time to adopt?

It’s official.

I won’t be needing any soap, body wash, deodorant, feminine hygiene products, laundry detergent, shampoo, or conditioner for at least six months. 

I can’t say that will stop me from getting more if the price is right…and lately the price has been quite right—free!

Ok, free may be a slight exaggeration, but for example, I walked into my favorite drug store today with twenty dollars and when I left I still had five, and I also had four boxes of tampons, five Old Spice designer deodorants, one Gillette Fusion shave gel, six bottles of assorted men’s scented Gillette and Old Spice body wash (three of which can also be used as shampoo), and seven Butterfinger candy bars.  Oh, and I had $14.50 in store credits too.

And before you ask…no I didn’t steal anything.  I used my new skills in couponing combined with the weekly sales to maximize my purchases. 

My husband wasn’t convinced. 

I had to lay everything out on the bed and pull out a calculator to show where the money had gone, and what I was left with.  He is now officially impressed.  

And he smells very nice too!

My reward for all my brilliant shopping? 

I get to have a new baby!

Well…I’m allowed to get a new puppy.

I can’t wait.  With my son completely moved out, along with the grandpuppy, and my poor Lady missing from the family, things are getting a little quiet around here.  I’m not necessarily against quiet, but a little excitement can be good for the soul.  And if I can’t have another baby (and I’m pretty sure I can’t) a puppy will have to do.  I’m fully prepared to train him, and walk him, and feed him, and clean up after him all by myself!  After all…isn’t it my turn?

Until the next time…I’ll be puppy proofing my house!

do they use old socks to make sour dough?

Success at last!

My aunt Leona was kind enough to send me a quart of her famous “sour dough bread starter” this weekend, and I couldn’t wait to try it out.  I have had the opportunity to sample her sour dough bread on many occasions, often fresh from the oven, and I can say without any reservations that it is the best sour dough bread I’ve ever eaten.  My ability to make it for myself, however, was somewhat suspect as I carefully read the directions while my husband poured the ingredients into the bowl. 

We both caught a whiff of the sour dough starter as I opened the jar and both gasped at the same time.  Sour dough starter smells like old socks.  And it looks like it may have had old socks soaking in it.  I was almost afraid it had gone bad, but it was supposed to be sour.  I could only hope it would make good bread.

We worked as a team, me keeping a vigilant watch over each component of the mixture, as Mike mixed them together carefully. 

I even took it upon myself to “feed” the starter as the recipe instructed. 

I watched Mike gently kneed the sticky dough to the exact specifications required before wrapping it up for the eight hour wait while the dough doubled in size. 

I couldn’t help myself.  I checked the dough every so often to see if it was rising.  It was like that saying about a watch pot never boiling.  The dough didn’t look any different to me.  It was still just a sticky bowl of goop every time I peeked. 

“It hasn’t been long enough yet.” My husband repeated each time I complained that the dough ball was the same as the last time I looked.

This went on throughout the day until he took me out of the house to distract me. 

I quite enjoy distractions.  We picked up a few necessities at the local all purpose store, and shopped around for things we didn’t need (and didn’t buy.) When we got back home, we walked out to the garden to inspect the tomatoes and the other assorted plants that I can’t yet identify. 

I showed Mike where I wanted the pond to go, and where the greenhouse should be, and where I would like the chickens to be housed.  All things we are tossing around as possibilities for Mike’s Suburb Homesteader project.  But in the end, we just watered the tomatoes and the assorted unknowns, and went back to the house. 

The dough was noticeably larger by then, but still not ready to be kneeded again.  We had not timed our bread making in an ideal manner.  By the time we started this project, we were looking at almost midnight for the bread to be ready to kneed, and then four to six hours later it would need to go into the oven. 

Now, neither of us had a problem with staying up until midnight.  That is an easy feat.  Waking up at four, five, or even six AM, on the other hand…not so easy! 

It is no secret that I am not a morning person.  In fact, I am the direct opposite of a morning person. 

Mike woke up with the bread.  And once he was up, he had to put the bread into the oven and wait another thirty five minutes for it to bake.  It was sort of like having a baby. 

Maybe not like a baby.

Mike woke me up before he left for work.  He decided that I needed to be a productive member of society…or something like that.  He said I need the practice being a morning person. 

The first thing I did was to sample the bread.

It was almost as wonderful as Aunt Leona’s very own bread.  It was baked just a few minutes too long, and maybe it had risen for just over four to six hours, but it was wonderful.  And we had two wonderful loaves just ready for the cutting.                  

The teenage girls loved the bread.  In fact, they loved that it had been made in our very own kitchen.  They like having me home during the day baking bread and cooking meals.  Even if that means they have to help out.  We may just have to bake bread again tomorrow.  I think we’ll start in the morning this time…so no one has to get up in the middle of the night with the bread baby.  Who knows…maybe we’ll even experiment with the recipe a little, just for fun.

Until the next time…I’ll be practicing this whole “morning” thing at the farmer’s market.

is that you norman?

I haven’t been in the same city as my father for some time now.  We talk quite frequently.  Thank goodness for modern technology, and Facebook.  Still…I wish we lived closer, and that life didn’t always pull us in different directions, but I am very lucky to have a father who has imparted great wisdom, and great humor into my genetic makeup, in addition to the kidney stones.

I decided that instead of coming up with a montage about my dad over the years, I would just share one particular story that sort of came to me this morning.  It brings back a lot of fun memories, and sums up a very important time in our lives.

Back before my figure filled out, and while my sister was still considered a sweet little girl, we played a sport called Racquetball.  It’s still played in certain circles, and it’s still pretty popular in many places, but where I live now it’s virtually nonexistent.  I haven’t played in many years, but once upon a time, it was intricately woven into the fiber of our lives. 

I wasn’t a bad player.  My balance may have hindered me somewhat—I had a lot of twisted ankles back then—but I could hold my own in a competition.  My sister, on the other hand, was a champion.  She lived and breathed the sport, spending hours practicing and strategizing her game plan before every tournament.  And we played in a lot of tournaments.  If memory serves, we may have played at least one tournament every month. 

We lived in Rochester, New York at the time, and we would frequently travel several hours to other cities to compete.  These tournament weekends usually required an overnight stay, and those were almost always spent in a local motel. 

