The Last Weekend

Ah, the weekend: a time of rest, relaxation, recouperation; a time to catch one's breath, clear one's head, soak one's aching feet. Or, alternately, a time to run around trying to accomplish all the things you were too busy to do during the week thereby making yourself thoroughly crazed and exhausted, not to mention completely unprepared or equipped to greet the new week ahead.


Which kind have you had?

This weekend is a significant one. This is the last weekend before school is out for the summer. The last weekend of having to scurry around on Sunday night getting school clothes and school books and lunch supplies ready, having to get whiny children to finish their homework, get showered or bathed and into bed early. The last weekend of dreading the long, busy week ahead.


This weekend we went to dinner with new friends. Their daughter is Redheaded Snippet's best friend and we've seen them a lot in town, at school functions, hockey games, that sort of thing. We've been wanting to invite them over or go to dinner with them for a while and it all just came together this weekend. We had so much fun! I really hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!


Late Friday night, Daria came over and we watched an Agatha Christie movie she had rented, The Mirror Crack'd. It was wonderfully cheesy, with an all-star cast and gave us a lot of material for mocking. It was terribly fun.


Saturday, The Viking and I sang in a wedding at our church, but we were home by 3:00 and the rest of the day was spent lolling around, doing nothing and resting our tired bodies and minds. We swam, watched movies, fought over time on the laptop, it was lovely.


And now, today, Fathers' Day. Redheaded Snippet surprised us this morning by bringing her dad breakfast in bed. She got up early and made him toast, coffee, and an omelet. That's right, an omelet. I taught her how to make one a few weeks ago and The Viking was very pleasantly surprised that she knew how to make one, and such a tasty one! She was so cute and pleased with herself, as well she should.


Speaking of teaching her to cook, I recently announced to my Snippet that this summer will mark the commencement of her Domestic Engineering Training. At some point she's going to need to know how to run her household, whether that consists of just her and a roommate or a husband, 17 children and several herds and flocks of animals. She's going to be 13 in a few weeks so she's plenty old enough to start learning. No one ever taught me how to manage my home and I struggled terribly to learn how as I was doing it. I don't want that for her. I want her to be able to take care of herself and whatever family she may have before she needs to.

We're going to cover everything:

Meal Planning


Cooking


Baking


Laundry


Ironing


Beds


Dishes


Floors


Windows


Household Marketing



Let me tell you, she looked at me like I was nuts when I broke the news to her, but I hope someday she will appreciate the torture I'm going to put her through. I also hopes she appreciates the torture I put myself through finding and posting all those silly photos!


So, this afternoon, The Viking made pho, a luscious Southeast Asian soup that's his favorite food right now. I made a basket of sticky rice to go with it and we all had quite the festive Fathers' Day luncheon. Then The Viking and the kids went to the park while I cleaned the kitchen and baked a cake.




It was just a store-brand mix, but it was butter cake and I whipped up a pint of cream to frost it with and it turned out to be quite yummy! It tasted like wedding cake. More than half of it is still sitting there in the kitchen, seductively calling my name with its smooth, silky, siren song. A hot cup of tea would be perfect with another piece!

Alright, it's bedtime and tonmorrow is the very last Monday of the 2007-2008 school year. I still have laundry to finish and a lunch to pack--one of only three left this year!

Pretty Fingers and Toes

So, let's see...what did I do today? Yes, it has come to this; boring little reports on what I did during any given day. Gah. But this is what happens when housewives get bored (despite what the tv wants you to believe happens when housewives get bored).



Where was I? Oh yes, boring you stupid...today I actually had some fun. But first, a small bit about yesterday. Yesterday, I had my mom give me an instant French manicure. I have a wedding to sing in this weekend and I would like to put forth the appearance of professionalism. So, in addition to learning my music real good, I've decided I must be well-groomed and ladylike. Hence, the manicure. Le French manicure. A little side note to the side note, I used to, a few years back, go every 2-3 weeks to a little hole-in-the-wall salon and get acrylics. I was meticulous about my nails, it was kind of my thing. Secretly, I figured if I was going to be fat, I was at least going to have fabulous nails to offset it. Unfortunately, several years of that wrecked my natural nails but good. And the budget tightened. So the oh-so-lovely but ravaging acrylics had to go. Sigh. Anyway, I now keep my natural nails nicely manicured, but only to the point of looking neat and trim, not very fabulous. But not anymore! Looky!



Now, I'll thank you to keep in mind those aren't my actual for-real nails. My camera is still missing and my computer still comatose. All I can do is search Google for images that most closely resemble what I want share. It's kind of weird, but I kind of like it. It's like an enhanced version of my life. And, yes, that's rather pathetic.

Those hands, oddly enough, look almost like mine. The rings are different, of course; I don't wear thumb rings and rarely take off my wedding and engagement rings, but the fingers are similar and the nails are a perfect match! Maybe this unknown woman is my hand twin! But enough.

This afternoon, after what is quickly becoming a daily necessity due to my seemingly incurable insomnia, my morning nap, I got myself gussied up and ventured forth to get a pedicure so's my toes could match my fingers. Salons kind of intimidate me, especially the ones with Asian women who I just know are talking mockingly about me right in my face because they know I can't understand them. But I had a gift certificate from Christmas and with all the flip-flops I've been wearing lately, and the need to look polished and professional for the wedding, I decided to brave it. So now my feet look less like this:



and more like this:



Again, not my feet, but close enough. See? Pretty! And my feet and legs feel so silky soft and smooth! The massage chair was a little treacherous, and I blundered my way through the entire process, from not wearing the right pants (I was scolded and told I should have worn shorts) and not knowing when to dunk my feet, to not having a clue how much to tip the poor girl sentenced to de-gunk my gnarly feet. I think I may have tipped her a ridiculous amount. I asked her how much was typical and plunked down the amount she said. She probably recognized a good thing when she saw it and robbed me blind. But considering what she had to go through to get her tip and considering I had a gift certificate and didn't have to pay anything for the actual pedi, I really don't care.

