the city dims

I spent the past few days working with metaphors.  It made me realize how important they are...and how misused they can be.  I live, think, breathe metaphors.  It is the writer in me, I suppose.  So what better way to explain my struggle with anxiety and worry, than with the twist of a metaphor?

Anxiety is a fire fueled by caffeine, uncertainty, and worry. The mixture and measurements don't matter that much...just a pinch of this and a dash of that stokes the flame.  And like a grease fire, you can't douse it with water, you have to smother it alcohol. 

Ok so maybe you can't put it out with alcohol, but it certainly takes the bite out of it...at least temporarily...until the alcohol takes over the entire situation and starts its own toasty burn.  And truth be told, I have never been much of a drinker, so even if alcohol would help, I wouldn't know.

So, with the lack of any viable magic exilir to rid me of my anxiety, I have been contemplating the advice I've been given...good advice, in fact...but letting go only sounds easy on paper. Mine is a powerful anxiety...I could light up a city with the electrical current I feel coursing through me.

And exactly how do you put down a hot wire when you have it in your hands?

I promise, I'm working on it.

In fact, tonight I sleep worry free...having set the wire down for the night.  Some things take time...baby steps across a moving floor...but I'm working on it.  Truly I am.

Until the next time...I'll be dreaming sweet dreams without care!

knitting a stress sweater

Lately, the theme around here has been stress.  Stress about life, death, children, parenting, and just about everything else that comes along.  I, for one, think it's time to relieve a little of the stress in my life.  The problem is...how?  How can you really remove stress when it is so interwoven into your life that it is actually part of the thread that holds everything together?

And everyone knows what happens when you pull on a loose thread...the whole damn sweater unravels!

So I am putting together a plan.  I don't actually have any ideas yet, but that is the first step right...coming up with ideas? 

I think it is possible that the first step will be to organize.  Not that I am great at organizing...but that may be part of my problem.  A general lack of organization leads to stress. Walking into a room that is cluttered leads to stress.  Trying to find a lost sock in a sea of unmated socks leads to stress...and cold feet. 

So de-stressing is the goal, and organization is going to be a primary step. 

I could be on my way to a stress free existance as early as tomorrow!  Now if only I could get my children to charge their cell phones more often, and reply to my hourly text messages, I would be as relaxed as a Buddhist monk! 

Now I'm just talking crazy again!

Until the next time...I will be searching the GPS signals on my kids phones to locate their exact position!

dogs mourn too...

I used to think explaining death to children was difficult...

Try explaining to your dog why their surrogate mother has not returned after disappearing a week ago. 

Indiana Jones, my now 14 month old Mastiff, has been walking the house in the evenings, whining.  He whines to go out just to circle the deck and come back in.  He paces the floor looking...for what, we can only guess.  After a while he squeezes his oversized body into the space between the lamp table and the sofa, the same place our geriatric Labrador, Cybil drifted off to sleep that last time.  And there he falls asleep. 

He misses her.

Cybil had become his mother when he moved in with us at just ten weeks old.  She scolded him for sins only she understood, kept him in line when he thought he might be the boss, and taught him that the dogs in our house stay close to the mommy...not the daddy.

And he was the only dog allowed to invade her personal space.  It took a while, but she warmed up to him, and let him sleep on her paws.

 

 

So now when he wants to fall asleep, he lays his head on my feet.  They aren't nearly as furry and warm, but they seem to be an acceptable substitute. 

I wish I could explain the mysteries of the universe to him the way I did with my children.  Maybe he would find some solace in the idea that "all dogs go to heaven" and the hope that heaven may be filled with meaty bones, shady trees, and bubbling fountains of fresh clean water.

Or not...

I guess I'll never really know.  I just wonder how long he will mourn her loss...how long he will wander the house expecting her return...how long will I?

That is the real question, isn't it?

Until the next time...I'll be using my feet as a head rest!

has technology gone too far?

My son just passed me on his way from the kitchen to the shower.  He was wrapping his cell phone in a zipper lock freezer bag.  Of course, I stopped him to ask what he was doing.  It wasn't everyday I witnessed this strange behavior. 

"I'm taking a shower." He told me.

