******** Still sick...it's been a month. I can only assume this is the beginning of the end.
I'm not giving up my ChikFilA waffle fries OR my gay friends. So there. Get off the barricades, people, and get to know each other. Who knows? That might even lead to more mutual understanding. I can dream, can't I?
Don't comment on that last item UNLESS you read the Atlantic piece I linked to first.
Anna decided to move out and get her own place (with a friend). It's tiny, but at least it doesn't have orange shag carpeting like mine and Larry's first apartment, 22 years ago. I remember inviting a friend over for dinner our first week there and lounging around on big floor pillows because we didn't have any furniture. The friend complimented us on the decor. "Nouvelle Bordello," I believe he called it.
Anyway, Anna's apartment is much nicer than that. I'm …
Have I mentioned I'm sick? Oh, yes, I guess I have...several times. Well, today I discovered my silver lining. Stepping on the scale for my monthly weigh-in at Weight Watchers, I saw a number pop up that was way lower than I expected.
By my calculations, over the past 20 years I have bought approximately 16,573 pairs of scissors for the kids to use. Guess how many of those pairs we can find right now in our home?
I'll give the mathematicians among you a hint: the answer is < 1.
That's right - our home is a veritable Bermuda Triangle for scissors (and mates for socks, but that's another story). No matter what I do or where I look, there are never any children's scissors available when we need them. Often, my scissors go missing also (because I haven't wised up enough yet to hide them from the kleptomaniacs I am raising).
So today I was in Target. Shocking, I know. And school supplies are on sale, because, hey, it's not even August but let's torture the children a bit, just for fun. Anyway, I went a little crazy:
10 pairs. (It only cost me 5 dollars.) The question is, how long will they last?
Each one of these pairs of scissors will be marked with a number. Each week, I will c…
I'm thinking Larry considers that last a win-win. The house is slowly falling apart, however, from my lack of activity. I've come to realize that all that stuff I run around doing all day that I can't even recall later? It matters.
If you missed it, Click and Clack offered up an informative piece this weekend on what happens when your husband says, "I'll grill dinner tonight, honey." Don't miss it.
And, last but not least, Smartypants introduced me to this awesome version of The Star-Spangled Banner, as sung by Marvin Gaye in 1983.
Yup, you read that right: US Whooping Cough Outbreak Could Be Worst in Half Century. Right here, CDC! I think we finally have a diagnosis.
Meanwhile, short on sleep (see "couch" and "cough", above) and staggering through my days, keeping everyone on track and moving along - band camp, art camp, Paint Camp - whilst planning meals, foraging for pizza coupons, and making sure to take advantage of this hot summer by spending afternoons at the pool with the kids...
in short, being the MOM around here...
I hadn't realized how close I was to the edge until round about 1:15 today, when Larry called from his cellphone, running late, suggesting he just meet me at Rachel's band camp concert instead of driving us all there.
That cold/cough Brian gifted to me 4 weeks ago? Still here. And, apparently, there's no relief in sight - he's had it for over 8 weeks. I'm needing to upgrade to the softer Kleenex, at this point. And I'm subsisting on the Ricola cough drop diet. Not bad for weight loss, but it is making me a wee bit cranky.
Or maybe that's just the 100-degree heat. You know it's bad when outdoor pools are no longer cool enough to be refreshing.
Let's think about something else, shall we?
Last November, as I watched my fingernails grow while waiting for a word doc to open on my almost-4-year-old laptop, David (my teen tech-geek) said, "You know, there's a better one on sale at Best Buy this week for 270 dollars."
After David had spent a couple of days laboriously transferring my ITunes purchases, etc., onto the new computer (the old one had Vista, which makes all things ITunes complicated), I rewarded him with the old laptop, a gift he accepted …
Brian informed me today that tomatoes make him throw up. Thanks for sharing, buddy.
Ketchup's okay, though.
I lost my head and bought 1/2 a bushel of peaches at the Farmers' Market this morning. And, uh, 1/2 a bushel of tomatoes (which, as it turns out, make Brian throw up). After coming to my senses and foisting half the tomatoes off on a neighbor, I made a delicious uncooked tomato sauce for dinner tonight, consisting of chopped fresh tomatoes, olive oil, fresh basil leaves, and minced garlic. I served it on a bed of child-friendly spaghetti, but I couldn't entice Brian to eat it (because...well, you know already).
By the way, the other day - you know, when I had to clean the house because the exterminator was coming by -- was a milestone of sorts - I managed to vacuum up the last of the Christmas tree needles.
I hope they were the last ones, anyway. Seems there are always more lying in wait for me somewhere...