After the pedi, I dragged Redheaded Snippet into the kitchen to help me get an early dinner prepared before I had to dash out to meet The Viking at wedding rehearsal. After using up sickening amounts of time and gas getting to the church, I was dismayed to find there really was no point in us being at the rehearsal at all. Nothing seemed to get accomplished, we had to interrupt the pastor and wedding coordinator to get all our cues, and we still had to stay after everyone else had left for the rehearsal dinner to work out all the kinks with the sound equipment. What a frustrating night.

And now I can't sleep. Everyone else lies in slumber deep and I languish on the couch watching bad tv and trying to rype coherently. See why I'm napping all my mornings away? I think I'm going to brew a nice, hot cuppa, make some crunchy cinnamon toast, and see if I can't get my fevered brain to grind to a slow enough halt for me to sleep.



Sweet dreams!

Happy Anniversary to me!

Only a little time for a quick post tonight. I'm trying to make a more concentrated effort to keep up with this blog a little better. Dharma has been updating hers almost every day and if she can do it, I should be able to. You see, I haven't mentioned this yet, but Dharma is going to have a baby and is feeling mighty poorly right about now. That's right! She's pregnant! And as she's only about 6 weeks along, she's feeling nauseated an awful lot. But she's still keeping up with her blog and has inspired me to try and do the same. I may not have a toddler and day-to-day nausea to deal with, but I do have a broken computer and limited access to the Internet as my own challenges.

Today was our 14th Wedding Anniversary. We celebrated first by dissolving helplessly into puddles at Man-Cub's penultimate baseball game. Why anyone would expect 7-year-old boys to tear around in 100 degrees of baking-hot sun and 70% humidity without dropping like flies is beyond me, but they did. We managed to find a shady spot to spectate from, but still, it was icky.

After the game, we dumped the kids off at my mother's, then headed into Philly for dinner. We went to Marrakesh, a Moroccan place down an alley off of South Street. We sat on low, softly-carpeted, cushioned benches, had our hands washed with warm, rose-scented water (secretly my favorite part), and ate dish after dish of exotic, delicious food with our fingers. They actually washed our hands twice with the rosewater and now I'm thinking of finding ways to use it around the house. On our way out of the restaurant, we were gratified to see the temperature had dropped about 15 degrees and thunderstorms were brewing. Hopefully, this horrid heatwave is over.

So, I'm off to bed. I have to try and get some sleep tonight. I haven't been sleeping well and it's really disrupting my daily schedule. I'm behind on laundry and chores and really need to get myself a manicure, pedicure and some new clothes. I have a wedding to sing in this weekend and I'd like to look somewhat professional so's I can fool 'em all. Besides, with my feet showing so much in this hot weather, it'd be nice if they didn't look like Frodo Baggins'.

'Night!

Oh the Photos I'd Share if Only I Could!

Isn't it true you don't know what you've got till it's gone? Our digital camera (which I dubbed Lucille on our trip to England, I forget exactly why except that I was jealous and exasperated because of The Viking's obvious preference for gazing into her eyes rather than mine) has gone mysteriously missing and don't you know I am overwhelmed by sudden and desperate needs to photograph things now that I don't have access to her? So we're going to have use our imagination a bit while I show you the photos I would have taken if I could.


First, the climbing rose next to the gazebo. Now, keep in mind, the above photo is not actually my rose-covered gazebo, of course, but it was the closest to it I could find. This year the roses have blazed out into gorgeous bloom. They look exactly as I imagined when I planted the 12-inch-tall vine with one scrawny rose on it. I had bought it from a sweet old man who was moving into a nursing home and selling seeds, cuttings and suckers from his garden so his beloved plants would be able to survive, thrive and bring joy to others in his absence. I brought it home, set in on the ground next to the kitchen stairs and promptly forgot all about it. For an entire year. Until the darn thing caught my eye the next Spring by producing a fresh, stubborn rose. Shocked, I planted it. And it took. And thrived exactly as its previous owner had hoped. And now there are lovely, palest pink, fluttery roses climbing all over one side of the gazebo. Almost exactly like that photo up there.


I don't know who this woman is, but her costume is almost as good as Redheaded Snippet's. She was absolutely brilliant as Miss Hannigan. I watched her on that stage thinking half-fearfully, "She's going to wind up in Hollywood in a few years!" I really hope she doesn't, but I think she could. She's a natural actress, is gorgeous, funny and can sing. But then, I am her mother and could be just a tiny bit biased. See? If only I could post a few actual photos!


Others I'd like to share? My mother, my aunt and I all presented Redheaded Snippet with flowers after the play and I have them arranged on the dining room table in the largest vase we own. Yes, the above photo is a work of Monet's (or is it Manet?) and, as such, is much more splendid than the actual vase of flowers standing in the dining room, but it's pretty darn close. It's amazing how many flowers $20 can buy at Produce Junction.


And then there's Man-Cub's new Summer haircut. The Viking went to get himself shorn today and Man-Cub decided, on the spur of the moment, to get himself a very cool buzz. He did this last year on the very first hot day of the season. So he looks quite adorable (but don't tell him I said that, he hates when I use that word to describe him. Instead tell him I said it makes him look macho. No, wait, nevermind).

Hopefully, that dang camera will turn up. I don't know what I'm going to do if The Viking winds up with a valid excuse for purchasing a new one. He was already starting to hint at needing a new one. Hmmm...maybe he's hidden it on purpose for that very reason...