This much I could tell...the towel over his shoulder...the water running in the bathroom down the hall.  But what did his shower have to do with wrapping his phone in a plastic bag?

"That way, if she texts me I can text her back."  He was referring to his girlfriend, but that much I knew.  What I did know was...

"Are you taking your phone into the shower?" I asked, shocked.

"No...but if I have to text I'll have wet hands."

I had to applaud his ingenuity...even if it wasn't "genius" as he claimed.  It was at least decent forethought.  But as I thought about it, I had to wonder...has technology gone too far?  Do we really need to be so connected that we can't take a shower without having access to our mobile leash? 

I suppose I should ask myself the same question.  I take my phone with me everywhere BUT the shower.  I do draw the line at the shower door.  But maybe I should draw the line at the bathroom door? 

I'll work on that...

In the mean time...I will have to contemplate getting one of those zipper bags for the next time I take a nice long bath.  After all...I can watch movies on my phone!

Until the next time...I'll be surfing the web on my phone while drifting off to sleep!

just a spoonful of worry...

I used to think it would get easier as my children got older.  The worrying I mean. 

When I was carrying them in my womb, I would worry that there was something wrong...some unknown disaster waiting to happen.  If I couldn't feel them moving around in there, I would rush to the doctor, certain they were in some sort of distress. 

When they were born, I hovered over the crib listening to their breathing for hours on end, afraid to step away for fear that the moment I did, the breathing would stop.  I read every baby book I could get my hands on, studying the risks and dangers to infants so I would be certain to avoid them. 

As they grew, my fears changed but never really went away.  I was afraid they would fall from a bicycle or a tree.  Afraid they would wander off in the mall or the grocery store.  Terrified of someone sneaking into the house at night to snatch them away. 

I tried to keep my fears to myself.  I didn't stop them from riding bicycles or learning to swim.  I let them go on sleepovers with friends, trips to amusement parks, play in the waves at the beach.  But in the back of my mind, I was always worried. 

I told myself it was because they were children...that someday they would be grown, and I would be able to take deep breaths again and relax. 

I'm certainly not there yet.

My youngest has a driver's license and a car.  She has graduated from high school, but in my mind, she is still that little girl on the playground...climbing too high...running too fast.

I don't think it will ever get easier.  Not when they slip so far out of my grasp as they grow.  I think I will always want to keep them close, and safe, even when I know I can't. 

I can only hope I taught them how to keep themselves safe, while at the same time enjoying what life has to offer. 

Because you can't really take just a spoonful of worry...you always seem take the whole jar!

Until the next time...I'll be lying awake, worrying.

whatever happened to saturday morning cartoons?

My son came into the living room early this afternoon, and without a word, tuned the television to the Cartoon  Network.  He just smiled as the images came up on the TV.  It was Bugs Bunny...one of my favorites...and I spent the next several minutes watching quietly.

I used to love watching the Saturday morning cartoons. There was nothing quite like eating cereal while watching Bugs Bunny and the Road Runner.  And not just Bugs Bunny...every Saturday there was a steady stream of cartoons to chose from. 

Saturday belonged to the children...young or old...and I for one miss those days.

I don't know exactly when the Saturday morning cartoons vanished.  I believe it happened slowly, replaced by something thoroughly adult, I'm sure. I can't help but notice that since thet cartoons have gone, so too has gone the innocence of youth. 

There was a time when children created new worlds in their imaginations, they played in the yard with nothing but sticks and mud, and they watched cartoons on Saturday mornings.  They were sheltered from the horrors of the world, not dragged into it, kicking and screaming.  The only violence they were subjected to came in the form of an assortment of Acme cartoon gadgets blowing up a cartoon coyote. 

So whose idea was it to take away the cartoon violence only to replace it with violent movies, video games, and real life news?

I, for one, think we need our cartoons back. 

In my house Bugs Bunny is still a staple.  As my son did this afternoon, we embrace it every chance we get.  There is a lesson in there...I'm sure of it!

Until the next time...I'll be flipping the channels looking for cartoons!

a true day of rest

Well, I did what I said I was going to do. 

Nothing.

