eat but I would enjoy having my own chef. And the dude who brings the food to the table and also one to wash the dishes. I have none of those things and don't see them heading my way anytime soon, so it is just me. The kid can make au juis sandwiches and guacamole. He has inherited my lack of cooking skills, though he does make great guacamole.

I stick with the basics. Tacos, spaghetti, chicken, cheese and crackers, baked potatoes, salads, enchiladas, and the like. I cook more now than I did when I was married. The ex was very picky and pretty much hated everything that didn't start with the word "Fritos" and end with the words "& Bean Dip." The kid is a very adventurous eater. I am a salad and pineapple eater. The dogs are dry dog food and water eaters.

So every night it is another ongoing battle to prepare something that two radically different people can eat. Tacos are my favorite, the kid hates taco night and just eats the rice with cheese on top. I want to just shovel the taco meat from the pan directly into my mouth, I love it that much. I make one taco and put the rest in the fridge. I love spaghetti night, the kid hates spaghetti night and eats the bread. I make chicken, I hate chicken night and the kid absolutely loves chicken. I like baked potatoes, the kid does not. We both like cheese and cracker night only both of us will have different cheeses and different crackers. We both like salads. He despises enchiladas and will not even come downstairs for dinner. We plug on. Sandwich night, good. Fruit and Veggies night, good. Grilled cheese & soup night, good for me, the kid is withering on the floor in horrible disbelief. Muffin night, super, super good. Going out to dinner night, SPECTACULAR good.

S0 every night except Thursday which is pizza night, you can find me in the kitchen. My i-Pod blaring, two dogs trying to rip my toes off, and me with my head stuck in the Fridge hoping for inspiration. Or that somehow my chef is stuck in the Fridge and that is why all the cooking has fallen on me.

When I start to date again, I am so going to make that a requirement. He cooks. Or at least knows wonderful take out joints that deliver. Cause once that kid goes to college, this diner is closed.

Book 'em Sunday - Home Sewn

Today for Book 'em Sunday we are going to do, French General Home Sewn by Kaari Meng. This delightful book has 30 projects for every room in your house.
Inside this book are some of the nicest photos I have ever seen. As we all know by now, I totally adore vintage and vintage linens are by far my favorite. I have closet upon closet of sheets, pillowcases, quilts, table linens and just scraps of lace. I use all vintage linens when I can (I tend to use a new fitted sheet) and I just feel like a queen when I slide under my vintage French linen sheet with the lovely monograms. This book actually shows you how to make a sheet set. This alone would make me purchase this book, I find hemp fabric all the time at Flea Markets and to actually make sheets would be awesome.First I need to learn to sew. Soon, I swear this time. This book gives you the patterns, which I have shown you that mine aren't even opened yet. I look at this book at least twice a week but I refuse to open the pattern envelope since I don't want to lose one pattern before I learn to sew.
Each project in the book comes complete with the pattern, instructions, list of supplies, and a code by the photo explaining if you should be a beginner, experienced or advanced sewer. None of the projects include the code for "You failed home ec 4 years in a row and ended up watering geraniums in order to graduate with your senior class. What a tool!" This is why I have not attempted any projects yet.

You will also learn about fabrics and sewing notions. How to create a sewing basket, storing vintage fabrics and quite a lot of other interesting facts. Plus, if you are anything like me and lovely photos of beautiful organization makes you swoon, you will find it here.

The projects include liners, bed covers, cushions, shoe bags, throw pillows, cocktail coasters, napkins and many, many more.
You can use vintage fabrics or new. Embellish them or leave them plain and simple. No matter how you go about it, in the end you will have a linen collection fit for a queen. And that is all that matters.

Collectible Friday - Bakelite Flatware

For Collectible Friday we are going to finish off the Bakelite collection. This is the flatware section. I have also put some miscellaneous kitchen utensils in this group.
First I am going to show you my rarest piece. After this everything else will pale in comparison but so be it. These are utensils with insert Bakelite silhouettes. I have knives and forks. In the Bakelite book I have they only show knives and forks so I have no idea if spoons were made. I also don't know what these were made for. If the silhouettes were used for a special event or a giveaway of some kind. I have owned these for years. They run between $150.00-$175.00 a piece.The other flatware I own are Red & Butterscotch Bakelite and Lucite, Two-Tone Bakelite, Tri-Color Bakelite, the Chevron Bakelite (the one with the yellow "V"), Englishtown Stainless Steel Bakelite and Lucite (the "tear drop" pattern) and some miscellaneous colored ones.
I also show the tri-color Ekco beater, which I use and it is wonderful, though it is slightly heavy for an egg-beater and a frosting cake spreader that is an Androck with the bullet handle. I bought that one at the Goodwill for .25 years ago. It is a little milky but it can still frost a cake with the best of them.Bakelite flatware has come down in price over the years and can still be picked up for a pretty fair price. The rarer pieces will cost more, they actually made some New York World Fair pieces but I have never found any. They also made flatware with the card suits inlaid in them. I lost out on those in a bidding war a few years ago and hope to find them again some day.