Anyway, my only other news is that Thursday was my birthday. I'm 36 now, even closer to 40, which, for some odd reason, is freaking me out a little. I guess that's normal, but I never expected it to matter to me. My actual birthday was very busy, with school stuff and Redheaded Snippet having to attend her field hockey clinic that night, so we postponed most of our festivities until the next day. I did get to enjoy a most capital luncheon with Daria, our aunt and a family friend at one of my favorite restaurants, The Mulberry Tea Room, with lapsang souchong tea, dainty cucumber-and-watercress sandwiches and that most delectable of desserts, sticky toffee pudding (or "that titty pudding" as my aunt later called it). It was heaven.


Yesterday, the day of officially declared birthday activities, The Viking let me sleep in while he got the children off to school, arranged for my mom to pick them up from school, took a half-day off from work and took me shopping. We have never done that before. He took me first to Ulta where I thought I was just getting the makeup I had run out of and discovered I can't live without, Bare Minerals. Instead, he urged me to pick up several eye shadows, applicator brushes, blush and lipliner I've had my eye on in addition to the all-important foundation.



If I've never before offered an unsolicited plug for Bare Minerals (I have not been compensated by Bare Escentuals in any way) let me do so now. The stuff is absolutely fabulous. I have problem skin, have had it since my teens, and have spent countless dollars on different varieties of foundation, cream, liquid, powder, liquid to powder, cream to powder, pancake, specially formulated for scars, expensive, inexpensive, you name it. No matter what I used, it never covered adequately, it caked, it ran, it sweated off, it made me break out and it was never the right shade as I am extremely fair but with an olive undertone to my skin. Bare Minerals covers everything, does not wipe off, flake, cake or run. It doesn't sweat off and does not transfer to people's lapels when I hug them (I'm rather short). It doesn't make me break out, it lasts all day long, it matches my skin tone (I use the lightest one, fair, and I don't have to use a separate concealer. I. Love. This. Stuff.


After following me patiently around Ulta, The Viking spotted a young floozy with a large, frosty-looking Starbucks drink flouncing by and asked if I fancied a latte or something. So we went into the grocery store nearby which has a Starbucks counter inside. While trying to decide on a Frappucino, we remembered the sushi counter. I ran and picked up some sushi while The Viking ordered me the most sinful drink ever to associate itself with coffee and we sat in the grocery store cafe' and had lunch. We had a good laugh at ourselves, enjoying sushi and Starbucks in a grocery store, but the important thing is we had fun.

As we walked out of the cafe' I thought the day's fun was over, but The Viking announced he was taking me to my favorite store ever, Home Goods. I know I've mentioned this place before, but I love it there! It's like a rummage sale in a store. The Viking had never been there before, but knew I loved it and wanted me to pick out a non-stick omelet pan or skillet (he knows I've been wanting one). We had a blast in there; The Viking loved it as much as I did! We didn't find the 12-inch skillet I wanted, but we grabbed a 10-inch one to hold us over for a while.

By that time, it was time for Man-Cub's baseball game, so we decided to divide and conquer. I took him to the game while The Viking stayed home with Redheaded Snippet to tidy the house and make plans for dinner so I didn't have to. After the game, The Viking informed me that Redheaded Snippet would be attending a cast party and Daria would be staying with Man-Cub while he and I went to a wonderful little Indian restaurant in the neighboring town. After a perfect meal accompanied by a bottle of one of our favorite wines The Viking had brought along, we went home so the children could give me their presents. I got a tray of Ferrer Rocher chocolates and a box of Ghirardelli chocolates from Man-Cub (he picked them out himself), and a wire whisk, wooden spoon, rubber scrapers (in colors coordinating with our kitchen), chop-and-scoop utensil, and set of steak knives from Redheaded Snippet. All things I needed and wanted. I was so touched by their thoughtfulness. Then we changed and went out to see a late showing of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. It was a little fantastical, but fun. It was great seeing good old Indy again and the kids got a kick out of being allowed to be out and about until midnight. It was, truly, a most fun and delightful birthday!



Since then, we've been keeping busy trying to stay cool which is extremely difficult when it's 95 degrees with 72% humidity! It's like walking into a brick wall whenever you step outdoors. The kids spent the day in the pool, but I chose to remain sequestered in the frigid interior of my airily conditioned house where I will remain until this wretched heat wave is over. Which probably won't be until September 14th, but I'm okay with that.

Well, it's off to bed for me. I have a busy day tomorrow, taking Redheaded Snippet to the orthodontist, catching up on laundry, grocery shopping, stripping the beds, and my mom gave me a gift card for my birthday so I just might get to do some more shopping! Yay for birthday money!

Righto, Goodnight!

Ugh! What's That Smell?!

So, has anyone else experienced the joys of living with the delightful aroma of sewer gas wafting through the house?

That's right. Feel free to shudder. It's disgusting. Apparently, there is a leak somewhere in the powder room wall. I don't know the particulars of the size or location of the leak, but, fortunately, The Viking does. He's going to have to tear open the wall (maybe even two walls) and he seems to be facing the task with a mixture of dread and excitement. He likes tearing walls open. He just does. Demolition, to any degree, is always fun. For him. But he can't be sure of what he's going to find inside that wall and that has him feeling a bit trepidatious. I'm more than a bit trepidatious, I'm all over trepidatious! But if we have to tear holes in the walls to get rid of that terrible smell, I'm on board!

Oh, the smell! Oh, the odor! I keep walking downstairs and thinking, "Ugh, who funked up the bathroom?" And then I remember this is not one of those everyday, run-of-the-mill bathroom odors that may irritate for a few moments and then, accommodatingly, dissipate. Oh, no, this is a stench that lingers. There's no getting rid of it. Not without tearing into the walls! I would describe the smell for you, but I think you can well imagine what sewer gas smells like. I'm going to describe it to you anyway. It smells like poo. Only rotten. Rotten poo. Say it with me, "Ugh!"