And I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Mike and I spent the day lounging, lunching, and stepping out to a movie.  I'd love to say I've got lots to say about it, but sorry...I've got nothing.  And I can't say I'm sorry, not really.  It was just so nice to do nothing for an entire day.  It put things into perspective.  Sort of...

I can't do nothing tomorrow, as much as I'd like to.  I have lots to do, and some of it will be unpleasant.  I need to clean the laundry room for a mini-makeover that we're planning.  And I need to get busy organizing the breakfast nook.  It would be really nice to eat in the kitchen again. 

I am still having trouble with the photo posting on here, so I have no pictures for you today...but I'll get busy on that too, and hopefully I can put a few photos up tomorrow.

But for now...it's bedtime for me.  I've had a rough day... :)

Until the next time...I'll be back to work...er...home work!

life goes on...

Note to self…next time you decide to eat a hotdog in front of the dog, be sure to wear a drool-proof smock covering your entire body. 

Life, as they say, goes on.

I vacuumed the last of the chocolate brown dog hair from my bedroom carpet today.  I suppose I was holding off as if it would somehow mean Cybil was still there in a way.  But the truth is, life really does goes on.  She will be missed, and I will keep her with me in my own way…but I have two other dogs (plus the granddog) to take care of. 

And today, they were a handful!

But I suppose I like that about them.  I don’t have dogs to make my life easier.  It is the companionship…and the protection.  You don’t get a dog if you can’t deal with muddy paw prints or dog hair on your favorite pants.  And let’s face it…you don’t get a Mastiff if you can’t live with drool.

Luckily, dog drool wasn’t the highlight of my day.

It was a rainy day, so Mike and I went to see an afternoon movie.  We saw Super 8, and let me just say, I loved it.  It took me back to my childhood and a time when kids used their imaginations instead of their computers…and talked on walky talkies instead of cell phones.  It was an old fashioned summer popcorn movie. 

I may see it again…

But tomorrow I think I’ll just take it easy.  I’ve had a rough week!

Until the next time…I’ll be looking for something relaxing to do!

there is nothing funny about death

So why am I laughing?

I remember being at my grandmother's funeral back in 1985.  I sat in one of the front rows surrounded by close family members.  As my cousins and I sang along with the sorrowful hymns, I couldn't help but smile.  I could almost hear my grandmother singing out of key.  She was a notoriously bad singer, so whether it was my mind playing tricks on me, or something more, the sound of horribly out of key singing brought a smile to my lips.

When I shared my feelings with my cousins, we all started to laugh. My grandmother would have wanted us to find joy on that day.  Not because of her passing, but rather because we were together, remembering her with fondness. 

What does my grandmother's funeral have in common with my dog dying? 

As sad as I was in the wake of her death (and believe me, the tears still come without warning)  I couldn't escape the morbid humor all around me.

She had died in the living room.  And as much as I didn't want to move her, I knew we had to get her to the vet, somehow.  The only solution we could come up with was to wrap her in a heavy cotton blanket and carry her. 

All one hundred pounds of her.

I don't even want to know what my neighbors must have thought if they witnessed us carrying her out to the car in that blanket, like a body wrapped in a giant burrito.  She was heavier than I remembered.  I knew she was a hundred pounds in life, but without her soul to hold her up, she was even heavier.  I stumbled slightly coming down the front steps and worried that I would drop my side.  We must have looked like a pair of inept criminals carting out a dead body.

I'll bet they're still trying to account for all of the kids. 

My first thought was that my life had somehow turned into a black comedy...and I don't mean a Jack Black movie.  I told my husband that murder was officially off my future career list from that moment on.  Disposing of a dead body is NOT a fun task. 

I cried the whole way to the vet, thinking about how much I would miss her.  She always reminded us of a big brown bear, and we would often joke that when she died we would have her made into a rug...that was the thought that came to mind as we drove the short distance to the new vet.  The vet that would never know Cybil in life, but would take care of her in death.  I suddenly didn't want a bear skin rug for in front of the fire.  And nothing was funny anymore.

Until I came home to find Indy sleeping in her spot...keeping it warm I imagine.  I sort of felt like she passed the reins to him before she went.  Like maybe she told him he had to take care of us now, because she can't.  It will be his job to bark at the neighbors, and sleep beside my bed. 

