NoThanks – Day Sixteen

Today I’m thankful for reserves.

As in underwear reserves.

You know. That pair you don’t really like, but you keep for emergencies such as when you have run out of clean bloomers. What I refer to as auxiliary choners.

I was glad to have such a backup this morning so I didn’t have to wear a pair of Todd’s skivvies. Remember Day Fourteen? The post on busyness? Turns out I haven’t managed to work laundry into the chaos. But it’s no big deal.

That’s why I have reserves.

And if I forget to switch the laundry to the dryer I have a backup reserve.

And if I get the laundry into the dryer but right before I turn it on there’s some crazy kind of distraction — maybe a meteor lands in the side yard or a herd of rhinoceroses runs down the street or Nathan Fillion knocks on my door — and I forget to go back and hit the button I have a spare backup reserve.

After that it will be time to run to Target and buy more panties.

TP Update/Foob Brilliance

Remember the Great Toilet Paper Debacle of ’09? I had asked Taylor to look in the hall closet upstairs to see if there was any toilet paper. I heard him open the door and I envisioned him diligently searching so I took his word for it when he said, “no”. Imagine my surprise on Saturday when I found SEVEN rolls in the hall closet! Seven whole rolls just sitting there. They weren’t covered by towels or blankets. They were just quietly taking up space on the shelf in plain sight!

That’ll learn me.

***

Sunday morning at church I approached my friend, Gail, as she was chatting with Sarah, to ask her a question. When she saw me she hugged me and said, “I love it when you blog about your boobs!” It was quite obvious from the look on Sarah’s face that she had no idea what Gail was talking about. Between the two of us we explained what the post had been about.

She considered the story for a moment and then she said, “So instead of Locks of Love, it’s like Bosoms of Blessings.” How brilliant is that??

Toilet Paper and Laundry

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news…

Never was my failure as a domestic more apparent than today. It’s stinkin’ hot here right now and I had no capris to wear this morning. I could have worn Bermudas but I didn’t actually think that one through in the shower and, while I’m low on the pride scale, I refuse to wear shorts with furry thighs. I mean, it’s bad enough that I don’t have a tan. So I rocked the fashion world today. Kids’ Camp t-shirt, mesh exercise pants and my Crocs. It was either that or an evening gown.

Not really. I don’t own an evening gown.

Apparently I need to do laundry.

***

I usually buy toilet paper in the really big packages so we always have a lot. Always. Except for when we don’t. Like this morning. We were sharing half a roll for three bathrooms. I’m not real good with math, but even I can figure out that doesn’t add up. Thankfully I had to go to work and Taylor was babysitting so we could use someone else’s toilet paper. I think Todd kicked Katie down to her friend’s house just so he could have all the remaining squares for himself.

At lunch I ran to the grocery store in my killer outfit and bought a gallon of milk, some chicken for dinner and two very large packages of toilet paper. Each bathroom now has about 12 rolls and hopefully this will last our family for a week or two. Maybe even three. And tomorrow I’m wearing capris. Just sayin’.

They’re Home Again

The kids have a four day weekend. I’m not sure why the school does this, but they start on the Monday before Labor Day, go for four days and get four days off. Maybe it’s the district’s way of easing them into school.

You may find this hard to believe after I rejoiced and sang praises and danced in the streets, but I’m really glad they had today off. It could be that I missed them while they were at school and I’m just so happy to have them here with me. Or it could be that I’m tired of getting up so early and welcomed a day to sleep in.

But the real reason I’m ecstatic they have today off is because we’re hosting wine club tomorrow night and I need some slave labor to clean the house!

What? Is that so wrong??

My Week In Arkansas, Part One

While I’m not even close to being a linear thinker, I do believe stories are best when started at the beginning. So here it goes.

Wednesday, April 23:

Todd and I stopped at the local Wawa on our way to the Philadelphia airport for gas and coffee. In that order. Gas for the car. Coffee for me. I don’t think we’d even made it to the freeway when I’d spilt coffee on my pristine white tee-shirt.

I’ve only ever flown Delta out of Philly and the Delta terminal is horrible. Old, dirty, nothing good to eat… This time, however, I flew out of the US Airways terminal and it was much better. So much better that I wish I would have foregone the Wawa coffee. Next time I’ll know better.