Enough about corroding crap. We're coming down the home stretch school-wise. I believe we have 13 days left. Yes, we get out late here in South Jersey. I don't know why. And our school, in particular, always gets out later than any other school in the area. I don't know why. But we're down to 13 days and I just cannot wait. We're going to sleeeeep innnnnnn like crazy around here!

Redheaded Snippet's school play is tomorrow night so we've been back to Costume Central-Goodwill-and working hard to put together a fantastic costume for her. The play is Annie and my Snippet is playing Mrs. Hannigan. I did get some photos of the costumes in progress, but we've been having computer issues--did I mention that?-and I can't upload any photos right now. But she gets to wear two pretty kick-ass costumes. She makes her entrance wearing frighteningly fuchsia satin pajama pants, a garish satin kimono, my grandmother's clear plastic boudoir slippers, a fuchsia turban and holding a cigarette holder. Then she changes into a fugly '30's style dress with a pair of my other grandmother's shoes, 4 ropes of pearls and metallic beads, and her hair up in a loose chignon with a finger wave and a huge peony behind her ear. I did the best I could with the finger wave with the limited amount of time I had and did her makeup with Clara Bow lips, dark eyes and a nice big beauty mark on her cheek. She looked very Norma Desmond. She looked smashing. I will do my best to get lots and lots of photos tomorrow night to share.

So, as I mentioned, we're having computer problems. Something is seriously wrong with ours. The Viking thinks it's the video card or something or whatever? Whatever it is, it won't let the computer work right! I can only steal a few minutes on The Viking's laptop each night and don't have access to all my files, programs and photos so it's been very frustrating. I'm really hoping he can fix all our household problems this weekend. I don't know how much longer I can roll around this smelly house with no computer to break the monotony of all my housewifely duties! Heh heh, I said doodies. Gah, can you believe me? You'd think I'd have had enough with the smell I've been marinating in for the past two days, but my immaturity overtakes me once again!

As for my case of the Blues, it was a bad one, but it did pass. I'm still not sure what the problem was, except that it was that time of the month and I was pretty stressed out and don't typically deal with stress very well. Strike that. Actually, the truth is that I typically deal with stress by eating and I'm trying very hard not to do that anymore because I am tired of looking like a beached whale and am trying to lose weight sensibly and permanently, so when stressful things come along, I'm kind of helpless. Maybe I should start smoking. I'm kidding! No, I know smoking is serious and something we should never joke about. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it's stress. Anyway...

I had a good cry all over The Viking's chest and Daria came over and bade me bake scones and partake of good British tea with her and then everyone let me mope around the house all day Sunday and return to my senses all on my own. I am surrounded by very understanding, very kind, very gracious people who go out of their way to help and support me. I don't deserve them.

So, no matter what the calendar says, Summer is here. Like an over-bearing relative whose visit you're dreading but just can't avoid, she's shown up on the doorstep, early, with no regard for the possibility that we just might not be ready for her yet. She's made herself very comfortable with her dusty feet on the coffee table and her ill-tempered cats shedding all over the place and her constant helpful hints about the correct way to prepare every meal you serve her and has no intention of going anywhere until someone tells her to her face she just has to leave. And you know that won't be until September. Sigh. It's going to be 90 degrees with 70% humidity on Friday. Stupid, Great-Aunt Summer.

Well, that's enough for me tonight. I have family coming in tomorrow to see Redheaded Snippet's play, I have to make sure all of her costume things are ready for tomorrow night, not to mention packing lunch for Man-Cub, tidying things up and making sure everyone has clean clothes. So, it's off to the salt mines once again!

Grey inside and out

So here I am, on a Spring day, having just enjoyed a lovely breakfast of sausages, eggs and tea, updating my blog, awaiting a visit with dear friends. I should be absolutely contented, happy, excited even. And I'm not. I'm miserable. Miserable. And I'm not sure why. Don't you just hate that??

It could be the weather. It is, after all, disgusting outside. This is our very first day of typical New Jersey weather. Digusting and humid, disgustingly humid. We've even got a tornado watch until 5:00 and that almost never happens.

It could be that time of the month. You know, hormones. You know, cramps. You know, discomfort. You know. I did have surgery last Fall in order to alleviate some of the horror I experience each month, but there's only so much modern technology can do (and I'm not quite ready for a complete hysterectomy--yet).

It could be having to deal with some family issues that rear their ugly heads every once in a while. Ugh. I don't even want to elaborate on that at all. It just could be that.

I really don't know. I just know whatever it is is sapping all the enjoyment out of my days and the restfulness out of my nights. I sure do hope it's hormones for that means it will pass in another day or so. There's precious little I can do about the weather or my dysfunctional family.

Sigh. So there it is. No pretty Spring pictures, no amusing anecdotes, nothing to entertain at all. Just a grey little blurb. It's all I've got today.

Mothers' Day

So, has everyone had a nice Mothers' Day? Mothers' Day is rather a non-Holiday in our house as I, the resident Mother, think it's kind of silly and wouldn't miss it at all if it were abolished. Mothers' Day is usually a day full of frustration, obligation, fake smiles and me asking myself, "WHAT am I doing here?" Fortunately, my own mother is of a similar opinion concerning Mothers' Day so years ago we (as the only mothers in the family at the time) decided to do away with the traditional celebrations. For years we packed everyone up and went out for a picnic instead. We got to spend time together, enjoy some fresh air, hopefully have some fun, and we exchanged NO CARDS. It was delightful, a breath of fresh air.

That worked very well until my Evil Grandmother of Doom moved back from Florida. Unfortunately, she is the, "Take me out to brunch, get me an enormous card-I don't care what it says as long as it sprinkles glitter all over my Mothers' Day corsage (and there damn well better BE a corsage or I may threaten to cut you out of my will--oh yes I will!) when I open it-and follow behind me bowing your very showy thanks for giving you life every three steps we take" type. Aye me. Thus ended our merry, anti-Mothers' Day observances.


