Thankful Changes

Oy…finally!! We are moving into Autumn quite nicely! Today brought a cold (cool? Cooling, maybe?) front through South Texas, encouraging the leaves outside to start changing somewhat. We don’t get the glorious colors of Autumn in New England here, but neither do we get the blizzards and power outages and ice-covered roads. Soon enough, the squirrels that run on my rooftop will go hibernate somewhere, and my dogs will no longer perk up and go insane at the sound of pitter patter.

Another wonderful thing about Autumn is my favorite holiday: Thanksgiving. I’m not sure why it is, but I love it. Cooking vast amounts of food, trying to be overheard above the din of football and kids, visiting with family, taking the time to give to others less fortunate and being thankful for everything in your life, is what makes this day so special.

Of course, there will be a lot of preparations, and tears for what we have lost, and have gained, and prayers for those who cannot be with us, and for those who are lost and afraid. But also smiles for our loved ones, and teasing and laughing and lots and lots of unbuttoning of jeans.

I pray y’all have a wonderful Thanksgiving, and know that I am very grateful for each and every one of you 🙂

I Sheet You Not

Last night my back was bothering me quite a bit, letting me know it was time for me to stretch it out. The fact that it was 11 PM may have been a factor in that. I finally locked down and went to bed, and as I laid down I gave a sigh of contentment. I can pretty much sleep anywhere, as long as my lower back has some support, like from a small pillow, if need be. No, what made me sigh in contentment were my 600 count sateen sheets.

Ahhhhh!!!

Trust me when I say, there is nothing quite like the feel of high count sheets. (Ok, maybe there is, but this is a family friendly blog, so keep it to yourself!) A couple of weeks ago, I had put a set of sheets on my bed that I had purchased back in 2000 or so. I went to bed that night, and felt like sandpaper was scratching my skin. I got up, took them off, and put a high count sheet set on my bed, consigning that other set to the donation pile. From now on, nothing less than 450 count will ever grace the mattresses in this house.

Some people may think that’s a bit high maintenance, but trust me: it’s like sleeping on a cloud. Besides, I’m totally worth it! 😉

I Stumbled into Twin Peaks, and Didn’t Even Get Cherry Pie

As some of y’all may know, I took the kidlets on a roadtrip to the town of Comfort, Texas. Comfort is a hidden gem in the west of Hill Country. It is famous for its architecture, as well as being the site of the only Union monument in Confederate territory. Treue der Union Monument is dedicated to the German abolitionists who chose to flee rather than be conscripted into the Confederate Army. This was a great opportunity to teach kids a bit about Texas and Civil War history, as well as 19th century architecture, while spending quality time together.

The drive was uneventful, with a couple of minor traffic jams, but we made pretty good time, arriving there around noon. The first thing we notice is the lack of signs letting us know where the historical district resides. No matter, I just figure we drive around and eventually hit it, by counting the numbered streets. Sure enough, we stumble upon the lovely High Street area. I park further down on 6th Street, since the parking is already full, and we proceed to walk towards High Street. As soon as we start to cross, we see the Comfort Bank.

Beautiful, isn’t it? Stonework and brickwork dating back to the mid 1800’s. And the majority of the street has similar architecture, including the old Saloon and the owner’s abode. But then things started getting weird.

There is a Tide…

Or in this case, Gain™. It’s Sunday, and the kids have to do their laundry. That means a lot of whining and complaining. But eventually, I calm down and let them do it their way.

I used to be a stickler for folding clothes a certain way. I got that from my mother. Shirts in thirds lengthwise, and then in thirds again widthwise. Pants folded in half, and half again. And don’t get me started on underwear. My mother is very old school, and used to iron boxer shorts. That is one thing we never had to do at home, thank goodness. But yes, we had to fold everything a certain way at home. But now having my own family, I feel I can give my kids leeway when they do their own laundry. Son likes to fold shirts in half lengthwise and widthwise, Eldest does the thirds and then in half, and Little One likes to fold in half and then fourths. It’s their laundry, so they should fold as they wish.

As long as it’s not just wadded up into a ball and shoved in a drawer, that is 😉

Saturday Sithy

Today is a long day for yours truly, so here. Have a cookie.

Mmmmm….. Sith chocolate. Bitter to the end 😉

Project Runway

No, this has nothing to do with the show. So, if you found this blog because you were searching for the latest Heidi Klum favorite, or Tim Gunn savaging of young wannabes, you’re out of luck. This is about my birthday, which is coming up in a couple of weeks.

I don’t have much luck during my birthday. I don’t make a big deal out of it, either. But it’s a bit hard to take when family forgets sometimes. It’s even worse when you get a used appliance for a gift (“Well, you liked my travel iron so much I decided to give it to you for your birthday!”), or even when you get a gift you had given someone, still in its original gift wrap.

But this year will be different!!