She's on to bigger and better things...

I wonder if up there in doggy heaven Lady was waiting when Cybil got there.  If she was, I'm sure I knew what she would say (if she could speak)..."Not you again! Everywhere I go you show up!"

Dogs will be dogs after all.

Until the next time...I'll be laughing through the tears.

I really didn’t expect that

I knew when I woke up that it was going to be a bad day.  My daughter’s car was left stranded across town after breaking down just before midnight, and I had to get up at the crack of dawn to drive there and call a tow truck to get it.  All this after getting less than five hours of sleep the night before. 

If I had only known that this would be the highlight of my day.  If I had only known that just a few hours later, I would be saying goodbye to a member of my family.  

I know dogs aren't people...but the simple fact is, sometimes they just do a better job of acting like it than some of the people I know. 

But Cybil wasn’t always a good dog.  She had her bad habits, as charming as they may seem now.

When she was younger, she liked to steal bread from the kitchen counter.  And she liked to escape the yard and run down the street, waiting at the end until someone would give chase. Only then would she circle around and head back to the house.  It was her favorite game.  She didn’t like many people…especially men…but she loved her family.  And we always knew if she was around, we were safe. 

I have thought about her last day with us, and wondered…was she happy?

I think she was.  In her last moments, she came up to see me as I worked on my laptop.  She put her head on my arm and I scratched behind her ear the way she liked.  Then she flopped down on the floor beside my chair—wherever I was, she wasn’t far away—and she slipped off to sleep for the last time. 

She didn’t make a sound…not a single whimper…she was just gone. 

But not forgotten…she will never be forgotten.

Until the next time…I’ll be remembering Cybil.



how many ways can you decorate the same room?

You may not be obsessive about buying magazines, like I am...but who hasn't flipped through a home magazine in the doctor's office or grocery store checkout lane and found a picture that made them wonder why their house can't look like that?

I spend far too many hours in the day wondering that very thing.

I have literally stacks upon stacks of home decorating magazines piled up in various places in my house. My husband has suggested that we could use my stash of magazines to heat the house for the entire winter if we burned them (something we will never know for sure if I have anything to say about it). I even thinned out my collection when we moved, discarding anything older than 2007.

It would seem I still have a few too many.

The thing is...I love my magazines. I love flipping through them for inspiration. Where else could I find such a wealth of valuable inspiration?

As it turns out, there are a lot of really great decorating blogs out there!

I have discovered a list of very inspirational blogs to rival my favorite magazine titles.  I may have actually kicked the magazine habit after all…well, that may be premature…but I may be able to cut back considerably at the very least. 

So after spending a few hours clicking through my new favorite decorating blogs this morning, I spent the rest of the day rearranging my furniture.  And I don’t mean just moving around pillows and lamps…no I moved the chairs, the tables, and even the sofa. 

By myself. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t as difficult as I expected.  But I still felt like I’d finished a pretty good workout by the time I was finished.  And that was when I stopped to survey the room.

I hated it.

Not just mild dislike either.  It was awful.  So I moved it around again.  And again.  And again after that, until I was satisfied with the room. 

I may move it all back tomorrow.  Once I’ve had time to rest. 

The good news is I managed to vacuum every plume of dog hair hiding under the furniture, (not to mention removing at least a dozen tennis balls, various rubber dog toys, one bone and a half eaten water bottle) and my living room is now perfectly clean.

I will check the decorating blogs again in the morning before starting my day. I may get more inspiration before shifting the furniture around again…then again; I may find reassurance that I should leave it right where it is now.  Who knows…I may actually get the inspiration to finally make those pillows I have been putting off for months. 

Or maybe I’ll just head out to the store and pick up a new magazine…

Nah…probably not.

Until the next time…I’ll be tripping over the coffee table in its new spot!

who's washing who?

I love dogs.

Everyone who spends time with me, or reads my blog, knows this.  I am like the parent of a toddler, constantly snapping photographs of my puppy as if he was my first born.  My children laugh at me...my husband rolls his eyes...and even the dog grows weary of the attention from time to time.  But what can I say?  Since my children are all but grown, he has become my newest baby.  But like all babies, sometimes he smells.