One noteworthy weekend found us in Syracuse, New York.  I would have been about fifteen years old, and my sister would have been about twelve.  As usual, the tournament started on a Friday night and would continue for the next two days.  I don’t remember the specific reasons why my father had not reserved a motel for the night; I just remember that we didn’t have a reservation anywhere that night.

Syracuse was only a little over an hour away, so Dad may have planned on driving back home for the night, and coming back in the morning.  But as it turns out, our matches were scheduled for very early the next morning, so we had to stay the night. 

There were no vacancies at any of the local motels.  We were very lucky to find a little motor lodge close to the racquet club and I remember it being a rainy night when my father ran into the office to reserve a room. 

It wasn’t a chain hotel.  It was one of those little family run places where the rooms lined up in a long row facing the road and the doors opened directly to the parking lot.  It reminded me of the Bates Motel.  I even joked with my father about Norman Bates renting him the room, and he joked that it must have been Mrs. Bates, because it was an old woman who took his money in the office.

I didn’t know it then, but looking back, it was probably one of those types of motels that rent a room by the hour as well as the night. 

Dad got the key and let us into our room. 

The three of us—my dad, my sister, and I— stood open mouthed in the middle of the spooky little room surveying our surroundings.  A layer of dust covered every surface of the room.  The carpets were darkly stained.  The curtains were drawn to block out the view of the parking lot and the main road beyond.

My father decided to relieve the tension by turning on the television, but when he turned the knob all of the controls fell inside the TV cabinet.  There would be no TV that night. 

My sister and I put our bags on the bed and she sat carefully on the dirty bedspreads while I checked under the bed for a body.

I didn’t find a body, but I found several empty beer bottles.  That discovery drove me to investigate the rest of the room. 

In the main room there was an ashtray filled with cigarette butts on the nightstand.  In the bathroom, the sink was covered in rust, a line of ants trailed from one crack in the floor to another across the small room, and the toilet had not been flushed since the last person had used it. 

It WAS the Bates Motel!

My sister and I slept in our clothes with our racquets in the bed beside us.  I later found out that my father didn’t sleep at all.  He lay in the other bed with one eye open the entire night. 

We were pretty tired the next day when we had to play.  I don’t remember if we won or lost.  It doesn’t really matter anyway.  The thing I remember most about that weekend was laughing for days about the scary little motel we stayed in.  It was one of the moments in my life where I learned that you have to find something positive in the most negative things.  And if you laugh at the bad things, they really aren’t so bad anymore. 

It’s a pretty good lesson in life I think.

Until the next time…I’ll be laughing at the bad things until they don’t exist anymore!

finally...something funny for a change!

Funny is as funny does.

My husband asked me the other day why my blogs have been so dry lately.  And I don’t think he meant that he wanted them to be wet…he wanted them to be more funny.  Flooding the stove was pretty funny…and pretty wet…but who can flood a stove every day?  Oh, I probably could…but would I really want to? 

No, not even for the laughs. 

The truth is things have just been slow around here lately.  I haven’t waxed any poles in a while.  In fact, I’ve learned my lesson about the whole waxing thing…especially the bikini waxing…so don’t expect me to attempt THAT again.  I haven’t flooded anything, attempted any bizarre diets using chopsticks, or bought any new omelet pans. The girl scouts aren’t due to curse the town again until next spring.  And it’s just too hot to wear the crazy pink sweater. 

So what is the key to being funny?  I try to be as honest as possible without giving too much information (otherwise my family may disown me.)  I’ve shared some pretty funny (i.e. embarrassing) moments directly out of the pages of my very own life, and I’ve done it with what I like to call grace.  It’s as close as I can come to grace anyway, as I have never been very graceful.  I’ve written over 150 blogs now.  They can’t all be funny.

I guess I just need to get out there more.  Stop being such a homebody, and find something adventurous to do. 

Sometimes things just happen for a reason.

Today was a great day.  The kind of day I haven’t had in ages, and it was wonderful.  My sister invited Mike and me to spend the day swimming at her house.  My mother had driven down for the weekend, and my niece was visiting too, which made it a fairly large family affair—even if we were still missing a few of the regular characters. 

The challenge for the day was a combination of “raft races” and “sit on the ball.” 

Raft races are somewhat self explanatory.  My sister has inflatable pool rafts, and the name of the game was to stay on the raft while crossing the pool faster than your competitor.  The trick of it was to mount the raft from the water. 

I found this to be an impossible task. 

I have managed to fail at balance games on the Wii Sports Resort video game…why would anyone think I could pull off balance in the wild? 

I never managed to successfully mount my raft. 

I first tried to tackle it from the side, much like getting on a horse.  I was able to hoist myself out of the water and pull myself across the center, but never could manage the turn to throw my leg over the side to lie down.  I flipped the raft and gave up that angle.

Next I tried to pull myself from the end, attempting to slide my body up the raft until I was at the head.  I never made it out of the water further than my waist.  The more I pulled and kicked my legs, the more out of control the raft became.  It was akin to mounting a saddle-less horse that had been thoroughly rubbed down with Vaseline.  Not that I have ever attempted to mount a Vaseline coated horse, but amazingly, I have attempted to mount a horse without a saddle.  Vaseline or not…it was a failed attempt. 

As was my attempt to mount the raft.

My mother cheated.  She climbed aboard her raft from the pool steps, where she could both steady it, and climb up from a higher vantage point.  As usual we let her get away with it with little more than a few choice comments.  She wasn’t going to win the race regardless. 

In fact, she wasn’t really able to propel herself across the pool at all.  So my sister decided to play “bumper rafts” instead.  It was like a game of raft “chicken” as my sister crashed her raft into Mom’s again and again, attempting to knock her into the water. 

While my sister was battering my mother’s raft with gusto, I was attempting our other pool skill…sit on the ball. 

My sister has a beach ball in her pool that has been inflated to the maximum.  The game was to tuck the ball under your rear and sit on it in a floating position without letting the ball up for air, but without holding it between your legs. 

My mother cheated at that too.  She secretly deflated the ball slightly under the water and held it between her legs.  She still couldn’t keep it under for the full 60 second minimum. 

I captured the ball after it had been fully re-inflated and tucked it under my behind to attempt the balancing skill in the deep end of the pool.  Just pushing the ball under the water took some degree of physical strength.  Balancing it under me like a floating cushion was another task altogether.  This was a task that I could pull off.  Despite being balance challenged, I have good posture, and this was more about maintaining good posture by holding the seated position without shifting.  I passed the one minute marker and went for the five minute marker. 

