What. A. Week.

I swear, every time I sat down to write something would take me away. I may not have much to say but I still want to type it out.

First, our trip to Eldest’s graduation was full of surprises. I had no idea that cold could possibly get colder, or that wind could get any windier. It was so cold and windy, the graduates were given outerwear and we had to wait for their leaders to collect their coats prior to commencement and at the end. Afterwards we enjoyed our crowded stay inside the NEX as we watched sn*w falling. Once we could make our way to the vehicle, our new sailor expressed her wishes for the day. My taste for coffee was challenged when we took her to Starbucks. She was dying for a fix, and I was dying for actual coffee which I didn’t find thus I had to settle for hot chocolate. Then my geography knowledge was challenged when I found myself willing to drive to Wisconsin. No, we didn’t stop for any cheese. But we did stop to take a picture with the sign. After that, we made our way to a mall where she could have another Starbucks fix and wander around, whereupon my shopping gene was challenged and kept under strict control. The following day we were fortunate enough to spend a few hours at the airport with her as well, before our flights departed, ours for home, and hers for her duty station. And through all of this, she is ecstatic to have her phone back.

Second, ever had to make a diorama? Remember the fun you had making a three dimensional scene? Me neither. Little One had to make a stage set to SCALE for her tech theater class. When I say to scale, I mean everything had to be measured and built from scratch. No cheating at the hobby shop. Her assignment was to detail a living room in a 1970’s mansion. Break out the velvet sofas and gold brocade walls, right? Good thing I had all that stuff in my craft room. No, not actual gaudy wallpaper but gold paint and velvet I had in spades. Then came the hard part: making furniture. If I never see another piece of cardboard it will be too soon. Unless it’s a box from the Lolita website. Then it’s ok.

Third, nothing like trying to organize Thanksgiving get-together while still in the middle of home improvements. Luckily all that will be over by next week. Especially if I can convince my sister Reno Queen to change out a couple of light fixtures. If she has time, that is. Otherwise I will deal with unsightly holes in the ceiling and candlelight, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

But the highlight of the week belongs to Son, who was named a National Merit Commended Scholar, earning him a scholarship due to his incredibly high score on the PSAT/ NMSQT. The first of many accolades to come for the brainiac, I’m sure. If only he would get his driver’s license….

So, that’s this week’s wrap-up from gloomy South Texas. We are headed for a massive amount of rain,which means I need to get in gear and do all the grocery shopping before that happens. I’m not fool enough to go out during a rainstorm. Flash flooding always, ALWAYS wins. Also, I don’t particularly care for the wet-cat-through-hedge look.

Have a great Friday 🙂

Plane, Metro, and Automobile

This week Eldest graduates from Navy boot camp. That translates to her parents travelling northward by plane, by metro, and by taxi into the maelstrom that is the polar vortex*.

Momma ain’t happy.

I hate cold weather. Snow is pretty, especially when you watch it fall from the comfort of your home while drinking hot chocolate and standing right inside beside the fireplace. Right now I am wearing thick wool socks, sweatpants, long-sleeve shirt, sweater, and have a heat pad set on high. I am >< to buying fur-lined boots for the trip. FUR-LINED BOOTS!!! That should tell you just how desperate I am to avoid frostbite. There is an upside to winter, though.

In my opinion, that pie chart should be a solid tan color. So brace yourselves: complaining here about the cold is coming. And that will most likely follow complaining about my trip to the tundra.

Someone should tell Canada to take back the weather 😀

*Yes, I’m using that term, but only because I picture polar bears in a tornado.

Random Gratefulness

It’s November and that means Thanksgiving and that leads to recognizing the things for which we are grateful. I understand that there are many, so very many things and I see in social media a daily account of friends listing their blessings. It’s very touching to see and it also helps to put things in perspective. I don’t participate because I prefer to keep that private. But there are some random things, basic, mundane, everyday things to which I would like to express appreciation.

