There was a LOT of good in the past year.
There was also a lot that I'd rather forget.
C'est La Vie...right?
The Good
My friendships from STM that have now bridged over to SG
My new friends at SG
Going to Mardi Gras and meeting CO
Being at CHA with Nancy and CO
Wen....nuff said!
The boys placing at the County Swim Meet
Getting publishedfor the first time!!!
Being a finalist in B4B
My circle of friends at home
My husband FINALLY getting paid to work for the family biz.
Losing 10 pounds and counting
Jake the Wonder Lab
The Bad
Well...I'm not going to dwell on it because it will depress me and tick me off...so I'll raise my glass in toast to the good and bury the bad.
And here's to 2006....may it bring health, wealth and happiness for you and yours.
And if you want to get in on the Southern tradition for a prosperous New Year don't forget to have your beans, greens and cornbread on New Years Day to ensure all three!
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Quiz of the Day
Stole this from Wen
from the Quizilla website here
http://quizilla.com/users/anonymousnowhere/quizzes/Which%20Peanuts%20Character%20are%20You%3F/
from the Quizilla website here
http://quizilla.com/users/anonymousnowhere/quizzes/Which%20Peanuts%20Character%20are%20You%3F/
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
The Big Reveal
I am back online!
Sorry but my computer crashed and burned on Thursday in a blaze of inappropriate pop-up glory and is with my hubby's tech folks to be nursed back to health.
Anyway, I'm here in FL visiting my folks and they have DSL so weeeeehoooo....I'm back in business!
Back to the big reveal, I have to give my hubby bonus points for creativity and originality.
The big brown box contained a new completely coordinated bathroom set, rugs, towels, ceramic and chrome jars, soap dishes, shower caddy, door hanger...etc and a swatch of paint selections from Porter Paints with an IOU from hubby to repaint the bathroom and bedroom when we get home!!
Now some of you may be thinking, not the MOST romantic gift in the world and that would be true but I always give bonus points for originality and
paying attention because I had been whining for months about the state of our inner sanctum!
He also bought me both of my favorite perfume sets (because I complained about smelling like Jake) and a new outfit from Chico's to celebrate my 10 pound weight loss.
So he gets the official spousal seal of approval for Christmas Gifts this year!
Sorry but my computer crashed and burned on Thursday in a blaze of inappropriate pop-up glory and is with my hubby's tech folks to be nursed back to health.
Anyway, I'm here in FL visiting my folks and they have DSL so weeeeehoooo....I'm back in business!
Back to the big reveal, I have to give my hubby bonus points for creativity and originality.
The big brown box contained a new completely coordinated bathroom set, rugs, towels, ceramic and chrome jars, soap dishes, shower caddy, door hanger...etc and a swatch of paint selections from Porter Paints with an IOU from hubby to repaint the bathroom and bedroom when we get home!!
Now some of you may be thinking, not the MOST romantic gift in the world and that would be true but I always give bonus points for originality and
paying attention because I had been whining for months about the state of our inner sanctum!
He also bought me both of my favorite perfume sets (because I complained about smelling like Jake) and a new outfit from Chico's to celebrate my 10 pound weight loss.
So he gets the official spousal seal of approval for Christmas Gifts this year!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
There is a BIG box
in my scraproom/office.
And it's for me from my DH and I've been instructed not to:
shake
jiggle
kick(huh?)
or otherwise peek.
I think this qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.
What say you?
And it's for me from my DH and I've been instructed not to:
shake
jiggle
kick(huh?)
or otherwise peek.
I think this qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.
What say you?
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Bears and Malls and Pools...oh MY!
I have seriously whacked dreams.
I always have.
So much so that they provided GREAT sources of entertainment around the family breakfast table growing up. And I'm not talking your garden variety being naked in front of the classroom or flying or elevators falling with you in it (wait you don't have that one? Okay..just me..moving on)
And the fun didn't stop there folks! I actually have, squirreled in the depths of the unfinished part of the basement, 6 years worth of dream diaries (bound with a soft pewter-silver bookboard and blue cloud pages) that I kept in my college and two years post grad years.
The unfinished part of the basement also houses the flotsam and jetsom of my husband's deceased paternal grandparents, our college years stuff, out of season decorations and the workshop and a wine cellar.
But that's another post, for another time...or rather...a lot of other posts. I sense a blog challenge here.
My poor husband. He is so used to my whacked dreams after 19 years that when I bolt up in the middle of the night and grab a pen and start scribbling...he just pats me on the behind and murmurs..."isss kay babe...issss kay"
And then the next morning, listens to me with a now completely straight face as I spout my recollections of crazed dreams over oatmeal and bagels. He's a keeper.
Anyway, about last night..and my dreams
I was in a pool at some chichi spa/resort and it was beyond opulent. I'm swimming in a ruby and pearl and onyx and amethyst encrusted pool (note to self...my favorite colors)
And then all of the sudden miniaturized paparazzi in little model helicopters are buzzing me in the pool which is indoors in a grotto and I am seriouly PO'd wondering how the little buggers invaded my space and an indoor space to boot and then I grab one of the little helicopters and snap it in half and all of the other "pests" buzz away. I kind of know what to think of that and it's kind of scary.
Then seque to me, exiting pool and being wrapped in a big humonguos warm turkish towel by unseen hands and making my way to my suite where I decide a bit of shopping is in order.
I head to a very toney mall and I'm wandering through the stores and walkways...it's open air and then I kind of get lost and wander down 'the garden path" so to speak and there is a bridge.
And across the bridge on the other side of the lake is a BEAR on an island.
And he catches my scent and looks at me and starts runing from his island towards the bridge.
And I run in the other direction and I'm now in a long twisting corridor with glass walls and every hundred feet or so are glass doors with bolts, that I stop and slam into the lock position as I'm running like a freaking maniac down the corridor.
At the last door...I can see the mall and lots of people and I know if I can just make it to the end I will be safe and at the last door, is my new dog jake who looks at me bewildered as I leap over him , snatch his collar and drag him behind the door with me and slam the door and bolt it behind me.
And when I turn and look, the bear is up on it's hind legs, unlocking the second to last door and
I WAKE UP!!!
NUTS....I try to will myself back to sleep, cause I know what I want to do is charge through the mall to the gun and ammo shop (cause in my dreams I actually consciously think of escape routes) and just drop the beast in its tracks.
But no...it's just me sweating, wide awake, upright in my bed with my husband patting my behind.
Did I mention I dream in color? And that I'm used to this stuff by now?
Really...I'll be okay...I just attribute it to a highly overactive imagination...and too much time surfing Eonline!
I always have.
So much so that they provided GREAT sources of entertainment around the family breakfast table growing up. And I'm not talking your garden variety being naked in front of the classroom or flying or elevators falling with you in it (wait you don't have that one? Okay..just me..moving on)
And the fun didn't stop there folks! I actually have, squirreled in the depths of the unfinished part of the basement, 6 years worth of dream diaries (bound with a soft pewter-silver bookboard and blue cloud pages) that I kept in my college and two years post grad years.
The unfinished part of the basement also houses the flotsam and jetsom of my husband's deceased paternal grandparents, our college years stuff, out of season decorations and the workshop and a wine cellar.
But that's another post, for another time...or rather...a lot of other posts. I sense a blog challenge here.
My poor husband. He is so used to my whacked dreams after 19 years that when I bolt up in the middle of the night and grab a pen and start scribbling...he just pats me on the behind and murmurs..."isss kay babe...issss kay"
And then the next morning, listens to me with a now completely straight face as I spout my recollections of crazed dreams over oatmeal and bagels. He's a keeper.
Anyway, about last night..and my dreams
I was in a pool at some chichi spa/resort and it was beyond opulent. I'm swimming in a ruby and pearl and onyx and amethyst encrusted pool (note to self...my favorite colors)
And then all of the sudden miniaturized paparazzi in little model helicopters are buzzing me in the pool which is indoors in a grotto and I am seriouly PO'd wondering how the little buggers invaded my space and an indoor space to boot and then I grab one of the little helicopters and snap it in half and all of the other "pests" buzz away. I kind of know what to think of that and it's kind of scary.
Then seque to me, exiting pool and being wrapped in a big humonguos warm turkish towel by unseen hands and making my way to my suite where I decide a bit of shopping is in order.
I head to a very toney mall and I'm wandering through the stores and walkways...it's open air and then I kind of get lost and wander down 'the garden path" so to speak and there is a bridge.
And across the bridge on the other side of the lake is a BEAR on an island.
And he catches my scent and looks at me and starts runing from his island towards the bridge.
And I run in the other direction and I'm now in a long twisting corridor with glass walls and every hundred feet or so are glass doors with bolts, that I stop and slam into the lock position as I'm running like a freaking maniac down the corridor.
At the last door...I can see the mall and lots of people and I know if I can just make it to the end I will be safe and at the last door, is my new dog jake who looks at me bewildered as I leap over him , snatch his collar and drag him behind the door with me and slam the door and bolt it behind me.
And when I turn and look, the bear is up on it's hind legs, unlocking the second to last door and
I WAKE UP!!!
NUTS....I try to will myself back to sleep, cause I know what I want to do is charge through the mall to the gun and ammo shop (cause in my dreams I actually consciously think of escape routes) and just drop the beast in its tracks.
But no...it's just me sweating, wide awake, upright in my bed with my husband patting my behind.
Did I mention I dream in color? And that I'm used to this stuff by now?
Really...I'll be okay...I just attribute it to a highly overactive imagination...and too much time surfing Eonline!
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Bed Bath & Beyond
Words can not convey my love for this place.
Next to Super TahrJAAAAAAAAAAY......it is my favorite place to kill an hour or two.....time spent in Bx3 is equal to the number of 20% off and $5 off coupons I have in hand!
Today, we were preparing to have all of our friends over for dessert, mulled wine and snackies in front of the chiminea at 2PM.
Instead of staying home and cleaning, I announced to hubby at 10:30 a.m. that we HAD to have new table skirts for the end tables in the family room and a pillow form for the new hand embroidered pillow casing his mom brought us from Africa and a dowel to hold up the new tapestry, also from Africa.
I think at this point you all have figured out that I HATE to clean and parties stress me out and I respond to stress by SHOPPING!
So $60 later (I think he got off cheap) the new table skirts are in place and look SMASHING, I might add, in all their muted olive green, butternut gold and cranberry plaid glory. The tapestry hangs from a very rustic dowel and the pillow is plumped to perfection on the living room sofa!
Sufficiently stress free, I rebounded by finishing up a tradition via my French-Catholic roots.....a Bouche de Noel! (Haven't done that since before the kiddos were born)
From SCRATCH....no REALLY! ( No I FORGOT to take a picture....there's a quarter of it left in the fridge...should I take a picture of that as evidence???)
And I made Wassail.
Why Wassail.......cause the name of the drink cracks me up and well.....hubby's family is WAY English. Case in point, we had crackers at our little family get together yesterday. We have them every year.
They are a hoot. You've seen them at or advertised inWilliams & Sonoma and if you haven't go check them out....big beautiful cylindrical rounds covered in pretty paper and nipped in at the ends.
Well you wait until the conclusion of dinner...yank HARD on both ends and snap...POP....out falls a joke, a crown and trinket. FUN stuff!. I saved all the jokes this year to use on a layout!
And sadly once again I have meandered off course.
So to sum up.
House cleaned, spruced and decked to the nines.
Good times had by all.
Wishing the same for you and yours.
Cheers and Joyeux Noel!
Next to Super TahrJAAAAAAAAAAY......it is my favorite place to kill an hour or two.....time spent in Bx3 is equal to the number of 20% off and $5 off coupons I have in hand!
Today, we were preparing to have all of our friends over for dessert, mulled wine and snackies in front of the chiminea at 2PM.
Instead of staying home and cleaning, I announced to hubby at 10:30 a.m. that we HAD to have new table skirts for the end tables in the family room and a pillow form for the new hand embroidered pillow casing his mom brought us from Africa and a dowel to hold up the new tapestry, also from Africa.
I think at this point you all have figured out that I HATE to clean and parties stress me out and I respond to stress by SHOPPING!
So $60 later (I think he got off cheap) the new table skirts are in place and look SMASHING, I might add, in all their muted olive green, butternut gold and cranberry plaid glory. The tapestry hangs from a very rustic dowel and the pillow is plumped to perfection on the living room sofa!
Sufficiently stress free, I rebounded by finishing up a tradition via my French-Catholic roots.....a Bouche de Noel! (Haven't done that since before the kiddos were born)
From SCRATCH....no REALLY! ( No I FORGOT to take a picture....there's a quarter of it left in the fridge...should I take a picture of that as evidence???)
And I made Wassail.
Why Wassail.......cause the name of the drink cracks me up and well.....hubby's family is WAY English. Case in point, we had crackers at our little family get together yesterday. We have them every year.
They are a hoot. You've seen them at or advertised inWilliams & Sonoma and if you haven't go check them out....big beautiful cylindrical rounds covered in pretty paper and nipped in at the ends.
Well you wait until the conclusion of dinner...yank HARD on both ends and snap...POP....out falls a joke, a crown and trinket. FUN stuff!. I saved all the jokes this year to use on a layout!
And sadly once again I have meandered off course.
So to sum up.
House cleaned, spruced and decked to the nines.
Good times had by all.
Wishing the same for you and yours.
Cheers and Joyeux Noel!
Friday, December 16, 2005
The inmates are LOOSE!
and I've lost the flippin key!
OMG.....Christmas break from school has begun...officially at 11:45 a.m. today. ACK...someone please hold me or hug me or give me a cookie. Wait no cookie...10 pounds down...20 to go.
In a nutshell..."Katie bar the Doors!!"
And really...barring the door...it's not enough. Uhm let's see....Les Miz...barricades...yes barricades are good. Oh wait and trap doors ...yes, yes, yes Pirates of the Caribbean...and wait...wait, what else...brilliant...passwords, floating staircases, Harry Potter...GOOOOOOOOOOD..., oh wait, not so good, they read HP religiously...thinking...thinking...thinking. CRAP...they're ALREADY smarter than ME!
And so it begins.
I picked them up at 12pm....carpool line sambas to it's own beat.
The dynamic duo hops in the car and immediately BamBam announces he needs his ear cleaned out and I haven't been doing my "mommy duty" during shower time for the past few days .......cause they hurt.
Crap. (Crap...crap...crap....pediatrician's office...Christmas break....CRAP!)
Followed by
Bicker...bicker....bicker....all the way home.
Shove them upstairs to get changed, clean out EVERYONES ears ( oh yeah...like THAT'S going to help!!!) and try to get them in the car to go the grocery store.
Time to kick it into another gear.
Bang, CRASH........ shuddddddddddder...thump....WAILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!
Mommmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeee............Thumper is cho (ack gag gasp) king me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me having 9 years of BamBam under my belt immediatelly meet his thrust with a shrill parry of
Well...............WHAT did you do to him???
Oh I just kind of ACCIDENTLY kicked him (repeatedly, Mommy adds for edification)
Well then...I guess you deserved to be choked.
Then Thumper adds for good measure....Mommy...you should call Santa...NOW. Right NOW! On the super secret Santa Cell phone number Daddy has on his phone and tell him. Tell him....Bambam shouldn't get ANTYTHING for Christmas!!!!!!!!!