I pushed the envelope a little further and attempted to cross the pool while seated on the inflated ball.  I made it all the way across and turned to go back.  Somewhere in the middle, my balance shifted slightly.  The ball that I was so completely in control of just a moment earlier became a volatile creature squirming beneath me. 

I felt a twinge of concern.  I wanted to win the challenge—that was part of it—but moreover, I could feel the power of the caged ball fighting against the water pressure.  If it escaped me, it was going to break the surface with some force. 

When the ball did get away, it surged out of the water, hitting me in the face and sending me down where I took in a nose full of pool water. 

I didn’t drown.  I lived to try again.  And the point I was trying to make was that I managed to balance on a ball in the pool for more than ten minutes!  That must be some sort of record for me.

Unfortunately, a storm decided to move in about that time and we had to leave the pool for the safety of the inside.  All in all it was a great day.  We even went out to a Japanese steak house for a hibachi dinner.  I didn’t have hibachi…I had sushi…but I did managed to knock my glass of ice water onto the grill while the hibachi chef was cooking the rice. 

All balance points earned in the pool were immediately stripped from me. 

Oh well…at least I didn’t lose any of my sushi in the soy sauce.  And as for the day as a whole, I managed to infuse some of the “wet” into my blog that my husband must have inadvertently been referring to the day before.

I suppose I could try balancing again tomorrow.  It’s pretty good exercise.  Of course, tomorrow is Father’s Day, and my husband will get to pick the activities.  I will probably be pulling weeds in the yard or some other nature activity.  We can’t play in the pool every day after all.

Until the next time…I’ll be planning my Father’s Day blog (with plenty of sunscreen on!)

who knew doing dishes could be so dangerous?

Oh, I knew. 

I’ve had run-ins with dishes before.  Many times, far worse than today.  Luckily for me, I have a little experience in MacGyver-style field dressings.  And it’s a good thing too, because I’ve done it again.  Quite accidentally, I can assure you, I have sliced my finger open on the dishwasher. 

No, not on a knife, or broken dish—although I’ve done that far too many times before.  I’ve broken mixing bowls over my hand while washing them, sliced myself while cutting vegetables, smashed a glass baking dish and then cut myself trying to catch it as it fell.  Yes, I am an expert at kitchen disasters.  But I have never once cut myself while opening the dishwasher.  I don’t even think I could recreate the accident if a tried. 

And I did. 

I tried to find the catalyst for my disaster with no luck.  It was just one of those things that only seem to happen to me. 

Luckily (again) I was taught “do it yourself” medicine by one of the best—my mom.  As a nurse, Mom was always prepared for the common cuts and scrapes with disinfectant, and some toilet paper and Scotch tape!  I don’t know why we never seemed to have band aids at home when I was a kid, but in keeping with the family tradition, I whipped out the Charmin and piece of clear packing tape and got to work. 

I’m sure I’ll live.  It hurt pretty badly for a while, and it continues to bleed anytime I bump it too hard on anything (like my laptop keys or my other fingers.) But I’m pretty resilient.  I once taped a pretty nasty cut closed with the sticky parts of several band aids, instead of getting stitches.  I mean, who has time for a trip to the emergency room?  Not me!

I suppose this means I’m actually very well equipped to move to the farm.  Or Bosnia.  Either way, I’m pretty good at dressing wounds.  My own anyway. 

When I wasn’t slicing and dicing my extremities today, I was organizing and doing laundry.  I’ve yet to discover a way to cause trouble or get injured folding clothes, but it it’s out there, I promise I will find it.  And when I do, I’ll be sure to let you know!

Until the next time…I’ll be checking pockets for sharp objects…very carefully!

gotta love that simple life

One of the best parts of having OCD is the focus it gives you when you find a new obsession. 

I would definitely say that I have functional OCD.  It’s the good kind, not the bad kind.  I’m nothing like Howard Hughes, but even Howard Hughes wouldn’t have been the genius that he was without a healthy dose of that OCD. 

I have jumped on the couponing bandwagon with a new level of enthusiasm.  Despite my husband’s initial irritation with my new endeavor, he is thoroughly impressed with the amount of money I have saved.  In the past few days I have saved over $125, while at the same time stocking the house with enough soap, laundry detergent, deodorant, shampoo, feminine hygiene products, toothpaste, and assorted other necessities to last at least six months. 

This has all become a large part of operation “simple life”.  Mike has spent hours working in the garden so that we can be semi self-sustaining at home.  So my part of the project is to make the house run like an old fashioned household.  I haven’t eaten in a restaurant in days.  I’ve shopped with a collection of coupons that has impressed all that have seen the layout spread across my breakfast table.  I’ve cooked the meals at home.  Even the kids are excited about the home cooking. 

The whole thing has managed to kick a new thought into my focus. 

Owning a working farm in the mountains. 

I have spent countless hours pouring over internet listings for land and farms.  This is one fixation my husband is perfectly happy to indulge.  He would love nothing more than to move to a farm in a remote area.  Where he could grow his own food, raise goats for the milk to make cheese, and live off the land—and off the grid.  It has become his dream…and my new obsession.

Unfortunately, this obsession will have to wait. 

We have a lot that needs to be accomplished here in Atlanta.  I had better get started!

Until the next time…I’ll be clipping more coupons…maybe I can save enough to buy a farm!

so what's wrong with being a housewife?

Operation simple life is finally swinging into action!

Today was a day filled with a back to basics mentality.  Mike had to work from the office, Spencer is still not living here anymore (I will keep you updated on that, as we all know things like this can change at any minute) and the girls were off with friends (again!)

Not that I’m complaining.  I’m actually sort of enjoying this simple life. 

No work, no kids, no husband.  And I had a plan.

I got up at a reasonable hour, took a shower, and got dressed.  And then I headed straight into the kitchen to do the dishes.  Then I vacuumed and mopped all the floors.  Then I sat down to clip coupons.  All kinds of coupons.  From three different newspapers.

Two hours later…I had a crick in my neck and my back hurt from sitting, but I was ready to save some serious money!