Now we're back to going out to lunch with EGOD (and, no, that's not really her, just an interesting facsimile thereof), always at an Italian place. It has to be Italian cause she's Italian and don't you ever forget it. She always harasses the waiter (until she's had a bit of wine and then she starts flirting with him--honestly, I don't know which is more horrifying to watch) and orders the same thing: pasta aglio y olio, pasta with butter and olive oil, which she has to order "in Italiano" but horribly mispronounces as a squawked, "Ah-Yo-Yo". Great ceremony is made of the exchanging of cards carefully chosen so as to avoid lying completely through one's teeth. I can never, in good conscience, bring myself to buy the ones that say things like, "You fill our days with sunshine," or "Your wise and caring spirit sustains all who are blessed to know you," or "The world has never known a more selfless, gentle soul," in good conscience. During the white-lies exchange, I'm always thinking, "These are just painted pieces of paper filled with someone else's words for which we've all paid way too much money." As you can see, I'm not a girl who needs cards. Give me something I can use. Or chocolate. That always works.

Mothers' Day on The Viking's side of the family is a bit of a farce, too. We go months without seeing them and have no real relationship with anyone but his brother's family, but on Mothers' Day we have to send these saccharine cards full of fervent, throbbing gratitude we don't really feel to his mother and grandmother. And because we don't live near them or see them on Mothers' Day, The Viking has to call them. Which is all wonderful when you consider the alternative. I cannot imagine having to spend that day (I'm sick of typing it out) with The Viking's family. What. A. Nightmare.

That being said, the kids still get into both Mothers' and Fathers' Days (Fathers' Day is marginally better than the other because neither of us have grandfathers living any longer and neither of our dads have the histrionic tendencies the women in our families tend to have), so we enjoy it for their sake and, indeed, because of them.

This year, it just so happened we were in New Hampshire and more than 300 miles away from EGOD and all our usual Mothers' Day obligations. We attended a surprise 60th birthday party for my aunt, which happened to fall on the day before Mothers' Day. So we were free to do as we pleased. It was actually pretty wonderful as Mothers' Days go. No uncomfortable lunches, no obligatory, meaningless words, no glitter!

The day started with my husband and children presenting me with a bottle of perfume that Redheaded Snippet had overheard me say I liked the day before. It smells of lilacs and I love it almost as much as I love the fact that my Snippet's little scout ears caught my casual remark and made a point to relate it to her father. Then Redheaded Snippet bade me open the thick envelope she had propped importantly on my vanity which had been grinning tauntingly at me for almost a week with the message, DO NOT OPEN UNTIL SUNDAY emblazoned upon it. She may be almost a teenager, but she's still so much a girl in so many ways. The letter read as follows (with some personal information altered to protect the innocent):

"Mom,

First of all I'd like to wish you a Happy Mother's DAY! (even though I know it wasn't that happy for you in some past years! haha!) But this year I am going to make a change to that. When I think about how much you do for me and how much you sacrifice for me, it kills me inside that I'm not showing my gratitude towards you 24/7. I'm sorry for times when I just plain old don't listen to you. The Bible says to honor your mother and father...I know I don't do that as often as I should. I want to thank you for all of the meals you cook and for keeping a "tidy" house (ha). I want to thank you for bringing me every forgotten music book or shin pad. I want to thank you for being The Best Mom in the world. You have taught me everything from little things like teaching me how to tie my shoes, to teaching me how to take care of my future family. And yes, I will take care of you when you're in the loony bin! Don't worry! haha! Sure we may have our occasional mishaps, but through them I learn and I grow stronger with you. I couldn't be more blessed. God has put me here for a reason. Part of my success in life will be from you. If I never had you in my life...who knows where I'd be. Probably...In a van Down by the River! HAHA! You are my role model. You are doing a FANTABULOUS JOB! hehe! I see the difference in me from other kids and I begin to realize that it's because I've learned from the best. Sure you may have your faults, but that shows me that you are HUMAN (even though it may not seem like it at some times.) LoL! JK! oops I mean "just kidding" Mom you will always be the person I look up to for boy issues, girl problems, me issues and just to chat. I LOVE YOU MOM. From the bottom of my heart, you mean Everything!

From your super star Daughter!

Love,

[Redheaded Snippet] <3
A.K.A...Flexicon (ask me later), Dorkhead, and (my personal fav.)
Embertbumperdink!

TRALALA!"

Let me tell you, I laughed, I cried, I cheered. I think it's my favorite letter to date. And it's so full of her. Her bubbly, sweet personality shines through every phrase.

Man-Cub, after spending countless days mysteriously sneaking down to the basement to hammer, sand and paint, presented me with a personally hand-made plaque complete with rubber bands stretched over nails in the shape of a heart. It's the sweetest thing.

After the gift-giving and going to church with my aunt and uncle, we took the kids to one of our favorite fun-spots in New Hampshire, Cold River. We used to go there when my sisters and I were kids. We'd put on old sneakers and old clothes and spend the day splashing in the river, slipping on the rocks, trying to catch minnows with our hands, scaring waterbugs, avoiding cow plops. Now that I have kids, I like to take them there when we get the chance to visit and I love that they love it.

As you can see, Man-Cub went a little Lord of the Flies on us, but, thankfully, no one was harmed in any way. We haven't had any good photos of the four of us in a long time so our deep and sincere thanks to Daria for taking them (she's pictured in the Wellies, claiming that rock for Scotland-though she has no flag-by the way. Daria, I still envy your lovely, slim calves)!

