Random Acts of Vintage

The Great Mouse Hunt Part II

2009-07-10T08:11:00.000-07:00

I talked the other day about the mouse in the house, and his sad flight into the neighbor's next yard. Well, that wasn't the end of it all.

Let me first say that Dan works with Freddy, who happens to be from Guatemala. Freddy's a great guy, an Apostolic who is devout in his faith. I'd actually love to go to his church, because I suspect that there's nothing quite like a bunch of Hispanic holy rollers. I think it would be inspiring. But I digress.

Freddy has pretty good command of the English language, though he does have a thick accent. Dan likes working with him, because he's really improved his Spanish, and of course, Freddy's improved his English. Every once in a while, he'll come out with "oh my Gah," when something happens, which Dan, of course, emulates when things need lightened up around here. The topic this week has been "Michael Yackson," and all of the sad events related to his demise, because Dan loved MJ, and is amused by the fact that Freddy knows about him, too, even if he can't say the name right.

Dan usually carpools with Freddy to worksites, driving Dan's old minivan. (Hey, we have teenagers. We can't afford one of those fancy-schmancy painter's vans, thought it is Dan's dream.) He drives an old minivan that he'll drive till its dead -- the mechanic actually told us last year that it would only last another six months. It's been almost a year. Well, the van started out white, and now has paint dabs all over the doors, and a gold hood, where a customer "forgot" that he was there, and backed right into his van. Goofy.

Anyway, his van is usually packed up with dropclothes, paint poles, and a big Rubbermaid container full of brushes, rollers, and the like. He will lug it out once in a while, dump it all out, and reorganize. He's a very organized person -- unlike me. So he lugs it out at the job site on this particular day, he said, and later wondered why the heck there were flies all around it. Didn't think too much about it till he dug around later for a brush, and found a dead mouse.

He pulls it out and says "hey Freddy, look," as he's holding it up by its tail. Freddy replied "en espanol, raton," with that trilling r that I can't do. Dan says "raton is dead," to which Freddy shrugged and responded "go with Yackson."

Dan just cracked up. Funny thing is, maybe Freddy's right -- Yackson did sing Ben, after all, and maybe it was mini-Ben got lugged over the fence the other night, then found his revenge in Rubbermaid.

Go with Yackson.

Movin' on Up

2009-07-07T19:30:00.000-07:00

I think I've mentioned that Thomas is moving out. He's getting his first apartment, and he's pretty pumped up about it. He came down the other day and asked me if I'd help him pack. I shivered at the thought.

I told him he should start with his clothes first. Do the winter clothes now, and save what he needs to wear this week till later, but bring down the dirty clothes, cause I didn't want him packing away dirty clothes. "I don't have any dirty clothes," said the heir to the throne. Sure. Right. Those of you who have read about his laundry in the past know that it is a thing to be feared.

I went up to his room, and was met with the normal view -- floor covered with clothes. I pointed to one pile and asked, "what is that?" He said "oh, those are dirty." "So you DO have dirty clothes up here. What about these?" I pointed to the pile next to the other one and asked "what's up with these?" "Oh, those are clean." Just exactly how he could tell the difference is something that only a nineteen year old boy would know.

I folded a few things and got him started, then left him to his own devices, telling him to bring the dirty stuff down. A little bit later, he comes down with half a hamper of clothes. I told him that no way was that all of it. He said "well, you don't want it all. There's a LOT." OK, now we're getting to the bottom of it. I told him to go back upstairs and toss down the dirty stuff, cause I was doing laundry, and wanted to do it all at one time. The result was an avalanche of clothes that darn near could've knocked me out, and completely blocked anyone from the stairs.

::sigh::

At this point, I yelled up "throw your sheets down, too." "WHAT," he replied. "THROW YOUR SHEETS DOWN." I gave up all hope with the response:

"I have sheets?"