Today was one of those days. 

Indy was laying on the bed, in a pile of my husband's clean laundry, when my husband proclaimed that he smelled like a dog.

I tried to put things into perspective...Indy is, in fact, a dog...and therefore should smell like one. That wasn't good enough.  My husband wanted Indy to have a bath. 

The problem with that is this...we no longer have the spacious shower we used to have, and Indy won't fit.  I tried the groomer thing a few weeks back only to regret my decision.  The only solution was the self-grooming baths at the local Petco.  It was cheap (only $10 no matter how big the dog) and convenient (just a few miles away).  So Mike and I piled Indy into the car and headed to the Petco for a bath. 

I had no idea that the "bath" would be a group event!

We checked in and were directed to the bathing area.  The attendant suggested that we try putting Indy into the stainless steel tub.  Mike and I just looked at each other, and then the dog, and laughed.  There was no way OUR dog was going into THAT tub! 

She just smiled and nodded her agreement and pointed out the shampoo and cream rinse and showed us how to adjust the water.  She then said we should "hook" Indy to the tub with the attached tether to keep him in the area.

I adamently vetoed this idea, and Mike agreed.  Indy would have pulled the tub from the wall.  We were going to have to wash him by holding his leash and hoping he would stand still. 

It certainly sounded easy enough. 

It wasn't.  Indy didn't want to stand still.  He wanted to investigate everything in the bathing area.  Lucky for me, he was familiar with the bathing process and he let us wash him without putting up a fight.  Unfortunately, he stands about waist high,  so when he would lean against us or shake, we got very wet.  Not to mention the fact that the hose was not easy to control, so Mike got even more wet than I when I accidentally aimed it right at his shorts through Indy's legs. 

Add a few more vigorous "shakes" and my cotton apron was completely soaked through. 

But thank goodness for that apron.  It was my only bit of intellegent forethought in planning this little outting as I was wearing white capri pants and a thin white t-shirt.  I can only imagine my embarrassment if I had been forced to walk out of the petstore in my see-through whites after the bath I took inside!

All in all, Indy was a very good boy while he got his bath.  It was only at the very end, after he had been thoroughly towel dried, when I tried to use the blow dryers to further dry him, that he grabbed his leash from the floor with his teeth and bolted for the back of the grooming area. 

I suppose I couldn't blame him...the blowers were very loud, and strong enough to nearly blow my flip flops from my wet feet!

We gave up on the dryers and piled a damp Indy back into the car.  He rode home with the most content look on his face, and spend the rest of the evening sleeping on a pile of clean blankets that I laid out on the sofa for him.  He smells very nice now.

Hopefully Indy will stay clean for at least a few weeks...it may take that long for Mike's shoes to dry out!

Until the next time...I'll be leaving my flip flops out in the sun to dry!

the return of florence nightingale

I wonder if anyone even remembers Miss Nightingale...she is the hypochondriac in my family who had enrolled in nursing school.  And as nurses go, Florence is going to make one hell of a hairdresser!

As I predicted so many months ago, Florence has left the nursing program for less gory pastures.  She is now enrolled in one of the finest costmetology schools in the country.  And despite my own near terminal OCD, I have agreed to be her guinea pig for color services. 

I really wasn't worried.  I had faith in her...and even more faith that, if the color went wrong, we could very easily color over it so no one would ever know.

As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about.  It may have taken the better part of the evening (and an entire roll of paper towels) but my hair looks amazing. 

And we didn't have to fix a single thing about it! The base color turned out fabulous, and the highlights are perfect. 

We did almost have a catastrophe when the dog decided he needed to lay down immediately beneath my feet...he was just moments away from becoming a dalmation...well...maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but I doubt the bleach would have improved his looks as much as it did mine.

And as far as my hair goes...I think I could get used to highlights...and just in time for summer too!

How perfect is that? And to think...if things had gone differently she would have been changing bed pans instead. 

Until the next time...I'll be admiring my new hair!

due to technical difficulties...

I really hate those words...due to technical difficulties...but it seems in a modern world, they are almost always right on the tip of the tongue.