I use the tear drop pieces every day. They are our regular silverware. Since I use vintage whenever possible, I do a lot of hand washing. Bakelite should not go into the dishwasher, since the water temperature is too hot. The only pieces I don't use are the silhouettes.

Hopefully you have enjoyed the Bakelite chapters and it will inspire you to pick up some. It is fun to use, so brightly colored and pretty. We all need a little pretty these days.

At home manicure

Today I am going to tell you what I wish. Sure the obvious, peace, goodwill, a smaller ass, a hot guy, etc. etc.. But I really would like the ability to paint my fingernails that didn't have them look like I did it blindfolded and drunk.

Among my lack of talents is this one, and the ability to put eyeliner straight on one of my eyes. I forget which one it is, but one eye looks fine and one looks like it just left a 70's disco party.

I use a grow product on my nails and as long as I sit very still during the day and hold my hands straight out in front of me, my nails grow. It is a beautiful sight to see unfortunately I hardly remain still and therefore I have some really nice nails, and some that are just gone. I blame Olive.

So I enjoy painting them. I do not enjoy waiting for them to dry or painting the right hand. Both which factor predominately in the look I end up achieving. The blindfolded drunk look.

I would show you but then you would be frightened for the entire day and no one wants that. Plus, small girl children would never pick up nail polish in bubblegum colors and the world would be that much darker, I can't have that on my conscience. Other woman who have lovely dexterity and beautiful nails would comment about the ease of their nail painting and how it helped them win the lottery, lose 20 pounds and acquire the rich man of their dreams, and I am so not up to that. Just trust me when I say a 2 year old could paint their nails better than I can.

I start out well. The little pretty bottles all lined up in a row. The polish remover (which by the way, also removes paint from my desk would have been nice not to have spilled it) and cotton puffs waiting patiently. The filing doodad. Some water. And a mini marathon of NCIS on tivo (I TOTALLY love, love, love that show).

We start. All polished removed. ask the dogs to be quiet since I can't hear that cute Mark Harmon talking. Pause tivo to throw away the cotton puffs because they are making me dry heave. Drink water. Use filing doodad on the few remaining nails. Pause tivo because I really like a hair style on Ziva and I want to double check if there is anyway I can copy it. Decide never in this life and never with only my two hands, Sigh in disappointment. Start tivo. Put on base coat. Wipe base coat up off of desk. Wonder if at some point I should just tile the desk. Decide no, that seems hard. Shout at the dogs to be quiet since I can't hear that cute Mark Harmon talking. Put on colored nail polish on left hand. Hold it out in front of me and pretend I am at a ball. Accidentally knock hand on desk chair and ruin the polish on two nails. Remove polish from chair and nails. Re do two nails. Hold my hand perfectly still for what seems like 2 hours, in reality is about 30 seconds. Start on right hand. The left hand is totally a spaz at painting. Pause tivo to go and get the ENTIRE package of cotton puffs. Have the dry heaves as I try and clean the polish off of the first finger without removing the polish from the actual nail. No luck. Start tivo. Bellow at the dogs to be quiet since I can't hear that cute Mark Harmon talking. Give the evil eye to the left hand to knock off the bad painting and shape up. Finish the right hand. Clean the polish off of the desk. Decide tomorrow will need to decoupage a picture over the desk and buy cotton puffs. Wait for hands to dry. Wait 2 hours, or 30 seconds, I can't remember which it was. Put on top coat. Clean top coat from chair, desk and my pants. Finally done. Leave room to look at the nails under bright light. Gasp in total horror, who in the hell painted these things. Some blindfolded drunk women snuck in while I was staring at Mark Harmon and did my nails. I swear that left hand is laughing inside. Decide to just call this a new painting style.

The "Oh what a Spaz I am" style. Or "Mark Harmon is such a cutie, I couldn't be bothered to pay attention" style.

Hello! Clyde

I have been crafting. Now is the time for everyone to break out the maracas and say a little "Ole!" After the whole Easter wreath and pain episode, I wasn't sure I wanted back in that dungeon of torture. But the mind forgets, fingers heal and so back in I went.