CRAP
Forget the advent calendar.
I want a countdown calendar for when they go BACK to school!!!
(and so ends our Planned Parenthood Public Service Announcement)
OMG.....Christmas break from school has begun...officially at 11:45 a.m. today. ACK...someone please hold me or hug me or give me a cookie. Wait no cookie...10 pounds down...20 to go.
In a nutshell..."Katie bar the Doors!!"
And really...barring the door...it's not enough. Uhm let's see....Les Miz...barricades...yes barricades are good. Oh wait and trap doors ...yes, yes, yes Pirates of the Caribbean...and wait...wait, what else...brilliant...passwords, floating staircases, Harry Potter...GOOOOOOOOOOD..., oh wait, not so good, they read HP religiously...thinking...thinking...thinking. CRAP...they're ALREADY smarter than ME!
And so it begins.
I picked them up at 12pm....carpool line sambas to it's own beat.
The dynamic duo hops in the car and immediately BamBam announces he needs his ear cleaned out and I haven't been doing my "mommy duty" during shower time for the past few days .......cause they hurt.
Crap. (Crap...crap...crap....pediatrician's office...Christmas break....CRAP!)
Followed by
Bicker...bicker....bicker....all the way home.
Shove them upstairs to get changed, clean out EVERYONES ears ( oh yeah...like THAT'S going to help!!!) and try to get them in the car to go the grocery store.
Time to kick it into another gear.
Bang, CRASH........ shuddddddddddder...thump....WAILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!
Mommmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeee............Thumper is cho (ack gag gasp) king me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me having 9 years of BamBam under my belt immediatelly meet his thrust with a shrill parry of
Well...............WHAT did you do to him???
Oh I just kind of ACCIDENTLY kicked him (repeatedly, Mommy adds for edification)
Well then...I guess you deserved to be choked.
Then Thumper adds for good measure....Mommy...you should call Santa...NOW. Right NOW! On the super secret Santa Cell phone number Daddy has on his phone and tell him. Tell him....Bambam shouldn't get ANTYTHING for Christmas!!!!!!!!!
CRAP
Forget the advent calendar.
I want a countdown calendar for when they go BACK to school!!!
(and so ends our Planned Parenthood Public Service Announcement)
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
The Power of Three
In ANYONE BUT YOU, by Lara M. Zeises. her protagonist, Seattle notes that "family, it turned out, was something you really could choose for yourself." Write about someone you've chosen to be a part of your family (biological, spiritual, vocational, etc.) and what that person has brought to your life.
This is the challenge for B4B (otherwise known as Blogging for Books) at Joshilyn Jackson's Faster than Kudzu site http://www.joshilynjackson.com
So back to my blog and the challenge. There are two women who are as much a part of my family as the ones who:
birthed
raised
disciplined
nurtured
corrected
counseled
suppported
taught
guided
loved
lil' ole ME, in the 44 plus years before these CHOSEN sisters arrived on the scene. I won't be writing about someone, but someones.
And the someones that I have folded into my little part of the universe would be Wendy and Corrie or Wen and Co for short.
Let's meet them shall we?
CORRIE
Co is a bubbly bundle of energy I met online over a year ago at an online scrapbook community (I SEE you rolling your eyes!) But she is wickedly cool and hip and hot and funny and real and insanely creative and Honest, with a capital H.
This past February, she took a complete chance on welcoming a someone she had never met in real life to her home for Mardi Gras in New Orleans. That would be me...oh and yes, my husband and two boys...brave girl!
And we connected, and partied and laughed and hugged and bonded like I haven't bonded with anyone in a LONG time.
She has become the little sister I never had and for whom I have always longed. One week later, she hopped on a plane and headed to my neck of the woods for a convention celebrating our shared passion.
And the bond grew even deeper. I also found out that she is calm, smart, strong, passionate, compassionate, thoughtful and honest, oh Lord still honest.
We talk to each other on the phone, chat online or in our blog daily.
But still there was one waiting to join the circle
WENDY
Another link from the same aforementioned, now defunct, scrapbooking website. ( STOP with the eye rolling already!)
She appeared on the scene months after Co and I had "met" online.
And I was immediately drawn to her.
Her snarky sense of humor, her artistry, her intelligence. Wen is in her words " Tall. Freakishly so. And a big nerd. Again, freakishly so. I admit to a strong addiction to chocolate, most especially Kit Kat's"
But she is more, so much more and not freakish in the least. She is intelligent in a way that amazes me, spiritual in a way that humbles me and compassionate in a no nonsense "Mary Poppins" sort of way that comforts me and kicks me in the arse in equal measure. And she's beautiful. Not really, really pretty, but beautiful beyond description...and so much more than she can see...but WE see.
I have not met her yet in real life, although we talk on the phone and chat online or in our blog daily. (Yes there is pattern here)
Co and Wen just hooked up in real life in November and while we three have yet to be in one place physically at the same time, we are connected.
Connected in the places that matter. In our hearts and heads, we're there with each other, everyday. Giving counsel and snarky humor and support.
We are each others sounding boards and wailing walls.
We celebrate the silly, sappy and sublime.
We chose each other.
Yes, you REALLY can choose.
We three...are family.
This is the challenge for B4B (otherwise known as Blogging for Books) at Joshilyn Jackson's Faster than Kudzu site http://www.joshilynjackson.com
So back to my blog and the challenge. There are two women who are as much a part of my family as the ones who:
birthed
raised
disciplined
nurtured
corrected
counseled
suppported
taught
guided
loved
lil' ole ME, in the 44 plus years before these CHOSEN sisters arrived on the scene. I won't be writing about someone, but someones.
And the someones that I have folded into my little part of the universe would be Wendy and Corrie or Wen and Co for short.
Let's meet them shall we?
CORRIE
Co is a bubbly bundle of energy I met online over a year ago at an online scrapbook community (I SEE you rolling your eyes!) But she is wickedly cool and hip and hot and funny and real and insanely creative and Honest, with a capital H.
This past February, she took a complete chance on welcoming a someone she had never met in real life to her home for Mardi Gras in New Orleans. That would be me...oh and yes, my husband and two boys...brave girl!
And we connected, and partied and laughed and hugged and bonded like I haven't bonded with anyone in a LONG time.
She has become the little sister I never had and for whom I have always longed. One week later, she hopped on a plane and headed to my neck of the woods for a convention celebrating our shared passion.
And the bond grew even deeper. I also found out that she is calm, smart, strong, passionate, compassionate, thoughtful and honest, oh Lord still honest.
We talk to each other on the phone, chat online or in our blog daily.
But still there was one waiting to join the circle
WENDY
Another link from the same aforementioned, now defunct, scrapbooking website. ( STOP with the eye rolling already!)
She appeared on the scene months after Co and I had "met" online.
And I was immediately drawn to her.
Her snarky sense of humor, her artistry, her intelligence. Wen is in her words " Tall. Freakishly so. And a big nerd. Again, freakishly so. I admit to a strong addiction to chocolate, most especially Kit Kat's"
But she is more, so much more and not freakish in the least. She is intelligent in a way that amazes me, spiritual in a way that humbles me and compassionate in a no nonsense "Mary Poppins" sort of way that comforts me and kicks me in the arse in equal measure. And she's beautiful. Not really, really pretty, but beautiful beyond description...and so much more than she can see...but WE see.
I have not met her yet in real life, although we talk on the phone and chat online or in our blog daily. (Yes there is pattern here)
Co and Wen just hooked up in real life in November and while we three have yet to be in one place physically at the same time, we are connected.
Connected in the places that matter. In our hearts and heads, we're there with each other, everyday. Giving counsel and snarky humor and support.
We are each others sounding boards and wailing walls.
We celebrate the silly, sappy and sublime.
We chose each other.
Yes, you REALLY can choose.
We three...are family.
Gift Giving Lightbulb Moment!!!!
Woot Woot for me!
I had a dream. HA...With all apologies to MLK....I had a dream the night before last and finally hit upon THE penultimate gift for my MIL and FIL!!
See they can buy just about anything they want. And I'm tired of the old standbys of photos and shirts for him and calendars for her....boring...boring...boring and those who know and love me KNOW...I am not boring. not.... Not....NOT!
Slightly crazed and hyper...but NEVER boring!
So back to my dream.....ah...warm sand, ocean lapping at my feet....ding...ding.... ding!!
I have it! Well no....my dream kind of went elsewhere and it involved hubby...TMI? Too bad!
But we WERE at Hilton Head Island and that led to my waking moment seque.
My MIL is a Hallmark commercial in motion. The woman is as kind and as sensitive and as family oriented as anyone I know.
So what to give the woman who has everything? You notice at this point I have left FIL out of the equation...why...cause we all know...(repeat after me) If Momma's happy....EVERYBODY's happy!
Opah!!! More ouzo for everyone!
Oh sorry...back on subject. Well she adores photo albums, specifically MY photo albums. She thinks I'm talented and pretty and a good mom and did I mention I love her??!!
Yes...see, positive reinforcement...its a GOOD thing!
For the past 8 years I have made at least 8 layouts for each year we have gone to HHI as a family. She and my FIL bought a house there in 1999 and we have been communing "en famille" every July since.
So last night I combed through ALL the albums and pulled about 25 layouts featuring all the family and they are in the hands of my firm's onsite copy service as we speak.
And today, I took the Heidi Swapp brown cloth spiral ring 12x12 album I've been hoarding and altered it and embellished and generally got my artistic groove on!
Tomorrow...I separate the layouts by year, pick a cardstock for each year (cause the layouts are being reduced to 11 x11 to save $$$) and then mount and insert them in the protectors (THAT sounds definitely subliminal...sorry folks)
And as a sidenote...it is REALLY interesting to see how much my scrapbooking style has changed in 8 years. It's like watching evolution, only faster and with less global impact.
Anyway...that's the cover of the album. I predict weeping, hugging and much reminiscing this Saturday.
Dang skippy...I'm good!
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Tis the season to hack, cough and sneeze and shiver
Oh joy
Oh glee
I really thought I was going to get to the Christmas break this year with no puking or fevers, but alas, tis not to be.
Bambam wakes up this morning all hot and stinky and puking snot up in the bathroom....lovely!
And he has a big math test tomorrow.
But the school rule is don't come in unless you've been fever free 24 hours....so Daddy is going to be pulling the AM shift again until I come home at lunch.
So much for the flu shot he got three weeks ago...although really...this isn't the flu. Just a bad cold with drainage that's making him sick...poor kiddo.
Okay raise your hands if you have kids and don't secretly enjoy it when your kids are sick.
I admit it...I'm a BAD mom.
But I just love it when they're all calm and snuggly...reminds me of when they were babies.
My boys are still big time snugglers....but the calm part....well the term "all boy" doesn't really cover it with my two.
So major snuggle and reading time for the two of us today.
A very nice little unexpected Christmas gift for both of us...well except for the puking part.
Oh glee
I really thought I was going to get to the Christmas break this year with no puking or fevers, but alas, tis not to be.
Bambam wakes up this morning all hot and stinky and puking snot up in the bathroom....lovely!
And he has a big math test tomorrow.
But the school rule is don't come in unless you've been fever free 24 hours....so Daddy is going to be pulling the AM shift again until I come home at lunch.
So much for the flu shot he got three weeks ago...although really...this isn't the flu. Just a bad cold with drainage that's making him sick...poor kiddo.
Okay raise your hands if you have kids and don't secretly enjoy it when your kids are sick.
I admit it...I'm a BAD mom.
But I just love it when they're all calm and snuggly...reminds me of when they were babies.
My boys are still big time snugglers....but the calm part....well the term "all boy" doesn't really cover it with my two.
So major snuggle and reading time for the two of us today.
A very nice little unexpected Christmas gift for both of us...well except for the puking part.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Squee! Published I be!
Okay it's a small silly vain thing....
And the colors in the magazine are not true to the original
My hubby, the former printing/publishing guru, just gave me a VERY detailed explanation why. 4 color process, dulling the color.
Manamana
(cue to Diet Dr. Pepper commercial...what is with that woman? Is she a nut case??. Look in front of you.. cute doctor, compassionate.....the drink is NOT that good girl, put the damn drink down and LISTEN!!)
ME: Huh? In the what what? Oh right back to my post.
I just got my first published layout back in the mail today along with my free preview copy of Scrapbook Answers and a check is in the mail!!!
And I giggled
And did a happy dance
And pinched myself.
I am SUCH a dork!
But I had to scan it and post it here, if for no other reason than it may never happen again.
And I'm fine with that.
I just loved showing the magazine to my boys and watching their faces light up and their squeals of
"hey look at me!"
"I'm famous"
"No you're not...I'm famous!"
"We're both famous!"
in unison "Mommy can we take the magazine with us to school on Monday for show and tell????"
Ruh Roh.......only one copy. Not on the stands yet.
Rock, paper, scissors it is and the winner gets to take it on Monday.
The loser, Tuesday, but also with a consolation prize of making chocolate chip cookies with me (which means you get to EAT the dough...bwa!)
Winners all around!
Woot...woot!
Monday, December 05, 2005
His name is Jake.......
.....and he is blond, gentle, affectionate, wise and I am completely smitten.
You all know where this is going, right?
Over my consistent objections to the contrary for the past 5 years, I finally broke down this week-end and allowed an addition to our family.
His name is Jake, a one year old rescue yellow lab and he is 50 pounds of pure love and all of that love seems to be directed at ME.....of all people.
Saturday, I'm up at the outlet mall (see previous post) when my cell phone rings and it is BamBam on the phone.
"Mommy, we're up at PetSmart getting food for Sunny D and Polka and Mommy, there's this really sweet dog here. His name is Jake and he's a good dog. He doesn't bark and he doesn't jump and Daddy says I have to ask you. So can we Mom? Puhhhhhhhhhhhhlease!"
"Let me talk to your Daddy sweetie"
So to make a long story short, after giving my husband the what for on the phone and then listening to him describe Jake as another "Horace" I decided I had to go meet Jake Sunday after church.
As a word of explanation, Horace was my SIL's dog. The sweetest dog that ever walked the earth. If we had had the money, we would have cloned Horace. And I would have been a dog owner for the past 10 years.
So to hear the words "another Horace" pass my husband's lips, I had to go at least look...right? Of course, right, yes.
We arrive at the animal hospital where his "foster mommy" works and she brought him out to meet the family.
And I tell you, it was meant to be.
Jake walked right over to me, put his head on my lap, looked up at me with the kindest brown eyes and just waited, patiently mind you, for me to acknowledge him.
And I was smitten. Who wouldn't be smitten by a male who knows on which side his bread is buttered?
We spend 15 minutes with him. Me trying every trick in the book to get him to display hyper tendencies and naughta.
Jake's level of excitement peaks with an enthusiastic wagging of his tale.
I have yet to hear him bark.
We get him home, he explores our whole back yard. Makes NO attempt to nudge open or dig under the gates. Plays fetch with the boys, goes to a CORNER to do his duty
Then proceeds to spend the rest of the day following me around the house, laying at my feet and showering me with adoring looks of love.
Now I know what you are all are thinking and yes, his original owner was probably a woman and his foster parent definitely was.
But here's the kicker.