The Great Mouse Hunt

2009-07-03T19:09:00.000-07:00

Seth told me the other day that he had heard something crunching in his room the night before. Those who have read this blog in the past know that Seth tends to travel in a little different orbit than the rest of us, so I just told him maybe there was a carpenter bee behind his dresser. Or maybe something had found some of the food that is bound to be in a 14yo boy's room. Who knows. He was serious, and just knew that something was in there, and for some reason, he thought it was a rat. Hmmm.........

Later that afternoon, he came out and said that Bandit, our big dumb lug fat cat, was stalking something, and he had, indeed, seen a mouse scuttle across the room. Crazy. Now, we do tend to see ONE mouse a year in this house -- it's an old house -- but it's always in the fall, right when the cold weather starts. Not in the summer, but hey, the kid saw it, so there must be one. I went in to check it out, and the Fat Cat was trying desperately to get behind the dresser, and Jill's dog was, for some reason, desperately trying to get under the bed. Well, I had Seth pull the dresser out, and found the dog brush that had been missing, several pens, a pair of flip flops, and enough dog hair to stuff a small pillow. Kinda like when I cleaned out the couch. The only thing we didn't find was a mouse, but we did get all the crap cleaned out before we put the dresser back, almost crunching Bandit in the process, because he was determined to get back there.

A couple hours later, Seth ran out and said that Bandit had indeed caught a mouse, followed by the inevitable "SEE, I told you I heard something in there." Turned out that Bandit, the big fat lug, had caught the mouse, tossed it around a couple of times before dropping it, giving it ample time to run for its life into a corner and disappear. Seth was, of course, freaked out, thinking that Bandit would drop it on his pillow in the middle of the night.

Next morning, I checked: no mouse on the bed. No cat stalking. Life moves on, at least for us, cause that mouse is probably dead.

Mid morning, Seth tells me that Bandit caught the mouse whilst I was in the shower, then ran downstairs with it. Not good! There is a lot of stuff in the basement. Stuff that I don't want a mouse eating, and stuff I don't want a mouse rotting in. We went down and tried to find it, to no avail, so I just prepared for the worst: opening a box one day and finding Mickey dead at the bottom. The day moves on, and then about 9 o'clock, Dan yells "come here, and bring the camera." Well, my camera is dead, and it's in the basement, so no go on that one, big guy. I run over, and he and Seth are standing on the stairs, staring at Bandit.

Apparently, the mouse either dragged itself out of its grave, or Bandit came back and got it, because now it was lying on the basement floor next to him. He was looking mighty smug, probably because we'd all said that he was too fat to grab it, but there it was. I asked Dan if it was dead, and he said yes. Seth said it wasn't, and I wasn't convinced either, so Dan tossed a wad of paper its way, and yep, it moved. Not much, but more than a dead thing would. I told him to get it the hell outta my house, and put it out far enough that the dogs wouldn't get it.

Few minutes later, I'm sitting on the couch, innocently IM'ing my niece, when in walks Dan, carrying a plastic drinking glass that he's covering with a gloved hand. He came over and started to lift the hand off the top, and was met with a blood curdling scream from his soul mate, followed quickly by me yelling "GET THAT THING THE HELL OUTTA MY HOUSE!" It was at that point that he stopped, stared, and turned the glass over, dumping the contents on my new rug. Only there were no contents. That damn glass was as empty as Sarah Palin's head, and Dan just doubled over laughing. I did too, and laughed literally till I cried, until Seth came skidding in the room, asking what the heck had happened. We couldn't even tell him.

A while later, I asked Dan to get me a glass of water, because he was in the kitchen. In he walks with the same stinkin' glass, now half full of water. I was horrified, even when he insisted that the mouse had never been in that glass, but I told him I didn't want hantavirus, so go wash his hands and get me a different glass. He did, but he was still laughing when we went to bed.

Dan said he'd taken it outside and tossed it over the fence in the backyard. Poor thing! First it survives one cat attack. Then it survives a second cat attack that involved just about everything but waterboarding, only to be followed by an Air France flight over our fence, and Dan laughing about the whole thing. Seth still has that "I told you so" look whenever it's brought up, and Bandit looks alternatively proud of himself, and pissy that we took his prize away. Me? I am gonna get my own drink the next time.