For example, I am grateful for locks. They have some rather unique uses. I am grateful for the ability to prevent my kids from using my fabric scissors on their cardboard projects.

I am also grateful for that awesome 80’s hair fashion holdover, the scrunchie. Without it, all the power cords behind the entertainment center would resemble Medusa on a bad day.

Lastly, I am very grateful for the ever-present margarine containers. They are so handy. Not just for storing the coming Thanksgiving leftovers for friends to take home so that it doesn’t overcrowd my refrigerator, but also for the sundry crafting stuff that apparently seems to disappear the minute I need it, and re-appear once I am done with whatever project I had. And because I don’t microwave in them, I don’t release poly-something.

So there you have it. Random things I am thankful to have around. I would have listed Duct Tape™ and WD-40™, but they go without saying, as does the rope and shovel. Hope y’all have a great Thursday 😉

 

Nothing Screams “Halloween” Like Getting Ready for Christmas

I swore I would never become one of those people. You know who I’m talking about. The people who start their Christmas decor shopping before October arrives. I went to a home decor superstore to get some artificial flowers and was bombarded by a giant air-powered snowglobe designed for the front yard. This was the first week of October. I had to pass twelve aisles to get to the fall stuff.

Twelve out of twenty-four!!

Now, I don’t criticize anyone who starts their Christmas gift shopping early. My mom is usually two years ahead of schedule with it. I usually start around February for the coming Christmas. But I do wait to get any decor until after Thanksgiving. But y’all know me: once an idea gets under my skin, I have to do it. And this year I got the idea to make a winter wreath for my front door. I have already made the flowers to use on the wreath. I made them this week while also making Little One’s costume and mum. Once the hot glue gun is on, I keep going.

The yellow one is an outlier. I had extra felt and made it because I could. Now, some people don’t think that’s a big deal because I am making the wreath, but keep in mind I have yet to make a fall wreath.

Yes, I do feel some shame.

I do have my Halloween wreath, which has been out most of the month, so I have that going for me which is nice. But no fall wreath. So in my mind I have to rectify that by making the fall wreath before I do the winter one, right? Translation: making fall flowers and buying a wreath and more glue sticks and more felt. It’s a sacrifice I am more than willing to make. 😀

Embracing the Breaks

Growing up, my mom always told me to be mindful of people’s feelings. It wasn’t just a mean thing to do, but also a shocking breach of etiquette. But it always bothered me how being considerate of people’s feelings jarred against being honest, even when kind. I’m of the opinion that no one has a right to be offended, but also one should never be spiteful. There’s a meme that always rubs me the wrong way about this.

I get what that is trying to say: once you hurt someone, the damage can’t be repaired. But what it misses is that people have to get “damaged” in order to grow and mature. Facing adversity makes people stronger. The world isn’t going to save your feelings all the time. But in damage there can also be beauty.

This ancient Japanese tradition is based on the philosophy that things that have been broken can be made to be more beautiful than before. They have overcome adversity, and have a history and scars of what they have overcome. Just because something broke, it shouldn’t be discarded. So it is with people. Some of us are more damaged than others. But just because we are damaged doesn’t mean we are no longer needed or wanted. It is our responsibility to fill our breaks with gold, and become stronger for having been broken. No one else can do that for you.

A flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all. — The Emperor, Mulan

When you break, pick up the pieces and make them more beautiful. Show the world that you are no longer the same, but better. And you’ll be stronger for it 🙂

A Little Rain Falling

I received word this afternoon that my uncle had passed away after a long illness. I cried a lot, I prayed a lot, and cried some more. He was a special man in many ways. He was a victim of a hit-and-run accident while he was helping someone stranded on the road. As a result, he was mentally handicapped (he never did like the “challenged” description, so there), but that never stopped him from living Life. And as I grieve, I am remembering how he grabbed Life by the horns, twisted its neck and threw it down yelling, “CHUPATELA!!!*”