I have been doing banners, which I am not going to show you today because they are still in the boring stage. But instead I am going to show you my lovely rooster, Clyde. I have no idea what his true name is, I call him Clyde Morningstar II. He looks like a Clyde and with his haughty stance, I'm pretty sure he is from royalty chicken stock, hence the II.
He started in very humble beginnings in the aisle in Goodwill that they put the "Who in the hell knows what this is and where it might go" section. He was laying among the giant lot of toilet bowl cakes, some macrame plant holders and a few pink haired barbies. His haughty look was slightly less haughty and one of those barbies was being very inappropriate to Clyde. I didn't want to know what was going on there, so I continued down to the more G rated section of the aisle. But I felt a pulling, a calling really, drawing me back. So I turned the cart around, put the barbie on a shelf with the binders, just try something there chicky, and put Clyde in my cart. He looked as thankful as a chunk of metal can look.

I was going to paint him white and place him in the yard. But he didn't look like a white rooster. So I just stuck him outside in all his metal glory the next morning he was tipped over. I righted him. Next morning, tipped over and knocked off the porch. Something in my neighborhood has a serious beef against Clyde. Barbie must have been spreading some pretty nasty rumors. I took him back in the house. He didn't really fit in, now he seemed depressed and gray.

So into the craft room he went. I used the rest of the destroyed book of Black Beauty to cover him. I had already sliced out the pictures and put them aside for a project. I brought them out. I made a template for the wings and the tail feathers. I cut the photos and then lined them up on the wings and reassembled the pictures. This is very time consuming. I believe Clyde was handmade by someone since he is a very rough bird. I did the pictures for both wings and both tail feathers. I needed to make a template for each piece, since they were not the same in any way. I covered the comb (the part on top of his head) and his eyes in the same way.
For his eyes, I cut out an actual horse word and used them for the pupil of the eye. I decoupaged and sanded each section. After it was dry I used a glaze(which you really can't see too well in the photos, but shows up nicely in real life) which gave the pictures a wet look. I put a few coats of this on.For the body, I used the actual pages. Again with the decoupage and the sanding but no glaze. After I finished the body (which took a loooooong time) I painted over the pages with a watered down pink paint. After it was dry I put on some umber paint. Then I sealed him up with 4 coats of a top coat sealer.

Now he spends his days looking regal on the entry way table. No barbies to lead him down the garden path but I do catch him looking askew at the little chalk ware bird that sits next to him. That Clyde, what a rascal!

What a dog!

Having a puppy really makes you appreciate the older dog. I mean REALLY appreciate, not any of that fake appreciation crap. I am going to rename our entire family after Herbie and leave him all of my possessions.

Herbie knows the routine. Olive knows nothing. Herbie knows how to go outside for his needs. Olive knows nothing. Herbie eats his food, drinks his water and never tips over the vintage food bowls in anger when the food is gone. Olive knows nothing, wait, she knows how to do that.

Olive knows how to squeeze her puff ball self underneath the rhododendron that is covered in dying blossoms, bugs the size of my hand, dew, spiders the size of my state, and some sort of disgusting goo. Then she rolls around in dirt that I am sure carries some sort of toxic, to humans but not to idiot dogs, disease and presents herself like she just won some sort of friggin' beauty pageant to the front door. At which case I get to bathe her, dry her, brush her, only to have her shoot out the front door and fling herself back under the bush. Brainiac she is not.

Herbie sleeps. Olive recharges. Herbie wiggles and lets you pet him. Olive charges you and then tries to destroy anything she can reach with her mouth. And for you not in the know, puppy teeth HURT. It is like 1 million needles piercing your skin, face, toes, arms, head. The screaming seems to delight her to no end.

Discipline has become more regular to her than her meals. We have broken out the big guns. For Herbie we used the squirt bottle, which he hated. Olive enjoys a light misting of water or even better a direct stream of water. Time out in her crate, fine, someone bring the nachos and beer. Finally we found something. Something that she truly hates and will make her stop dead in her tracks and knock the shit off. A peach can of pennies. Yep, I'm not sure if it is peaches or the penny that she carries such distaste for, but whatever it is I am grateful. Now I just have to pick it up and she stops on a dime. I have been eating a boatload of peaches in order to have a can in every room. None of my Tupperware now have lids but that is a small price to pay for not having to wear long sleeves because it looks like I have lost a fight with sewing notions.

Olive has systematically disemboweled the dog toy box. First she just enjoyed ripping off their heads and dancing through the house with stuffing on her face. Then she started being a little more particular, honing her craft I like to think, now she rips off only the eyes. So now our toys are eyeless which is very disturbing and creepy.But now I just find stuffing, no toy, no eye, just stuffing EVERYWHERE. I know the toy in all of its pieces is somewhere but I will be damned if I can find it. She is learning. Learning how to clean up the scene of the crime.

Me time

I'm back. I took a few days off to have some Me time. It was very relaxing, both in body and soul. I miss having time to just chill and even with the two wildebeests trying to bring me down, it was nirvana.

The weather definitely helped my mood. Sun, warmth, sun, the Mariners taking two out of three over the Red Sox, sun, all put me in a much better frame of mind.