Click the image to shop.

What goes around, comes around

2009-07-02T18:36:00.000-07:00

Thomas is moving out soon. This, of course, may be of little significance, since a lot of times, I forget he even lives here. Thomas is the quiet one in the family: the only one who isn't a talker. Add this to the fact that he works evenings most of the time, then stays up most of the night, and we don't usually see him till dinnertime anyway.

On Sunday of Memorial weekend, we were sitting around, trying to figure out some plans for the next day. Whatever it was, Thomas mentioned that he couldn't do it, because he had to work the next day. Since he normally works day shift on weekends and holidays, I didn't think a thing about it. Noon the next day, who wanders into the living room but Thomas. "What are YOU doing here," I asked him. I was, of course, met with a look of "my mother is an idiot" from the heir to the throne, who merely responded, "uh, I live here." "Well, I thought you were working today." "I don't work till this evening," he said. Oh!

Mid-afternoon, Jill wanted to go to the movies, and as we were getting ready, Dan asked if Thomas was going. I said no, he was working 3-11. "Well," Dan said, "then why is his car here?" "Oh, dear Lord, he must've lost track of time," I said, and ran upstairs in a mild panic (see, I still kind of feel responsible, though I don't work there anymore). I said "What are you doing here?" The look of "I am the child of an idiot" came my way. "I told you, I work tonight." I slunk out of his room, feeling rather dumb that he must've been working at 4, not 3.

Off we went to the movies. We got home, and there he was, washing his car in the driveway. Well now I was SURE that he'd screwed up. Jumped out of the car and demanded "What are you doing here?" He just shook his head at me and looked away. "Seriously. What are you doing here?" He was till looking at me like I was an idiot when he told me that it was Monday, which means he didn't have to go in till 10. Yeah, all of these exchanges, and I never found out what time he actually was supposed to go in. Guess that would've been valuable information, since he goes in at different times on different days, but meantime, the boy is probably still shaking his head and wondering why the heck his mother keeps asking him what he is doing here. In his own home.

The answer? He lives here. But only till the 13th, after which time he'll probably answer the door at his apartment and ask me "what are you doing here?"

News from My Orbit

2009-05-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

We recently had our hardwoods refinished -- as usual, a long involved process that included a dog jumping through a bedroom screen, but hey, that's how we live around here. Happily, as soon as that ratty carpet came up, I was able to get off all my asthma meds, so yeah, hardwoods are good.

Flip side is that I told Dan I wasn't turning on the A/C until the ducts got vacuumed, cause I knew that they had to be full of sawdust. I scheduled an appointment with Hoosier Air Solutions, after a very interesting conversation with Dana, the owner. Nice guy who knows his stuff, so I felt good going into this. Felt even better when the tech showed up on time and ready to roll, had a USI shirt on (that's where The Brat is going to school in August), and was seemingly an equally nice guy. We were off to a great start.

So I was showing said guy around the house, when he asked to see where the furnace was. I was walking downstairs to show him when I heard the back door open and who should show up but Dan's brother. Four dogs, two cats, two teenaged boys, a brother in law, and a HUGE vacuum cleaner was going to, I knew, make for yet another interesting day in the land of Utter Chaos.

Brother in law said he needed to use our internet connection, cause his laptop wasn't working at his sister's hours. Fine. If there's one thing that we do well around here, it's internet connection. Basically, if our internet connection went wonky, I'm pretty sure three of us would have to be committed, so yeah, coming to our house to use our connection isn't any big surprise. Since James is doing a class online, he really needed to get a good connection, so he plopped on the couch and started working.

He got to the website and his computer froze. He was not happy, as this is a problem he's apparently been having, and a couple of reboots later, things weren't looking up. I told him to borrow Dan's, but he kept trying to reload the site, without success. This set off a bit of a fit that involved some yelling at the computer and slapping of the keyboard, and ended with Dan's laptop in his lap. Great. He set off to working on his class, which happens to be medical terminology -- right up my alley.