Back to the local pharmacy—keepers of my multiple prescriptions—where I used my coupon expertise combined with the weekly sales to save close to $50 in one trip.  Then I was off to the local grocery to pick up a few things for dinner (and a few things on sale) and I saved almost $20 more. 

All in all it was a pretty good haul!

And after saving so much money, I was ready to expand my “simple” life into cooking dinner.  A real home cooked meal. 

Thanks to my husband and his burgeoning garden, we now have a wide variety of produce available at all times.  Not all of this is grown on our property, but in anticipation of the day when we are producing most of our food, we are practicing by cooking with lots of fresh, locally grown vegetables. 

I took the summer squash, the onions, the zucchini, the peppers, the tomatoes, fresh garlic, and one eggplant and created an old fashioned French ratatouille for dinner.  It was fabulous! My husband was thrilled to come home to a meal that I cooked using vegetables that he chose.  The only thing that would have made it better would have been if I had used only vegetables we had grown ourselves.  Maybe in a few months time we can accomplish that. 

The rest of the evening was spent relaxing in front of Planet Green on the television. 

As I settle in for the night, I can hear the rumblings of a storm off in the distance.  What a perfect end to a perfect day…

Until the next time…I may just attempt bread again tomorrow! 

what's just one more?

Life is interesting sometimes.  Just when I think I have it all figured out, someone changes the rules on me.  But the truth is…like my dad used to say…life doesn’t have any rules.

After a horrendous Monday (high on the scale of bad Mondays) I had a pretty good Tuesday.  Sometimes you just have to shake off that feeling that everything has to work out perfectly, and just adjust to the way things are going to work out.  Perfect or not, it’s still my life, and in the grand scheme of things, I’m pretty happy. 

Melissa and Vivian came over for lunch today.  I had been missing my “girls” lately.  We haven’t had much of an opportunity to get together and do girlie things lately.  But our other adventures, (as in our evening at “pole waxers”) are now legendary.  I would like to say it’s time for our next adventure, but that may just have to wait a while.  In the mean time, we will be trying to squeeze in these weekly lunches where we can. 

Melissa and I made our world famous spinach and goat cheese pizza.   It may not sound all that appetizing to some, but it was delicious.  We even fought over the last piece!  Don’t get too excited, it’s not like we actually fought, as in rolled around on the floor pulling hair and biting.  It was more like musical chairs.  The music stopped and there was no more pizza for me.  I didn’t really need that third piece anyway.  I’ve been trying to be good, but my daughter has forced me to eat donuts two days in a row!  It’s straight up oatmeal for me in the morning.

There are no kids at home tonight.  It’s been another quiet evening at home as “practice” empty nesters.  It is seriously making me think about the future.  I’ve always considered “mother” to be my most important job, and suddenly being faced with the reality that your children grow up and move away has made me contemplate what life will be like without them running around the house all day. 

I guess I could just start over…I mean, hey…what’s one more, right?

Until the next time…I’ll be thinking about getting a puppy instead.

you want me to bake what?

I cannot bake bread.  Or better said…Today I sucked at baking bread.  Well, the baking part was fine—mostly.  I did burn one loaf, but I will blame that on the timer that didn’t go off (because I never set it).  My bread did not turn out right, mostly because of other factors. 

One: My husband started four loaves last night and expected me to take over in the morning.

Let’s face it…I do not have a stellar record in the kitchen.  I have set fire to things, flooded the stove, not to mention dropped, spilled, and burned things far too many times.  It was not a smart choice to have me try to bake four loaves at once when I have never baked bread before.  We should have started with one!

Two: I think the recipe was stupid.  It was a “no kneed” bread that certainly seemed to need some kneeding if you ask me.  It didn’t rise as it should have.  It created bread that was far too dense and spongy.

I didn’t pick the recipe.  My husband got it from one of his “all natural” websites, and it was supposedly studied and perfected.  It was not studied or perfected in my kitchen today!

Three: We did not have the proper tools.

This bread was supposed to be baked in a Dutch oven.  We have an American oven.  And…yes I know what a Dutch oven is, but we still didn’t have one, so I had to use regular old bread pans.  This bread did not like regular old bread pans. 

I will say that it tasted pretty good, if you could get past the sponginess and the overall heaviness of the bread.  Mike said it will be good to feed to ducks.  If we had chickens, I’d bet they would eat it.  But we have no chickens. 

At least it was cheap to make.

My husband is going to have to work way harder if he wants me to become an Amish housewife!  I just don’t see that happening. 

And did I mention that bread dough is very sticky?  It gets between your fingers, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much flour you dust your hands or counters with…it will stick to everything!

Tomorrow I will be making pizza from scratch—spinach and goat cheese pizza—something I have done many times with great success.  It’s important to do something well.  Especially if you plan on eating it! 

It will be a group effort though, so I can’t take all the credit.  My best girlfriends (the posse) will be stopping by at lunch tomorrow.  It will be nice catching up.  I’ve been out of the loop for over a week now.  I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes!

Until the next time…I’ll be making pizza in my sleep!

hair today...wig tomorrow

Another weekend is at an end, and it was a scorcher. 

I’m not here to comment on global warming, or whether it’s real or not…I’m just here to tell you that it was very hot this weekend.  I easily had to change my clothes more than once each day due to excessive sweat.  And people…I normally do not sweat! 

While Mike toiled in his magnificent garden (adding sweet peppers and beans to the mix, and doing the final prep on that pumpkin patch) I ran errands with the girls, seeking out things to save money on.  Things I wasn’t even planning to buy, had they not been on sale.  Of course, this was not the method I was attempting to use for my couponing, but it is all still a work in progress. 

I even had a chance to let Lauren do some driving for a change, after we dropped Alexa (now known as “The Road Warrior” for her reluctance to give up the driver’s seat) at a friend’s house.  Lauren doesn’t have the road hours of experience that Alexa has built up, and I seemed to forget that as she took the wheel.  It’s not that she is a bad driver, but she just isn’t as “seasoned” if you will. 

We missed a turn here or there, drove a little under the speed limit for most of the trip, and ramped up the stress level just a tad while she was driving.  But we did reach our destination with no injuries and she now has more driving experience.  Yay!

When we got home I had to take an extra dose of my blood pressure medication…but let’s not tell her that, shall we?