I have psoriasis, which is a skin disorder. I'm lucky I have a very mild case. This is something that is passed down through your parents, on the father's side. I'm adopted so I assume my father had it. The sun makes it go away, the ultraviolet rays are beneficial. You can also get medicine, though I don't need that. Stress, being overweight and just plain genetics all play a factor in this disorder. The genetics I'm fine with. Being overweight I have dealt with. It is the stress that I get hung up on.

I wish I could get a handle on that one. It is a slippery little fellow and just when I think I have a firm grasp, it gives a little wiggle and it's gone again. Eating better, exercising, surrounding myself with positive people, all help. But it is the Me time where I fall down on the job. I seem to come last, even in my own mind. To a certain extent that is what is suppose to happen but I think as you get older it needs to shift some. It needs to shift to just me. That is what I did this weekend. I feel so much more positive, relaxed, happy today. In control. And even more patient, which if you knew me would really be saying something.

This is something that I am going to try and add to my daily schedule. Taking some time, be it 30 minutes or just 5, I am going to find time for just Me. Maybe it will be sitting down and daydreaming, maybe I will take another Yoga class, maybe I will drink a glass of water on the back deck, maybe take the dogs for a longer walk and let them smell every single blade of grass without urging them to hurry up. The possibilities are endless and the rewards are substantial.

After all I'm worth it.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

I'm alone!

Well, with the two rambunctious nut cases still here, I guess I am not really alone. The kid has flown off to Chicago for the weekend. He is attending the Speech and Debate Tournament at Northwestern. Very exciting for him. Very quiet for me. Win, Win.

Last night we needed to pack. We are very different packers, I couldn't care less what I bring, I just want the luggage closed and waiting by the front door. He wants to bring EVERYTHING he owns and wants it to fit into a carry on. It was war I tell ya, just a big old battle. One that he puts off until 9:00 pm, just to make sure we are both tired and wore out from our day. That way we are in a fine mood to deal with each other.

It starts so innocent. With smiles and kind words. Then it travels at warp speed into frowns and a little bit of sniping. Then it crashes into yelling and lines being drawn. If we were two guys this would be the time for the throw down. Bring it on would be uttered and West Side Story would be happening on the second floor of our home. But I'm a chick, so I go the silent treatment accompanied by the shake of the head and the look that says "You are so wrong! the wrongest you have ever been! the wrongest the world has ever seen!" He goes with the tried and true "You are the worst mother EVER! and back when you were my age, you traveled by wagon train and COULD bring everything."

I try and leave. He wants me back. He debates about why I don't buy quart size plastic bags and he has to use the sandwich size. It is now 10:30 pm and he wants me to run to the store and buy quart size plastic bags because his GIANT deodorant won't fit in the sandwich size. No, I won't go and the whole lovely scenario starts again.

Finally everything is located inside the suitcase, including the giant deodorant and it is indeed parked by the front door. We tap dance around each other for a while but it blows over fairly quickly.

This morning I drop him off at the airport and he hugs me goodbye. Stands with his Speech and Debate team laughing and joking, I start to go. A voice calls out "I love you, Mom!" I turn around and there he is waving and smiling at me. All is good.

Two steps forward, three steps backward

Being in my position, single, cheating ex, torrid affair, etc., etc., everyone has an opinion. On everything and anything. And they tell it to me. I am super grateful for the support and caring I have received during this time. Support I never knew was possible. I am beyond grateful to all of the friends and family that have propped me up for the last six months.

These are not the people I am referring to, but rather the people that have heard through the grapevine. Strangers or at best acquaintances that I see once or twice a month. They don't know me that well, more like a "hi, how are you? lovely day in the neighborhood" kind of thing.

Today I ran into one of those. I am in a happy place right now. One that has taken me a lot of hard work to get here and I will be damned if I am going to go back. And yet, one comment can totally undue the last six months and bring me right back to the beginning. I have no idea why this is. Is it because I secretly believe it could be so? Or am I not as strong as I feel? Maybe it is because it is a rainy day here and I am tired today.

This acquaintance asked if my marriage went bad because of the weight I had gained. I had a heart murmur, people. A medical condition. Once fixed, my energy level came back up and I was able to exercise without feeling like death was giving me a big squeeze hello. But lets say, I had no medical condition I was just big. Is that OK then? The ex should be allowed to cheat on me in that case. What if I let my hair go gray instead of coloring it? Is this a valid excuse? I had a C-section and therefore I have a scar, valid excuse?

It gets my hackles up. In my book, there is no valid excuse. If you want someone else, speak up, use your inside voice and announce you are done with the marriage. Remember at one time you liked the person you are with, don't they deserve some sort of respect? To be treated with dignity? I guess not, at least in my case. But then to say I somehow caused it? I deserved it?