I had a two-and-a-half hour layover in Charlotte, North Carolina. Now that’s a nice airport! Just look.

A pretty Wright Brothersesque Biplane.

A really cool clock mobile in the middle of the main terminal

And because Brian Jones (our pastor) hates is such a fan of NASCAR I snapped these shots just for him.

The sign says Charlotte, NC – June 19, 1949: The first NASCAR strictly stock race. Who knew an airport could be so edumacational?

I arrived at the Little Rock airport about 30 minutes before Michele did. By then it was time for dinner so we ate at Ruby Tuesday just a few minutes from my parents’ house. We then proceeded to stay up way too late.

Thursday, April 24:

We all woke up. And this would be where things started going downhill. Do you remember the following paragraph when I was talking about removing wallpaper?

Bad idea. It was put directly onto the wallboard except for a few places where they had Spackled something – the spots we tried. So we made three times more work for ourselves than we would have had we just primed the wallpaper first and then painted.

You did remember it? Why didn’t you remind me!?!? It was a major case of deja vu, except Rhonda wasn’t there to relieve some of the blame! Oh, it all started out okay. In fact it was pretty fun. Pulling off wallpaper and watching it come away without a hitch. And then… and then… I can’t even bring myself to say it. Just see for yourselves.


The brown is where the wallboard ripped.

This is where I was sweating profusely, thinking what have I done? Surely they’re going to disown me after this! While on the outside I was reassuring them that I knew what I was doing and it would all turn out fine.

My mother even told Todd that if the kitchen wasn’t finished the following Tuesday she was taking my ticket and flying to Philly until I got it fixed. I think he was kind of excited because he said, “Great! Then we’ll get dinners cooked and a clean house and washed and ironed clothes…” and I can’t remember the long list.

In my defense, there was a spider in the garage and Michele drowned it in Raid. But it wasn’t just your everyday, average spider. No. Not this one. Take a look:

That’s right, folks. It was a bonafied Black Widow. Between the shock of finding a lethal arachnid only a door away from the kitchen and the fumes from the aerosol poison I wasn’t thinking clearly and, ergo, the kitchen wallpaper debacle.

** Side note: If you haven’t noticed, my talent for procrastination is only superseded by my gift of rationalization. **

Terri wasn’t coming in until the next day and when she called, my mom told her what I did. She said, “Doesn’t she read her own blog?” Shelli hadn’t read it and I was all, “What? What did I write?” So Michele and I went to read it and when we got to that paragraph there were serious tears and crossed legs and red faces and trouble breathing.

** Both my sisters left comments on that particular post and I just want to say for the record, those comments are erroneous at best, bald faced lies at worst. And I don’t think it’s fair when two people gang up against one helpless, defenseless, much younger person **

That evening I went to dinner with three of my good friends, Teresa, Rhonda and Beth. Rhonda couldn’t believe what I’d done because, well, I’m pretty sure I swore I’d never do it again after the office fiasco. But my memory is faulty so… Anyway, it was fun catching up. The waitress took our picture and I’d thought about posting it, but I haven’t figured out Photoshop/air brushing yet so no such luck.

***

Stay tuned for the next riveting installment of My Week In Arkansas.

Neat Freak in Disguise

TODDY’S HOME!! TODDY’S HOME!!! It was a long week-and-a-half and we’re so glad it’s over!!

Since he’s been either in a nice hotel or at his brother and sister-in-law’s, and therefore has become used to cleanliness, I decided he should come home to a nice, clean room and bathroom. (I’m pretty good at redirecting responsibility and tonight is no different. Those of you who don’t know me will probably think this is a good excuse. Those of you who DO know me will know the lie for what it is.) Because our guest room is currently being used by Ben I’m having to pile stuff up in our room so it’s been a bit messy. (Never mind the messiness before Ben moved in. If I think hard enough I can give you a reason for that, too.) But no longer, unless you look in my sitting room. It’s still a disaster. That’s my project for next week.