I stopped off this evening to visit Spencer at his new house.  My son is doing very well on his own.  I wish the same could be said for me.  I had not taken more than two steps inside his house when I saw a clump of human hair hanging on the banister.  I was slightly startled, but I truly thought it was something the boys had dragged out in early preparation for Halloween.  The dogs were greeting me at the door, and I wasn’t thinking straight so I said, “Oh…hey someone left their hair here.”  I swear that I had no idea that Spencer’s roommate’s mother wears a wig.  Or rather, wasn’t wearing her wig at that exact moment.  And to my horror, there she was, just out of my eyesite, smiling at me.  I could see the internal groans on the faces of my offspring.  Oops?

I’m sure that will be something my kids drag out again in the future as one of those embarrassing, “Mom stuck her foot in her mouth again” moments.  Still, I thought I covered it up well.  I just said I was worried the dogs were going to get it.  Dogs do that!  My dogs would so have my wig ripped up on the floor in an instant!  If I wore a wig I mean. 

Nevermind.

These things just seem to happen around me.  I should seriously consider having a disclaimer tattooed across my forehead.  Beware of dangerous verbal diarrhea , or something like that.

Until the next time…I’ll be practicing my social graces on the cats.

those lazy days of almost summer

Another hot day in Atlanta.

All it took was a quick step out the front door and I think my skin may have melted off my bones. 

Maybe not.

But, it was hot.  It was so hot that the seventy-five degree setting on my central air conditioning felt icy.  It just reminded me how much I dislike Atlanta summers.  And it’s not even really summer yet!  Of course, I don’t hate it so much that I would pass up going out for a few hours to help celebrate the grand opening of my friend’s new swim school.  I just tried to hover in the only square of space that had air conditioning.

Most of the day is a big blur.  Saturdays are like that.  Especially when they swelter.  Mike and I made a quick trip to the local home improvement store, and a longer one to my favorite book store.  Nothing too exciting.  It was just the two of us all day.  Our empty nest summer is well under way. 

With no kids at the house to complain about it, Mike made a completely vegetarian dinner for us.  It wasn’t bad.  I even ate the roasted beets.  No ice cream today.  No treats of any kind. 

I have high hopes for tomorrow.

They don’t call them sundaes for nothing.

Until the next time…I’ll be catching up on some reading.

a penny saved is two pennies earned with double coupons!

And the day started out so promising!

I got up this morning to discover that my husband took my car to work today.  On the surface, that may seem fairly insignificant, but the underlying meaning is quite profound.  My car does not have air conditioning.  Oh, it has it I suppose, but it doesn’t work on a hot day, which ultimately renders it fairly useless.  But my husband’s car is wonderfully cold even on the hottest day.  And he needs that air conditioning. 

Atlanta traffic is the worst, and he works on the other side of town. He has a rather lengthy commute to get to work in the morning.  It takes him over an hour to make the drive most days, so I can only imagine that he arrived at work uncomfortably hot and sweaty. 

I didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, but it was a very hot day, and he didn’t want me to get overheated.  And I found that to be one of the sweetest sacrifices anyone has ever made for me. 

Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most. 

Being a coupon clipper is NOT a simple thing. 

My sister has gotten me involved in something that should be illegal.  Oh, it’s not.  It’s perfectly legal to clip coupons and take them to the store, combining the weekly sales flyer with the coupons to save ungodly amounts of money.  It should, however, have a disclaimer printed somewhere in the Sunday paper that this practice is highly addictive, and can cause marital disharmony.

After his one plus hour commute back home in the mobile oven, my husband met me for dinner at one of our favorite places—I know…only one week in and we’ve already cheated on our no restaurant rule, but it was a Friday night, and I was so good all week! 

After dinner, I convinced him to accompany me to the local pharmacy to take advantage of the last night of the big sale.  He didn’t really want to go, but I told him it was crucial that he select all of the items that were for the man of the house, as I was completely unsure of what he would want.  He begrudgingly agreed, but after only a few minutes, he retired back to the car while I shopped.

My first stop was the shampoo aisle.  The John Freida shampoos were on sale—three for $15, with a $5 store credit for buying them…AND…there were coupons in the paper for the same shampoos giving you $7 off!  So essentially, I bought three large bottles of shampoo that normally run around $7 a bottle, for $1 each!  Is there anyway someone could NOT be excited about that?  AND I got $10 worth of tampons for $2, $25 worth of men’s deodorant for $6, toothpaste, woman’s razors (I lost track of my savings at this point) and assorted other things that I can’t even remember. 

After checking out and paying for my treasures, I was hot and sweaty from running up and down the aisles seeking out savings, but my excitement was barely containable.  I knew my husband would be so proud of me!

My husband was furious with me!

This store has only seven or eight aisles at the most.  And they aren’t long aisles.  It would seem completely impossible that I could have been in the store for over an hour. 

It was not impossible, as it turns out.

I did take a little time deciding which of the numerous shampoo formulas would be the right one.  And I couldn’t decide which of the men’s deodorants would be the best choice.  I can never decide which razors I like best.  And the toothpaste?  Again, there are too many choices.  To top it all off, the check-out lady had to re-ring the entire transaction after making a mistake in the computer system, but I was too excited by my savings to be annoyed. 

My husband was decidedly not excited.  My over bubbling of excitement on my savings did NOT rub off on him.  When I tried to tell him how much I saved, he said he didn’t care.

I was momentarily shattered. 

He didn’t care!

I’m still not quite over the slight, but I do sort of see his side of things.  I’m sure it wasn’t fun sitting in the comfortably cool, air conditioned car for an hour while I scavenged like a rabid squirrel inside the local pharmacy.  But in my mind, I’m still mulling over the fact that my husband loves me so much that he was willing to suffer two hours in an unbearably hot car, but he drew the line at waiting for an hour in an air conditioned one. 

I guess I just don’t understand men…after all these years. 

He says it’s just scary to watch a woman with OCD get hooked on something like couponing. 

I don’t care what he says…I saved a total of $72 on less than $100 worth of purchases.  I can’t wait to see what I can find in the grocery store tomorrow!  But I might just have to leave him at home when I go.

Until the next time…I’ll be the crazy lady with two buggies, a wad of crumpled up coupons, and three sales flyers, pushing people out of the way at the local Publix!

sometimes it feels like they’ve all flown the coop!