This happened hours ago and I am still furious. Still shaking with anger. Because you know what, NO I didn't deserve it. I take some blame for the breakup of the marriage, I just lay the majority of the problems on the person who deserves them. The person who never said a word. The person who gave no consideration to the ones he betrayed. The person who acted like a spoiled child being denied something. He gained weight. He lost his hair. He lost his job, multiple times. The list goes on and on.

I didn't cheat. I didn't humiliate him. So, no I won't take the responsibility for this.

Today I just smiled, gathered up Olive from the yard, gave a jaunty wave, and went into my home. Laid down on the couch and cried.

I will. . .

It is getting closer and closer to the big moving day! A little more than a month away! Geesh! The time is flying by.

I am so ready to go. I'm taking the next year off. A gift to me if you will. I have always been responsible, dependable, predictable, a lean on me kind of gal. Not for the next year.

Nope! for the next year I am going to live by no schedule. I'm going to eat dinner for breakfast and sleep in the day. I'm throwing caution to the wind and see where it carries me. I'm going to craft all day and night if I want to. And maybe not even clean up after I am done. I may spend an ENTIRE day in pajamas. I may even buy some pajamas. I might not use a coaster under my glass and I may drink the milk right from the carton.

I see a life of choices. My choices! All mine!! I have never had this. First I had parents, then I was married at 22 and then I became a mom at 27. My whole life has belonged to someone else. I went where the ex had a job. I did school, field trips, lunches, kid things with the kid. Always someone else's wishes came first. I'm not complaining because I was well aware of the obligations when I made the decisions. I'm just not 22 or 27 anymore, being at the beck and call of someone else no longer has the appeal it once did.

I want to be a dandelion puff, floating where my thoughts and wants take me. All me. If I want to read an entire book in one day, I will. If I want to go to the beach and sit, I will. I will drink coffee at 8:30 pm knowing I will be up all night. I may run with scissors. I may dye my hair purple. I will play my music very loud. I will play my favorite song over and over until even the dogs can sing the words. I may drink a non-diet pop. I will take a driving trip to San Francisco. I will see Graceland. I will gamble in Las Vegas.

I will have fun.

I will be free.

Lucky, lucky me!

Random bits of nonsense

Today I am random.

I had a delightful Mother's Day with Cinnabons, gifts, lunch out, and the most fabulous kid in the world. Oh, and he got a hair cut because nothing says Happy Mother's Day like scissors. The kid really outdid himself in the gift department. He made his own card, I know, like Wow man. As a crafter I totally adore homemade things and hardly ever receive them. The kid for the last few years has almost always made me a card and they are quite spectacular. We headed out to lunch and joined the masses of mothers, mothers-to-be, and woman on their own looking dazed and confused. We laughed, joked and judged all the other patrons in their clothing selection because we are both shallow that way when we hang out together.

A lovely day all the way around except for when Olive peed on the carpet on my watch, again! I swear she saves all her urine during the time the kid watches her and then the flood gates open when she is back in my presence. She is so brilliant in some areas.

The dogs have decided, well Herbie decided if he didn't start to do something Olive would simply annoy him to death, to play together. ALL THE TIME. As in every minute of the day! I keep hoping for the time that Olive will fall over in a deep sleep and that time never arrives. The dog is like the energizer bunny, she just keeps on going and going. Herbie on the other hand doesn't even have the energy to bark at the front door anymore. He just waits for the burglar to come in and then points the way to Olive, with a look that says "Please take her, fast! I'd help you but I am unable to move even the slightest little bit."

Herbie has his secret weapon, he has the ability to leap onto furniture. Olive hasn't figured out this feat of nature and she truly thinks Herbie has a secret power. One that makes him king of the dog world and therefore must be overthrown. She spends her spare time trying to make this a reality, all to no avail. When he leaps onto the bed, her little head spins around and awe fills her eyes followed by her running to the toy chest, getting his favorite OF ALL HIS TOYS toy, running back to the bedroom and disemboweling it right in front of his eyes. This weekend alone I threw away two toy squeaker boxes and two dog toys missing their heads. It is lovely to finally have a girl dog, because you know they are so lady like and dainty. HA!

Hope you all had a most super of Mother's Day.

Book 'em Sunday - Greg Rucka

Today for Book 'em Sunday we are going to do Greg Rucka, the Atticus Kodiak series.
Patriot Acts and Walking Dead are the latest two in the Atticus Kodiak series. The other ones are Keeper, Finder, Smoker, Shooting at Midnight, and Critical Space.

These books are a excellent addition to the mystery field. They are very well written and the plots are tightly woven. Atticus is a bodyguard and as such runs into all sorts of unsavory characters. These are in the same line as the Robert Parker "Spenser" or the Lee Child "Reacher" books.