When his foster parent went to get him in the car for his one hour trip into the city, she called out, "Come Jake...I have a new family for you to meet!". Instead of balking at getting in the car as was his norm, he wagged his tail and jumped right into the crate.
It's fate I tell ya......and now I have one more handsome hunk in residence.
I'm a lucky girl!
You all know where this is going, right?
Over my consistent objections to the contrary for the past 5 years, I finally broke down this week-end and allowed an addition to our family.
His name is Jake, a one year old rescue yellow lab and he is 50 pounds of pure love and all of that love seems to be directed at ME.....of all people.
Saturday, I'm up at the outlet mall (see previous post) when my cell phone rings and it is BamBam on the phone.
"Mommy, we're up at PetSmart getting food for Sunny D and Polka and Mommy, there's this really sweet dog here. His name is Jake and he's a good dog. He doesn't bark and he doesn't jump and Daddy says I have to ask you. So can we Mom? Puhhhhhhhhhhhhlease!"
"Let me talk to your Daddy sweetie"
So to make a long story short, after giving my husband the what for on the phone and then listening to him describe Jake as another "Horace" I decided I had to go meet Jake Sunday after church.
As a word of explanation, Horace was my SIL's dog. The sweetest dog that ever walked the earth. If we had had the money, we would have cloned Horace. And I would have been a dog owner for the past 10 years.
So to hear the words "another Horace" pass my husband's lips, I had to go at least look...right? Of course, right, yes.
We arrive at the animal hospital where his "foster mommy" works and she brought him out to meet the family.
And I tell you, it was meant to be.
Jake walked right over to me, put his head on my lap, looked up at me with the kindest brown eyes and just waited, patiently mind you, for me to acknowledge him.
And I was smitten. Who wouldn't be smitten by a male who knows on which side his bread is buttered?
We spend 15 minutes with him. Me trying every trick in the book to get him to display hyper tendencies and naughta.
Jake's level of excitement peaks with an enthusiastic wagging of his tale.
I have yet to hear him bark.
We get him home, he explores our whole back yard. Makes NO attempt to nudge open or dig under the gates. Plays fetch with the boys, goes to a CORNER to do his duty
Then proceeds to spend the rest of the day following me around the house, laying at my feet and showering me with adoring looks of love.
Now I know what you are all are thinking and yes, his original owner was probably a woman and his foster parent definitely was.
But here's the kicker.
When his foster parent went to get him in the car for his one hour trip into the city, she called out, "Come Jake...I have a new family for you to meet!". Instead of balking at getting in the car as was his norm, he wagged his tail and jumped right into the crate.
It's fate I tell ya......and now I have one more handsome hunk in residence.
I'm a lucky girl!
Friday, December 02, 2005
My Twelve Stressors of Christmas
Blech
I hate shopping and I especially hate shopping at Christmas
But tomorrow, my mother in law takes me and her other daughter in law and now this year her daughter as well on our annual pilgrimage to the Premium Outlet Mall where we go manno manno with the masses.
Shopping is just one of my long and varied list of stressors, almost all of it self-inflicted I might add.
Why yes doctor, I'll lie down on your pretty brown corinthian leather couch...thank you very much!
We shall begin my recitation of the 12 Stressors of Christmas when you are ready.
1. CROWDS Crowds stress me out. They stomp on my feet, elbow me, are rude, crude and socially unacceptable. Fine, fine...there were crowds at the first Christmas (kudos to Wen for connecting the dots on that one) but crushed toes and bruised ribs still don't facilitate my Christmas Spririt
2. MONEY I don't have enough of it and what I have I want to tuck away like a little squirrel hiding her nuts in the fall.
3. SPENDING Spending money on gifts that I'm not sure anyone will like, want or appreciate just pisses me off.
4. GIFTS I love to make things, but there are certain members of my family who don't consider this an appropriate gift. So in my normal non holiday frame of mind, I'd say screw it and coal for you, but it's Christmas, so I don't say bad things and tuck my evil words away with my money nuts. Eating my words, BAD. Makes me want to eat lots of butter cookies...also BAD!
5. WINTER The change in season, colder, shorter, sunless days puts me in a big funk. I think I must be one of those SADD people cause I really struggle at about 5pm everyday and of course that's when the boys are gearing up for their daily post school meltdown.
6. TRAVEL I love to visit my folks in Florida after Christmas. I just don't like the laundry, packing, planning and the 9 hour drive each way it entails.
7. CARDS I didn't do them last year. Now mind you, I made 50 of them last year, but after that Herculean effort I couldn't psyche myself up to address, sign, stamp and mail them. I'm thinking no cards again this year.
8. PARTIES Office parties, spending time with people I'd rather not...check. Family parties...see office parties, not quite as bad....they just make me sad...check.
9. DECORATIONS Somewhere, in a time long long ago when I didn't have kids for the first EIGHT years of my marriage, I amassed a huge collection of holiday decorations that I guilt myself into putting up every year. I LOVE them once they're up. I LOATHE getting them up and getting them down.
10. MUSIC. Love What Child is This? How often do you hear it? Never, except if you're in church. No, it endless replays of "The Christmas Shoes" and all others of it's genre. I swear I can't push the buttons fast enough on the radio when that drivel floats through my speakers. Note to self...go buy Harry Connick Christmas Music CD and keep the radio off...check.
11. FOOD. It's everywhere, in your face, all the time, unrelenting. This year I rejoined WW as a way to try and counter the attack of the food pushing friends and co-workers. I'll let you know if my plan was successful.
12. FAMILY Like everyone else, this time of year makes me think, too much probably, of all the people who are no longer in my life through death, divorce, separation, etc. And I have weepy little Hallmark commercial moments at the drop of the hat, anywhere, anytime. I've started carrying a big wad of tissues in my purse and in my car precisely for this reason.
And that concludes our session for today. Please see the receptionist on the way out for your bill. and leave the box of Kleenex for the next patient.
Oh and for those who would point me back to my previous post about what I resolve this Christmas. Don't! I went back and read it again myself.
I read it several times a day. I chant it like a Tibetan monk on a mountaintop monastery. I'm trying, I really AM trying to keep my focus. But sometimes I miss the mark widely and wildly. Sadly I shall never levitate.
I'm venting here. If you want to help...... send a cookie. Or on second thought, don't send a cookie, see number 11 above.
Just nod your head and pat mine in empathy and all will be well.
I hate shopping and I especially hate shopping at Christmas
But tomorrow, my mother in law takes me and her other daughter in law and now this year her daughter as well on our annual pilgrimage to the Premium Outlet Mall where we go manno manno with the masses.
Shopping is just one of my long and varied list of stressors, almost all of it self-inflicted I might add.
Why yes doctor, I'll lie down on your pretty brown corinthian leather couch...thank you very much!
We shall begin my recitation of the 12 Stressors of Christmas when you are ready.
1. CROWDS Crowds stress me out. They stomp on my feet, elbow me, are rude, crude and socially unacceptable. Fine, fine...there were crowds at the first Christmas (kudos to Wen for connecting the dots on that one) but crushed toes and bruised ribs still don't facilitate my Christmas Spririt
2. MONEY I don't have enough of it and what I have I want to tuck away like a little squirrel hiding her nuts in the fall.
3. SPENDING Spending money on gifts that I'm not sure anyone will like, want or appreciate just pisses me off.
4. GIFTS I love to make things, but there are certain members of my family who don't consider this an appropriate gift. So in my normal non holiday frame of mind, I'd say screw it and coal for you, but it's Christmas, so I don't say bad things and tuck my evil words away with my money nuts. Eating my words, BAD. Makes me want to eat lots of butter cookies...also BAD!
5. WINTER The change in season, colder, shorter, sunless days puts me in a big funk. I think I must be one of those SADD people cause I really struggle at about 5pm everyday and of course that's when the boys are gearing up for their daily post school meltdown.
6. TRAVEL I love to visit my folks in Florida after Christmas. I just don't like the laundry, packing, planning and the 9 hour drive each way it entails.
7. CARDS I didn't do them last year. Now mind you, I made 50 of them last year, but after that Herculean effort I couldn't psyche myself up to address, sign, stamp and mail them. I'm thinking no cards again this year.
8. PARTIES Office parties, spending time with people I'd rather not...check. Family parties...see office parties, not quite as bad....they just make me sad...check.
9. DECORATIONS Somewhere, in a time long long ago when I didn't have kids for the first EIGHT years of my marriage, I amassed a huge collection of holiday decorations that I guilt myself into putting up every year. I LOVE them once they're up. I LOATHE getting them up and getting them down.
10. MUSIC. Love What Child is This? How often do you hear it? Never, except if you're in church. No, it endless replays of "The Christmas Shoes" and all others of it's genre. I swear I can't push the buttons fast enough on the radio when that drivel floats through my speakers. Note to self...go buy Harry Connick Christmas Music CD and keep the radio off...check.
11. FOOD. It's everywhere, in your face, all the time, unrelenting. This year I rejoined WW as a way to try and counter the attack of the food pushing friends and co-workers. I'll let you know if my plan was successful.
12. FAMILY Like everyone else, this time of year makes me think, too much probably, of all the people who are no longer in my life through death, divorce, separation, etc. And I have weepy little Hallmark commercial moments at the drop of the hat, anywhere, anytime. I've started carrying a big wad of tissues in my purse and in my car precisely for this reason.
And that concludes our session for today. Please see the receptionist on the way out for your bill. and leave the box of Kleenex for the next patient.
Oh and for those who would point me back to my previous post about what I resolve this Christmas. Don't! I went back and read it again myself.
I read it several times a day. I chant it like a Tibetan monk on a mountaintop monastery. I'm trying, I really AM trying to keep my focus. But sometimes I miss the mark widely and wildly. Sadly I shall never levitate.
I'm venting here. If you want to help...... send a cookie. Or on second thought, don't send a cookie, see number 11 above.
Just nod your head and pat mine in empathy and all will be well.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Speaking of elves
Warning...this post may either offend, provoke, incite or at the very least make you squirm in your seat or it will have you nodding vigorously in agreement, empathy and solidarity.
So to my question.
WTF is it with Elves phenomena?
As in your child's own personal elf.
An absolutely repugnant concept that has sprouted wings, multiplied like the plagues of biblical times and spread through the South (I can't speak for the rest of the country, only what I observe in my red neck of the woods.)
What has possessed otherwise sane, grounded people to add one more ridiculous "tradition" to the Christmas season.
Ahem...excuse me.
Check the timing.
911.....economy in shambles...enter Madison Avenue Money Monger...stage right (rubbing hands gleefully)
Sales in the toilet, consumer confidence waning? Why....we'll give the people something playful and lighthearted to take their minds off the tragedy of the day and to pad our meager pockets. It's all in good fun. An Elf. Santa exceeded our wildest imaginations, elves are the perfect counterpoint to our pyramid plan. We'll guilt the parents into it, peer pressure from the kids classmates. They're small, cute, mischevious, who can resist the magic? Why you'd be a SCROOGE to do so!
BAH HUMBUG...that's what I say and so........................
Today I snapped.
Bambam climbed into Big Red at carpool today with tears pooling in his eyes.
'Mommy....all of my classmates have an elf. Why don't I have an elf...have I been a bad boy? Peyton's elf toilet papered his bathroom and left him glitter and a new stuffed animal on his bed. Travis' elf hid his shoes under the bed and there was candy and a star wars action figure in them when he found them. Everyone has one but me." (head in hands sobbing)
I pulled the car over into the nearest neighborhood, got out of the car, climbed in back and hugged him and his brother, good and hard and then I did it. I told him the truth. Here's the conversation as best as I can recall.
"Honey, what your friends think are elves, are just their parents playing tricks on them."
'Why mommy...why would they do that?? Are there really no elves?"
"It's called peer pressure"
(Notice my total sidestepping of the question of the reality of elves. I'm sure there's a psychological term for this, but it escapes me)
"What's THAT?"
"It's when people try to make you do things you don't want to do because they don't want to feel bad about themselves ."
"Why would the parents feel bad, Mommy"
"Because the world can be a sad place and they think buying things for their kids will make them happy"
"Well...I'm happy when I get a new toy!!! Can we go to SuperTarget?"
Let me ask you something sweetie....what was the last toy I bought you at SuperTarget??
(long, lengthy pause and pondering....okay, now we return now to our regularily scheduled programming)
"uhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmm....I don't remember"
"You don't remember? Then it must not have made you very happy"
(longer pause)
"Let me ask you something else. What do elves or toys or playing tricks on you, what does any of that have to do with Christmas?"
(silence)
"What do you think Christmas is about?"
"Well duh mom, it's about Jesus coming to earth to love us and teach us."
"Right you are sweetie, you are one sharp cookie. Do elves love us and teach us?"
"Nope...they just make a mess....but they do give you candy and stuff."
"Well there's that, but I give you candy and stuff."
"(snort) SOMETIMES!!!"
"So I have an idea.....how about we pretend to be elves for each other? We'll do nice things instead of mean things for each other and we won't tell who did it until Christmas day. Does that sound like a plan?"
"COOOOOOOOL........I'm going to start thinkin of stuff to do right now"
"That sounds great...but just on other thing and this is going to be hard. You can't tell any of your friends what I just told you."
"Why mommy?"
"Because I'm not their parent honey and it's not my job or your job to tell them what to believe or what not to believe. "
(pause)
"Okay......but can I still have some candy?"
Problem solved at least for today.
We shall see what the morrow shall bring.
So to my question.
WTF is it with Elves phenomena?
As in your child's own personal elf.
An absolutely repugnant concept that has sprouted wings, multiplied like the plagues of biblical times and spread through the South (I can't speak for the rest of the country, only what I observe in my red neck of the woods.)
What has possessed otherwise sane, grounded people to add one more ridiculous "tradition" to the Christmas season.
Ahem...excuse me.
Check the timing.
911.....economy in shambles...enter Madison Avenue Money Monger...stage right (rubbing hands gleefully)
Sales in the toilet, consumer confidence waning? Why....we'll give the people something playful and lighthearted to take their minds off the tragedy of the day and to pad our meager pockets. It's all in good fun. An Elf. Santa exceeded our wildest imaginations, elves are the perfect counterpoint to our pyramid plan. We'll guilt the parents into it, peer pressure from the kids classmates. They're small, cute, mischevious, who can resist the magic? Why you'd be a SCROOGE to do so!
BAH HUMBUG...that's what I say and so........................
Today I snapped.
Bambam climbed into Big Red at carpool today with tears pooling in his eyes.
'Mommy....all of my classmates have an elf. Why don't I have an elf...have I been a bad boy? Peyton's elf toilet papered his bathroom and left him glitter and a new stuffed animal on his bed. Travis' elf hid his shoes under the bed and there was candy and a star wars action figure in them when he found them. Everyone has one but me." (head in hands sobbing)
I pulled the car over into the nearest neighborhood, got out of the car, climbed in back and hugged him and his brother, good and hard and then I did it. I told him the truth. Here's the conversation as best as I can recall.
"Honey, what your friends think are elves, are just their parents playing tricks on them."
'Why mommy...why would they do that?? Are there really no elves?"
"It's called peer pressure"
(Notice my total sidestepping of the question of the reality of elves. I'm sure there's a psychological term for this, but it escapes me)
"What's THAT?"
"It's when people try to make you do things you don't want to do because they don't want to feel bad about themselves ."