Who hasn't lost their internet right in the middle of watching Netflix online?  Or had their cell phone crash while playing a winning round of solitaire?  Or worse...had their computer reboot before saving the document they spent hours writing without a single save? 

The story of my life...sort of.

I spent over an hour trying to log onto my website to post tonight's blog, only to be denied access repeatedly.  But not with an error message, explaining to me why I was being denied access.  Rather, I was just not able to log on.  No explanation...no error message...no reason at all. 

I may never know what caused the mysterious problem, but it seems to be rectified at the moment. 

So, due to technical difficulties, I will not be going to bed at a reasonable hour.  I will also not be writing a long blog.  Or getting up at the crack of dawn.

Then again, I might not have done those things anyway...it's a Monday after all...and I don't have anywhere I need to be.

Well, other than right here writing a better blog than the one I'm writing tonight.  But you can't fight technical difficulties...you just can't.

Until the next time...I'll be starting my blog earlier in the day for a change!

a treasure hunt

I spoke to my daughter on the phone tonight.  She was calling from out of town, asking me if I was ready for her to come home.  She’s been gone for over a week now, and I think she might actually miss me as much as I miss her, and I can’t find the words to describe how nice that feels. 

I guess I had accepted her as being grown up—as much as I resisted the idea—I have tried to force myself to stop seeing her as a little girl.  But the little girl I gave birth to almost eighteen years ago is still in there, perhaps hiding on me most of the time…but she’s there.

I think it’s time for some mother/daughter summer activities.

Now that summer is in full swing I think we need to find something fun to do.  Perhaps a day at the lake…or a trip to the mountains. 

But for now, it’s a day of cleaning out the garage. 

Mike and I started the job today, and we will be finishing it tomorrow.  I must admit, as much as I loathe the task, it has had its benefits.  I do have a feeling of accomplishment now that we can actually walk through the garage without stepping over or around any obstacles.  And it was like a treasure hunt.  I found many things I thought were lost or discarded long ago.  Like the ink for the printer that I had to replace because it was missing.  I guess I have a backup now.

I wonder what I’ll find tomorrow…

Until the next time…I’ll be knee deep in boxes for at least one more day!

to loft...or not to loft?

Mike and I are still working on the plans for the small structure we are building on our mountain hideaway.  We have run into a bit of a snag.

Mike would like to build a sleeping loft for the bedroom, and I would rather not fall to my death from a sleeping loft when I trip on the ladder, roll off the side in my sleep, or a combination of the two. 

I want a rustic hotel room...he wants a fishing cabin.

And so, the debate rages on.

I have no idea where we'll end up on this one, but I intend on holding my ground...and staying as close to it as possible!

Wish me luck...I'll need it!

Until the next time...it's back to the drawing board again!

bombs away!

Being a parent is never boring.

Over the years, I have spent time helping in classrooms...acting as team Mom for spring baseball...occasionally homeschooling...hosting sleepovers...teaching them to drive, cook, and apparently to swear...so why would I stop now?

 Today I accompanied my son to traffic court for moral support.

We got there ahead of schedule after misjudging the summer traffic and sat for a while in the car before entering the courthouse. Once we had gone through security and found the proper courtroom, I settled into a bench in the hallway, just outside of the courtroom, to check email (and read the entertainment news) on my mobile device.

I felt a little like the resident information officer as I had to tell a handful of people that they should continue into the courtroom, as I was only sitting outside for fun, and not really part of the process.

I almost asked for a name tag and a clipboard.

But after a short while, the people had all filed into court and I was left alone to surf the web in peace.

I guess I was wrapped up in the latest news gossip online, so I didn’t hear someone trying to catch my attention.

I looked up to see a woman who already had a name tag and a clipboard motioning for me to follow her.  “You need to leave.” She said. 

I was immediately afraid that I someone turned me in for giving directions to people entering the courtroom.  My worry was short lived as she finished her sentence.  “They are clearing the courthouse; everyone needs to evacuate the building.”

What a relief! 

I wasn’t in trouble; I was in the middle of a mandatory evacuation.  A bomb threat, I discovered as I was swept into the sea of people rushing out of the building. 