Atticus has a moral code and the skills to back it up. I really enjoy this series. The writing is fast paced and the characters are great. It has a lot of action which is what I look for in a mystery. The only problem I would say that I have with this series, is one I have with many mysteries, are the relationships. I don't really care for couples in mysteries but that is just me. Sometimes I just fast forward through those pages and then I am good to go.

I enjoy the mystery part, the shoot 'em up find the bad dudes and save the day stuff. Not really the "I love you, you love me, blah blah blah." But all the mysteries have that stuff in it, so I just read around it.

Greg Rucka has become quite a successful comic book writer and he has written some non Atticus Kodiak books. He also lives in Portland, one of the greatest cities EVER! It seems that quite a bit of the mystery genre has come from other countries lately. Sweden has put out some excellent mysteries as well as Japan and of course Great Britain. So it is great to see some strong mystery writers from the Northwest.
The earlier novels are in paperback and I just picked up Walking Dead in hardback, so I think that one will be a while until it is in soft cover. Which will give you ample time to read the rest of the series.

Happy Mother's Day!

Well, I didn't have time yesterday to get out the Bakelite flatware. So collectible Friday will have to become collectible some other time during the week when I can get my ass in gear. Stay tuned.

I seem to have less and less time during the day. I'm pretty sure it is being stolen by someone and I would really like it back. Along with the flat stomach I had in my youth. Just give them back and no questions will be asked.

So today I am milking this Mother's Day holiday for all that it is worth. Personally, I find this to be a slightly ridiculous holiday, but that doesn't mean I won't use it to my advantage. I have used it to go out to lunch. I have used it to have the kid babysit BOTH of the dogs (he only ever takes the well-behaved one). I have used it to eat licorice. And I have used it to go to the rubber stamp store with the kid. Sweet!

Tomorrow I am going to milk it again. I figure two days out of the year devoted to me is fair. I really feel it is much to low for all I do but after about two days, the kid starts to revolt. Being at my beck and call for two WHOLE days just about kills him. Oh, nothing around our house is really all that different, I still do the dishes, cook the food, walk the dogs, feed all the other animals, drive everywhere, clean the house, and listen to yet another college story, only this weekend it is official. You know because last weekend I had no idea why I did all this stuff but this weekend I do. Hallmark told me. I would seriously be lost with Hallmark.

I love being a mom. It is a great job. I would like more days off and a higher wage but wouldn't everyone? So if Hallmark wants to give me a day who am I to argue. But really for me everyday is Mother's Day.

I'm no princess

Herbie has decided the puppy can stay.

Being the resident older dog and ruling the roost, or at least the leather chair he sleeps on all day, he has deemed Olive can reside here. Though he treats her like the annoying second cousin you only see once a year at a family picnic and never really liked. Sometimes if we aren't looking he will play with her. Of course, once eye contact is made with him, all play stops and he flings himself on the ground with a huge sigh as if to say "My God, she has killed me folks, seriously I am dead over here!"

Olive takes none of this to heart. She continues on her merry, albeit stupid, way and continues to try and attach herself like a goiter to his face. Occasionally he will growl at her, but this bothers her not in the slightest, she is no girly girl in the face of danger. She is no girly girl in the face of no danger either. I have tried to give her the lady like speech. Stop running into the fridge door. Stop chewing the beautiful leash. Stop sticking your head under Herbie's leg while he is answering the call of nature. Stop making me wash your head. All of this is to no avail. She barrels through her days like a miniature bulldozer.

Thank goodness she wears a pink collar, if not for that you would have absolutely no idea she is a girl. She is not dainty. We didn't get a little princess. She will inhale her food and then proceed to belch her way through half a TV show. She drinks water by sticking her entire head in the water bowl, like there is some sort of game prize at the bottom of the bowl. She sleeps on her back with all four paws out to the side. Lives for dirt, mud, slugs, and any piece of garbage she can find. Nope, this ain't no elegant mademoiselle we have residing with us.

She is a my way or highway kind of dog. Which is just what we wanted.

A broken down wreck.

I'm in charge. Of everything. I do not enjoy this. Patience is something I wasn't born with. Like math skills, measuring skills, and directions. I was in the line for useless talents like being able to pick out actors and name everything they have ever starred in, sing along to songs even if I don't know the words, and to over decorate for every holiday. I have lots of fun talents. I have no skills.

Knowing this, the universe has decided that each and every week something new shall break. Something that shall involve electricity or involve standing outside in the pouring rain. I spend a good deal of my week staring blankly at something or other and trying to decide what in the sam hell is wrong with it. I never know. I have lots of guesses and swear words but no real knowledge.