Less than 24 hours.  That’s how long it took for my son to come back.  Oh, not permanently or anything.  He just stopped in to say hi…and have dinner.  And get some help with his computer.  And raid the refrigerator.  Nothing I wasn’t expecting eventually.  And it was quite nice to see him. 

Summer is that time of the year when I get a taste of what it will be like when all the kids are gone with lives of their own.  The girls spend more days staying with friends than they do staying at home when they don’t have homework, and early curfews, and things of that nature to keep them home every night.  They have this illusion of freedom that begins with the first day of summer and fades as the first day of a new school year looms.  I fear this freedom will only spread once they have actual driver’s licenses instead of permits, and jobs, and college.  And then one day, the girls will come home and tell us they are moving out, and…I don’t know, maybe I’m still deluding myself into thinking it won’t happen anytime soon, but I’m not that worried yet.  I can’t allow myself to imagine that next year they are high school seniors and just one year from now we will be preparing for the girls to go off to college. 

The summer will give me time to practice being lonely without them.  And maybe enjoying the peace a little bit too. 

Mike and I took a long drive at dusk.  Just two milkshakes, a stretch of country road, and the two of us.  It was nice.  We drove for over an hour just taking in the scenery.  A few pawn shops, a tattoo parlor, and a bail bonds office in the middle of small town Georgia.  My sister may not have been far off when she told me to watch out for the “redneck” sightings in that part of town.  I didn’t see any though.  I’m not really sure I’d know one if I saw one.  We did see a dead deer on the side of the road…but there was no one rushing to claim it, so I suppose we were still fairly safely within civilization. 

We were just turning around to head back home when my cell phone rang—it was my son.  He needed more help setting up his computer in his new house.  Lucky for him his house was right on the way home to our house. 

An hour (and one trip to an all night Wal-Mart later) and we were on our way back home, with Spencer successfully set up with wireless computer access! 

I guess I was worried for nothing.  They can move out if they want to, but they will always need their parents.  Even if it’s just in some small way. 

Until the next time…I’ll be enjoying my practice empty nest time!

dogs remember way more than some people I know.

I went swimming at my sister’s house today.  Swimming is good exercise.  And it’s out in the sun (which in limited doses is actually good for you).  And because it’s my sister’s house, no one cares if I’ve shaved my legs or not. 

Which I actually did today because I was feeling adventurous. 

It happens to be June here in Georgia (as I’m sure it is probably June wherever you may be) and being June in Georgia, it is fairly hot outside.  Swimming on a hot day is usually quite refreshing.  Today it was just relaxing. 

My sister has recently installed a pool heater.  She, like me, hates to jump into a cold pool of water.  She, unlike me, would rather not swim at all if it’s cold.  I usually just take my sweet time getting in.  I hear that it’s fairly entertaining to watch as I inch my feet in, and then my ankles, getting more and more wet as the minutes tick by, until I am fully immersed in the water some twenty or thirty minutes later.  Today I just stepped in like I was getting into the bath.  It was a cross between a pool and a hot tub.  It was very nice actually. 

Until I tried to swim laps. 

Swimming laps in a warm pool is like exercising in a hot gym.  I just couldn’t do it.  But I did enjoy myself thoroughly just the same. 

My sister’s dogs, Elvis and Pricilla, greeted me with excited wags and licks as if they had missed me terribly since they had seen me last.  They are not so friendly with just anyone.  It was clear to me that they remembered me well.  I don’t believe that dogs have short memories.  I believe that they remember more than most people I know.  For some reason my mother comes to mind.  I would guess that my sister’s dogs could tell you where every toy was hidden in the yard, and could retrieve it by name if asked.  I know my dog can do this.  If I ask Joey to find his chicken, he doesn’t come back with a ball.  If I ask him to find a ball, he comes back with a tennis ball, not just any round object.  And my remaining Labrador can remember anyone she has ever allowed into the house with a single sniff.  She still growls when my ex-husband comes around.  In fact, she growls when anyone resembling my ex-husband comes around.  Her memory is long, and she definitely holds a grudge.  That’s one dog that’s always had my back.  If only she didn’t pee on my floor! 

I left my sister’s house refreshed and relaxed and headed to the doctor for a follow up visit.  It was a fairly good visit.  I lost two more pounds.  Of course, it could be because I can’t seem to remember to eat anymore.  Hey, I’m not complaining.  If losing a few pounds is a side effect, it’s one I can completely get behind!  I could care less about those stupid Girl Scout cookies these days.  And chocolate?  Well…let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  I’m not crazy you know!

Until the next time…I’ll be seeking out other pools to invade!

so...you have to plug things in for them to work?

Is it wrong that I’m feeling more of a loss over the grandpuppy moving out than my son?  I mean, my son will be back.  Of course he will.  He left the dongle in my living room.  The jar of pepper jelly he bought on vacation (and refused to share with the rest of the family because he paid for it) is still in the refrigerator.  There are countless things lying around that he didn’t pack, or remember.  But the grandpuppy…he didn’t even have a suitcase.   He had a leash, a bowl, and a toy.  He’s good.  And as much as I didn’t want him to move in, I will miss him. 

As he was leaving I reminded my son to go buy some banana chips.  I taught the grandpuppy how to sit and lay down using banana chips as incentive.  He will immediately sit the moment he sees me come into a room, hoping I might be packing a treat in my pocket.  I would hate for him to miss out on those healthy snacks now that he doesn’t live with us. 

Of course, I’m sure my son will bring him back for me to watch him from time to time.  That’s what kids do right?  Oh, and he’ll need help fixing his car.  My husband is good with those things…and my son is…not.  Just today we had to “fix” the window on Spencer’s car.  He’s been driving mine for a week now because the driver’s side window in his car has been stuck in the down position.  Not good during the rainy season.  We had to cover it with a tarp!

In his defense, the inner door panel wasn’t attached because we had to replace the window motor a little ways back, and we haven’t had a chance to put everything back together.  Because of this, all the wiring has been exposed, and somehow the window got unplugged.  It wasn’t really broken, but it took us over a week to discover that the problem was as easily fixed as plugging in a lamp.  Isn’t that always the way?

It gave us a good laugh when Mike pulled out all the tools, and sat down to work on the problem.  It took him less than three minutes to realize the problem wasn’t a problem at all.  Oh well…that just left more time to go for ice cream.