Dan had told me some time ago that he was doing a medical terminology class, but when I asked Dan why, he said that he was working toward being a medical transcriptionist. Whaaaat? Even Dan couldn't explain how a deaf guy could be a transcriptionist, since that is 100% taking dictation, which usually requires hearing, but if anyone could work it out, it'd be James, so fine. When he showed up to work on his class, he mentioned he's working on being a medical biller and coder, which makes MUCH more sense to me. Thought I was losing it for a minute, but James explained it much better. And although James lip reads, and speaks fluently, I'm sure that his normal vocabulary isn't 100% what ours is, but he's doing great in school, with a B average.

So there I am, sitting on the couch, working on my website, and James is working on a "reverse translation," which meant that he had to translate a paragraph from laymen's terms to medical-ese. You know, this is probably not the easiest thing to learn how to do, but imagine if you can't hear any of what's being said -- definitely makes things a bit harder. Well, he got stuck on something and needed help, so I started trying to explain it to him. Suddenly, I hear this whining that I thought at first was James' hearing aid, till I realized no, it was just the big ole vacuum starting up again. Cool. Cool, that is, till the dogs realized what was going on and started barking like rabid animals. James just kept talking and reading from his book to me, totally oblivious to the caucophony, much less to the fact that I couldn't hear a doggone word he was saying.

That's when it occurred to me: I'm sitting on the couch, dogs barking, big vacuum sucking out the insides of my house, trying to teach Latin to a deaf guy, and I'm the one telling HIM that I can't hear him.

So yeah, that's life in my orbit. How's yours?

Meantime, I'm too lazy to shop for vintage today, so just check out the Hoosier Air Solutions website, cause this is a good way to make life suck, but in a good way.

Possum. And I'm not playin'

2009-04-29T19:46:00.000-07:00

We have suddenly acquired a possum in our yard. This is not an easy feat, considering we live in a very urban, inner city area, but leave it to us to get a possum.

This fat thing showed up one night when Seth let the dogs out to do their business. He came running in the house, frantically looking for Jill's help, because Big Butt and Butthead were going nuts, whilst Rocky was, of course, oblivious to the entire thing because he is an idiot.

Next day, I was in the sunroom scanning patterns. It was about five o'clock or so -- broad daylight -- as I sat in front of the picture window, scanning away. Well, you know that feeling you get when something's just not right? I got that feeling, and looked out the window to see that that possum was eying me from on top of the fence, on the other side of the driveway. I mean EYEING me, like Louis Gossett, Jr and Richard Gere in "An Officer and a Gentleman." Creepy. Have you ever seen the claws on a possum? They are HUGE.

That possum sat there eyeing me for at least twenty minutes, even after the kids and the dogs came in the room and looked at him. We ordered Chinese, and long story short, Seth had to go out to pay the guy by going out the back door (maybe I'll tell that story tomorrow), went walking down the driveway right by that possum. Dan was cracking up, of course, and I was just hoping he didn't make it angry. Seth, as usual, was oblivious. When he came walking back up the driveway with the food, I was even more concerned, so I said "hey Seth, look to your left." He about jumped outta his skin when he realized that the possum was only about three feet from his head.

We've seen the critter off and on since, always on the fence. I haven't seen him in a while, but the kids have, so I'm always nervous letting the dogs out, especially at night. He kind of disappeared for a couple of days, so I thought maybe he was gone but oh no, he decided to appear today. Today. The day that the guys came to strip the hardwoods, and the dogs had to stay in Seth's room for the day. Seth's room -- the closest room to the fence. And the dogs saw him sitting there for the longest, till he ambled up the tree in the neighbor's yard, which I had suspected all along was his home.

Have you ever heard dogs going crazy over a possum? Three dogs? Try adding that to the sound of a pneumatic nail gun, a huge circular sander, a table saw, and several hammers, and that's how I spent my morning. My head is still pounding from the mayhem. And I get to do it all again tomorrow, since the floors still aren't done yet. So if anyone knows a good way to get rid of a gangsta possum from the ghetto, please let me know. Guns are not permitted, lest Jill throw herself between the gun and the possum, but I'm open for ideas. No dogs allowed.