Some of you may know of my credo of being happy every day. I’m not happy ALL day, mind you, but I do find something to be happy about every day. I learned that from him. He had a zest for life that made Zorba look like a piker. I remember once his sow lost a few piglets during birth. We were all sad, until he told us he “planted” them snout up, so the tree would grow and give us more piglets. I kid you not. And then there was the time when someone ask him to call them back, so he breathed in the word “hello” (because it was air going in, not out). Oh, and one time he decided that he wanted to sleep under the stars, so he got a photo of Marisol Malaret (the first Puertorican to win the Miss Universe title) and taped it to the ceiling. He was unstoppable.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was an inspiration to all of us. He is preceded by his oldest son, and I know they are both in Heaven, laughing at the rest of us who still have to wait to get to the party.

Because he was the party.

Te quiero mucho, Tio Papo. Esperame, que vengo con chismes y con ron de barrilitos 😀

* The equivalent of saying “SUCK IT!!” And the last sentence: I love you very much, Uncle Papo. Wait for me, because I’m coming with gossip and single barrel rum. 😀

Back to Blerghing

Sorry for my absence this past week. It was Little One’s birthday yesterday and I spent most of the week running errands in preparation for the Apocalypse the day. My Little One is no longer little, I’m afraid. She has outgrown me by a couple of inches, and I am mourning still. It’s not easy to realize your baby is 15 years old and interested in dating boys.

I may just cut myself.

Anyway it is officially Fall now, or as we in Texas like to call it, Summer v. 2.0. That means it is time to start getting the yard and the shrubbery ready for Winter, or as we call it, Fall-lite. Usually it isn’t a problem, but this past few weeks we have enjoyed copious amounts of the wet stuff that falls from the clouds. As a result, everything is flowering later than usual.

The gardenias, the crepe myrtle, the cassia…. my yard looks lovely and I don’t want to destroy it just yet. But with all the commitments and out-of-town visits planned, this weekend is my only chance at doing it. I am seriously thinking of letting it go and dealing with it in the Spring, or as we call it, Summer-lite. Time will tell. And by “time” I mean my mom, who will probably tell me to take Joaquina to it now. Of course, my mom sees a leaf fall and she is out there with a rake and a blower. Me? I’m all like, “Oh, look….a branch fell. Circle of Life, baby.” I’m not the most meticulous yard person, especially since my dog is intent on destroying it most of the time. For now, I guess I will trim a bit this weekend. Pretending to be productive is the next best thing 🙂

Picking Battles

I’m a wife and mother. Picking battles is something I do often. I have a 50% success rate, which is not bad considering.

You try dealing with a band director.

Anyway, I am slowly making some updates in the house. The floor was the latest. It was a five year wait, but completely worth it. Unfortunately, the contractor vetoed my plan to burn the Berber carpeting. He did let me stab it a few times, though. I thought he might think I was crazy but he told me his wife did the same thing. Yes, I am well aware that doesn’t rule out insanity. But it’s something. Anyway, one of the things I really, and I mean really want to do is the fireplace. It’s brick in a tan…beige…dun… blah color with blah mortar. I mean it’s there, but doesn’t stand out in any way. And that is supposed to be a feature in the living area. At first I wanted to take it all out, and replace it with slate, which is fantabulous. But the floors were paramount (not the movie company) and that was an expense we couldn’t afford. So then I decided why not paint it, right? And this is where Hubby just looked at me like I had grown another head and said I was nuts no, too much involved in doing it. So then I was casually asking my contractor how I could repaint or stain the brick on the fireplace, to which he replied that it wasn’t a great idea because of the time and amount of ventilation required.

Suffice it to say, everyone is against me.