Ice cream is very healthy you know.  It’s a dairy product.  I’m allowed to have dairy products.  And all day long I ate healthy food.  I even had a fresh plum from our very own tree. 

Tomorrow I’m going to swim with my sister.  I might even eat a salad.  Life is good!

Until the next time…I’ll be thinking positive thoughts…and looking for a puppy online!

taking it easy is hard!

Ah the simple life is grand.

I had leftover pizza for breakfast…at lunch time.  I started a stew that might be ready tomorrow.  I clipped a lot of coupons, and even went online to find more.  If only I could have gone shopping—I would have saved a ton!

I’ve had a few people ask me, “Where did all the leftovers come from?”  The simple answer is…we cooked a LOT while staying in the cabin, and we brought everything back home that we didn’t eat there.  Oh, and my husband took me out for my last restaurant meal, and we had pizza.  We brought home several pieces of veggie pizza that I finished off today.  I suppose that means that I’ve not exactly been eating what I should, but at least I’m not being wasteful. 

I didn’t have a very adventurous day today.  I did tidy up the bathroom, and did a few loads of laundry.  I even ran the dishes so the kitchen is back to sparkling clean.  Like I said…hardly things to write about. 

At least it was a relatively stress free day.

The teenage girls are still staying with friends after the torture of being forced to spend an entire week with their parents in a mountain cabin.  That has not stopped them from texting me for money to eat Chinese food.  My son, who was so gung ho about leaving the nest just two days ago, has stalled in his moving and is now perched atop my sofa cooking a frozen pizza in my oven that he will undoubtedly eat while watching my TV.  My husband, who had to go back to the office today, ended up turning around and coming home several hours early with a fever and chills, and has passed out cold in the bed preventing me from putting the clean sheets back on.  And in my quest to live the simple life, I left all the back doors open so the dogs could come and go as they pleased in the yard, and now I am missing one ninja kitty.  I would be more worried than I am if I wasn’t completely convinced that he can fend for himself in the wild…considering he has such sharp claws and a scary demeanor. 

Is there really any such thing as a stress free day?  Because, I don’t think so. 

My sister has promised to go swimming with me on Wednesday…if I live that long that is. 

I have a very good plan for tomorrow.  I’m going to eat oatmeal for breakfast, go for a light brisk walk in the park, and have a healthy salad for lunch.  I haven’t planned any further than that, but it’s a good start.  If I haven’t found the cat yet, I may have to run an ad or make a flyer…

Missing…One Ninja Kitty…approach with caution…could be armed and dangerous…he will definitely shed all over you!

Until the next time…I’ll be wrestling with putting the sheets on as my husband sleeps!

what am I supposed to do with the rest of the paper?

Day one of “operation simple life” was a mild success.  I say mild because I ate leftovers all day which is definitely simple, but not necessarily in keeping with the healthiest eating.  I ate leftover veggie pizza, leftover mango key lime pie, leftover seven layer dip with leftover corn chips, and other assorted things found in my refrigerator. 

There’s always tomorrow.

Today was also the start of phase two of “operation simple life”—the coupon clipping.

My sister has challenged me to start using coupons to save as much as possible on my groceries.  There is apparently an underground movement determined to save more than they spend by maximizing coupon usage, and she wants in!  And if there is a contest involved, I’m in. 

I bought the Sunday paper to begin clipping the coupons.  I don’t have all the particulars yet, but it has something to do with watching the grocery store fliers, combining the buy one get one free offers with coupons.  There is even a website that keeps you abreast of the weekly sales at each store.  I’ll have to get back to you on how this coupon thing turns out.  I think we may even have to start a thread in the member’s only Chat Room to share ideas.  As for me…I haven’t even opened the paper yet.  I guess I’ll have to do that tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow…

My husband is going back to work after our lovely vacation.  I will miss him.  It’s funny how you get attached to the idea of having someone around all day after only a week.  I’m sure I will keep busy myself.  I have to do healthy things all day. 

I won’t be leaving the house, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be on an adventure.  I think I’ll spend a few hours writing.  That’s always a fun adventure.  Maybe I’ll even post something for you to read. 

Until the next time…I’ll be living simply.

operation simple life

Today is the first day of what my husband and I are now referring to as “Operation Simple Life.”

For the rest of the month of June, I will focus not on what’s wrong with me, but what I can do to make a change. 

I am under strict doctor’s orders, but that doesn’t preclude me from doing things like gardening, as long as I stay out of the sun in the hot parts of the day.  In fact, I was encouraged to do little things like gardening, and swimming, and even walking in the mornings. 

We are going to focus on all things healthy.  So, with this new healthy living in mind, today I drank my last soda.  I’ve been on caffeine free drinks for weeks now, but as of today I will no longer drink store bought soda of any kind.  No root beer—not even in a float—and no lemon lime or citrus soda.  I will, however, indulge in my new favorite drink.  Seltzer water with a splash of blueberry and pomegranate juice for flavor.  It’s relatively healthy, and tastes quite refreshing.  Just don’t forget to add some all natural sweetener!

Mike and I also ate our last restaurant made pizza.  From now on we will be making our own pizza at home, from healthy items grown within 100 miles of home. 

For quite a while now, Mike has been working on a fairly elaborate garden for our suburban setting, and today he prepared an area to plant pumpkins too.  We even found a handful of plums ready to pick on one of the trees in our yard.  For more information on Mike’s garden check out his blog, The Suburb Homesteader.

I have this crazy notion of adding chickens to our little suburban homestead, but apparently the county doesn’t allow that.  So I will be concentrating on ways to work around that ordinance. 

And while I’m focusing on simplifying my life, I will be spending a lot of time writing.  The best part about being a writer is that I can write whatever comes to mind without having to leave the comfort of my bed if that’s what it takes.  I can travel anywhere I want to go by just imagining it. 

Imagination is a magical thing.  Care to come with me?

Until the next time…I’ll be conjuring up new and exciting adventures for us to take together!

one bird closer to an empty nest

Well, vacation is over.  Just like that.  The leftover food is back in the refrigerator, the bags are (still packed) in my bedroom, and the teenage girls are off to a friend’s house like every other Friday night.

The house is officially too quiet. 

And it’s about to get even quieter.  Why is it that just as you start to get used to the noise, the chaos and the bickering, one of your children decides that it’s time to leave the nest and find a tree of their own. 

