Letting go...

Ten years ago, I went to Calico Corners and ordered up fabric to do up the master bedroom. Bedskirt, quilt, chaise lounge. This many years later, I can say I hate the quilt. I have probably hated it for at least five years, but couldn't let go of it. It costs a fortune. But husband1 says it is like sleeping under a lead blanket.

Today, I am getting it out of the house. I considered selling it on eBay, but shipping costs would be extreme. I estimate the weight to be around 60 pounds. I am not lying. I can't weigh it, because when I tried to put it on the scale, I couldn't find a way to see what the numbers on the scale read. This was when I still wanted to prove that it did not weigh as much as a lead blanket. Now, to get it out of the house, I have to roll it onto a sheet and d-r-a-g it to the backdoor and haul it into the car somehow. (This is a clandestine mission, as I don't want husband1 to know that I am getting rid of it and offspring3 hates any kind of change and will be upset to see it go.)

Why I don't like cooking

I am only here because I promised.

I made "Simple Chicken Florentine with Spaghetti" for dinner.

Offspring1: I am going out to dinner with Andrea and Elena. See ya.
Offspring2: What is that green stuff? It looks nasty. [Pushes spinach to edge of plate.], T
Me: Take one bite, just one bite, you will be surprised.
Offspring2: [Grimacing like there is hot molten lava in his mouth.] I am not surprised it is disgusting.
Offspring3: I don't care for angel hair pasta.
Offspring2: Why are you being so difficult? Why can't you just eat what's put in front of you?
Offspring3: Uncrease your forehead when you talk to me. You hate the stuff. You just said it.
Husband1 (i could have others): This is g-r-e-a-t!
Offspring2: What is wrong with you?
Offspring3: What is wrong with you?
Offspring2: You are so mean.
Offspring3: You just called me a loser.
Offspring2: What's your problem?

Two plates move to floor for the good dogs (Wayne stays outside). Notation made in cookbook. "Tried 5/28/09" Drawing: two thumbs down.

I have discovered Tiny Art Director, and we have much in common. She is four years old. I admire her demanding demeanor. I, too, make unreasonable requests and then stamp my feet when they are not met immediately and in the manner in which I prefer. Tiny Art Director, though, gets much better results.

Everyday art

I like art made from everyday objects. I found this at First Saturday, an art fest held the first Saturday of every month in the Heights. I have gone every month for the past three months, each time scurrying home with a small find. This was made, I think, by the older tatoo'd couple who drive the van with the mannequin on the roof. I liked the woman's peace t-shirt and the next month, she made one for me. I'm not sure whether it is the man or the woman who makes the kitchen-object faces.

Another find: www.letterscapes.com - alphabet letters from everyday life. I stressed over what to spell out before landing on my own last name. Remarkable idea!



I liked Adriana Whitney's stuff as well. Kindness and sweetness all wrapped up.

Camera battery is dead so no good pix tonight. I picked up a book of poetry at the library, Word Comix by Charlie Smith. I feel bad because I sit on the bus sifting through the pages, looking for a place I can enter just one of the poems. I can't even find the door. According to the New York Times Book Review, though, "Smith writes with a scalding aortal brilliance that leaves the reader drunk on dream." Uh-huh. I'm not feeling it.

Jessie was voted "Most Likely to be a Stepford Wife" by her class. Considering some of the other awards, this one is a triumph.

There comes a time

I hereby commit to one blog entry per day for one week starting yesterday.

I will enter this ART BRA challenge. It's not due until September. I can handle that.

Wayne the dog peed on my bed covers this morning, ate a cell phone and used my jump drive as a teething ring. Right now I hate him and will never let him inside the house again.(Of course I didn't let him in in the first place. A certain 15-year-old with new glasses did, swearing he would watch him every minute.) So yeah, you just stand there Mister, and think about what you did.


Katy is reading Buddha in my Backpack, which helped today when the little sh*ts at her school continued their exclusionary tactics: making sure there wasn't a place for her at lunch, not signing her yearbook and creating a list of best friends without her name. She explains to me that according to her book, B is a bully, and getting angry at her is like getting angry at fire for burning you. It is her very nature. So Katy took the $5 I gave her and bought all the little sh*ts ice cream at lunch, despite their behavior. And one of the little toads texted her just now, "I am sorry I did not put you on my list of friends. Do you forgive me?" Clearly there is no Buddha in MY Backpack, as I would like to say, "NO, I DON'T FORGIVE YOU YOU LITTLE TWERP."

Jessie told me she would rather throw up than eat another lunch packed by me. There comes a time when school should be over. That time is today, Tuesday.

I have found a magazine (cleverly called FOUND magazine) that publishes "found" stuff. They describe it this way:

"We collect found stuff: love letters, birthday cards, kids' homework, to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, doodles-- anything that gives a glimpse into someone else's life. Anything goes.

I like it.



And this: "Do women have to be naked to get into the Met. Museum?" It's from a documentary, Who Does She Think She Is, about women who have to choose between what they love and who they love. Writers trying to write when they should be making the kids dinner.

I have to go put the sheets in the dryer.

The proper use of neon

Each week, it seems another person in my circle dies. Just to keep count: K's father (cancer); H's father (heart disease); N's mother-in-law (stroke? heart attack?); J's classmate (car accident); T's mother-in-law (unknown); L's husband (cancer); a co-worker (car accident); M's husband (unknown). Enough already. I thought things came in three's. Not six's or nine's.