Several commenters jumped at the concept of Paint Camp the other day and even offered some other useful variations, such as laundry camp and housework camp and (my favorite) pooper-scooper camp. I admire your enthusiasm, ladies. I'm thinking we need to start a franchise.
Brian and I painted the kitchen cabinet frames and doors today in Paint Camp. Green Girl in Wisconsin pointed out in the comments that the problem with painting is that it never ends -- there's ALWAYS something else to paint. I'm here to affirm that she is correct. Today was supposed to be kitchen cabinets. But then I realized that we needed to do the baseboards and shoe-molding, too. AND I finally h…
I've mentioned this before (although I cannot find the post), but I'll say it again: as a family with 6 kids, we find that people tend to give us stuff. Extra onions, say, or kids' books long outgrown in the house of the giver, or even (well, especially) used clothes. "Here," they say. "If you can't use it, I'm sure you know someone who does!" I'm not sure if this is a commendatory reference to my networking abilities or an allusion to the giver's belief that big families know other big families.
So I am used to processing donations through my house. But lately, what with 2 long-time neighbors moving, it's gotten a little extreme. 3 huge boxes of clothes sit next to my desk in the den, waiting to go to the neighborhood thrift store; next to them are 2 very large bags of books - old college books belonging to another neighbor's son. She thought Theo might want them. And in the kitchen? My elderly neighbor who had to downsi…
Whew! I just spent the entire morning cleaning up for the bug man -- moving furniture away from walls, vacuuming, picking up the small toys and game pieces (I'm looking at you, RISK) that insist on making their home where the floor meets the wall. And then I managed to make the pile in the utility room even higher -- I threw on top of it all the junk Larry had piled up by the walls in there. It looks a tad precarious right now, but things should be okay if we don't make any sudden movements. Or until the washer starts its spin cycle...
Please tell me other people have to do this before the exterminator shows up.
Or, maybe not. Maybe I should just accept that we live like pigs. Self-acceptance can be a beautiful thing.
In other news, Brian is attending painting camp this summer, right here at home. Back when we moved in -- oh, 5 years ago -- Larry slapped some paint on the walls that really needed it (for some reason, he didn't WANT a bright pink bedroom) and even pai…
Don't you hate when people post about a blogger get-together and rave about how much fun it was and make you feel as though you missed something special?
Yes? Then you'd better go read another post. Because, really, bacon candy...and lemon cheesecake tarts...and good company...all overseen by a bigger-than-life-sized Johnny Depp...made for a very enjoyable evening indeed.
Patience Crabstick was responsible for the bacon candy. You should all go over to her place and cajole her into posting the recipe. Jen on the Edge, our gracious host, has posted the lemon cheesecake tart recipe. And, of course, it was Mrs. G who brought along Johnny. And Kitty Gigantica - which famous picture I was honored to carry to Mrs. G's car for her when she was preparing to leave. Jen and I agreed it IS the most frightening picture of a cat one can possibly imagine. Mrs. G claims that we just don't understand folk art. I might not know about folk art; but I am willing to wager that that…
I would like to post something, but all my mind keeps thinking is "It's hot. HOT. It's hot here." Over and over, like a broken record.
Have I mentioned it is hot?
The prediction for Saturday is 104 degrees, people. So I'm heading on down to Charlottesville, VA, where it will be a much cooler 103. Yeah, I know. I'm tempted to head the car north instead, but Mrs. G of Derfwad Manor will be at JenontheEdge's house; and I just cannot miss the party.
Also, this is payback for Larry's being away on my birthday. He's supposed to be taking tomorrow off from work, so I can go. But he's already trying to renege on the deal:
Larry: I'm taking the boys to the airport at 5; so I figured I would just swing by work. I'll be home by 8.
Larry: I'll be home in plenty of time for you to leave!
Me: It's my BIRTHDAY.
Larry: (Confused look)
Me: Remember? I don't want to be in charge of the morning stuff. And you have to drive…
I don't get this Instagram thing - it makes our photos look like crappy Polaroids from the 60's and 70's? And everyone wants that? Why?
Most people around here have their power back. But not before the seniors in the independent living apartments up the road from me were literally abandoned by their management to sit in the dark and the 95-degree heat for almost 48 hours before anyone found out and sounded the alarm. The local Patch correspondent put out a notice on Facebook and within an hour the residents were deluged with food and batteries and ice and lemonade.
Let's hear it once again for social networking, all right?
For the record, the management defended its decision by saying that the building is for "independent" living. Hello? A senior citizen who is independent when the lights are on and the AC is going is not necessarily independent in more adverse circumstances. Heck, I'm barely independent without AC and electric. Apparently, the …