"Why would the parents feel bad, Mommy"
"Because the world can be a sad place and they think buying things for their kids will make them happy"
"Well...I'm happy when I get a new toy!!! Can we go to SuperTarget?"
Let me ask you something sweetie....what was the last toy I bought you at SuperTarget??
(long, lengthy pause and pondering....okay, now we return now to our regularily scheduled programming)
"uhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmm....I don't remember"
"You don't remember? Then it must not have made you very happy"
(longer pause)
"Let me ask you something else. What do elves or toys or playing tricks on you, what does any of that have to do with Christmas?"
(silence)
"What do you think Christmas is about?"
"Well duh mom, it's about Jesus coming to earth to love us and teach us."
"Right you are sweetie, you are one sharp cookie. Do elves love us and teach us?"
"Nope...they just make a mess....but they do give you candy and stuff."
"Well there's that, but I give you candy and stuff."
"(snort) SOMETIMES!!!"
"So I have an idea.....how about we pretend to be elves for each other? We'll do nice things instead of mean things for each other and we won't tell who did it until Christmas day. Does that sound like a plan?"
"COOOOOOOOL........I'm going to start thinkin of stuff to do right now"
"That sounds great...but just on other thing and this is going to be hard. You can't tell any of your friends what I just told you."
"Why mommy?"
"Because I'm not their parent honey and it's not my job or your job to tell them what to believe or what not to believe. "
(pause)
"Okay......but can I still have some candy?"
Problem solved at least for today.
We shall see what the morrow shall bring.
The decorating elf cometh.....
and she would be ME!
Sunday we drove home from North Carolina with our POS (pumped on steroids) Fraser Fur strapped to the top of the roof. Seriously, this thing takes up half my family room. We set it up Sunday, but not before my husband managed to drop the darn thing on me while unloading it. I accused him of trying to do me in for the insurance money...he said it wasn't enough.
HAHA, funny guy.
He did penance by doing my bidding the rest of the day while I rested my leg which has a very nice grapefruit sized bump turning all manner of lovely colors!
One night's sleep, half a tube of aspracream (sp?) and several Motrins later I was sufficiently pain free enough to start dragging boxes from the basement and setting up shop, so to speak.
To recap, we now have:
Candles glowing brightly in the windows with lit swags hung over the windows as well.
Fireplace and mantle are decorated and ooopps, along the way I broke one of the chimneys of my husband's antique gas lamps.
Now STOP! I know what you're thinking. It was an accident. REALLY!
Cleaning up from that little debacle, I moved on to the advent calendar which now positioned and ready for decorating
Finally, we sat down to dinner last night and actually lit the advent wreath....veddy...veddy nice!
Tonight......the lights shall be hung on the mammoth tree with care. I've got a new method I'm going to try out. Weaving the lights in and out vertically instead of doing our usual Christmas Maypole circle dance.
And the boys are going to hang all 100 of my Chrismons in our window panes.
I (((HEART))) Christmas!
Sunday we drove home from North Carolina with our POS (pumped on steroids) Fraser Fur strapped to the top of the roof. Seriously, this thing takes up half my family room. We set it up Sunday, but not before my husband managed to drop the darn thing on me while unloading it. I accused him of trying to do me in for the insurance money...he said it wasn't enough.
HAHA, funny guy.
He did penance by doing my bidding the rest of the day while I rested my leg which has a very nice grapefruit sized bump turning all manner of lovely colors!
One night's sleep, half a tube of aspracream (sp?) and several Motrins later I was sufficiently pain free enough to start dragging boxes from the basement and setting up shop, so to speak.
To recap, we now have:
Candles glowing brightly in the windows with lit swags hung over the windows as well.
Fireplace and mantle are decorated and ooopps, along the way I broke one of the chimneys of my husband's antique gas lamps.
Now STOP! I know what you're thinking. It was an accident. REALLY!
Cleaning up from that little debacle, I moved on to the advent calendar which now positioned and ready for decorating
Finally, we sat down to dinner last night and actually lit the advent wreath....veddy...veddy nice!
Tonight......the lights shall be hung on the mammoth tree with care. I've got a new method I'm going to try out. Weaving the lights in and out vertically instead of doing our usual Christmas Maypole circle dance.
And the boys are going to hang all 100 of my Chrismons in our window panes.
I (((HEART))) Christmas!
Monday, November 28, 2005
The countdown begins...................
The countdown to December 25th begins and this year I find myself digging in my heels, turning my back to the wild, loud obnoxious voice that is commercial and throwing shoulda,woulda, couldas to the wind and saying.................This season I resolve these three things
1) Be at peace. With myself, my neighbors, my family, my friends. Life is too short to nurse the slights and slings of everyday life and miscues.
2) Be joyful. That I have people who love me, need me, want me. My best is good enough and if it isin't, then the ones who matter will get over it and those that don't...... well, they'll move on.
3) Be still. To hear the quiet voice of my God, my Creator and His/Her words of love and guidance in my life. And to prepare my heart for where I will be led.
Peace my friends.
1) Be at peace. With myself, my neighbors, my family, my friends. Life is too short to nurse the slights and slings of everyday life and miscues.
2) Be joyful. That I have people who love me, need me, want me. My best is good enough and if it isin't, then the ones who matter will get over it and those that don't...... well, they'll move on.
3) Be still. To hear the quiet voice of my God, my Creator and His/Her words of love and guidance in my life. And to prepare my heart for where I will be led.
Peace my friends.
Monday, November 21, 2005
The Excellent Adventures of Suzy Trooper
It all began innocently enough.
My friend Phil, recently divorced and feeling like he had no place to go this Thanksgiving left for Peru yesterday(never mind that he made these plans before we had a chance to include him in OUR plans. And that is plural as in his circle of friends)
Why Peru? Machu Pichou. I guess launching himself over the mountain that is divorce wasn't enough of a challenge.
But I'm getting off topic here.
So back to topic, I have a little send off party for him yesterday afternoon. We fire up the smoker, offer up brisket to the barbeque gods, feed him, love on him and send him on his merry way.
That's when things got, well, a little interesting.
It started with the normally reserved architect aka my "boyfriend" Kyle. Don't be deceived. Architects by nature are creative and VERY logical...dangerous combination in my book. And okay for all you puritans who may be reading this. YES I'm happily married and YES, Kyle is my friend and YES he is a boy....and he gives me greeting/parting kisses. so ergo he IS my "boyfriend". Now...back to my story.
Anyway, one minute we're savoring my favorite red wine, "Menage a Trois" (oh SHUT up!) and the next Kyle has planted the seed that it would be fun to take Phil's Izusu Trooper, drive it around town and pose it in front of various favorite and secretly favorite haunts of our friend Phil.
Now here is where I made the mistake. I got up to go to the bathroom (did I mention we had been drinking red wine for a couple hours? No? Okay well, back to story)
So I'm in the bathroom and somehow, "while I was out" the gang decided that I needed to be the designated driver and that we would meet at my office at lunch to begin the adventure, because my office is located behind prime photo ops.....a high class "gentleman's club, near a famous liquor store and right across the stree from Georgia Tech and BONUS...free parking!!
My dear husband, of course assures everyone that "Why yes my wife knows how to drive a stick. The first car she bought was a Corolla stick 18 years ago"
What he failed to add is that it has been 15 years since I drove said stick.
Note to self....don't EVER leave to go to the bathroom during one of my parties again.
Fast forward to this morning.
It's pouring down rain. I roll over and look at my husaband and ask
"What the hell did I agree to this morning???""
"Stick shift baby. Photography. Scrapbooking. Ya ready??!!"
Hitting the floor running I'm ready in 10 minutes flat cause I MUST beat Atlanta traffic to my office. If I, in my stick shift senility, fail to engage the gears properly I will stall on 285 and I'll be just another traffic statistic.
Before getting to Kyle's house where Phil's car is parked, I pass Kyle on the road. Backing up, we roll down the windows.
"Is Phil's car ....reallllllly a stick??" I ask, voice quavering
"Don't worry Luke, the force will be with you."
"Leia, Kyle, Leia....Luke is a freaking wimp" I mutter to myself rolling up the windows.
Surprisingly driving a shift IS like riding a bike and I manage to arrive at my office with car, physical body and sanity intact. I will not be winning any driving awards and Phil's clutch may be a little worse for the wear, but I didn't get myself killed. Score two for me.
At lunch time, my cohorts arrive en masse in one car, Kyle having acted as chauffeur for my friends who work in my neck of the woods. It's still raining. I'm driving...did I mention that Isuzu's have really screwed up gear boxes, like why even bother taking your foot off the clutch between first and second???
No??Okay. Well we take many pictures, funny stuff. Suzy in front of the gentleman's lounge, Suzy in front of the liquor store, Suzy at the Ikea looking for a "hot" new sofa. The list goes on and on.
And somewhere along the way I'm channeling Phil, who shall we say, has rather reckless driving habits. He drove through the footpath cut through from my neighborhood to his one memorable Halloween night.
So yep...that would be me driving over curbs and on sidewalks and squeezing around barricades for the perfect picture.
Sometimes it's fun NOT to be the responsible one.
And when Phil comes back he will have a little album of photos of Suzy's adventures "while HE was away"
heh.
I love my friends.
My friend Phil, recently divorced and feeling like he had no place to go this Thanksgiving left for Peru yesterday(never mind that he made these plans before we had a chance to include him in OUR plans. And that is plural as in his circle of friends)
Why Peru? Machu Pichou. I guess launching himself over the mountain that is divorce wasn't enough of a challenge.
But I'm getting off topic here.
So back to topic, I have a little send off party for him yesterday afternoon. We fire up the smoker, offer up brisket to the barbeque gods, feed him, love on him and send him on his merry way.
That's when things got, well, a little interesting.
It started with the normally reserved architect aka my "boyfriend" Kyle. Don't be deceived. Architects by nature are creative and VERY logical...dangerous combination in my book. And okay for all you puritans who may be reading this. YES I'm happily married and YES, Kyle is my friend and YES he is a boy....and he gives me greeting/parting kisses. so ergo he IS my "boyfriend". Now...back to my story.
Anyway, one minute we're savoring my favorite red wine, "Menage a Trois" (oh SHUT up!) and the next Kyle has planted the seed that it would be fun to take Phil's Izusu Trooper, drive it around town and pose it in front of various favorite and secretly favorite haunts of our friend Phil.
Now here is where I made the mistake. I got up to go to the bathroom (did I mention we had been drinking red wine for a couple hours? No? Okay well, back to story)
So I'm in the bathroom and somehow, "while I was out" the gang decided that I needed to be the designated driver and that we would meet at my office at lunch to begin the adventure, because my office is located behind prime photo ops.....a high class "gentleman's club, near a famous liquor store and right across the stree from Georgia Tech and BONUS...free parking!!
My dear husband, of course assures everyone that "Why yes my wife knows how to drive a stick. The first car she bought was a Corolla stick 18 years ago"
What he failed to add is that it has been 15 years since I drove said stick.
Note to self....don't EVER leave to go to the bathroom during one of my parties again.
Fast forward to this morning.
It's pouring down rain. I roll over and look at my husaband and ask
"What the hell did I agree to this morning???""
"Stick shift baby. Photography. Scrapbooking. Ya ready??!!"
Hitting the floor running I'm ready in 10 minutes flat cause I MUST beat Atlanta traffic to my office. If I, in my stick shift senility, fail to engage the gears properly I will stall on 285 and I'll be just another traffic statistic.
Before getting to Kyle's house where Phil's car is parked, I pass Kyle on the road. Backing up, we roll down the windows.
"Is Phil's car ....reallllllly a stick??" I ask, voice quavering
"Don't worry Luke, the force will be with you."
"Leia, Kyle, Leia....Luke is a freaking wimp" I mutter to myself rolling up the windows.
Surprisingly driving a shift IS like riding a bike and I manage to arrive at my office with car, physical body and sanity intact. I will not be winning any driving awards and Phil's clutch may be a little worse for the wear, but I didn't get myself killed. Score two for me.
At lunch time, my cohorts arrive en masse in one car, Kyle having acted as chauffeur for my friends who work in my neck of the woods. It's still raining. I'm driving...did I mention that Isuzu's have really screwed up gear boxes, like why even bother taking your foot off the clutch between first and second???
No??Okay. Well we take many pictures, funny stuff. Suzy in front of the gentleman's lounge, Suzy in front of the liquor store, Suzy at the Ikea looking for a "hot" new sofa. The list goes on and on.
And somewhere along the way I'm channeling Phil, who shall we say, has rather reckless driving habits. He drove through the footpath cut through from my neighborhood to his one memorable Halloween night.
So yep...that would be me driving over curbs and on sidewalks and squeezing around barricades for the perfect picture.
Sometimes it's fun NOT to be the responsible one.
And when Phil comes back he will have a little album of photos of Suzy's adventures "while HE was away"
heh.
I love my friends.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
When your best isin't good enough
There was this girl with a tight circle of friends.
Or at least she thought the circle was tight.
Then one of the circle got divorced.
This wasn't so hard because the ex was a verbally abusive asshole who inflicted pain and discord everywhere he went.
So the circle survived and moved on.
Then another friend got divorced.
This time it was different. There were no clear cut bad guys/girls. It was just sad. Two people who got married, had three kids and finally came to terms with the reality that others had seen for years, that they should have stayed friends, nothing more.
So it begins. Who "wins" which friends in the split.
So now I move from the third person narrative to the first person...cause I'm getting down to the raw and personal place where it really hurts.
I like the wife. She's funny and smart and creative and a little reserved and I like her a lot.
I send numerous emails, make many phone calls to her, trying to include her in activities with the group. No response.
Except.
I don't invite her to one event. And now she doesn't want anything to do with me.
My rule has been to invite the spouse without the kids on week-end social events and I've tried to be respectful of the fact that they don't want to be in the same room together. That one no invite is what landed me on her shit list.
I'm not writing this because I feel I need any reassurance or censure.
I write it just because I feel sad.
Sad that she doesn't want anything to do with me. Sad that I miss her wit and intelligence. Sad that she never called me back. Just sad.
Could I have done something different? Yes. Would it have changed things? Probably not.
It doesn't matter. I still mourn the loss of what was and what could have been.
Or at least she thought the circle was tight.
Then one of the circle got divorced.
This wasn't so hard because the ex was a verbally abusive asshole who inflicted pain and discord everywhere he went.
So the circle survived and moved on.
Then another friend got divorced.
This time it was different. There were no clear cut bad guys/girls. It was just sad. Two people who got married, had three kids and finally came to terms with the reality that others had seen for years, that they should have stayed friends, nothing more.
So it begins. Who "wins" which friends in the split.
So now I move from the third person narrative to the first person...cause I'm getting down to the raw and personal place where it really hurts.
I like the wife. She's funny and smart and creative and a little reserved and I like her a lot.
I send numerous emails, make many phone calls to her, trying to include her in activities with the group. No response.
Except.
I don't invite her to one event. And now she doesn't want anything to do with me.
My rule has been to invite the spouse without the kids on week-end social events and I've tried to be respectful of the fact that they don't want to be in the same room together. That one no invite is what landed me on her shit list.
I'm not writing this because I feel I need any reassurance or censure.
I write it just because I feel sad.
