That pretty much sums it up. And you?
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
2. Carlie got a DSLR camera for an early Christmas gift. It is hers and I need to leave her alone with it, but I am helicopter parenting the shit out of that thing.
3. I have lost my running mojo, my writing mojo and my work mojo. I am rolling in eat-everything mojo though, so I've got that going for me. Bring on the Halloween candy.
4. I got an iPhone 5 The. Day. They. Were. Available. I love it and also am pretty sure my shit no longer stinks.
5. Time to start the holiday crafting. If I could get paid for pinning stuff on Pinterest, I'd be a millionaire.
6. Saw this a while ago and have been laughing about it ever since. Women are crazy.
Friday, September 7, 2012
|bedside bedroom storage at Young House Love|
|my bedroom, storageless|
|another shot, to show how ridiculously awesome that ceiling angle is|
Thursday, September 6, 2012
|This is my toaster.|
|This is a *genius* idea on Pinterest, wherein *genius* = don't need to walk two blocks because I have a bag of stale bagels and some cheese and carmelized onions #winning|
|This is my ex-toaster/new bialy maker.|
|This is why I should not be allowed on Pinterest. Or in the kitchen.|
Also... next time you need to start a fire, stale bagels make excellent kindling.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tim bought himself a pair of socks, and I noticed. Because? He has not bought himself a clothing item in 15 years. I buy all of his clothes, including socks.
But really? This is what my life has become? That I have the ability to notice a foreign sock in my husband's wardrobe? My first thought was, he must be having an affair, because I cannot even imagine that he went shopping on his own.
That was really my first thought. Even though I have no fear that my husband is cheating. But an affair with a sock-buying slut is more likely than Tim going shopping. Seriously.
While divvying up the laundry, I held up the offending socks, black wool Wigwam-brand hiking socks to be exact, and said, "Where did these come from?"
"I bought them at a garage sale."
I'd kind of prefer that they were a gift from a sock-buying slut, if we're being totally honest here.
Monday, June 25, 2012
"Yeah, I guess so," she replied. "Do you have everything you wanted?"
He looked over his shoulder into the back of his jeep at the pile of crap - an old quilt, a set of dull knives, a birdhouse painted to look like a general store. There was nothing there that he needed or wanted, but he had been led to believe that divvying up the accumulated rubbish was the expected thing to do at the time of a break up, so he had obliged. Another rite of passage checked off the list.
She stood on the porch of the cabin, her arms wrapped around her waist, hugging herself as of she were chilled even though the heat was sweltering.
"So, okay," she said, "I guess..."
"Yeah," he said, "I'd better get going."
She looked relieved to hear it, and raised a hand in a half-hearted wave.
He backed out of the driveway and turned the jeep around, taking one last look at the cabin that he'd once planned to retire too.
He took a deep last drag of his cigarette and headed down the road, flicking the butt out of the window, into the dry brown grass.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
As Tim and I celebrate our 14th wedding anniversary today, I am working on an outline for a self help guide to having a successful marriage. Chapters include:
Chapter 2: Laugh together. A LOT.
Chapter 3: Good sex can help make up for a myriad of small offenses (see Appendix B)
Chapter 4: Compromise, Motherfucker.
Chapter 5: Get on the same page with regards to finances and child rearing (see Chapter 4)
Chapter 6: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so GET A LIFE, MAKE SOME FRIENDS and DO YOUR OWN THING on a regular basis
Chapter 7: Dance together. OFTEN.
Chapter 8: Never go to bed angry. Seriously, hash that shit out until 3 a.m. You have a much better chance of
Appendix A: Signs of pretentious douchery include ironic mustaches, pipe smoking, and skateboarding as primary mode of transportation after age 30. NOTE: indicators of douchery may vary regionally.
Appendix B: Small offenses include leaving the toilet seat up, not putting the new roll of toilet paper onto the roll holder, putting the new roll on the roll holder but BACKWARDS, and a host of other toilet related offenses.
DISCLOSURE: This is my second marriage, so I have had some practice. I know from good. And I've got it good.
Monday, April 9, 2012
The character Jason Stackhouse on True Blood: "Any woman with a purse that big is bound to have something in it I don't want to know about."
Saturday, March 31, 2012
I have this *awesome* new thing that I do where I frantically search my house for something that I can never find, and then mid search forget what I'm looking for and just stand in the living room/kitchen/bedroom BAFFLED, wondering what the fuck I am doing in the living room/kitchen/bedroom, because I have NO CLUE what I was searching for.
Wherein *awesome* = sarcasm. THIS IS NOT AWESOME AT ALL.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Right side of the dining room. The only thing that is really "fixed" in this space is the lights above the table are where they are, therefore the table always has to be centered beneath the lights. Everything else is up for moving. The mirror leaning against the wall belongs upstairs, so that'll be moving.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
You know you are a mom when...
You are thrilled to be in control of the remote even though the TV only has, like, six crappy channels
You go to the bar for dinner and enjoy wine, happy hour snacks, and a library book, alone, in the most well lit corner of the bar
The fun activity you brought with you, just for kicks, is individual false eyelashes and eyelash glue. And a library book
Monday, January 16, 2012
Once of the pro/con items that didn't seem significant was the garbage situation. In our old house, we had curbside pickup for garbage and recycling, one day per week. In the condo, we have a dumpster for garbage, plus dumpsters for recycling, that we can use any/every day of the week. We have to walk a skosh farther than the curb, but all in all, not a big deal.
Something that I did not anticipate was my husband's transformation into a dumpster diver. There's a little area adjacent to the dumpsters, just empty space, where people put "things" that seem a little too "good" for the dumpster, and apparently other people take them. Kind of like a sharing table. I've seen a nice-looking highchair sitting there, big empty rubbermaid bins, even a computer monitor, just sitting there, discarded, next to the dumpster, but nothing that has ever tickled my fancy.
What I'd never seen was a plant. Which is okay, because I've never met a house plant that I can't kill. But the other day, apparently a plant appeared at the dumpster, and by the end of that day, the plant was in my house, courtesy of Tim, who apparently forgot that bringing a plant into our house is the kiss of death. Also, for some reason, this is all my fault? I'm the plant killer? I don't understand how he brings a plant in and now it's "my" plant, but that's another post...
Anyway, here's the plant. A palm of some kind. A perfectly nice plant, I'm sure. Whatever.
The plant needed something beneath it to catch water, and apparently my husband has no idea how much a Demarle fluted moldhttp://shop.demarleathome.com/categories/1039622269-flexipan-molds/products/879818044-fluted-square-mold costs, because that's where I found my pan.
I noticed that our "special" kitty, Buffy the Mouse Slayer, was very interested in the plant. She's the biggest pain in the ass cat in the history of cats, fyi, but she is quite pretty. And we all know that pretty girls get away with pain in the ass shit that us regular girls just can't pull off. Again, a story for another post...