In recent years I’ve discovered something about myself. To look at various parts of my house one would think I have a problem with clutter. But at heart I’m actually a neat freak. For example, when I’m picking up I want to start by cleaning out closets and drawers and cupboards. But when I do that I end up with a much larger mess before running out of steam. Or I start a project like that when I’m on a timeline and then up totally stressed out. Not today, though. Oh, my fingers itched to empty all my dresser drawers and get rid of non-wearables. But I curbed my urge and just put away, put away, put away.

Cleaning my bathroom leads me to a little whine. I’m very happy with my house. It’s a nice size – not too big, not too small – we see it as a blessing and we try to bless others with it. The only thing I don’t like is our bathroom and our small closets. We have a decent size shower and a lovely jacuzzi tub, a double vanity and fairly good storage. But there is very little counter space. On the other side of the wall are two small walk in closets with a considerable lack of area.

If their common wall is the vertical line in a “T”, the horizontal line is a wall that is shared by a floored attic. Some day I want to knock out that wall and redesign both the bathroom and the closets. I want more counter space in the bathroom and a separate room for the commode. And in my closet I want shelves specifically for purses! Doesn’t that sound nice??

Do you like your closet? If you could change anything about it what would it be?

A Lawn Mower, A Snake and a Phone

A Lawn Mower, A Snake, and a Phone

Because I have nothing to blog about I’m going to tell you a story. It’s a story about a lawn mower, a snake and a phone. I like to call it, “A Lawn Mower, A Snake and a Phone.” Hope you like it. Here’s how it goes…

Once upon a time there was a wife who loved her family very much. Her husband worked hard and provided well so she was able to stay at home to take care of their children. Because she felt such gratitude for her husband she decided to mow the back yard so he could come home from work and relax.

Now the lot the house sat on was a fairly large lot. Some might even say they had “land” because it measured a fourth of an acre. The town in which they lived had a law that said land owners may have one horse for each acre. The wife amused herself greatly with the thought they could own a quarter horse since they had a quarter of an acre.

The husband, being manly and riddled with testosterone, thought they needed a riding mower. The wife, being much more practical and grounded, thought it was silly, though the idea of driving an almost-tractor did sound fun.

This particular day she walked out the back door and, as she headed to the lawn mower, caught some movement out of the corner of her eye. When she looked closer she realized it was a snake, quietly slithering toward the deck she stood on. Not inclined toward dramatics, still the wife squeaked and ran inside to call the man she called hero. Her husband.

But alas, he was no longer in his office given it was lunch time. She left this frantic message on his voice mail: “Are there any good black snakes?” then hung up. As she waited for the husband to call her back she watched intently for the cold reptile through the bay window of the dining room. The last thing she saw was a shiny, dark tail as the offending creature slid under the deck.

When, after several minutes, the husband didn’t return her call she thought it best to page him – this being before he had been issued a cell phone. The husband and the wife had a code amongst them to alert the husband if the wife was in a true emergency. After leaving the phone number on the pager she was to add 911. Believing this was not a true emergency but an almost emergency, the wife entered 910, that number being almost 911. Unfortunately, the wife was so anxious she did not realize she had entered her phone number incorrectly.

The husband, being in a hurry to catch up with his co-workers for lunch, had listened to the voice mail but did not consider it to be critical. When he received the bewildering page while at the restaurant, however, he became concerned that a venomous snake had bitten his wife and already the delirium had set in.

Even though mobile phones were commonplace at this time, nobody at his table seemed to carry one. So he appealed to the good graces of the restaurant manager to let him use the phone for an emergency. But the manager was of a bad ilk and had no good graces, directing the husband to a pay phone in the entry way of the restaurant.

The husband had no change on him, thought thankfully was able to scrounge some up from his friends. Fearing the worst as he called home, he was greatly relieved when he found out the wife had not been bitten by the snake. His relief was replaced with huge guffaws as she explained why she used 910 as opposed to 911 and at that moment he vowed never to let the story die. In fact the husband was in a terrible hurry to get back to his table and share the tale with his friends.

After assurances from the husband that it was a garden snake and perfectly harmless, the wife decided to risk everything and mow the lawn as originally planned. This, however, meant she would have to walk across the deck the serpent had slithered under. Being an intelligent woman and having seen Anaconda, the wife knew the snake was capable of bursting through the decking, biting her heel and dragging her down into the bug infested great abyss beneath the porch.