It was grating on my nerves, dealing with the boring drabness of the fireplace. I watch Property Brothers on HGTV and see the Flynn Ryder twin repainting fireplaces all the time!! But I was vetoed. GAH!!! As I sat there, wondering which house some Canadian couple was going to buy from the dapper twin, I saw it: a bold, beautiful BIG glob of glass sitting on a shelving unit in the background. And as I looked at my fireplace, I noticed something: everything, and I mean everything I had decorating it was in the same color range as the damn brick. Browns, beiges, tans, ambers…. no wonder that fireplace was so awful. That glob of glass stood out like a gorgeous preening peacock screeching LOOK AT MOI!!! And I knew, sure as the sun will rise, that I had seen it somewhere before.

Behold Ikea’s Stockholm vase. Actually, it is one of three Stockholm vases they carry in different styles and colors. Which begs the question: why call it the same name when they are different? Well, it’s Ikea. That’s what they do to mess with the customer. I recalled seeing the vase back on Mother’s Day when I last went to Swedesville. I liked them but had no idea where I would place them in the house. So I passed on them. Fast forward a few months and I am upstate for my nephew’s wedding, and my brother’s lovely girlfriend offers to entertain me by obliging my jones and taking me to Ikea, which is only 20 minutes from her home, unlike mine which is about 2 ½ hours if I’m lucky. So now Phase One of Fireplace Redo is complete, because I bought its taller, greener brother as well. Hey, one for either side of the fireplace, ok? I know it’s female logic, but it works. Trust me 😀

Of Champagne and Train Wrecks

This past Sunday morning was rather uneventful as usual. Normally I get up and make myself my first of three cups of coffee, and sit down to read news from around the world. But I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with the State of Fear™ constantly bombarding my social and blog sites, so I decided to watch TV. I was hoping for some fun show where they completely demolish your kitchen/ bathroom/ house and rebuild it with some neat upgrades like a complete sound system in the shower or a wine dispenser in the kitchen.

Yes, they do make those.

Anyway, I was scrolling along and the next thing I see is a pair of Louboutin shoes on display on some show. I had to stop and look. Look, they were Louboutins, ok?? So I start watching two women discussing the pros and cons of buying that particular pair of studded Louboutins for a catering event and how one of the gals just HAD to get them in order to make a statement at said catering event. Then it turns out it was a commercial for some reality TV show, but before I could change it, ANOTHER reality TV show came on, and it was about a pack of wild hyenas group of well-to-do ladies (and I use that term loosely) from Melbourne, Australia called Real Housewives of Melbourne. Let me tell you, the only truth in that title is the name of the city. And so began my descent into the maelstrom of fake reality TV.

I picked up the storyline from the time Gal 1 decided to take all of them to an exclusive resort, where some of the others decided it was the opportune time to accuse her of talking behind their backs and Gal 1 AKA Barrister had enough and left them there, and Gal 2 AKA Switzerland called her to make sure she was ok, but the others ignored her, and then Gal 3 Mystic was scrambling to launch a cocktail line, but wanted a date with her hubby, so she and Gal 4 AKA Pilot went shopping at Agent Provocateur and spent $4,500 on a piece of lingerie, which her rocker hubby adored to the tune of $6,000 diamond earrings, while Gal 5 AKA Instigator is trying to fan the flames while trying to put them out between Barrister and Gal 6 AKA Plastic Barbie. So Barrister is being actively ostracized by all but Switzerland, and Mystic, who is keeping everyone at arms’ length because she comes from Newcastle and her mom is Russian and she has seen serious crap go down. And Plastic barbie is writing a book about how women can have it all (because that has never, ever been done) and is joining forces with Pilot who is also writing a book, but no one knows about what because she is too busy talking about her fantastic life and her fantastic dog. Then you have Switzerland trying to patch things up between Plastic Barbie and Barrister in a limo on the way to a special private opening of a new store from America called “West Elm”.

And this is where I lost it, yelling at the TV, “HA! I shop there you rich bimbos. You ain’t better than me!!”

And Hubby gave me a smile and a little pitying look right then.