Sad that she doesn't want anything to do with me. Sad that I miss her wit and intelligence. Sad that she never called me back. Just sad.
Could I have done something different? Yes. Would it have changed things? Probably not.
It doesn't matter. I still mourn the loss of what was and what could have been.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
101 Dalmation Guppies
Well instead of writing this week-end, hubby and I thought it would be a swell idea to got to the pet store and get Thumper his own fish for his tank we set up last week-end.
BamBam already had a very hearty fish, named Sunny D, that has survived for over a month in a non filtered tank, so we didn't have any second thoughts about dumping him in his new filtered, heated 10 gallon new digs. He hit the water swimming.
After an hour, I kid you not, an hour of perusing all the fish on display, Thumper decides on a nice fat, sassy and very healthy looking Dalmation guppy. He promptly names it Polka, cause well it's got polka dots and he then informs me that as soon as Polka has time to get used to the tank, he's going back for another and naming it Dot.
Sounds like a plan to me although I'm wondering to myself if the people at the pet store can tell girls from boys cause I really don't want to start a family at my age, kwim?
Fast forward to yesterday. I'm in the grocery store, bumping through the lunch time crowds at Publix when my cell phone rings. It's hubby and the conversation goes something like this.
"Hey honey, got a little bit of news for you.....uhhhmmmm Polka" he says pausing.
At this point I'm muttering a hearty little curse under my breath thoroughly convinced that Polka has gone belly up and we really should have waited a few more days for the tank to stabilize. Thumper is uber sensitive....drama of fish going to the tidy bowl in the sky was not something I wanted to deal with today.
"Stop cursing.....geeesh...it's a good thing the kids aren't with you."
"I never curse around the kids"
"Hhhmmmmm....."
"Well except when one of them steps on my bare feet for the thousandth time"
"Hmmmm...okay...whatever......Polka is fine, in fact she's more than fine, she's been a busy little girl our Polka"
"Girl...wait how do you know it's a girl?....oh....oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh....OH NO!"
"Yep I'm counting one, two...five...eight, at least eight little DOTS."
"Well I guess we don't need to make a trip to the pet store for another fish this week-end. Unless of course Polka gets hungry""
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW......don't say that, especially don't say that in front of Thumper."
Disconnecting, I race through the checkout and home and by this time Polka has popped out six more Dots.
After school, I told Thumper and BamBam to go check out the tank, without giving them any other clue.
Of course they about knocked over the tank in excitement. Poor little Dots, if mama doesn't eat you the boys will finish you off.
So moral of the story....don't buy fat little fish unless you want a tank full of them!
BamBam already had a very hearty fish, named Sunny D, that has survived for over a month in a non filtered tank, so we didn't have any second thoughts about dumping him in his new filtered, heated 10 gallon new digs. He hit the water swimming.
After an hour, I kid you not, an hour of perusing all the fish on display, Thumper decides on a nice fat, sassy and very healthy looking Dalmation guppy. He promptly names it Polka, cause well it's got polka dots and he then informs me that as soon as Polka has time to get used to the tank, he's going back for another and naming it Dot.
Sounds like a plan to me although I'm wondering to myself if the people at the pet store can tell girls from boys cause I really don't want to start a family at my age, kwim?
Fast forward to yesterday. I'm in the grocery store, bumping through the lunch time crowds at Publix when my cell phone rings. It's hubby and the conversation goes something like this.
"Hey honey, got a little bit of news for you.....uhhhmmmm Polka" he says pausing.
At this point I'm muttering a hearty little curse under my breath thoroughly convinced that Polka has gone belly up and we really should have waited a few more days for the tank to stabilize. Thumper is uber sensitive....drama of fish going to the tidy bowl in the sky was not something I wanted to deal with today.
"Stop cursing.....geeesh...it's a good thing the kids aren't with you."
"I never curse around the kids"
"Hhhmmmmm....."
"Well except when one of them steps on my bare feet for the thousandth time"
"Hmmmm...okay...whatever......Polka is fine, in fact she's more than fine, she's been a busy little girl our Polka"
"Girl...wait how do you know it's a girl?....oh....oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh....OH NO!"
"Yep I'm counting one, two...five...eight, at least eight little DOTS."
"Well I guess we don't need to make a trip to the pet store for another fish this week-end. Unless of course Polka gets hungry""
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW......don't say that, especially don't say that in front of Thumper."
Disconnecting, I race through the checkout and home and by this time Polka has popped out six more Dots.
After school, I told Thumper and BamBam to go check out the tank, without giving them any other clue.
Of course they about knocked over the tank in excitement. Poor little Dots, if mama doesn't eat you the boys will finish you off.
So moral of the story....don't buy fat little fish unless you want a tank full of them!
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
What child is This? Chapter One
WHAT CHILD IS THIS?Chapter One
Thump. Whump....whump..whump. Slam. WhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrSigh. I am such a light sleeper.
Rolling over and a quick peek at the glow from the clock confirms that it is 4:00 am, Friday and my weekly delivery of milk has just been deposited on my front door step and the delivery truck is backing out the driveway.
My husband, oblivious as usual, snores gently away by my side. HE is most definitely NOT a light sleeper. No....this is the man who slept through a tornado barreling through our back yard one Spring night while I, 6 months pregnant, launched myself out of bed, holding my bulging belly with one hand, clasping my 16 month old with the other hand to my hip, racing down the stairs all the while screaming at him to get his butt to the basement before he ended up like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.
But I digress, I love my milk man! Well not love, like in the sense of lusting after him or planning little afternoon trysts whilst my hubby toils away in the salt mines of the family business. Actually, I've never even met the man and I seriously doubt he would be my type because whenever I call him with my weekly order changes, he sounds like he's 69 plus and has smoked for at least 59 of them. No, I love my milk man because he delivers fresh, good, straight from the local dairy, creamy goodness to my doorstep every week, therefore sparing me the drudgery and toil of dragging myself and my two wild things to the store on a daily basis for a product that pales in comparison.
Between him and my local produce delivery girl I see the inside of a grocery store, maybe, about once a month. And as an added bonus...I just love tossing out in casual conversation " MY milkman brought me the most fantastic eggs this week and I can't decide whether to make my famous killer frittata or a from scratch chocolate angel food cake" which always ellicits murmurs of envy, either for the food or for the service.
And then I, feeling all beatific, condescend to share the name AND phone number of my source. See it's the little things that make me happy. Yep that's me, Saint Elisabeth of Dunwoody, sharing one of her novenas on the path that is domestic bliss ..and all the Dunwoody housewives said, "AMEN....preach it to me sistah!"
But the dark flip side of all this catering to my culinary needs is that I am awakened every Friday at 4AM and while I am a morning person, 4AM really stretches the definition of the term. I always lay there and debate with myself for a few minutes on the merits of retrieving the milk now or waiting until my normal wake up call of 6am.
I snuggle up to my husband's back, pull the pillow over my head and the down comforter up high around my face and try and get another two hours of sleep. Of course this never works. I am as predictable as the sun rising in the East and setting in the West. Once I wake up, it's game over and I might as well try and get something productive done, because as a telecommuting, working mother and wife, I'm all about productivity.
So slinging my comforter over my snoring motionless hunk of a husband (yes I think he's still hot after 18 years, even if he thinks he needs to lose 20 pounds and frets over his growing "thin" spot) I toe my way into my ragged LL Bean slippers, grab my equally well loved robe and head downstairs to fire up the coffee (girl has to have her priorities) before slipping outside to retrieve my dairy stash for the week.
I've gotten really good at fumbling quietly around the house at the hour of the morning. I'm thinking it should be an event in the Mommy Olympics. Lights would wake the rest of the family up and that is a BAD thing...at least in my prior experience. I can set up the coffee solely by touch. Don't ask why I don't do it the night before. My school age children attempt, and the operative word is attempt, to suck every available moment of my free time out of my life. And since I think they are pretty darn cute and I CAN NOT resist the plea for just "a little more snuggle time" or "one more story" every night, coffee set up before bedtime is the last thing on my mind. Besides I like the challenge of early morning, vision and coordination impaired coffee preparation...keeps me sharp.
Today though I have more light than normal cause it's December. And why would you ask do you have more light in December, the longest, darkest, coldest month of the year? Because I am Martha Stewart's younger, kinder and much gentler sister! Not! Well, I do tend to channel all things Martha and basically my two-story home in December looks like Christmas exploded, ever so artfully and beautifully, of course! Candle lights that come on at dusk and off at dawn in EVERY window, back and front. Trees downstairs in the dining room, living room and family room programmed to come on in the early morning. Trees in the boys rooms programmed to come on at 6:00am, a seasonal alarm clock if you will. Boughs from every window, advent calendars and wreaths, 3 different nativities....a convention of Santas clustered on the mantel and around the fireplace....you get the picture...I ADORE Christmas.
So anyway, all the ambient light from the candles and trees and nativity sets make the usual challenge of making the morning coffee, less so. After successfully measuring, pouring and pushing all the right buttons, I check the fridge to make sure there's enough room for my 4 gallons of 1%, butter, eggs and yogurt and season treat, eggnog (note to self hide from hunky hubby in back of fridge or he will drink at one sitting) Of course there never is and I mutter and curse slightly under my breath as I push, prod, pile and poke things around to clear the necessary space. Aha...mission accomplished...and I only managed to partially knock over one half empty carton of yogurt in the process, averting clean-up in the process. Score two for Mom..woohoo...alright so I'm the only one keeping score, but again, it's the little things.
Heading to the front door, I check my beautiful Italian crafted nativity at the entrance, the one that flew shotgun between two Delta pilots on a flight home many Christmas ago. My husband's witty comment to the pilots about Jesus as their co-pilot actually got a good laugh from the crew and passengers. Picking upthe camels and Magi, I move them slightly closer to the manger scene from their perch on the credenza because,of course, it's NOT Epiphany and the wise men should not be in the manger yet, nor the Christ child who is presently hanging out in the bread box, patiently and serenely waiting for his big appearance on Christmas morning.
Why the bread box you ask? Because I read a fantastic story years ago about how two boys decided to swipe the baby Jesus from their family's nativity and hide him in the bread box because they had heard on two consecutive Sunday's at church that Jesus was "the Bread of Life" and then it was "Not proper to put the Baby Jesus in the manger until Christmas day" So their 7 & 9 year old brains put the two together and rightly reasoned that the only logical place for him was the bread box. The minds of children.... dangerous, imaginative, wonderful things. I immediately co-opted the tradition.
Pulling the front door open, I always stop and look up because the sight of the stars in the trees is one of the best things about being up at 4AM and on winter mornings here in Atlanta, they shimmer and dance in the cool air, my own personal little Christmas light show.
Bending down to pick up the first gallon of milk, I hear a noise, a faint smacking sound and then a gurgle and a whiff of something sweet and powdery. Freezing in mid lift, I turn my head ever so slightly. I know that sound and I know that smell. I'm a mom.There on the other corner of my small porch is a “Moses” basket, one of those totally impractical but absolutely beautiful icons of newborns since biblical times.
And in the basket....a newborn child.Tucked in the folds of the blanket swaddling the baby is a fat envelope with beautiful penmanship and a cryptic message......"What Child is This?"
Thump. Whump....whump..whump. Slam. WhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrSigh. I am such a light sleeper.
Rolling over and a quick peek at the glow from the clock confirms that it is 4:00 am, Friday and my weekly delivery of milk has just been deposited on my front door step and the delivery truck is backing out the driveway.
My husband, oblivious as usual, snores gently away by my side. HE is most definitely NOT a light sleeper. No....this is the man who slept through a tornado barreling through our back yard one Spring night while I, 6 months pregnant, launched myself out of bed, holding my bulging belly with one hand, clasping my 16 month old with the other hand to my hip, racing down the stairs all the while screaming at him to get his butt to the basement before he ended up like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.
But I digress, I love my milk man! Well not love, like in the sense of lusting after him or planning little afternoon trysts whilst my hubby toils away in the salt mines of the family business. Actually, I've never even met the man and I seriously doubt he would be my type because whenever I call him with my weekly order changes, he sounds like he's 69 plus and has smoked for at least 59 of them. No, I love my milk man because he delivers fresh, good, straight from the local dairy, creamy goodness to my doorstep every week, therefore sparing me the drudgery and toil of dragging myself and my two wild things to the store on a daily basis for a product that pales in comparison.
Between him and my local produce delivery girl I see the inside of a grocery store, maybe, about once a month. And as an added bonus...I just love tossing out in casual conversation " MY milkman brought me the most fantastic eggs this week and I can't decide whether to make my famous killer frittata or a from scratch chocolate angel food cake" which always ellicits murmurs of envy, either for the food or for the service.
And then I, feeling all beatific, condescend to share the name AND phone number of my source. See it's the little things that make me happy. Yep that's me, Saint Elisabeth of Dunwoody, sharing one of her novenas on the path that is domestic bliss ..and all the Dunwoody housewives said, "AMEN....preach it to me sistah!"
But the dark flip side of all this catering to my culinary needs is that I am awakened every Friday at 4AM and while I am a morning person, 4AM really stretches the definition of the term. I always lay there and debate with myself for a few minutes on the merits of retrieving the milk now or waiting until my normal wake up call of 6am.
I snuggle up to my husband's back, pull the pillow over my head and the down comforter up high around my face and try and get another two hours of sleep. Of course this never works. I am as predictable as the sun rising in the East and setting in the West. Once I wake up, it's game over and I might as well try and get something productive done, because as a telecommuting, working mother and wife, I'm all about productivity.
So slinging my comforter over my snoring motionless hunk of a husband (yes I think he's still hot after 18 years, even if he thinks he needs to lose 20 pounds and frets over his growing "thin" spot) I toe my way into my ragged LL Bean slippers, grab my equally well loved robe and head downstairs to fire up the coffee (girl has to have her priorities) before slipping outside to retrieve my dairy stash for the week.
I've gotten really good at fumbling quietly around the house at the hour of the morning. I'm thinking it should be an event in the Mommy Olympics. Lights would wake the rest of the family up and that is a BAD thing...at least in my prior experience. I can set up the coffee solely by touch. Don't ask why I don't do it the night before. My school age children attempt, and the operative word is attempt, to suck every available moment of my free time out of my life. And since I think they are pretty darn cute and I CAN NOT resist the plea for just "a little more snuggle time" or "one more story" every night, coffee set up before bedtime is the last thing on my mind. Besides I like the challenge of early morning, vision and coordination impaired coffee preparation...keeps me sharp.
Today though I have more light than normal cause it's December. And why would you ask do you have more light in December, the longest, darkest, coldest month of the year? Because I am Martha Stewart's younger, kinder and much gentler sister! Not! Well, I do tend to channel all things Martha and basically my two-story home in December looks like Christmas exploded, ever so artfully and beautifully, of course! Candle lights that come on at dusk and off at dawn in EVERY window, back and front. Trees downstairs in the dining room, living room and family room programmed to come on in the early morning. Trees in the boys rooms programmed to come on at 6:00am, a seasonal alarm clock if you will. Boughs from every window, advent calendars and wreaths, 3 different nativities....a convention of Santas clustered on the mantel and around the fireplace....you get the picture...I ADORE Christmas.