But the wife’s love for the husband overrode her mounting dread so she ran down the steps, jumping as far onto the deck as possible and clearing it in two bounds. She sought refuge on the seat of the hulking lawn mower and managed her passes by the deck on the side opposite the clutch so she was able to lift her foot high, rendering an ankle attack useless.

The End

If names had been used in this story, they would have been changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent. There are those among us who like to change the story to their whim, but this is the truest, most authentic telling.

The Day After

How was everyone’s Thanksgiving? Ours was very pleasant. There was no Guitar Hero III and no Live Free or Die Hard, but it was a nice day nonetheless.

Katie and I decided we should eat in the dining room since we eat at the little table for our regular dinners. As you can see, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said the table needed to be dusted. Even though we were covering it with a table cloth, I didn’t want the little dust particles to scratch the table. So Katie wiped it down and set the table.

Here’s the spread – minus the rolls – for the four of us. Ridiculous, no??

This is what was left over.

Can’t see much of a difference, can you?

Still, I’m not complaining because it was all delicious, if I do say so myself. Which I do. I actually like cooking a big meal like this. I do not, however, enjoy the cleaning. Then I remember the reason I had kids and the world tips back properly onto its axis.

And here’s a picture of my uninhabitable living room. I should probably be going through the boxes today, but I don’t see that happening. It’s 12:30, I’m still in my jammies, I’ve been reading and now playing on the computer.

Katie’s been on a pancake making kick. And she’s pretty darned good at it, too. So this morning she asked if we wanted her to make us pancakes. Todd told her that if we eat pancakes every day it will make our butts bigger. To which I replied, “Very true. That’s why I’m having pie with whipped cream for breakfast. So my butt won’t get bigger.”

And tonight is the hockey game. The Phantoms (Philadelphia’s AHL team) versus the Hershey Bears – apparently a big rival. You know what that means (she says while rubbing her hands together in glee)! The probability of fights!!

My Behind is Getting Bigger

Meaning I’m getting more and more behind.

On my posts. Though after the last couple of weeks I’m probably getting more and more behind on me. But that’s another subject for another day.

I desperately need to finish my Rhode Island post. It would make a great novel. You know, love, wedding, coffee shop and dramatic ending. Could be the next great American short story. (how’s that for a teaser???)

I never did go back to bed Friday. I fell asleep in the chair a little after 10:00 and Todd called and woke me up a little before 11:00. Good thing, too, because I had to wake up for my interview.

Taylor’s girlfriend won the regional homerun derby for her division a month or so ago and yesterday she got to participate in the Eastern Pennsylvania Homerun Derby at Citizens Bank Field where the Phillie’s play. Her parents were able to get a good deal on tickets for the Phillies’ game later in the day so we bought four. We were there at 8:30 to watch the derby and then played around for a while before the game started. It was a great game, too!

Kristen was the first in her division to bat and she missed placing by one point. She probably would have placed if she hadn’t batted first because they were still adjusting the pitching machine and it threw her off. Still she did wonderful and it was a lot of fun to watch.

Check this out. A 15-year-old boy jacked the baseball out of the park. FIFTEEN! If that’s not impressive I don’t know what is!

Yesterday was also Todd’s birthday. When Kristen’s mom found out she asked if he would be okay spending the entire day at the ballpark on his birthday. Psssh, yaaaah. It’s his most favorite place to be. It’s his Paradise, his Mecca, his Disneyland.

Not only were we at the ballpark all day, but it was hot and humid. By the time we got home last night we were all whooped. On the answering machine was a message saying I had gotten the job and they’d like me to show up this morning at 8:30.

So guess what I’m doing. I’m a teacher’s assistant to ten 2-year-olds. I’ve decided this is going to be better than joining a gym. I had quite a work out in the 2 ½ hours the kids were there. Then I went grocery shopping, came home, baked a four-layer chocolate cake and cooked a big dinner. Well, not so big a dinner. It just seemed big because I’ve gotten very lax about cooking dinner. Now we’re getting ready to watch Wild Hogs.

In response to comments on the previous blog:

* I’m sorry for those of you who now have the song which shall remain nameless stuck in your head.

* I was on Lunesta for about two years and went off it a few months ago. I sleep fine when it’s not hot and another week or two and it should start cooling off.