I have decided to celebrate my birthday, on my own. New dress, new shoes, new attitude. I will celebrate that I’ve had another wonderful year on this rock, and be grateful for all of the ups and downs, the good and bad. I will walk the runway like I own it, no matter that there is a run in my stocking or even if the heel breaks off my shoe and I become fashion roadkill.

True fashion roadkill, on many levels....

None of that will matter, because I’ll have made it to the runway.

Nitpicking

Well, yesterday was my tri-annual trip to the dentist. I go three times a year because I tend to be more susceptible to plaque than most people.

Too much info, I know.

Anyway, yesterday’s visit was with a new dental hygienist. I will call her Olga. No, I’ll call her Brunhilde. Anyway, I was to be tended to by Brunhilde, who was fresh from dental school. Now, I don’t mind being anyone’s “first” guinea pig. Everyone has to start somewhere, right? Brunhilde was a nice gal. She was very talkative, and by “very” I mean she asked a lot of questions. That’s not very conducive to a successful dental cleaning. But she took everything in stride, and was very funny.

I needed the sense of humor, trust me.

She began by asking me if I would like a deadening gel. I have never needed one before, and told her so. She shrugged and said ok, and began what I like to refer to as “The Reckoning”. I call it that because I reckon she got to scrape under my guns at least 75% of the time. By mistake, not design. By about the tenth time of that, I put up my hand, and when she sat back, I asked her for the deadening gel. And by “asked” I mean begged. I was trying very hard not to cry, but she had a gift for unerringly finding my nerves. She got a swab, and proceeded to spread the gel all along the gumlines. Unfortunately, my tongue was also along the gumlines. I began to feel the familiar swelling that come with Novocaine™. Pretty soon this should no longer bother me, right? WRONG!! My tongue was numb, but the inside of the gums was still having a party. And the worst part? I couldn’t talk well enough to let her know. I laid there, praying she would ask me if I was feeling ok so I could shake my head “no”. Finally she stops and says, “Ok, time to floss and then polish!” I smiled weakly and mumbled that I was sore.

She asks, “Did you just call me a wh*r*??”

I shook my head frantically, trying once again to be understood. Thankfully, she got it, and laughed at what happened. I was still mortified when the dentist came in to do his check-up. When I left, she thanked me for letting her do the cleaning, and asked what she could do differently to make it more comfortable. Of course, I had to tell her!

1. Don’t ask the patient questions during the cleaning. Just keep the conversation as general and monosyllabic as possible, and not too many funny jokes, or the patient will choke!
2. When using the gel, make sure to swab each gumline thoroughly, and reapply gel to swab before continuing. Also, move the tongue out of the way first!
3. Watch for body language. Gripping the chair with white knuckles is a clue.

She was very glad to get my input, and I already made my next appointment with her for next time. After all, I did break her in 🙂

Tropical Treasure

One of my favorite little critters is the coquí, the national symbol of Puerto Rico. It is one of the cutest tree frogs, or hylas, in the world. They aren’t poisonous, but are very abundant, and because they are so small, they are everywhere.

Their song is a beautiful lullaby after a rain, and at night. It is said that a coquí will not sing outside of Puerto Rico, so here is a taste of nighttime in my tropical home:

Now, what I call a lullaby, others call a cacophony. My brother went to PR to visit for a week, hanging out with my dad. And this was our conversation via text:

Bro: (sends pic of coquí in can)

Me: How adorable!

Bro: No, how effin noisy.

Me: HAHAHAHA!!!

Bro: I feel accomplished for catching two in one night. Dad told me I achieved Hubby status.

Me: (laughs even harder)

Me: (catching my breath) Are they still yapping?

Bro: No, I threw them into the empty lot next door.

Me: (laughs hard enough to choke)

Bro: People that don’t know Puerto Ricans think that they yell because they are mad… but I think it’s just because sustained time on this island is cause for auditory damage.

I suppose it’s all relative. 😉

The Olden Days

Last night we had a block party for the neighborhood. I was the ONLY adult that dressed up for Halloween. Thank goodness I passed on the fairy costume. I think I a bit long in the tooth for that. I went as a be bopper.  You know: rolled jeans, boyfriend shirt with rolled sleeves, bobby socks…like this:

I had my hair up in a pony tail, and bright red lipstick, blue eyeshadow and cat eyeliner, and even a scarf in a bow! I was cool!!!

Until a teenage kid asked me what I was supposed to be.

Understanding that some kids really don’t know there was a century before this one, I explained as best as I could. Still, he wasn’t getting it. Until another kid piped up to explain:

Kid #2: She’s dressed like The Outsiders, remember?

Kid #1: Oh yeah, like in the old days.

Me: (Hears the grave calling. Gives them yucky candy)

Next year I’m going to dress up like the Crypt Keeper.  He’s closer to my age.