Stuff and things, things and stuff
Boy, it’s too bad none of you had any opinions about my wedding dress. (Wait, is this a TOMATO someone threw at my head, there? C’mon, now. That would’ve been lovely on your salad, come lunchtime.)
I have to tell you that I was ready to rid myself of the wedding dress without a backwards glance; I was just unsure of the best avenue for doing do. But after 80-odd comments exhorting me to THINK OF THE CHILDREN (specifically, to think of how my daughter might consider such a thing), I made a terrible mistake. I asked Chickadee about it.
And she begged me to keep the dress. OF COURSE. I mean, I had known she would, which is why I hadn’t asked her in the first place. And I hadn’t decided not to ask her because I knew she’d want it and I’ve set my heart on being a horrible monster who disregards her feelings, but because there is NOTHING on the planet that Chickadee doesn’t want to keep. Forever. read more…
All boxed in
I’ve been on a bit of a tear around here, lately. It’s the spring cleaning bug, dontcha know. I start out cleaning, and then I plant an entire garden, and then half of it dies in a freak frost, and then I start spending hours outside, begging tiny wilted stumps of plants to JUST GROW. When that doesn’t work, I move on to other domestic chores.
All of which is to say, I can’t really babble for all that long, today, because I’m busy baking working like I’m supposed to. Ahem.
But I’d like to conduct a little informal poll. Say you’d been living in a house for coming up on two years, and you still had three unpacked boxes in your bedroom which had been opened, pawed through, rearranged, and then disregarded for who knows how long. Would you 1) go through them again, vowing to unpack or throw away or just 2) throw away without opening? I’m curious.
Also, would you list your first-wedding gown on eBay with an appropriately snarky commentary or would you just give it to Goodwill? And how much penance is appropriate for forcing your husband to live with your old wedding gown for two years, anyway?
It’s what’s for dinner for the next year
We bought a cow. Well, no; we bought a quarter of a cow.
I’m not willing to give up eating meat at this point in my life. I’ve cut way, way back—because of price, because of my growing unwillingness to eat meat that may be the result of less-than-natural circumstances, because both Foodie and my daughter are too willing to tell me how inhumane it is—but I still eat and enjoy meat.
If I’m going to eat it, and serve it to the meat-eating portion of my family, I want to make the commitment to eating natural/local. So when a friend called and told me that she’d located a source for local beef, I told her I was absolutely in. Sign me up! I’ll buy part of that cow!
Time passed and I sort of forgot about it. And then the emails began. “The beef is coming next week,” I was told. Then: “The beef is probably coming Wednesday.” And finally: “Definitely Saturday. He’ll call you before he delivers.” read more…
Better worship through baking
*dusting off hands, clearing throat*
Hot cross buns!
[rising]
read more…
Home again, whole again
Chickadee was away for a few days this week on a school trip; some extremely brave school personnel took a gaggle of 10- and 11-year-olds into the woods and lived with them there. On purpose.
Due to the whole divorce and visitation thing, I’m accustomed to the kids going away for a few days every so often. I don’t freak out about it or anything. I missed her while she was gone, and the house was quieter, and Monkey very much enjoyed his all-too-brief stint as an only child, but it was okay. All good. Though by today I was itching to have her home.
I picked her up this afternoon and I am not exaggerating when I tell you that describing her joyful demeanor as “mean as a snake” is putting it kindly. Some people do okay with sleep deprivation, and my daughter is not one of them. So she was crabby and snappy and churlish. Nice to see you, too! read more…
Love is at its best through the worst
This Love Thursday, I invite you to take a deep breath, hug your children, and then go read about Madeline Spohr. Her life was too short, but her legacy is (already) a swell of love and support that restores my faith in the human race.
My thoughts are with the Spohr family, today.
The Bionic Monkey
There are things I understand about genes, and other things I don’t. Like, I understand that I can make a clover with my tongue because I have a pair of recessive genes which allow me to do so, and I also understand that I have hazel eyes because I have one BROWN eye gene and one BLUE eye gene. I understand that each of my children have half their genes in common with me, and so theoretically that means we will have many things in common. I even understand that some recessive genetic things will cause my children to be very different than I am.
But I do not understand the recessive bionic gene.
Okay; it’s probably not a gene. Or even, necessarily, a group of genes. But I still don’t understand it.
And after 9+ years of living with it, it still surprises me each and every time. read more…
What a long strange trip. . . you know
I honestly don’t remember how or when it started, but I know that it was not too long after I began blogging, so about five years ago.
Somehow, Kira and I found each other. We read each other’s blogs, we emailed, and—eventually—started chatting via Instant Messenger. Every night.
There I was on the East coast, and Kira in Colorado. By the time she would get her boys into bed, I’d be thinking about going to sleep, myself. But she’d appear online and I’d vow to just chat with her for a few minutes, and three hours later—stomach sore from laughing or crying or (often) both—I would tell her I had to get to sleep.
I’d been divorced a year, and had two small children. She’d been on her own with her three boys for longer—a veteran, you might say. There were days when she was pretty much the only thing standing between me and a nervous breakdown. read more…
Who’s on 1st; what’s the temp on 2nd?
Our weekend was blessedly boring. Thank goodness. Sometimes a person needs a little boring.
This weekend was also when I realized that we’ll be opening our pool again in just about a month. And once the pool is open, I will need to put on a bathing suit. This realization at first caused me to drown my sorrows in nachos and cookies, but then I pulled myself together and realized that it was simply some time to give myself some TOUGH LOVE and get to work. So: I’m back on the Wii Fit and I’m back to watching what I eat. I tell you this by way of explanation for the bitchiness that I’m sure is ONLY BEGINNING today and shall continue throughout this month. Please send sympathy and, um, naked air-popped popcorn. (Yech.)
So anyway, there’s nothing like a Monday morning on a diet, to begin with. Little did I know that the joy was ONLY BEGINNING! Because today, oh lucky, lucky me, I had a technician coming to do our heating and cooling maintenance. read more…
Yep, it’s gonna be a long Spring
The point will come when I stop showing you blurry pictures of little green bits and going on and on about how excited I am that things in my garden are growing. I’m pretty sure it will, anyway.
But it’s not here yet. Especially because I went out the other morning and suddenly! There was a whole bunch more STUFF! Out of NOWHERE! Like MAGIC! And I feel the need to share, because this way we’ll have a nice backdrop upon which to consider the subsequent bitching sure to come when I have beans coming out my ears and a freezer full of shredded zucchini, yes?
And also because I’m feeling more confident that the things I’m seeing are actual plants-on-purpose rather than weeds. Though I maintain that the grass-looking things from the other day are actually spinach. Now Otto has told me that we are expecting a freeze tomorrow night and I’m worried everything is going to die even if we cover it, so I have to take pictures before the Apocalypse. Or something. read more…