Southern Living

2009-04-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

I had to drive down to Evansville today, so that Jill could get registered for classes and do freshman orientation. Just having Jill in the car can be an interesting experience, and we had to leave at 5:15, so I really wasn't sure what to expect. I guess I knew it wouldn't be normal when I saw her walk out to the car in her pajamas, with a comforter wrapped around her head.

It was pouring rain, too, which didn't excite me too much. I love my little Yaris, but when it's windy, it blows all over the place -- you'd think with this fatty in the car, I'd anchor it down, but no go. Add dark, semis and pouring rain to the mix, toss it in a bowl, and you get how I spent three and half hours of my morning. And without caffeine, too, which definitely made me cranky, but since Jill was sleeping in the back seat, I didn't want to stop and risk waking the sleeping dragon, so I just kept going.

Round about Vincennes, two and a half hours into our journey, Jill sat up and announced she was changing clothes. In the back seat of the car. I guess her days of modesty are gone, because after some muttering and kicking the back of my seat, she tossed the orientation schedule at me. This paper was something that she had gotten in the mail several weeks ago and me, trying to avoid being a helicopter parent, trusted her when she told me the time we needed to arrive. I asked her again the other day, and the answer was the same -- 8 o'clock. I even happened to remember that Evansville, being in the heel of the boot, so to speak, is on Central time, which gave us an extra hour. An extra hour, that is, till I looked at that form and saw the little blurb about the placement test starting at 7am. The mandatory placement test which, if you don't take it, you can't register for classes.

That's when the mama dragon woke up, sans coffee, and was not smelling roses.

I was pretty concerned about doing seven hours of driving, only to come home unscheduled for classes, but right about the time I started vocalizing my concerns, Jill said she felt sick. Said she felt sick in a tone that only a mother can appreciate, when you're in a car with a kid in a back seat full of stuff that isn't gonna be easy to clean up if she spews. I yelled at her to get in the front seat, thinking that all of the blowing around of the car might be making her carsick, and next thing you know, she's clambering over the gearshift and plopping next to me.

It was a miracle cure.

After missing a turn to the school, we finally arrived, only to be told that yes, she could do the placement test, but not till the afternoon, or she'd only have twenty minutes to do it. Sat through two long orientation sessions -- finally got caffeine in the break, which was a good thing, cause I was falling asleep for sure, and got the fisheye from a couple of the speakers. There may have been snoring involved, but I'm not sure of that. I do know that nothing will put a grown woman to sleep quicker than seemingly intelligent people asking stupid questions that have already been answered, especially when it involves financial aid. The other thing I know is that I walked out with another Mountain Dew in my purse, just for safety's sake.

Took The Brat to advising, so she could schedule her classes. Twenty minutes later, he walked out alone. No sign of Jill. They ended up taking every kid who was waiting, and a few more who walked in, before Jill finally reappeared. She looked happy, thank God. And so, after spending eight hours at the halls of secondary education, what was the one thing that Jill had to say about her day?

"Most of the guys I saw were not bad looking. Oh, let that guy out of his parking space first. He's cute." ::guy pulls out in front of me, after cutting me off in the first place:: "Oh, never mind, he's not that great. But that guy who handed me my bag? He was fine." Oh yes, great readers, you too will one day understand that the most important thing in freshman orientation is finding that the guys are not bad looking, and some rank as just darn FINE. And since she came home and looked up some of her professor's on Rate My Professors, she's already changed her schedule to something more acceptable. But one thing remains the same: those boys are fine.
God help me. I may need Xanax for this. Click the image to help with tuition money.

Dude, where's your chair?

2009-04-25T19:55:00.001-07:00

We went downtown today to the Earth Day celebration. Seth plays in an African drum group, and they've performed at Earth Day for three years running now. It serves the dual purpose of being their spring performance, but it sure is fun. They get to perform with the adult group, Village Drums, who are phenomenal to watch.