So, in spite of it all, Mothers' Day turned out to be lovely. We sat and drank in the sunshine and fresh air at the river and made it home from New Hampshire in record time later that night (5 hours)! Of course, The Viking lost his cell phone on the banks of the river, but my ever-intrepid uncle was able to track it down with his mad hunting skillz the next day and it should be arriving back to us sometime today. Yay!

Well then, I'm off to fix some lunch and enjoy an hour of my favorite cooking shows. America's Test Kitchen and Everyday Food are coming on!

Random Observations

Yes, this is the same view I posted last time. Only this time the clothesline has been resurrected! Yay! It is amazing what is thrilling to the minds of the simple. Just hang with me here (ha ha, no pun intended, but it's funny just the same, no? No? Oh, well), the clothesline will come into topic a little further down.

Here are some things I've observed today:

1. I can clean my house until my fingers are stiff and cracked and my children will never notice for one second. This week I have wiped, scrubbed, rinsed, swept, dusted, smoothed, folded, laundered and washed within an inch of my life and no one batted an eye (well, to be entirely fair, The Viking did thank me encouragingly several times. He is, after all, no Neanderthal, that loving man of mine. But right now, I am talking about my spawn, my fruit, my children...). But after spending nearly 24 hours at a friend's house, filling someone else's home with her particular brand of...let's say merriment, Redheaded Snippet took one step into the kitchen upon her return and stopped dead, looked around and said, "Something's different. It looks better in here. Oh yeah, Daddy mowed the lawn." Seriously? The lawn she notices, but clean sheets, clean clothing, hot, homemade meals, thoughtfully-packed lunches go right over her head? GAH.

2. No matter how many times I try, no matter what delusions I choose to entertain which lead me to believe this time will be different, I cannot comfortably walk my dog with dignity. She is a good, loving, obedient pet. The children love her, The Viking loves her and I tolerate her very well and can even muster an appreciation for her most of the time. But she is not leash trained and I, apparently, lack the skillz necessary to train her. I've seen Cesar Milan (love him, in fact) and know I need to be the pack leader and strut my stuff and simply will her into submitting to me. But though she is a very submissive dog almost to the point of being passive-aggressive, she will not let me lead. I wind up turning back halfway into the walk I had intended to take because my hand, arm, shoulder, indeed the entire side of my body, are aching with the effort of making her mind me. GAH.

3. No matter how refreshing and old-timey it makes one feel, utilizing a clothesline (see photo above) isn't very helpful if one a) takes one's chances with the wind and simply drapes one's wet laundry over the line sans pegs (see photo above), hoping it will not somehow wind up in the dirt below and b) forgets said unpegged laundry and leaves it to flap and flutter overnight in the rain. Two of my towels threw themselves in desperation to the murky depths between the deck and the picket fence last night. I found their remains in the dirt this afternoon and had to rewash them. It doesn't really help to save energy by not using the dryer when I have to use the washer twice as much, now, does it? I think I need to buy a new batch of pegs. I also need some plastic bottles so I can mix up my own cleaning supplies again. I bought a new bottle of lavender oil and the stuff has just entranced me anew. I put about 5 drops on two cotton balls and stuck one on the top shelf of the linen closet and the other in Man-Cub's closet where we store our out-of-season clothes and linens. It works so well I get a soft whiff of lavender every time I walk down the upstairs hall! So now I'm using it in the laundry again and have great plans for homemade bathroom cleaner and fabric refresher! Maybe this year I'll even be successful in planting some lavender in the yard so I can dry it and stash it all over the house. Well, we'll see about that.

Now the dryer has buzzed (I'm not putting all our clothes out on the line) and I need to finish planning this week's meals and grocery list. We're out of everything and dinnertime is fast upon us. So, off I go to fold and iron for no one to notice!

Tra la! It's May...

...the lusty month of May! That lovely month when ev'ryone goes blissfully astray!
Tra la! It's here, that shocking time of year!
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear!

It's May! It's May, that gorgeous holiday
When ev'ry maiden prays that her lad will be a cad!
It's mad! It's gay, a libelous display
Those dreary vows that ev'ryone takes, ev'ryone breaks
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!

La la! It's May, the lusty month of May!
That darling month when ev'ryone throws self-control away
It's time to do a wretched thing or two
And try to make each precious day one you'll always rue

It's May! It's May, the month of "Yes, you may"
The time for ev'ry frivolous whim - proper or "im"
It's wild! It's gay, a blot in ev'ry way
The birds and bees with all of their vast amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast
The lusty month of May!

Tra la! It's May, the lusty month of May
That lovely month when ev'ryone goes blissfully astray
Tra la! It's here, that shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear

It's May! It's May, the month of great dismay
When all the world is brimming with fun, wholesome or "un"
It's mad! It's gay, a libelous display
These dreary vows that ev'ryone takes, ev'ryone breaks
Ev'ryone makes divine mistakes
The lusty month of May!

I tried to find a video of Julie Andrews singing this Springtime Anthem (from Camelot, of course), because that is truly the only way this song can be enjoyed, but all I could find was the scene from the movie. And I'm sorry, but it just wasn't good enough.

So, yes, Spring is firmly settled in all her glory. I've mentioned it a few times before, but now I've got photos! Not very good ones, I'll allow, but photos nonetheless. We weren't blessed with brilliantly-colored flowering trees in our yard, but we do have a nice view of our neighbor's, as seen above. That house is, sadly, empty at the moment as the former occupants passed away and their son is currently renovating it for his own family. Hopefully we'll get new neighbors soon, but in the meantime, I will just amuse myself by taking photos of their lovely garden.