* I’ve never heard of a toonie before, but I like the way it sounds.

* I’m happy to know others share the book obsession with me. Hello. I’m Jenster and I’m a bookaholic.

* I hope the Farmer’s Almanac is spot on!

* I seriously didn’t think there was a female over the age of 25 who hadn’t seen Steel Magnolias. Are you over 25, Swishy??

* May nobody who reads this blog ever get an infected “them”.

* I was entering the last book in my book log and realized I read TWO books in August. Go me.

* If I had made the kids a big breakfast for no apparent reason they would be traumatized.

* It’s September. There’s no way for me to make up my chances for Mother of the Year. I have no reason to even try. And really it’s much more fun to embarrass, annoy and freak out the kids anyway.

* Todd and several other people aren’t on my sidebar. I haven’t been very good about updating my blog and I apologize because I have a bunch of great blogs to add. So I will make that a goal – for the week? Or maybe the month. Definitely by the end of the year!

* I’ve also been pretty bad about visiting my blog buddies and replying to my emails the last week or so. I apologize and hope to figure out some sort of system for getting all my computer playing in on a regular basis.

Just like Paul Harvey, I’ll get to the rest of the story in the next day or two. Promise!!

Can You Hear the Hallelulia Chorus??

No?? It’s very loud where I’m sitting and the glare from the host of angels singing is nearly blinding.

The kids went back to school today.

Taylor was up and finished in the shower before either Todd or I woke up. I went to wake Katie at 6:30 expecting much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but instead she rose and called me blessed. Well, she didn’t exactly call me blessed, but she didn’t call me anything bad and I figure that’s nearly the same thing.

If I hadn’t lost my chance at Mother of the Year the first week of January I’d have lost it for sure this morning. According to the kids there was nothing for breakfast. We had the wrong cereal, it’s not cold enough for instant oatmeal, nobody wants toast or frozen waffles. If I was a good mom I would have baked a chocolate cake last night so they’d have something decent to eat this morning.

I checked and double checked and triple checked the bus schedules yesterday. Taylor’s bus was listed as being here at 7:14. He was getting ready to leave, Todd asked if he had his house key, he didn’t have it, ran upstairs to get it and I saw the bus. It was 7:07. So Todd had to drive him to school.

Katie called her friend to see what time she was walking up to the bus stop – we learned from Taylor’s mistake in not asking his friends. A few minutes later Shelby and her mom showed up to walk with Katie to the corner. I was still in my jammies and waved to every single mom and half the fathers in the neighborhood as they walked their kids up to the bus stop for the very first day of school. With cameras.

***

I have to fess up. I’m not the best housekeeper in the world. Or in the country, state, city, neighborhood or even this particular house. I’m not horrendous and things are usually fairly clean, but I’m not so good about clutter. I maintain, however, it’s more a lack of appropriate storage apparatuses than an actual reflection of my laziness. Anyone want to argue with me?? Huh??

I avoid my daughter’s room as much as possible because, well, it’s a dangerous place and I’m a coward. I’m obviously going to have to “man-up”. Last night I told her to set out her outfit for today and when I went in to tell her goodnight she had a really cute shirt out with these horrible jeans that she cut off into Bermudas a while ago because of all the holes and stains. After informing her there was no way she was leaving this house in that atrocity she told me she didn’t have any clean clothes.

She just did a load of laundry on Saturday so that didn’t make a lot of sense. Turns out she only washed two outfits – one to go to the movie in Saturday evening and one for yesterday. Oh. And she had no socks. She thought she might have lost them at camp. So I washed an outfit for her last night along with some of my clothes and decided I’d be a nice mom and do her laundry for her today.

Oh. My. Gosh. I found duffel bags and grocery bags and beach bags with dirty clothes in them. I found a huge load of towels – beach towels, bath towels, freakin’ kitchen towels – tucked into a basket in her room. I found scads of socks, cute clothes we haven’t seen in ages, and underwear coming out the wazoo. It’s probably going to take me the entire day to wash all her clothes. Which means I’m going to have to wash Taylor’s clothes as well because I’m just fair that way.

So now you know how I will be spending my kids’ first day of school. But at least I get to do it ALONE!