"Nu-ting to do, nu-ting to do." That is what the Swedish tennis pro says during drills when someone hits a shot to you that is impossible to return. It makes me feel better, too. Because sometimes I can't tell whether there was something to do or not. So it is good to have someone say it once in a while.

And there is nothing to do on this end except to check our moles for changes and know our blood pressure numbers and warn our kids not to drive too close behind trucks carrying plywood. Terribly sad all around.

So now to find a few good things amidst these constant mortality reminders. (You're only here for a minute, tell your kids/parents/spouse/friends you love them, don't hold grudges and all.)

I don't usually approve of neon in church settings, but Grace Church has seen fit to fix the neon at the top of the marquis on its newly acquired movie-theatre-turned-church. I bet that neon spire has not worked in 30+ years. It is a small thing, I admit, but it does make things feel righter.

Take this Sears sign. Its letters flicker, so you figure it's got to be a stinky store, right? But in fact, it's a great store. You're in and out in 30 seconds for everything from paint to towels to underwear. It comes complete with people who have worked there for 30 years.



This is one of my favorites - Adolf Hoepfl's auto repair shop. The new husband-and-wife owners restored the sign last year. They put an aquarium in the waiting room for goodness sake. They decorate for the Fourth of July. They have a newsletter and contests (SIDEBAR: They put a picture of a mystery auto thingie and the first person to identify it correctly wins movie tickets. So I took the picture to the AutoZone across the street and of course, they knew what it was, and then I marched over to Adolf's to tell them. The guy's face fell when I told him what it was - I felt terrible. He forgot to send me the tickets, though, so I guess we're even.

I won the out-of-print sock monkey clothing pattern and it is on its way to me. Something to look forward to next week. What I love about eBay is that it is a mecca for Second Chances. A toy you missed in childhood? Someone saved it -- and not only saved it, but saved it in the original box, and for a small fee, you can make every wish of your inner 8-year-old come true.



The best part of my week, though, was getting this email from a new pal in Alabama. Remember I told you I was in Haute Handbags? Someone besides me bought a copy. You remember my Farm Fresh finger-licking chicken purse, right? On page 118? Getting this message was better than a Heath-Bar-Crunch-Blizzard:

"After enjoyably perusing each page and oohing and aahing at each creative, unusual design...I found it!! Page 118! "Farm Fresh" ...chicken-wire purse! Right down here in the deep southeastern sector of the crazy state of Alabama...behind the dark side of the moon...I'm thinking that's the cutest things I have ever seen... I am afraid to show it to my other blue-haired sewing friends because:

A. They will steal it and make it before I do.
B. They will find a way to deep-fry it in peanut oil and serve it with collard greens and cornbread."

Now I am on a mission to find another chicken wire purse frame for Laurie. It's got to be out there somewhere. The original came from Hobby Lobby by way of Nanny Liz Dusek. I'll FIND ONE!

"We" are studying for finals this week. How stupid is this: Among other things, A has to know the 10 plagues from the Old Testament. In order. Of all the things to talk about in Theology, this is what he will be tested on? Sheesh.

A Week in the Life

Since the Dutch dollmakers left, I have been in a funk. But to carry on, this is the week in review.

1. Jessie was suspended from school for one day for requesting a "friggin' tissue" from her friggin' keyboard teacher. Friggin' great.

2. Adam got glasses after he failed the vision test for a learner's permit. (Of course I knew he couldn't see; it's just he wouldn't wear his glasses, and he wouldn't wear contacts.) Braces are off as well. Tube socks with long shorts appear to be in (just with him, not the population). Now he looks like either Elvis Costello or junior Superman with skateboard. He is really cool or really freaky. Jury is out.


3. I have to get Katy tap shoes for "Intensive Tap Class" that starts Monday. Next play on the docket is Thoroughly Modern Millie, which appears to require tap. I can see the scratches on my hardwood floors now. The last time she went through a tap phase, she tapped quarters to her shoes and clicked away. J is ready to kill her because she downloaded the Millie soundtrack to J's computer and J doesn't appreciate her music being interrupted by weirdo musical music. Get it off there now.
4. Doll Club had a Secret Sister exchange with cigar boxes. Great ideas - cigar boxes as theaters and circus tents and woodland fairy hideaways. Loved Carolyn's Punch & Judy entry.
5. Lost 1.8 pounds on Weight Watchers. Ate a donut to celebrate.
6. Harley has a rash, Wayne gives me a rash whenever he mauls me, and Sally is barking too early in the morning and continually walking to the door and barking to go out and then refusing to go out until we do this exercise three times. Sheesh.
7. I have not one flower or herb planted; just weeds. Too tired to fix this.
8. Not too tired to bid on out-of-print sock monkey Simplicity clothing pattern on eBay.
9. Bothersome sinus headaches and overall crankiness.

10. Finished Jodi Picoult's Change of Heart about death row inmate who wants to donate heart to victim's sister. Death penalty, religion, ACLU, child abuse, Gnostics, mothers & daughters. *** out of ***** stars. Finished Clive Cusler's Polar Shift (via Books on Tape) about madmen intent on prompting switch of earth's magnetic poles, which would result in devastating destruction. Wooly mammoths, WWII electromagnetic experimentation. Classic Pinky & Brain plot. I lost interest.
11. Finished my pal's wedding present in time for their 3rd anniversary. Way to go!!!