This is the view as it appears from Man-Cub's bedroom window, lucky boy. I would love a view like this. The one from our bedroom looks over the house left empty by our neighbor on the other side. Yes, we are flanked by abandoned houses. You'd think we had driven them all out. It is up for sale and not nearly as picturesque as the old, white farmhouse with the lovely trees (in fact, in my quite unprofessional but strong opinion, the place needs to be bulldozed so someone can start over fresh, but what do I know, right?). But pressing on,

a bit of a closer view of the lovely neighbor's yard. I think this view has featured in Wintry shots I've posted, complete with sagging, dilapidated fence (it's been that way since we moved in 10 years ago). It just gives me a soft smile every time I glance out one of the North-facing windows.

I tried here to get a closer shot of what I think is the cherry tree with it's carpet of lavender blossoms. Every time the wind blows, it looks like it's raining big, fluffy blobs of purplish-pink snow. This was taken the morning after a fierce storm so you can see nearly all the petals have been blown off. I foolishly bade Man-Cub to join me in admiring the petal carpet when I woke him one morning, but he just looked at me askance as any 7-year-old boy would when invited to consider the glories of wind-strewn flowers.

Speaking of my little imp, is this the face of T-R-O-U-B-L-E, or what?

Whence that toothy, jack-o-lantern grin, you may ask? His two upper front teeth have been ever loosening for some time now. One had just started while the other had begun to display that "dangling" look, you know when you can just look at it and see that it's ready to drop out? Twice in the past month Man-Cub had a close encounter with the school gym's floor, giving himself a nice big fat lip, but somehow narrowly avoiding knocking those teeth out. I did know how that really loose one had held in there. Then, last night, he spent the evening with Gram. When we came home, she announced he had finally succeeded in knocking one of his front teeth out with the seat of one of her backyard swings (don't ask me, I don't know). I sighed and commented, "Fortunately, it was pretty loose to begin with..." when I noticed it wasn't the Snaggletooth he had knocked out, but the other one!

Does anyone else think he could pass as a Redneck? Oh, I am so proud.

Well, I must be off. The Viking is mowing the back forty, Man-Cub, with his toothy grin, is making a sling shot and inspecting caterpillars (wonder if he's scouting them out as possible targets?) and I intend to get outside and take a walking tour of the gardens and grounds. Maybe I'll try my hand at a few more photos while I'm seeing how the flowers are doing.

If you haven't already, get out there and soak in some sunshine!

Spring Has Sprung

I think I use that as a title at least once year. I know it isn't very creative, but I can't help it. It sticks in my head and must be let out every now and then.

It has come to my attention (thank you, Dharma) that society is in dire need of an update from me. I may not have paparazzi camping out up and down my street or erecting scaffolding outside my bedroom window to capture my every scintillating move, but there is still a deep hunger for all things Pippa. I can sense it. And I am nothing if not accommodating.

Okay, enough. I suspect you may have noticed my feeble attempts at Springing up my blog. It doesn't quite have the effect I was going for: sort of a Springy, country, sunshiny palate. I wanted all blues and yellows, but it looked pretty boring. And I'm not a fan of pink, per se, but it was the least of all the evil colors offered. I may have to play with it some more. We'll see.

So much has happened, dear readers! Man-Cub has started his brilliant baseball career and I have a new nephew! That's right, we have joined the billions of American parents who spend their Saturday mornings cheering on a team of 7-year-old boys who may or may not run the right way around a baseball diamond. And Lobelia has been safely delivered of the miniature man who spent the several weeks trying to claw his way through the walls of her uterus. He's enormous and beautiful and perfect and I am in deep, deep love again. One of the best parts about being an aunt so far? My sisters have been referring to me by my old childhood nickname and, as much as I hated it when I was 13, I love it! I hope it sticks! Every family needs to have at least one aunt or uncle who is known by a nickname and I readily volunteer for it to be me! I'm a little weird that way.

There really is nothing else to report unless I choose to wax rhapsodical about Spring again. The grass is green, the trees have leaves, the birds go twitteringly crazy every morning, the air is fragrant enough to get me high, and flowers are bursting forth everywhere. The violets are all over the place, through no effort of ours whatsoever (yes, I realize some people consider them a weed, but anything that spreads on its own, doesn't need weeding or pruning and produces pretty blooms is welcome by me!), and the lilacs are in! The kids brought in two fistfuls each of intoxicating purple yesterday and now the whole house smells blissful. It's not Spring until there's a pitcher full of lilacs drooping on the dining room table.

I wish I was handier with the camera so I could share all the seasonal delights with you all, but you'll just have to use your imagination. The dogwoods are blooming, the lilies and black-eyed-susans are getting taller, the azaleas have buds, and the locust trees are preparing for their blaze of glory a month from now. The tree frogs still sing us to sleep each night, we slumber deep breathing in delicious gusts of fresh air from the open windows, and I have constantly wind-blown hair from driving all over the place with the sunroof and all windows open. I do love Spring. Now if we could just do something about skipping Summer...

Anyway, I've been gearing up for Spring Cleaning. I know, I know, I'm a little late, but as long as I get it done before June 20 (or whichever day is the official first day of Summer), it counts. We haven't yet had a free weekend to get the big things done, but I did manage to get the house tidied and every stitch of clothing (except for the ones we're wearing right now) washed in preparation. I've also been able to, get this, keep the house tidied and even moderately cleaned all week long. It's a regular miracle. And I'm on a diet, a sensible one this time.

I won't bore you with diet details, except to say that I'm watching calories and keeping a daily journal of everything I eat through use of a great website I stumbled across, my-calorie-counter.com. It's going very well, even with the added challenge of managing my hypoglycemia at the same time. I promise you, when I start losing weight, I WILL post photos!

Well, it's that time again. Time to fold another load of laundry and hand the keyboard over to one of the children.

Until next time...

Out Like a Lamb???