The light on the fish tank, out. Replace light bulb, still out. Dismantle light, break piece of plastic that holds the light bulb, cut finger, call fish guy. Turns out we took a power surge, must be sent out. Comes back, works, drop the lid on both of my hands installing the light, have ten swollen fingers, but the fish can see. Yes.

The pump on top of the pool cover that drains the rain water, not pumping. Rain coming down in torrential downpours. Pool cover loaded with water. Stand in the pouring rain to stare directly at the unit. No ideas come to me. Unplug and plug back in. No. Take it off of the pool cover and wipe it down. No. Look at the stupid thing to see if possible it has a hidden clue that will point out the problem. No. Soaking wet by this time. Pretty pissed. Open pool cover. Has so much water on it, it can't open. Stand outside with a bucket to fling the water off the pool. What a dork. Still won't work. Leave pool open so the pool will collect the water. Go into the house and stare down at the stupid unit and hope some sort of inspiration will come to me. No. Leave it for later and go watch tv. Yes.

The steering wheel in the car catches on fire. The buttons on the garage door opener will not open anything in our home. The tv has a picture but no sound. Qwest keeps leaving messages that they are coming to fix something, yet I have never called and they never do show up. The automated prescription service at Rite-Aid hung up on me.

The list goes on and on. I make strides in some areas and by nightfall have a whole new list. It is tiring. Good thing that some of my useless talents is humor and sarcastic wit. If not for those and the knowledge that no one gets out of this race alive, I may very well be crying in a corner by now.

We will always have Paris!

I needed a coat. Silly, silly me, needing a coat in MAY. Dug around the tank tops, shorts and flip flops before finally asking where the coats might be.

This whole seasons thing that the stores have going on really cracks me up. Here in Seattle it is cold. Cold and Rainy. Cold and Rainy and Windy. I don't see anyone in shorts, except for joggers and they don't count. I don't see anyone in flip flops or tank tops. I see sweatshirts, snow boots, mittens, hats, basically every cold weather item is still being worn here. Not according to the mall. It is summer people! Get on your shorts and stop being such cry babies about the weather.

Me needing a coat was met with blank stares and disbelief. What a stupid planner I was to actual want to buy a coat in May. The salesperson pulled out the few they had in stock and handed them to me. I obediently trotted off to the dressing room. Good Lord, it was like I had put on a pup tent. Could these coats have been any bigger? The neck was nice and fitted but other than that I could have 4 other people in here with me. Hell, break out the hibachi and call it a party! We are all nicely covered from the weather.

I asked for something a little more fitted. More of the single family home as opposed to the condo building. Lovely sales girl helper brought in a few more choices. Something I was pretty sure was a rug with a rip in it for your head. Something with fringe. Some plaid items, just to round out the living hell shopping experience I was on. And a black coat.

Plain and black. With one button. Simple. I never in a million years would have picked this up to try on. It was my last option before buying the condo coat, so I put it on. It was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! I felt like Audrey Hepburn. I twirled around and it was just as awesome from the back as from the front. The one button was perfect. It was fitted in the right areas and flowed beautifully. It had 3/4 sleeves and two lovely pockets. I felt like immediately taking off for Paris and meeting some debonair french man. I wouldn't know what he was saying, he wouldn't know what I was saying but we would both be so in love with the pretty coat that we would fall instantly in love, for two days and then have a sad scene in the airport. I would pantomime that I couldn't stay, he would pantomime his heart breaking and I would dash up the runway to make my flight, the lovely black coat flowing behind me, I would turn and say "We shall always have Paris and a little black coat."

The scenario would all come true with the little black, perfect, wonderful coat. I took it off and flipped over the price tag.

$1200.00! The scenario burst, the beautiful french man turned out to be a gnome, my flight was delayed, and I was hung up in the security checkpoint. Poof! Gone.

I looked at the condo coat. I looked at the GiGi coat (I had named it that in honor of Paris). I stared at the price tag. Could I get my kidney out and sell it right from the dressing room? Than I thought, what if I do something truly evil, diabolical even. Buy it, wear it, return it. I see this done on movies and TV shows. Is it wrong? I bought the coat. I'm going to take a chance on having bad karma. I'm going to wear it and return it.

If the Paris dream comes true though, all bets are off about returning it.

This time last year. . . .

I would have done Book 'em Sunday yesterday, but I have not read anything in its entirety all week. Thank you Olive! So I will make a huge effort to actually concentrate in the reading department this week.

Olive is doing fine. We have made no strides in housebreaking, biting everything in sight, annoying Herbie and chewing every chair we own. But she has learned to bring dirt clods in the house, chew on every squeaky toy we own at the same time, and smash head first into the front door every single day, so we consider her a success.

I enjoy playing the game of "At this time last year, I was _______" and then I fill in the blank. I'm always glad when the first of something has passed. So far I have done my first Christmas, the kid's birthday, Valentine's Day, Easter, etc. That way I don't feel the sadness of this time last year we were still a family, or this time last year we had the best Christmas ever.