Anyway, Switzerland is trying to make the peace by opening champagne and telling all of them this is some girl time to talk things out, because as normal people know, shopping is when women talk to each other. But then Plastic barbie gets it in her head to talk about Barrister RIGHT THERE and there is nothing Switzerland can do to mend the rifts, and Instigator full well owns up to having had a hand in it, and is cheered on by Pilot for being such a stand-up person, when in the real world a normal woman would have scratched her eyes out for being so duplicitous. So on to Mystic and her alcohol and she is by far the most normal of the Rich Pack. She doesn’t own a dog, but if she did, she wouldn’t subject it to dressing it up in costumes or taking it to a pooch party, which totally happened. Anyway she and rocker hubby are launching a new line of cocktails and she decides she doesn’t need the drama, so she steers as clear as one can while being followed around with cameras. Meanwhile Instigator and Switzerland confront Barrister to make her go apologize to Plastic Barbie, and that she needs to own up to what she had called Barbie and Pilot. So Barrister meets with Barbie and the amount of FAIL could only be measured on a Richter scale. Because as normal people know, women with chips on shoulders will never apologize when cameras are rolling. And so on to the end of this champagne-fueled train wreck, where the cocktail line is launching, and all the gals are in attendance for Mystic, while Barrister is actively ignored by Pilot and Barbie. The launch is a success, and at the end all six go sit to talk things out, and with drinks flowing and tongues wagging, it’s a miracle it was intelligible enough for closed-captioning. And still Barrister didn’t apologize, Pilot is still musing about a book, Barbie is still mad, Instigator is held at arms’ length, Switzerland has given up, and Mystic is as adjusted as a psychic married to a rock star and launching a cocktail line can be.

So I wasted my Sunday morning watching a bunch of pretentious women have cat fights on TV. Y’all didn’t think I was serious when I say I live a boring life, did you? Well, now you have proof 😀

Boredness

No, that’s not a word. But it describes my feelings rather well. Hubby and I embarked on a new experience called, “Let’s install hardwood floors and watch the dogs go insane”. For the most part it has been hilarious. The past two days I have kept busy cleaning and dusting as the floor experts worked. But today everything cam to a standstill, because the painter (who will be caulking and painting the baseboards) had a flat tire. And I have no idea where he is. And neither does his boss. And until they finish tonight I can’t run errands. And that means I can’t get lunch or a new air filter.

So I decided to work on a project that I had no idea I wanted to do.

In my house there is this…. hallway. I call it the Hallway of Lost Souls. Because we have a bonus room upstairs, there is a wall that the builders put up to be load-bearing. Well, this wall divides the “formal” dining room from the …… three feet to the kitchen wall. It is a useless hallway, and if I A) had the money, 2) was planning on retiring in this area and keeping the house, and iii) cared enough, I would have hired some contractor to put a support beam and get rid of the damn wall. But as it is, I just dealt with it by hanging wall art that really didn’t fit anywhere.

There is obviously a crappy light fixture which I will replace pronto. Anyway, those prints don’t go with anything in the house. I just hung them there when we first moved in because I had no idea what to do with them. That was eight years ago. The little house is a keepsake with all our names hanging from the hearts. That also really doesn’t go there. So, I went to the garage and dug up some stuff I had: old frame, fabric, cork pieces, an old “S”, and paint. I also had a chalkboard sold “as is” at Michaels™ that had been gouged on the bottom of the board area. And I got to work. I spray painted the old frame in an heirloom white, covered  cardboard in the burlap-like fabric, painted the “S” and adhered to wrapped cardboard, and added a flower. Then I cut pieces of corkboard to fit the gouged area and adhered to the board. I found one of my Longaberger Baskets™ to hold chalk and eraser, and now I have a message center.

And now I have less crap in my garage, all because I had boredness. Now it’s time to work on the mirrors that will go in my dining room, flanking my Wall of Light™. But that will have to wait until I change the drapes and paint the block shelves. Change is coming, oh yes it is 😀