Seth got interested in drumming when he was about four. Our next door neighbor, Rad (yes, that's his real name) was in Village Drums, and he used to practice in the back yard. Seth was never, ever shy, and he used to stand by the privacy fence and bellow that he wanted to see what Rad was doing. Rad, being the nice guy he is, invited Seth over to play the bongo a little bit, and Seth was hooked.

Several years later, I saw a post on a homeschool board, from someone offering drum lessons to kids. It was just for a week in the summer, which was the perfect time to try it out. He returned in the fall for lessons, and has been playing for four years now. They play drums, cowbells, tambourines, and all sorts of percussion instruments that I can't even pronounce the names of. The first time they performed with Village Drums at Earth Day, I told him how cool I thought it was. His only response was the complaint that it was hard to play with the adults because he couldn't hear his part. As time has progressed and I've seen them play together several times, I realize it really must be hard for them, but they sound good nonetheless.

If you ever get a chance to go to a performance, or participate in a drum circle -- go. It's not something you'll forget. Of course, this year, the most memorable thing was actually after Seth was done. He and I were standing there listening to the adults play while Dan, as usual, wandered around talking to people. The whole thing was being done under a big tent, so we were standing on the grass. There were some chairs there, but not many, so I was standing there listening, when suddenly the guy in the chair next to me rolled right off his chair and onto my foot, doing a face plant right in the grass.

Now, I knew Earth Day is all about taking care of the earth, but doing a face plant onto Mother Earth is taking it a little far.

Heck, I wasn't sure if the guy was dead, having a seizure, or what, and I was a little stuck because a) he was on my foot and b) I was still carrying around the reusable tote bag that Walmart was giving out. We had wandered around getting freebies, so I had a lot of stuff in the bag, including a tree about three feet long which, when not held correctly, poked the nearest person in the head. So yes, I was planted there with a man on my foot and a tree that was gonna fall on his head or put my eye out if I moved wrong.

I finally extricated myself from the foot, handed Seth the bag, and gave the guy a few shakes, yelling at him if he was ok (remember, there were a LOT of drums being banged, so it was not likely he was just napping). He finally said yes, but didn't move till I convinced him that he wasn't going to be able to lay there on my foot, facedown in the grass, looking dead, so he rolled himself over and sat up right about the time that Dan wandered over, oblivious to the whole thing. I asked the guy again if he was ok, and he said "oh yeah, I have arthritis." HUH? This guy was younger than me, and arthritis doesn't usually make you fall outta your chair like that, but that was all the explanation I was going to get, so we watched him for a while, then left to come home.

One of the more random things to happen to me, but remember, I live in Utter Chaos, so anything is possible. Sometimes I'm afraid to ask what's gonna happen next, but if this stuff didn't happen, I guess we'd be normal, and then I wouldn't know how to function.

Click the image to shop.

Mr Potatohead

2009-04-22T05:12:00.000-07:00

After the great potato peel adventure of two nights ago, Dan decided to take matters into his own hands. When a full bottle of Drano failed to work, I tried the old vinegar and baking soda followed by boiling water trick, hoping that the Drano had opened it up just enough to let the elements take over. No go. Still clogged, albeit not a full sink full. I went downstairs to check it all out, then came up and told Dan that I thought the problem wasn't in the kitchen sink trap, but in the trap for the dishwasher.

That's when he became a plumber, which usually ends in some kind of minor disaster.

He went down and eyeballed the entire situation, then wondered aloud why there was a piece of PVC routed off the normal route, but capped. "If that comes off, then maybe it'll let it all drain," said he, right as he yanked it off. The result? Mount Vesuvius, along with a lot of loud expletives -- enough to yank Seth off his computer chair and run downstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. By now, Dan had capped the entire thing again, but a few minutes and a few buckets later, he yanked it off again, and a disgusting Niagara falls ensued. After the buckets were empty, and Dan had plugged it all up again, he told me to go try the sink again.