This month will finally make a full year. May was the month everything started and ended. Oh sure, the words were spoken in July but it all started in May. Funnily enough it started the week before Mother's Day. This week. I guess I thought I would feel sad or angry or something, but I feel relieved. Free. Peaceful.

I always thought that marriages ended with a bigger bang. But in reality they don't. They end quietly and without the fanfare that they start with. One day here, the next day gone. You think you won't survive, that the pain will never end, but you do and it does. It is no longer the first, second, or even tenth thing you think about in the course of your day. You become stronger and confident. You are happier for longer periods of time. Your heart heals.

Who knows where I will be in another year from now. What I do know for sure, is that whatever comes my way, I am capable of handling it. This last year has taught me that I am better than I thought I was, smarter than I gave myself credit for and worthy of a life that treats me with the respect I am due. I deserve no less.

Goodwill Hunting

So being that today is a rainy day in Seattle, I decided to run over to the Goodwill.

When I was growing up we spent a lot of time at thrift stores. I was always surprised that my mom never named one of her kids "Good" "Will" or "Salvation Army" since she spent the majority of her life in a thrift stores. Most of our clothes were either thrifted or home made, and it was hard to tell which was worse. The home made ones were bad because the pattern sizes were all of the kids sizes in one pattern. So take 4 girls, one pattern and we looked like the flippin' Von Trapp family in their drape outfits. This went on for years and I have the school photos to prove it, there I am in my little jumper dress in some horrible brown color with giant flowers on it. Year after year, same jumper, different fabric but all equally horrible in color.

And barrettes. Stupid crooked barrettes and jumpers. I shudder in remembrance.

The thrift stores at least offered one great thing, it was not handmade. Sure it was used but at least you had a fighting chance of not looking like your siblings. You could have some personal style and the ability to not wear a jumper. When I got older, I got a job and that ended the clothing fiasco. Though I do have to say my mom made my Senior Prom dress and it was (and still is) one of the most beautiful dresses ever.

Now I wish for handmade things and I shop at thrift stores, everything comes full circle I guess. For crafting purposes you cannot beat the thrift stores. Today I spent $75.00 dollars and carried out 4 full bags and some loose items. All items that will be re purposed and used in new ways.

Books, picture frames, sheet music, candlesticks, various paper pieces, the list goes on. With some imagination, paint, and time, new items will be made. The thrift stores have a wide variety of stuff, some weird, some good. They get big lots of plastic stuff, dog bowls, utensils, colanders, that sort of stuff. But if you hunt around you can find the good items. And everyone loves a good hunt.

Collectible Friday - Bakelite Napkin Rings

For Collectible Friday we are going to do Bakelite napkin rings.
I am showing you only a very small selection of the ones I own. We could say it is because I am too lazy to find the rest but in actuality it is because the cabinet I store them in has one of the doors stuck and I can't for the life of me, get it opened. Short of actually squeezing myself into the display cabinet and trust me no one wants to see that, I can't get them out. Maybe next week.

Napkin rings came in many shape and sizes. Some with eyes and some not. The colors were mostly red, green, yellow, black. Sometimes you can find a mottled colored one. These are from the end of the day Bakelite. The small pieces of Bakelite that was left over at the end of the day were all mixed together and a few more pieces were cut out. Most of these were taken home by the employees but some were sent for sale. Also, the end of the day Bakelite would be used for a prototype piece, something that they had designed and wanted to see in a 3-D form.

Napkin rings are very plentiful. The prices very depending on the condition of the piece. On my Mickey Mouse it would be worth more if the graphics were still on him. Unfortunately the graphics were made of paper and time is not a good friend of paper products. Plus, day to day use wore away the paper.
The next one is a souvenir from the 1939-1940 New York World's Fair. This piece features the trylon and perisphere buildings, which made up the theme of the fair. Again, the wording, while not in paper, is being worn away. I don't use this one very much and I only own the one. It was a pricey little piece and I don't plan to buy anymore. I think it is cool though.
Then I have two different rabbits, a rocking horse, two different fish, and a duck. These are common pieces and are easily located. Some have the beads for eyes, which are my favorite. The rocking horse is slightly strange since it is short and fat, sometimes I think it could be a rocking dog. Next week, door willing, I will show the rest.

One interesting thing about Bakelite is if you are lucky, you may be able to find the "mistake" napkin rings. Since some many of these items were made by hand, mistakes happened. Maybe they only got one eye, or the dogs were not uniformed, etc. These were generally to be thrown away but a good portion of them were taken home by the employees or sent out to the company store in their "Goof" pile. These are the ones I look for. All the ones I have ever found have been way out of my price range, but as in all things, hope springs eternal.