So anyway, all the ambient light from the candles and trees and nativity sets make the usual challenge of making the morning coffee, less so. After successfully measuring, pouring and pushing all the right buttons, I check the fridge to make sure there's enough room for my 4 gallons of 1%, butter, eggs and yogurt and season treat, eggnog (note to self hide from hunky hubby in back of fridge or he will drink at one sitting) Of course there never is and I mutter and curse slightly under my breath as I push, prod, pile and poke things around to clear the necessary space. Aha...mission accomplished...and I only managed to partially knock over one half empty carton of yogurt in the process, averting clean-up in the process. Score two for Mom..woohoo...alright so I'm the only one keeping score, but again, it's the little things.
Heading to the front door, I check my beautiful Italian crafted nativity at the entrance, the one that flew shotgun between two Delta pilots on a flight home many Christmas ago. My husband's witty comment to the pilots about Jesus as their co-pilot actually got a good laugh from the crew and passengers. Picking upthe camels and Magi, I move them slightly closer to the manger scene from their perch on the credenza because,of course, it's NOT Epiphany and the wise men should not be in the manger yet, nor the Christ child who is presently hanging out in the bread box, patiently and serenely waiting for his big appearance on Christmas morning.
Why the bread box you ask? Because I read a fantastic story years ago about how two boys decided to swipe the baby Jesus from their family's nativity and hide him in the bread box because they had heard on two consecutive Sunday's at church that Jesus was "the Bread of Life" and then it was "Not proper to put the Baby Jesus in the manger until Christmas day" So their 7 & 9 year old brains put the two together and rightly reasoned that the only logical place for him was the bread box. The minds of children.... dangerous, imaginative, wonderful things. I immediately co-opted the tradition.
Pulling the front door open, I always stop and look up because the sight of the stars in the trees is one of the best things about being up at 4AM and on winter mornings here in Atlanta, they shimmer and dance in the cool air, my own personal little Christmas light show.
Bending down to pick up the first gallon of milk, I hear a noise, a faint smacking sound and then a gurgle and a whiff of something sweet and powdery. Freezing in mid lift, I turn my head ever so slightly. I know that sound and I know that smell. I'm a mom.There on the other corner of my small porch is a “Moses” basket, one of those totally impractical but absolutely beautiful icons of newborns since biblical times.
And in the basket....a newborn child.Tucked in the folds of the blanket swaddling the baby is a fat envelope with beautiful penmanship and a cryptic message......"What Child is This?"
NaNoWriMo Update #1
Wooowooo....thanks for the high fives and encouragement everyone!
While I bow to the amazing word count of Wendy, I am still pretty pleased with my own effort. I hit 10,000 words last night.
Carrie, I went with your advice....word vomit...bwahahahaha!!!
I stopped editing myself, spell checking, etc, worrying about grammar and sentence structure.
Also, I began writing completely out of order.
I did one complete chapter and 4 half formed chapters that I have no idea where they'll end up in the grand scheme of things.
But they are words by Golly and they're mine and they're on paper!!!
wooowooooo....only 40,000 to go (faint)
Oh and I'm going to post the first chapter as a teaser...let me know what you think!
While I bow to the amazing word count of Wendy, I am still pretty pleased with my own effort. I hit 10,000 words last night.
Carrie, I went with your advice....word vomit...bwahahahaha!!!
I stopped editing myself, spell checking, etc, worrying about grammar and sentence structure.
Also, I began writing completely out of order.
I did one complete chapter and 4 half formed chapters that I have no idea where they'll end up in the grand scheme of things.
But they are words by Golly and they're mine and they're on paper!!!
wooowooooo....only 40,000 to go (faint)
Oh and I'm going to post the first chapter as a teaser...let me know what you think!
Friday, November 04, 2005
Do I still have it?
Wendy threw down the guantlet with the NANOWRIMO challenege and now I'm trying to see if I can write a 50,000 word novel by the end of novemeber.
It's official.
I've lost my mind.
The first two days were a piece of cake. It just flowed.
Now I'm on day 4, two days of no writing and I'm stuck. Not a single bleeping thought to paper process.
Sigh.
Maybe inspiration will strike tomorrow.
It's official.
I've lost my mind.
The first two days were a piece of cake. It just flowed.
Now I'm on day 4, two days of no writing and I'm stuck. Not a single bleeping thought to paper process.
Sigh.
Maybe inspiration will strike tomorrow.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Dinner dates and old friends
Michael and I had a dinner date with two of our oldest couple friends from back in the wee way ago days when we were newly married and in the same Sunday School class.
That class has since disbanded.
One of the couples now lives an hour and a half away in a small town. He's a Presbyterian minister, she's in seminary on her way to being a minister. and just had a beautiful little "ooops" baby boy in addition to 13 and 10 year old girls. When I held the newest addition for the first time, he was went from fussy to serene in 5 seconds flat. We bonded immediately, just like I did with the girls. Their children are like my own.
The other couple has a special needs child and a beautiful 14 year old daughter who I just ushered through the confirmation process.
These people are my extended family. And it is something, precious and rare and comforting beyond description to be with people who know your history and you know theirs and so much can be said and shared without sometimes saying much at all.
The six of us passed plates of food and drank and laughed and called the other couple friend from our old class, who now live in Mesa, passing the phone around the table, just so we could be all "together" again, even if we ran up my hubby's minutes on the cell...bwa!
And after dinner we went to a coffee house and hung out on the sofas and talked about the deep stuff. Kids, plans for the future, career, passions. How God works in and through our lives and pulls us in directions in ways so different than we ever imagined. Just like we did all those years ago on Sunday mornings.
Someday we all may be scattered to the four corners of the Earth or at the least the country and I try not to think about that.
So I don't.
Not much anyway
I just try to be thankful that these people have been and always will be so much a part of who I am.
That class has since disbanded.
One of the couples now lives an hour and a half away in a small town. He's a Presbyterian minister, she's in seminary on her way to being a minister. and just had a beautiful little "ooops" baby boy in addition to 13 and 10 year old girls. When I held the newest addition for the first time, he was went from fussy to serene in 5 seconds flat. We bonded immediately, just like I did with the girls. Their children are like my own.
The other couple has a special needs child and a beautiful 14 year old daughter who I just ushered through the confirmation process.
These people are my extended family. And it is something, precious and rare and comforting beyond description to be with people who know your history and you know theirs and so much can be said and shared without sometimes saying much at all.
The six of us passed plates of food and drank and laughed and called the other couple friend from our old class, who now live in Mesa, passing the phone around the table, just so we could be all "together" again, even if we ran up my hubby's minutes on the cell...bwa!
And after dinner we went to a coffee house and hung out on the sofas and talked about the deep stuff. Kids, plans for the future, career, passions. How God works in and through our lives and pulls us in directions in ways so different than we ever imagined. Just like we did all those years ago on Sunday mornings.
Someday we all may be scattered to the four corners of the Earth or at the least the country and I try not to think about that.
So I don't.
Not much anyway
I just try to be thankful that these people have been and always will be so much a part of who I am.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Black day at black rock or
When being honest and real comes back to bite you in the ass
After the incredible high of Monday and learning I was going to be published for the first time, comes the incredible low of being almost 45 and realizing I am still naive and dumb in a lot of ways.
I had a phone call that resulted in a parting of the ways with an organization that I taught and designed for and supported with much money(obscene actually when I had them run a total once).
I won't elaborate only to say it is not a bad thing at all to be moving on.
Prior to that phone call I got another phone call telling me that my friend and neighbor had died of cancer in his home surrounded by his family at 4am that morning.
The funeral is on Saturday and I don't know how to tell the boys because they adored this man. Mr. Gray was forever tolerating the wild rambunctious behavior of my two, letting them run wild with his dog and climb in his trees and hangout wiht him in his basement to watch and play with his model train sets. I think after raising 3 daughters my boys were a mystifying but entertaining outlet.
He was a straight up, genuinely nice man. A great neighbor. His wife who has advanced MS will have to sell the house and move out of the only home she's ever had with him.
So much change and sadness.
Thank God for my girlfriends who gave me real and cyber hugs and shoulders to cry on.....love you all.
After the incredible high of Monday and learning I was going to be published for the first time, comes the incredible low of being almost 45 and realizing I am still naive and dumb in a lot of ways.
I had a phone call that resulted in a parting of the ways with an organization that I taught and designed for and supported with much money(obscene actually when I had them run a total once).
I won't elaborate only to say it is not a bad thing at all to be moving on.
Prior to that phone call I got another phone call telling me that my friend and neighbor had died of cancer in his home surrounded by his family at 4am that morning.
The funeral is on Saturday and I don't know how to tell the boys because they adored this man. Mr. Gray was forever tolerating the wild rambunctious behavior of my two, letting them run wild with his dog and climb in his trees and hangout wiht him in his basement to watch and play with his model train sets. I think after raising 3 daughters my boys were a mystifying but entertaining outlet.
He was a straight up, genuinely nice man. A great neighbor. His wife who has advanced MS will have to sell the house and move out of the only home she's ever had with him.
So much change and sadness.
Thank God for my girlfriends who gave me real and cyber hugs and shoulders to cry on.....love you all.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Toot...toot....hey beepbeep!
Man....it feels good to finally be able to SAY that!!!
Scrapbook Answers emailed me and they want my "I Remember When" layout of the boys I did last year! This will be my first time published by a real scrapping magazine!!
Picture this, I'm at the school library, waiting for Ian to finish up with his reading specialist, crusin through my emails on the internet ......and there it was...... 4 emails down!
"Good news from Scrapbook Answers"
Thank GOD I didn't delete it....kind of looked like spam!
So anyway, here's the text in it's all of it's delicious wholeness!
Hi Lisa,
I have some great news for you! We all loved your layout "I remember when" and want to publish it in our next issue of /Scrapbook Answers/ magazine!!!
We want to publish your layout in our Eye on Design department where we showcase layouts that have stellar designs. In addition to sending you a complementary copy of the magazine, we will be paying you $25 =)
I will be writing about your layout and its design for the magazine, and want to include a reader statement from you. I have a few questions for you when you have a second:
-What inspired you while designing the layout?
-What is your favorite part of the layout?
-Did you discover any tips or tricks while creating the layout that you would like to share with readers?
If this sounds good to you, the next steps are:
1. Sign and return the attached Scrapbook Answers permission form (PDF).
2. Send your layout to us so we can photograph it. When we are done photographing the layout, we will return it to you, of course. **If you're interested I will send you our FedEx number so you can overnight the layout and we will pay for shipping.
Also: We'd like to include a picture of you in the magazine next to your layout! =) If you have a high res-picture, preferably a headshot, that you could email to me that would be fabulous!
I look forward to hearing from you! Please feel free to contact me with any questions!
-Rachel Boll
I just keep rereading it and giggling like a two year old....yep that's me a giggly two year old!
(Now I just have to get hubby to take cute headshot of me with the digital this week-end and then figure out how to upload the photo to my computer. Seriously this WILL take me all week-end long....much angst and scratching of head involved)
Scrapbook Answers emailed me and they want my "I Remember When" layout of the boys I did last year! This will be my first time published by a real scrapping magazine!!
Picture this, I'm at the school library, waiting for Ian to finish up with his reading specialist, crusin through my emails on the internet ......and there it was...... 4 emails down!
"Good news from Scrapbook Answers"
Thank GOD I didn't delete it....kind of looked like spam!
So anyway, here's the text in it's all of it's delicious wholeness!
Hi Lisa,
I have some great news for you! We all loved your layout "I remember when" and want to publish it in our next issue of /Scrapbook Answers/ magazine!!!
We want to publish your layout in our Eye on Design department where we showcase layouts that have stellar designs. In addition to sending you a complementary copy of the magazine, we will be paying you $25 =)
I will be writing about your layout and its design for the magazine, and want to include a reader statement from you. I have a few questions for you when you have a second:
-What inspired you while designing the layout?
-What is your favorite part of the layout?
-Did you discover any tips or tricks while creating the layout that you would like to share with readers?
If this sounds good to you, the next steps are:
1. Sign and return the attached Scrapbook Answers permission form (PDF).
2. Send your layout to us so we can photograph it. When we are done photographing the layout, we will return it to you, of course. **If you're interested I will send you our FedEx number so you can overnight the layout and we will pay for shipping.
Also: We'd like to include a picture of you in the magazine next to your layout! =) If you have a high res-picture, preferably a headshot, that you could email to me that would be fabulous!
I look forward to hearing from you! Please feel free to contact me with any questions!
-Rachel Boll
I just keep rereading it and giggling like a two year old....yep that's me a giggly two year old!
(Now I just have to get hubby to take cute headshot of me with the digital this week-end and then figure out how to upload the photo to my computer. Seriously this WILL take me all week-end long....much angst and scratching of head involved)
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Camping - Not for the faint of heart
I have now officially survived my third camping experience with the boys scouts and thought I would share some random observations.
#1 Two tents are not better than one.
The kids end up with you in the other tent anyway and you're left with two tents to strike....note to self, find one REALLY big tent!
#2 No matter how much you plan, you'll still forget one or two essential things
.....like tent stakes. Well I get home and I still can't find them so it's not like I forgot to pack them, I just forgot where they are. Absentmindedness vs forgetfulness....kind of a draw there.
#3 Everything goes better with dirt
Drop a hot dog on the floor at home. Immediately proceed to trash can and dump. Dump a dog on the campsite, brush dirt off and insert in mouth. I think it's the influenece of mass quantities of little boy testosterone.
#4 Air mattresses are good, my own bed it better
Cause despite my best laid plans, (see rule #1 above) Not only do our kids end up in the same tent, they also climbed into our sleeping bags. (pathetic wavering of voice and chattering of teeth at 1am......but mommy I'm cooooolllldd!) Second note to self. This never happens at home.
#5 Once you get past all the above, the outdoors is pretty good stuff
Okay so I was awakened at 5:30, but I can't remember the last time I saw that many stars in the sky. The boys were awestuck and so was I. Good stuff
So aching bones 2.........happy campers 4!
#1 Two tents are not better than one.
The kids end up with you in the other tent anyway and you're left with two tents to strike....note to self, find one REALLY big tent!
#2 No matter how much you plan, you'll still forget one or two essential things
.....like tent stakes. Well I get home and I still can't find them so it's not like I forgot to pack them, I just forgot where they are. Absentmindedness vs forgetfulness....kind of a draw there.
#3 Everything goes better with dirt
Drop a hot dog on the floor at home. Immediately proceed to trash can and dump. Dump a dog on the campsite, brush dirt off and insert in mouth. I think it's the influenece of mass quantities of little boy testosterone.
#4 Air mattresses are good, my own bed it better
Cause despite my best laid plans, (see rule #1 above) Not only do our kids end up in the same tent, they also climbed into our sleeping bags. (pathetic wavering of voice and chattering of teeth at 1am......but mommy I'm cooooolllldd!) Second note to self. This never happens at home.
#5 Once you get past all the above, the outdoors is pretty good stuff
Okay so I was awakened at 5:30, but I can't remember the last time I saw that many stars in the sky. The boys were awestuck and so was I. Good stuff
So aching bones 2.........happy campers 4!
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Golden
I'm sitting here at my computer.....surfing away and I look up
Outside my window is the most perfect tree....it is golden, it is shimmering, it is fall
I'm always amazed how autumn sneaks up on me.