We were told to cross the street into the square and wait until the building was clear.  It was nine-thirty in the morning, and I was suddenly very hungry.

Apparently bomb threats make me hungry. 

I wasn’t the least bit worried about the courthouse blowing up (my car was parked at least a block away) instead, I was scoping out the shops for someplace serving breakfast.  I figured I may as well eat while we were waiting.  And we were in luck…the Australian bakery was just across the square.

After a blackberry scone and a drink, I was ready to face the danger at hand—the rising temperature!  It had been almost comfortable when we first stepped outside.  There was even a light breeze.  But suddenly, it was becoming unbearable as the temperature climbed out of the eighties. 

An hour turned into two before the building was clear for everyone to file back in through the security check point at eleven-thirty.  I jokingly said to someone that after spending two hours in the hot sun in courtroom appropriate attire, they should at least discount the fines.  You know, like a “one day bomb threat half price special”!  I thought that would be fair.  It would make all the people that didn’t have court today jealous.  I imagined them cursing their continuances.  “Damn!  I could have gotten the bomb threat half price special if I had only gone to court today!”

Everyone laughed at my suggestion.

But I didn’t mind…it was funny.  I mean, it’s not like a judge was actually going to give anyone a break just because they were unlucky enough to have court on the day someone decides to blow up the courthouse. 

As it turns out, my son’s judge did exactly that!

She sliced the fines in half for everyone who came out of her courtroom before my son came out…and his fine was cut in half too.  I can’t speak to what happened after that, because we paid his fine and got the heck out of there. 

It was lunch time, and I was hungry again.

We stopped for lunch on the way home…I figured we might as well make a day of it. I was feeling lucky.  After all…we had just spent the morning in a bad remake of a Keanu Reeves movie.  Or was it a Bruce Willis movie? 

At least we hadn’t taken the bus to get there!

Until the next time…I’ll be checking my lottery tickets!

back to the drawing board...

Since I have finally, and officially, vetoed any chance of a yurt on our mountain property, we are...as they say...back to the drawing board.

And by back to the drawing board, I mean we are drawing the plans for a small weekend retreat. 

It is a compromise between my desire for a more permanent structure, and Mike's desire for a yurt.  The building will be a mere 12x16 feet, and will serve as little more than a safe place to stay while we build the permanent home.  But I'm ok with that, because it means it will have a door...and a floor...and a roof...and I will be able to lock myself in at night so bears can't get me. 

And really, what more could a girl ask for? 

With any luck we will get started right away.  Which essentially means we will be staying in a tent for at least a few more visits.  We may need to invest in a few cots and a better bucket!

Until the next time...I'll be tweaking the plans just a bit to fit my sofa!

back before vampires sparkled...

Back before Twilight and the Vampire Diaries...in a world where vampires burned in the sun and and took shelter in crypts...there was a slayer named Buffy and her "cursed with a soul" boyfriend, Angel.

I discovered, purely by accident, that my husband's youngest daughter had never been introduced to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  We were flipping channels, trying to find something remotely interesting to watch, when we stumbled upon the very first episode of the series. 

It was my favorite show during most of its run, and I have to say, it still holds up all these years later.  I'm not sure if Mady agreed...but give me time.  I did get her hooked on the Vampire Diaries not so long ago. 

For now, I will have to be satisfied with the fact that she recognized Angel as being Booth from the Fox TV show Bones.  It's the small things that satisfy us, sometimes. 

Don't mind me, I may be suffering from a little heat exhaustion left over from my weekend of camping.  I may try getting back on track tomorrow.  I have many projects to get started on...

Which reminds me...I never did make those throw pillows for the sofa!

Until the next time...I'll be dusting off the sewing machine!

good to be home

After a lovely weekend of living like a pioneer, it's good to be home.  There is just nothing like sleeping in your very own bed. 

No matter how well I prepare for a camping trip, it always seems as if I forget something important...like a bed.  And a reliable internet connection.  Possibly air conditioning. 

I may just be a little on the wimpy side when it comes to camping.  But we did have a really nice time!  You'll just have to check out the pictures!

Until the next time...I'll be recuperating in an air conditioned bedroom in my king size bed!