Is this some kind of April Fools' joke? The weather has been C-R-A-Z-Y around here! It was supposed to be all mild and balmy, you know like a lamb, by March 31 and instead it was frickin' freezing, Mr. Bigglesworth! Then, of course, we had moist, almost humid temperatures in the upper 60's yesterday and thunderstorms and driving rain last night. I had left the upstairs windows open to take advantage of the fresh air and Man-Cub's bedroom floor got nice and wet before I came to my senses and realized things needed to be secured up there. Let's hope the floor boards don't warp.

So, it's been almost a month since I've updated. What on earth is wrong with me? I think I've just been concentrating on getting my priorities straight. Doesn't that just sound insufferably self-righteous? Well, don't hate me just yet. I seriously needed to adjust things. I was spending waaaay too much time idling on the computer and too little doing the things I'm supposed to do like keeping things clean and full and...well, I guess clean again. I wasn't getting enough sleep, wasn't maintaining my health very well, just kind of escaping in front of the computer monitor day after day. Not good.

But I'm back with a new attitude. I might even give my page a make-over, if I can sweet-talk someone into helping me with it so it doesn't take me another month to do it (like last time). I've already given my desktop its Spring wardrobe. Do you do that? I like to have a different desktop theme for each season. I find I'm very much in tune with the seasons and I like everything around me to look...um...seasonal (I need a thesaurus). So right now everything is blue and yellow, which seem to be the colors I'm gravitating toward this Spring, and Daria helped me plaster a big photo of a garden she visited in Lacock, England last Spring across my desktop. It cheers me up every time I look at it.

Our lives have been quite busy with wonderful things in the past few weeks. Easter has come and gone since we last "spoke" and I did get a few photos. I tried to be all bloggy/artsy and get shots of the entire egg-dying process, but it took most of my energy to keep vicious fights from breaking out, what with all the raw eggs, cups of dye and vinegar lying around. All I got was this:

Eggs boiling and cups at the ready for dye. But the situation rapidly deteriorated at this point so I had to put the camera away. I didn't even get any photos of the finished eggs. Harrumph.

But everyone looked lovely in their Easter finery and we got these shots just after church:
The brilliant sunshine made it hard to avoid those pesky shadows. This was the best one we got of them looking relatively normal. You'll see what I mean.

He made a cut-and-run for the rope swing at the first opportunity.

I'm not sure what she's plotting behind that deceptive little grin, but don't be fooled by it.

We managed to herd them back together onto the porch for one last moment of serenity.

If you look closely, you can see the beginnings of trouble on their faces.

But I guess I kind of started it, didn't I? I couldn't help myself.

It just went downhill from there.

Redheaded Snippet got all dramatic with my pashmina.

Then she decided to attack her father with it. Nice.

A few days after Easter, my brother-in-law, Vance, officially completed his PhD and the family gathered for his defense at Penn State to celebrate. We crammed ourselves into a hotel and deprived ourselves of sleep and went to a fancy dinner and just enjoyed stealing a few days of togetherness. And would you just look at this niece of mine?

Her Papa's the one who is now The Doctor.

He calls her, "Crocodelia" for her perfect row of little teeth, on the bottom only.

And there she is with Dharma, her equally lovely Mama.

Three days wasn't nearly enough time to spend with them, but we were glad for it anyway. And we'll be seeing Dharma and Crocodelia again soon as they're planning on coming for a visit when Lobelia's Sweet Boy is born.

Speaking of which, Lobelia is due any day now! Her official due date is the 7th, but she is showing all signs of readiness and is praying fervently that this day will be the day. She feels full to bursting and just wants it out! We are all beside ourselves with excitement as we haven't seen a woman in our family go to term since Redheaded Snippet was born almost 13 years ago. The suspense is killing us! Every time the phone rings we all make a desperate dash for it, hoping it's the "I'M IN LABOR!" call.

Just this past weekend, Daria and I got to go on a Ladies Retreat and spend 2-and-a-half days with some of our absolute most favoritest people. I don't have blog names for them yet (except for Suzie Q--O.C.'08, BAY-BEEE!) but suffice it to say, we made memories I will remember for the rest of my life. We played a game of charades during which, "sex change operation", "colostomy bag" and "tufted titmouse" were among the phrases that had to be acted out. Use your imagination. And you still won't be able to appreciate the hilarity of it all. Daria swears she is emotionally scarred from the experience. We're planning on going again next year and I'm just not sure I can wait that long.

I think that brings us up to speed, unless I decide I want to bore you with news of our new stalker. Shall I? Okay, I shall. The Viking has, I can only assume inadvertently, unless things between he and I are far less blissful than I have been led to believe, inflicted this new plague upon us all by giving our phone number to a clearly obsessive person. It's the Quicken Loans man. Do yourself a favor. Don't ever call them. Like ever. They are worse than the political campaign/poll/subtly veiled threats people. This man disrupts my days and torments our nights. He leaves messages, causing that red light on our phone to blink incessantly. He ties up the line and what if Lobelia is trying to call??? Honestly, I feel like calling him back to tell him, "Please stop calling here, I have a heavily pregnant sister who may be attempting, at this very moment, to call me and beg me to be with her in her hour of deliverance to hold her hand and mop her brow!" But I fear that would only encourage him and induce him to torture Lobelia's phone number out of me. What can I do to be rid of this man? Doesn't he realize that at this point, even if I was interested in refinancing my mortgage (what was my Viking thinking?) he's killed any interest I may have had in refinancing with his company? He's ruining his prospects with clients! Doesn't that violate rule number one or something? Anyway, I'm hoping if I ignore him he'll just go away, but so far, it's not looking good.

Well, I've now updated with a vengeance. This should keep me for a few days at least. And hopefully I won't go another month before updating again. But, if I fall behind in housework, or my nephew does indeed arrive within the next 48 hours, the blog is going to have to be the first thing to go.

So, until we meet again...