I'm buzzing along, in my own world, run the kids here, run the kids there, fix dinner, work, laundry...blah...blah...blah
And then....
The air is cool in the morning
There's still a hint of coolness on the breeze when I pick up the kids from school
And the sky
it's deeper, bluer.....technicolor really
Autumn is here
I think I'll take a breath, stop and offer a toast
to my favorite season of the year
Autumn......it's golden
Outside my window is the most perfect tree....it is golden, it is shimmering, it is fall
I'm always amazed how autumn sneaks up on me.
I'm buzzing along, in my own world, run the kids here, run the kids there, fix dinner, work, laundry...blah...blah...blah
And then....
The air is cool in the morning
There's still a hint of coolness on the breeze when I pick up the kids from school
And the sky
it's deeper, bluer.....technicolor really
Autumn is here
I think I'll take a breath, stop and offer a toast
to my favorite season of the year
Autumn......it's golden
Friday, October 14, 2005
Adventures of a Co-Den Leader of the DIRTY dozen - Part One
They came, they saw, they sang, they pledged, they made scrapbooks, they snacked.....all without bloodshed or other bodily injury
Okay I take that back, one little tiger took a tumble and scraped his elbow....but hey he still has all his teeth!
Yep, I survived my time being in charge of the activity with flying colors acoording to the scoring system of the parents and kiddos! Of course a lot of it had to do with lack of scissors and ink pads, so I had to divide the 12 into groups of 4 and set up different stations...that was a brilliant but totally serendipitous accomplishment in and of itself.
My co-leader is a very enthusiastic Dad and I also survived his almost daily emails trying to hammer out the details of how to run a meeting, award achievments....you name it...he had a question.
Which is all good, because this meeting was one of the smoothest I've ever attended, my oldest DS (further known as ODS) included.
ODS' meetings involve a good deal of running and screaming with not a whole lot of accomplishment of activity....now that I've hit on the stations idea I'm going to be cracking the whip and suggesting the same thing for his leader.
So woohoo for me, pat on the back and a glass of wine for a job well done....now wash, rinse, dry and repeat in two weeks for ODS!
Okay I take that back, one little tiger took a tumble and scraped his elbow....but hey he still has all his teeth!
Yep, I survived my time being in charge of the activity with flying colors acoording to the scoring system of the parents and kiddos! Of course a lot of it had to do with lack of scissors and ink pads, so I had to divide the 12 into groups of 4 and set up different stations...that was a brilliant but totally serendipitous accomplishment in and of itself.
My co-leader is a very enthusiastic Dad and I also survived his almost daily emails trying to hammer out the details of how to run a meeting, award achievments....you name it...he had a question.
Which is all good, because this meeting was one of the smoothest I've ever attended, my oldest DS (further known as ODS) included.
ODS' meetings involve a good deal of running and screaming with not a whole lot of accomplishment of activity....now that I've hit on the stations idea I'm going to be cracking the whip and suggesting the same thing for his leader.
So woohoo for me, pat on the back and a glass of wine for a job well done....now wash, rinse, dry and repeat in two weeks for ODS!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
I'm now officially a "Cosmo" girl
No I'm not talking about the drink (although I do love them) nor the magazine with the monthly busty babes on the cover.
No...I have officially joined the ranks of those who commute to work by rail..woohoo...yay for me.
See, I was made an offer I couldn't refuse. My firm basically pays for my transit card each month.
Weighing that against my big ole honkin SUV that sucks down a gallon each way.. gas at $3.00 a gallon and a toll of $1 a day, it basically cost me $7 a day to drive to work.
The math was in favor of me becoming a cosmo train riding gal ...gas sucking SUV - vs free transit card...yep it was a decision by KO.
I bumped into, ran into, (see none of those really are what ACTUALLY happened, met by chance, see...it still sounds silly) a friend of mine from Sunday school. He just started his own company and works literally around the corner from me, so we chatted the whole way down and walked together from our stop and to our buildings, which are right across the street from the station.
And oh here's the other benefit...I get to feel virtuous by keeping my gas sucker off the roads while saving money.....I am just so full of myself.....someone needs to smack me.....(she says laughing with smug smile on her face)
No...I have officially joined the ranks of those who commute to work by rail..woohoo...yay for me.
See, I was made an offer I couldn't refuse. My firm basically pays for my transit card each month.
Weighing that against my big ole honkin SUV that sucks down a gallon each way.. gas at $3.00 a gallon and a toll of $1 a day, it basically cost me $7 a day to drive to work.
The math was in favor of me becoming a cosmo train riding gal ...gas sucking SUV - vs free transit card...yep it was a decision by KO.
I bumped into, ran into, (see none of those really are what ACTUALLY happened, met by chance, see...it still sounds silly) a friend of mine from Sunday school. He just started his own company and works literally around the corner from me, so we chatted the whole way down and walked together from our stop and to our buildings, which are right across the street from the station.
And oh here's the other benefit...I get to feel virtuous by keeping my gas sucker off the roads while saving money.....I am just so full of myself.....someone needs to smack me.....(she says laughing with smug smile on her face)
Monday, October 10, 2005
Knock, knock
I came to the realization this past week-end that I am definitely on a different path than I was a year ago.
The things that I used to be able to ignore or brush aside are now things that keep me awake at night.
I don't know exactly where I'll be in another year from now, but I feel like I am being gently, ever so gently nudged in a different direction.
The combination of internal and external forces in my life are filling me with a quite unease and an impulse to change.
External
The unbelievable havoc forces of nature have caused around the world.. the tsunami, Katrina and now the earthquake in Pakistan.
Atlanta is a city marked by incredible wealth and also incredible poverty. My place in between those extremes still makes me uncomfortable beacause I feel like I still have too much.
Internal
A year ago I began going to a different style of worship service that fills my soul with such peace and joy and I have a really amazing small group that I meet with every Sunday morning that lifts me up, challenges me and has encouraged me to walk my own path.
Who knows....maybe I'll chuck it all and take my family to be a missionary in Africa...or in Atlanta...I don't know.
All I know is that things are a changin and someone's knocking on my door.
The things that I used to be able to ignore or brush aside are now things that keep me awake at night.
I don't know exactly where I'll be in another year from now, but I feel like I am being gently, ever so gently nudged in a different direction.
The combination of internal and external forces in my life are filling me with a quite unease and an impulse to change.
External
The unbelievable havoc forces of nature have caused around the world.. the tsunami, Katrina and now the earthquake in Pakistan.
Atlanta is a city marked by incredible wealth and also incredible poverty. My place in between those extremes still makes me uncomfortable beacause I feel like I still have too much.
Internal
A year ago I began going to a different style of worship service that fills my soul with such peace and joy and I have a really amazing small group that I meet with every Sunday morning that lifts me up, challenges me and has encouraged me to walk my own path.
Who knows....maybe I'll chuck it all and take my family to be a missionary in Africa...or in Atlanta...I don't know.
All I know is that things are a changin and someone's knocking on my door.
Monday, October 03, 2005
My Aliases
HAHAHA
Wendy did this on her blog and it made me laughout loud, so of course I immediately had to run to Google and find out what my alter egos are up to!
I am:
an Emmy award winning news anchor in Boston CBS4 Boston: Lisa Hughes
an assistant professor in Calgary www.fp.ucalgary.ca/grst/staff/lisahughes.htm
a natural resource technician http://www.nrginc.com/staff/staff_hughes_lisa.html
the Director of Policy and Advocacy at the Cancer Research Foundationof America (CRFA)....www.preventcancer.org/colorectal/hughesbio.cfm
The author of Little Book of Magical Ideas and President of MagicWand Weddings. http://www.magicwandweddings.com/books.html
Publisher, CondÉ Nast Traveler magazine, celebrating my 10th anniversary as publisher of Condé Nast Traveler this year. ...www.globalhospitalityforum.com/miami/bio_hughes.html - 9k
hhhmmm...seems to be a recurring theme here, publishing and broadcasting...hmmmmmm
Oh and I tend to like playing loud music too much and scuffling with law enforcement officers...bwa http://www.broxtowe.gov.uk/mems_buls_sept_05_prosecution.doc
Woowee...I'm a very well rounded individual!
Wendy did this on her blog and it made me laughout loud, so of course I immediately had to run to Google and find out what my alter egos are up to!
I am:
an Emmy award winning news anchor in Boston CBS4 Boston: Lisa Hughes
an assistant professor in Calgary www.fp.ucalgary.ca/grst/staff/lisahughes.htm
a natural resource technician http://www.nrginc.com/staff/staff_hughes_lisa.html
the Director of Policy and Advocacy at the Cancer Research Foundationof America (CRFA)....www.preventcancer.org/colorectal/hughesbio.cfm
The author of Little Book of Magical Ideas and President of MagicWand Weddings. http://www.magicwandweddings.com/books.html
Publisher, CondÉ Nast Traveler magazine, celebrating my 10th anniversary as publisher of Condé Nast Traveler this year. ...www.globalhospitalityforum.com/miami/bio_hughes.html - 9k
hhhmmm...seems to be a recurring theme here, publishing and broadcasting...hmmmmmm
Oh and I tend to like playing loud music too much and scuffling with law enforcement officers...bwa http://www.broxtowe.gov.uk/mems_buls_sept_05_prosecution.doc
Woowee...I'm a very well rounded individual!
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Marthanator Takes Round One
Did you all catch her yesterday?
She had Jamie Oliver, the Naked Chef Guy on and let me tell ya, Sista Martha can schtick it to ya.
HEEHEE
See, they're making fresh pasta and a meat sauce to go on top.
snicker, snicker
then Jamie says to Martha
"Can you hand me my sausage Martha" (cut to audience snickering like 12 year olds).
Jamie turns red like a beet. Martha doesn't miss a beat. Hands him "the meat"
(forget PDiddy, I'm your girl Martha)
HEH
Moving on, they're finishing off the sauce and he asks Martha to cut him a nobbin of butter.
Martha asks how much a nobbin is.
Jamie indicates about 2 inches with his fingers
and then...................the Marthanator roars back with a killer right hook
"Oh I see........ about as big as your sausage"
DINGDINGDING............Round One is over and the clear winner with a knockout blow is
the MARTHANATOR!
Swing it Sistah!!!
She had Jamie Oliver, the Naked Chef Guy on and let me tell ya, Sista Martha can schtick it to ya.
HEEHEE
See, they're making fresh pasta and a meat sauce to go on top.
snicker, snicker
then Jamie says to Martha
"Can you hand me my sausage Martha" (cut to audience snickering like 12 year olds).
Jamie turns red like a beet. Martha doesn't miss a beat. Hands him "the meat"
(forget PDiddy, I'm your girl Martha)
HEH
Moving on, they're finishing off the sauce and he asks Martha to cut him a nobbin of butter.
Martha asks how much a nobbin is.
Jamie indicates about 2 inches with his fingers
and then...................the Marthanator roars back with a killer right hook
"Oh I see........ about as big as your sausage"
DINGDINGDING............Round One is over and the clear winner with a knockout blow is
the MARTHANATOR!
Swing it Sistah!!!
Monday, September 26, 2005
RayRay vs The MarthaNator
I am conflicted. I am on the horns of a dilemma. My loyalies are torn.
Family, job, friends, a deep questioning of faith.... you ask?????
No.
I am so superficial....it's all about the 6 to 7 PM timeslot.
In this corner, RayRay...the SUPASTAH of 30 Minute Meals (bowing to Wendy for that infinitely quotable tag line) Cute, perky, fabulous ideas, yummy food, makes me feel all warm and giggly inside.
Or
The contender. Martha. A trademark in and of herself. Impeccable, pitch perfect instructions, cold, a weeetle bit scary, trying to revmp her "image".
Side note. I have a soft spot for Martha.
Her book "Weddings" came out the year I was married. My MIL had a gourmet cooking store back in 87. I had a very "Martha" wedding. Basketweave cake, fresh flowers, twinkle fairy lights, big white tent on the lawn of the church, under a 200 year old oak tree. People still talk about it almost 20 years later.
So who (whom, who??where's my mother when I need her?) do I love?
I REALLY need TIVO (or just get off my sorry, lazy tush and program the VCR)
Naaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhh...rather blog and angst about it.
Family, job, friends, a deep questioning of faith.... you ask?????
No.
I am so superficial....it's all about the 6 to 7 PM timeslot.
In this corner, RayRay...the SUPASTAH of 30 Minute Meals (bowing to Wendy for that infinitely quotable tag line) Cute, perky, fabulous ideas, yummy food, makes me feel all warm and giggly inside.
Or
The contender. Martha. A trademark in and of herself. Impeccable, pitch perfect instructions, cold, a weeetle bit scary, trying to revmp her "image".
Side note. I have a soft spot for Martha.
Her book "Weddings" came out the year I was married. My MIL had a gourmet cooking store back in 87. I had a very "Martha" wedding. Basketweave cake, fresh flowers, twinkle fairy lights, big white tent on the lawn of the church, under a 200 year old oak tree. People still talk about it almost 20 years later.
So who (whom, who??where's my mother when I need her?) do I love?
I REALLY need TIVO (or just get off my sorry, lazy tush and program the VCR)
Naaaaaaaaaaaaagggggghhhh...rather blog and angst about it.
TAG!!!!
Got tagged by Wendy...who is not a bugger face, but does make me laugh my butt off
10 years ago I was:
Purchasing our first house, the one we live in now
Learning to art stamp
Travelling to St. John's
Thinking about starting a family
really close with great group of friends from Sunday School
5 years ago I was:
Trying to stay connected to best friends from Sunday School who had scattered to the winds.
Travelling to San Francisco.
Running around like a loony taking care of a 4 and 2 year old boys
Telecommuting from home
Mourning the loss of my grandmother
Scrapping the non CM way....yay me!
1 year ago I was:
Busting my ass at a now defunct site
Still telecommuting
Bonding with a bunch of new friends in the neighborhood
Finding a whole new set of good friends through defunct scrappin site
Totally stressed that DH still wasn't making money in the start up company
Yesterday I:
Talked to Co on the phone for 40 minutes
IM'd Wen for 30 minutes until she kicked me off and told me to go to bed
Took oldest DS to a birthday party
Finished a layout.
Argued with DH (we kissed and made up)
5 snacks I enjoy:
Tortilla chips and guacomole
Pringles
Pistachios
REALLY good cheese
Good chewy bread with a little olive oil and parm for dipping
5 songs I know all the words to:
Jack and Diane - John Mellenchamp
Breathless - The Corr's
Fire & Rain - James Taylor
Hotel California - the Eagles
Amazing Grace
5 things I would do with 100 million dollars:
Move my family and Wen and her family to OR to be near Co
Attend the Culinary Institue in San Fran
Design a planned community where all my friends could live
Never work again
Find a cure for cancer
5 places I would run away to:
Eugene
Mesa
Rome
St. John's
San Fran
5 Things I will NEVER wear:
Tube tops
Thongs
Platform shoes
A bikini
see through anything
5 favorite TV shows:
Lost
Alias
Desperate Housewives
Rachel Ray 30 minute meals (throws hands up in air and says SUPASTAH)
Design on a Dime
5 bad habits:
Picking my nails
Forgetfulness
Procrastination
Impatience
Eating ice cream out of the container
5 biggest joys:
my boys
my faith
my friends
my art
my DH (saved the best for last sweetie!)