Exactly what is wrong with my tree?  And why does everything have to change all at once? 

I mean, I’m no stranger to change.  I’ve been through a divorce, and if that doesn’t teach you that life can change in an instant, nothing will.  But wasn’t it just yesterday that I gave birth to these baby birds?  Should they really be trying to fly on their own already?

You’ll have to forgive all the bird analogies, but I think that’s just a stupid flocking idea! 

So, my first born child is packing his room as I type.  I knew it was coming.  I had months of warning, and constant reminders along the way, but it still managed to come as somewhat of a shock.  I’m still in mourning after all…it was only a week or two ago that the dog died.  And I have really high blood pressure, and I’m not supposed to get stressed out.  But I have got to tell you…this is stressing me out.  And not at all because I’m trying to decide how I’m going to use his empty bedroom—I’ve already been told there is a ninety day waiting period before I’m allowed to redecorate. 

I just don’t know how I’ll sleep at night not knowing if one of my kids is home safely.  Sure I can still GPS his cell phone.  Thank goodness for technology and all that…but it’s not like he’s going to make all kinds of noise coming in now.  I won’t hear the loud bang as his toilet seat drops from the lifted position to the seated position directly above my bedroom.  I won’t hear the death sounds of “Metal Gear Solid”, or “Resident Evil” coming from his Playstation 3 at two am, telling me without a shadow of a doubt that he is home safe and sound.  Or the reverberation of his electric bass thumping out a cover of something I wouldn’t have listened to in its original incarnation. 

How am I supposed to sleep with all that silence? 

And who is going to tell me I’m ridiculous when I misquote the lines from some old movie?  Who the hell will even notice if I misquote the lines from some old movie?  I’m pretty sure my Mom had a victory party the day I moved out.  Will I ever reach the point where I’m ready to celebrate my children being adults?  I think I may just be far too emotional for that to happen any time soon. 

I think instead I’ll just pretend he’s having a sleepover at a friend’s house.  A really long one.  I’m pretty sure he’ll come back to eat when he’s broke.  I should see him tomorrow or the next day at the latest.

Until the next time…I’ll be stocking up on tissues!

can you be home sick for your vacation house?

Finally a sunny day. 

It was our final day of vacation.  And what does one do on the last day of vacation?  Cram everything into the day that we were unable to do on all the rainy days before it. 

The first thing on the agenda? 

The “old time” photo. 

As is our tradition on family vacations, I took the kids to have their portrait done at one of those old fashioned studios with the Old West dress up and sepia prints.  We had to go there first because the girls had done their hair and make-up specifically for this purpose and sometimes it’s just not worth it to argue with teenage girls. 

The lady that ran the shop let the kids go wild in the dress up costumes, and I snapped away with my camera (on the sepia setting) as they tried on clothes, and played with the props.  If this is the first time you’re reading this blog, my “kids” are between the ages of eleven and twenty, and most of them are closer to being adults than kids, but today, they were all kids.  My son brought his girlfriend on the trip, and the older girls brought a friend along, so there were six of them picking through the old west getups.  My son was thrilled to play “cowboy” and he quickly threw on a long black duster with a red bandana.  Of course, by the time we were ready for the actual picture, he had to take it off because he was way too hot.  Luckily I got a lot of great photos before he changed. 

The actual portrait was a distant second to the photos I took, but the trip was well worth the expense.  Everyone thoroughly enjoyed the hour long visit at the old timey studio. 

Next on our full agenda was a ride down the Toccoa River on inner tubes.

I had never gone tubing before.  I wasn’t sure I’d like it.  I was wrong.  It was very relaxing.  Except for the time I got hung up on that really big rock.  Or the time I floated into a downed tree and had to fight my way out of the dried branches and submerged trunk.  Oh, and that other big rock protruding out of a small patch of rapids.  Those times were not relaxing.  They were a little nerve wracking.  But we floated down the river for over an hour, and most of that was very nice.  We saw three live ducks as we floated by, and a big fat frog jumped from the shore into the water in front of us. 

My husband was almost capsized.  Two or three of the kids were capsized.  And I managed to stay almost completely dry in my plump inner tube with no hole in the center.  It was the perfect Mom tube.  And I was dressed perfectly in my swimsuit, a cute little sundress, and my “baby” hat.  The kids told me all week that I looked like a giant baby in my floppy hat, and I had to remind them that the sun is very bad for your skin, and I want mine to look as nice as a new baby, so I wear my baby hat. 

I wish I’d gotten photos as we floated down the Toccoa, but I was too afraid I would drop my camera into the drink, so it stayed safely in the car for the afternoon.  My husband was brave and took his cell phone in a water proof bag, so I think he got a few pictures.  I haven’t had a chance to check them out yet.

I did take the camera out again for our next stop. 

The Amicalola Falls.

My husband was immediately dejected when the rest of us refused to climb the steps to the falls.  I had to remind him that I would surely die instantly if I was forced to climb the six hundred some odd steps to the top of the falls.  The kids didn’t have quite the same excuse as me, but they were just as adamant about not going on foot.  Instead we drove to the top to look over.  The view was amazing, and the falls were beautiful.  My husband talked a few of the kids into taking the steps back down.  Lucky for me, we drove two cars and I had to drive at least one of them to pick them up at the bottom.  My son drove the other car. 

Funny thing about driving the car down the hill, as soon as my husband was out of my sight, I handed my daughter the keys.    

It didn’t take them that long to walk down.  And I explored a little while I waited.  It was beautiful in the park.  I could have stayed all day.  But as it happens, it was already almost night and we hadn’t had dinner yet.  We had to rush back to our cabin away from home to cook steaks on the grill. 

It is now after midnight and the kids are baking brownies as I type my blog.  We have to get up early to check out in the morning, and I’m already sad.  This has really been the best vacation.  I have enjoyed almost every minute of it.  I hope the kids have too.  I know that kids—especially teenagers—rarely appreciate the simple things in life the way adults do, but I really hope they take the wonderful memories from this vacation, and in time, maybe they will think of it as fondly as I do.  Hopefully they will forget the little disagreements, and arguments, and the things we didn’t have time (or dry weather) for, and they will remember the wonderful little moments that make a family vacation what it is.  Magical. 

I would do it all again. 

Until the next time…I’ll be packing to go home.