5 people I tag to do this: (have fun girlies!)
Christi http://scrapsome.blogspot.com/
Rhonda http://rhondahg.blogspot.com/
Dina http://dinastamps.typepad.com/
Heather http://edifyandsharpen.blogspot.com/
Lea http://ltllea23.typepad.com/scrapping_lifes_moments/
10 years ago I was:
Purchasing our first house, the one we live in now
Learning to art stamp
Travelling to St. John's
Thinking about starting a family
really close with great group of friends from Sunday School
5 years ago I was:
Trying to stay connected to best friends from Sunday School who had scattered to the winds.
Travelling to San Francisco.
Running around like a loony taking care of a 4 and 2 year old boys
Telecommuting from home
Mourning the loss of my grandmother
Scrapping the non CM way....yay me!
1 year ago I was:
Busting my ass at a now defunct site
Still telecommuting
Bonding with a bunch of new friends in the neighborhood
Finding a whole new set of good friends through defunct scrappin site
Totally stressed that DH still wasn't making money in the start up company
Yesterday I:
Talked to Co on the phone for 40 minutes
IM'd Wen for 30 minutes until she kicked me off and told me to go to bed
Took oldest DS to a birthday party
Finished a layout.
Argued with DH (we kissed and made up)
5 snacks I enjoy:
Tortilla chips and guacomole
Pringles
Pistachios
REALLY good cheese
Good chewy bread with a little olive oil and parm for dipping
5 songs I know all the words to:
Jack and Diane - John Mellenchamp
Breathless - The Corr's
Fire & Rain - James Taylor
Hotel California - the Eagles
Amazing Grace
5 things I would do with 100 million dollars:
Move my family and Wen and her family to OR to be near Co
Attend the Culinary Institue in San Fran
Design a planned community where all my friends could live
Never work again
Find a cure for cancer
5 places I would run away to:
Eugene
Mesa
Rome
St. John's
San Fran
5 Things I will NEVER wear:
Tube tops
Thongs
Platform shoes
A bikini
see through anything
5 favorite TV shows:
Lost
Alias
Desperate Housewives
Rachel Ray 30 minute meals (throws hands up in air and says SUPASTAH)
Design on a Dime
5 bad habits:
Picking my nails
Forgetfulness
Procrastination
Impatience
Eating ice cream out of the container
5 biggest joys:
my boys
my faith
my friends
my art
my DH (saved the best for last sweetie!)
5 people I tag to do this: (have fun girlies!)
Christi http://scrapsome.blogspot.com/
Rhonda http://rhondahg.blogspot.com/
Dina http://dinastamps.typepad.com/
Heather http://edifyandsharpen.blogspot.com/
Lea http://ltllea23.typepad.com/scrapping_lifes_moments/
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Bounce
Bounce
Did you all ever see the movie with Gwyneth Paltrow and Ben Affleck, about the guy who gives up his seat on an airplane to a family man trying to get home, ends up dying in a plane crash. Then the guy who gave up the seat ends up with Paltrow?
Stay with me here.
I know it's a really weird, but I saw Christi's post today about Joel being a rebound realtionship and only 6% work out and telling Wendy, you never know what's around the corner and I think
Bounce
Cause, Michael and I.....we're an 18 year rebound.
We're the 6%.
Bounce.
I met Michael at my apartment complex the week after I had ended a two year, intense relationship with a young Jewish lawyer.
My heart was broken. I called my aunt who lived only minutes away and spent the night sobbing with dry heaves on my sofa while she held me.
The reference to his religion is relevant. The split was mutual. Basically it boiled down to the fact that neither of us was willing to compromise our heritage or our beliefs.
For whatever reason, in our mid 20's, we could not figure out how to reconcile the two. We knew there would always be external forces chipping away at our union.
So we loved each other enough to let each other go.
Fast forward, one week later. I meet Michael.
Bounce
I meet the man with whom I have spent the past 18 years, loving, fighting, bearing two kids, fighting and loving some more.
It's far from perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better than perfection.
So my prayer for you Wendy and Christi is just one word
Bounce
Did you all ever see the movie with Gwyneth Paltrow and Ben Affleck, about the guy who gives up his seat on an airplane to a family man trying to get home, ends up dying in a plane crash. Then the guy who gave up the seat ends up with Paltrow?
Stay with me here.
I know it's a really weird, but I saw Christi's post today about Joel being a rebound realtionship and only 6% work out and telling Wendy, you never know what's around the corner and I think
Bounce
Cause, Michael and I.....we're an 18 year rebound.
We're the 6%.
Bounce.
I met Michael at my apartment complex the week after I had ended a two year, intense relationship with a young Jewish lawyer.
My heart was broken. I called my aunt who lived only minutes away and spent the night sobbing with dry heaves on my sofa while she held me.
The reference to his religion is relevant. The split was mutual. Basically it boiled down to the fact that neither of us was willing to compromise our heritage or our beliefs.
For whatever reason, in our mid 20's, we could not figure out how to reconcile the two. We knew there would always be external forces chipping away at our union.
So we loved each other enough to let each other go.
Fast forward, one week later. I meet Michael.
Bounce
I meet the man with whom I have spent the past 18 years, loving, fighting, bearing two kids, fighting and loving some more.
It's far from perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better than perfection.
So my prayer for you Wendy and Christi is just one word
Bounce
Friday, September 23, 2005
Of Ice Princesses and Rejections
Lea has challeneged us today to write about rejection and how we deal with it, how we grow from it, what we learn.
Okay.
Tall order. Very scary. Almost like picking at a healed wound. But into the fray I go.
I was a competitive figure skater from the age of 10 to 18. I trained during the summers in Denver at the arena where Carlo Fassi was holding court. He was not my coach. He WAS the coach of Peggy Fleming, and was training Dorothy Hamill, Scott Hamilton (nicest guy in the skating world), Paul Wiley (snot nosed brat at 10) when I was training there.
I give you that background, because it really sets the stage for how intensely competitive and ripe with backstabbing that sport was and is, I imagine, still today.
So let's throw little ole me at 12 into that fray and see what happens shall we?
Rejection happened on a daily basis.
REJECTION because I was not a year round skater at that rink. REJECTION because my coach wasn't "The Man". REJECTION because I was tall for a skater and really skinny and I could eat whatever I wanted and the other girls HATED that.
This was just the daily rejection.
Then there was the stress of taking proficiency tests and all the work and money that went into it and what happened if I failed. My parents, to their everlasting credit, never, NOT ONCE, played the "stage parent" role. When I failed and I most certainly did fail, they waited for me in the warming room, with a hug, an Almond Joy candy bar and my pick for dinner.
Moving on to competition. The PENULTIMATE opportunity for rejection. Cause when you failed, you failed SPECTACULARILY with an audience and 10 judges and all your peers WATCHING your failure.
So at this point you are asking yourself, why would ANYONE want to endure that kind of pressure.
Because, I loved skating. Simple as that.
I loved the feeling of the ice flowing under my blades, the wind whistling around me as I gained momentum for a jump, the lift off, soaring above the boards. I felt like a bird taking flight.
It was magical and artistic and it made me feel beautiful and graceful and strong and FREE!
So I learned in the end................. to skate for me and me alone.
My happiness didn't come from trophies at competition or medals from tests, although I did earn some along the way.
I put aside the rejection, laced up my skates and FLEW!
Okay.
Tall order. Very scary. Almost like picking at a healed wound. But into the fray I go.
I was a competitive figure skater from the age of 10 to 18. I trained during the summers in Denver at the arena where Carlo Fassi was holding court. He was not my coach. He WAS the coach of Peggy Fleming, and was training Dorothy Hamill, Scott Hamilton (nicest guy in the skating world), Paul Wiley (snot nosed brat at 10) when I was training there.
I give you that background, because it really sets the stage for how intensely competitive and ripe with backstabbing that sport was and is, I imagine, still today.
So let's throw little ole me at 12 into that fray and see what happens shall we?
Rejection happened on a daily basis.
REJECTION because I was not a year round skater at that rink. REJECTION because my coach wasn't "The Man". REJECTION because I was tall for a skater and really skinny and I could eat whatever I wanted and the other girls HATED that.
This was just the daily rejection.
Then there was the stress of taking proficiency tests and all the work and money that went into it and what happened if I failed. My parents, to their everlasting credit, never, NOT ONCE, played the "stage parent" role. When I failed and I most certainly did fail, they waited for me in the warming room, with a hug, an Almond Joy candy bar and my pick for dinner.
Moving on to competition. The PENULTIMATE opportunity for rejection. Cause when you failed, you failed SPECTACULARILY with an audience and 10 judges and all your peers WATCHING your failure.
So at this point you are asking yourself, why would ANYONE want to endure that kind of pressure.
Because, I loved skating. Simple as that.
I loved the feeling of the ice flowing under my blades, the wind whistling around me as I gained momentum for a jump, the lift off, soaring above the boards. I felt like a bird taking flight.
It was magical and artistic and it made me feel beautiful and graceful and strong and FREE!
So I learned in the end................. to skate for me and me alone.
My happiness didn't come from trophies at competition or medals from tests, although I did earn some along the way.
I put aside the rejection, laced up my skates and FLEW!
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Holy CR*P I did it!!!!
OMG....I just figured out how to add more sidebars to my blog, with no direction what so ever but what I could piece together from different "help" categories!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(yes the dang exclamation points are totally warranted)
HOLY CR*P....I've made one of those quantum leaps in life, no longer a computer geek Wannabe...I think I have crossed the threshold to Computer Geek Cadet First Class.
Woohooo...time to go drink a glass of wine!
(yes the dang exclamation points are totally warranted)
HOLY CR*P....I've made one of those quantum leaps in life, no longer a computer geek Wannabe...I think I have crossed the threshold to Computer Geek Cadet First Class.
Woohooo...time to go drink a glass of wine!
Childhood Defined
It is so hard to pick, but there is one that really stands our for me involving my Dad.
Let me first say that I always knew my Dad loved me, but we were constantly at odds with each other. We were too much alike...kind of like trying to get two positive ends of two magnets to connect...instead we kept pushing away....kwim?
But then a magnet flipped.
I was enrolled in a sailing camp during the summer after 2nd grade. My Dad was an old salt of the first order, an expert captain, winner of much hardware and he had bought my brother and me a little one sail dingy which we promptly named "Little Miss Leading". Dad's boat being of course, "Miss Leading".
He wanted us to feel as comfortable piloting our own boat as he did, hence the reason for camp.
We spent all summer learning to rig, tack, come about, plot a course, read the winds and currents, right a capsized boat, etc and it all culminated in a regatta for the students.
My brother was of course all gung ho, but I DID NOT want to sail in a race.
I was petrified.
The week before I had turned turtle in my boat, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it means exactly as it sounds, the boat flipped completely over, shell up, with me underneath.
Obviously I managed to swim out from underneath, but I'll never forget the complete and utter panic. In the dark, ropes snaking around me, canvas slapping aginst my legs.
You get the picture.
Fast forward to race day. I cried the whole way to the regatta. I wanted to throw up. I WAS NOT under any circumstances going to get in that boat. My Dad was a sailor, a great one. I was NOT!
Even my mother, who normally could calm all my fears, was at a loss as to how to handle the situation.
Of course, now as a parent, I know they were trying to make me "get back up on the horse" so to speak.
We get to the lake and my Dad took me aside, squatted down next to me, took my shoulders, looked me right in the eyes and and said to me (as best as I can recollect)
"Lisa I know you are afraid. Afraid of capsizing, afraid of losing (perceptive man.... that one). But I don't care if you lose. And if you capsize I will be the first one to get to you. It's going to be okay, you just have to try. Just get in the boat and go to the first buoy and if you don't feel like you can do any more, come back to me at the dock. That's all you have to do. But I believe in you."
There it was, that last sentence.
I don't know if he had ever said that before. Probably, but that is the first time I remember him saying it.
So I climbed in the boat, pushed off from the dock and......................
won the regatta.
Funny thing, believing in someone.
It changes everything.
I have a pix of me in my little bikini, life jacket and tiller over my shoulder from that race. When I figure out how to upload it, I'll post it. Cause the smile on my face about says it all, not an ear splitting grin, but a shy, shocked smile.
Thanks Dad
Let me first say that I always knew my Dad loved me, but we were constantly at odds with each other. We were too much alike...kind of like trying to get two positive ends of two magnets to connect...instead we kept pushing away....kwim?
But then a magnet flipped.
I was enrolled in a sailing camp during the summer after 2nd grade. My Dad was an old salt of the first order, an expert captain, winner of much hardware and he had bought my brother and me a little one sail dingy which we promptly named "Little Miss Leading". Dad's boat being of course, "Miss Leading".
He wanted us to feel as comfortable piloting our own boat as he did, hence the reason for camp.
We spent all summer learning to rig, tack, come about, plot a course, read the winds and currents, right a capsized boat, etc and it all culminated in a regatta for the students.
My brother was of course all gung ho, but I DID NOT want to sail in a race.
I was petrified.
The week before I had turned turtle in my boat, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, it means exactly as it sounds, the boat flipped completely over, shell up, with me underneath.
Obviously I managed to swim out from underneath, but I'll never forget the complete and utter panic. In the dark, ropes snaking around me, canvas slapping aginst my legs.
You get the picture.
Fast forward to race day. I cried the whole way to the regatta. I wanted to throw up. I WAS NOT under any circumstances going to get in that boat. My Dad was a sailor, a great one. I was NOT!
Even my mother, who normally could calm all my fears, was at a loss as to how to handle the situation.
Of course, now as a parent, I know they were trying to make me "get back up on the horse" so to speak.
We get to the lake and my Dad took me aside, squatted down next to me, took my shoulders, looked me right in the eyes and and said to me (as best as I can recollect)
"Lisa I know you are afraid. Afraid of capsizing, afraid of losing (perceptive man.... that one). But I don't care if you lose. And if you capsize I will be the first one to get to you. It's going to be okay, you just have to try. Just get in the boat and go to the first buoy and if you don't feel like you can do any more, come back to me at the dock. That's all you have to do. But I believe in you."
There it was, that last sentence.
I don't know if he had ever said that before. Probably, but that is the first time I remember him saying it.
So I climbed in the boat, pushed off from the dock and......................
won the regatta.
Funny thing, believing in someone.
It changes everything.
I have a pix of me in my little bikini, life jacket and tiller over my shoulder from that race. When I figure out how to upload it, I'll post it. Cause the smile on my face about says it all, not an ear splitting grin, but a shy, shocked smile.
Thanks Dad
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Where to begin
Alrighty then...let's see if I can get the hang of this BLOG thang!
Tried it on typepad and I was/am too time, computer (insert your own random observation here) challenged to get it set up properly.
So let's see how this looks!
Okay, not bad for a first try....must tinker, must play, must figure out how to upload pixs.
Not really digging the pink scheme, but it's a start.
More to come!
Tried it on typepad and I was/am too time, computer (insert your own random observation here) challenged to get it set up properly.
So let's see how this looks!
Okay, not bad for a first try....must tinker, must play, must figure out how to upload pixs.
Not really digging the pink scheme, but it's a start.
More to come!
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