You guessed it. It was still clogged. This was, as I told him, because he wasn't working in the area that was clogged -- he was working on the kitchen sink area, and the actual clog was further down, by the dishwasher. He fiddled around with it, and couldn't manhandle it loose.

That's when the hack saw came out.

Now let me tell you, a hack saw and plumbing is probably never a good thing, especially when being handled by an amateur. He started hacking, and Seth, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, took a front frontal dose of greasy potato peel nastiness, soaking him from his head down. As if that wasn't enough, the pseudo-plumber asked Mr Potato Head to hold the bucket while he hacked away, which meant that he got it again until the bucket got positioned correctly. The poor kid may never be the same.

Of course, neither will the plumbing, because after hacking it all open, it couldn't be put back together again, and though the sink was drained, it was completely unusable, so it ended up with faux crime scene tape over it, with DO NOT USE written in purple Sharpie all over it. Dan put calls in to two plumbing friends of ours, but after not getting a response -- and Jill accidentally turning on the dishwasher to nowhere with Dan right underneath it -- we finally called a plumbing company. The end result?

1) A $1200 bill to completely replumb the kitchen, which we've known since we moved in 16 years ago wasn't plumbed right, because the entire thing is clogged from the dishwasher to eternity.

2) Thomas getting one hell of a deal on Dan's Town Car, which he sold to him to pay the plumbing bill and

3) Seth messaging me on Facebook, saying that after a 30 minute bath, he'll probably still smell awful. He's probably right.

At least at some point today, I may be able to use the kitchen sink and dishwasher again, and we can put it all behind us, till the next natural disaster happens in the land of Utter Chaos.

Why my kid is smarter than your kid

2009-04-21T09:33:00.000-07:00

Seth had drumming class yesterday, which means that I didn't get home till 6;15 or so. I put a nice roast in the crock pot, then called Jill on the way home and asked her to peel some potatoes so that we could have some nice mashed potatoes (which I seem to mysteriously have figured out how to make to Thomas' satifsaction).

Got home, had lovely potatoes, and even though the crock pot had somehow turned off and left the meat rather are, I finished it off in the microwave and we had a nice, albeit very chewy, dinner. Thomas amazingly unloaded the dishwasher without being asked -- be still my heart -- and we started cleaning up, only to find that the kitchen sink was clogged. Running the disposal was no help, because everything just backed up into the other sink. Yuck. I couldn't figure out what the heck the problem was till Jill said "the only thing I put in it was potato peels." Well, there was the problem.

Back when we lived in an apartment, the maintenance guy told me that the #1 clogger of disposals is potato peels. He told me what #2 was, but I can't remember -- I think maybe onion peels, but I'm not sure. In either event, I'm pretty respectful of the disposal, and try not to put anything too iffy in it. I always peel my potatoes onto a newspaper or plastic bag, then throw them in the compost pile, and even though the kids have done the same, I don't know if they knew why, but they did, till yesterday.

Dan was getting rather grumpy about the whole thing, because the one time episode of peels in the disposal led to a night of plumbing that ended up with us having no kitchen sink or dishwasher to use. He groused about the fact that the kids should know better, till I pointed out to him that it took me till 28 years old to find out that you can't put potato peels in the disposal and, since Jill is 18, she's ten years ahead of the game. He didn't have a response to that.

That reminded me of another kitchen rule that she knows, that maybe not everyone does: don't put dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher. Now, it might make seem to some that you can put Dawn in a dishwasher, but let me give you a clue: dishwashing liquid means someONE is washing dishes. Dishwasher liquid means someTHING is washing them.

Jill put Dawn in the dishwasher one time when she was about ten. Next thing you know, she's screaming, so I went running into the kitchen, thinking someone was dying. Well, she might've thought that she was heading toward a quick death, because the bubbles had already made it halfway across the kitchen floor, with no sign of letting up. Turning off the dishwasher was no help, because there's no way to get them out once they've started. Jill was looking rather panicstricken -- that look a little kid gets when they know that they are in real trouble -- when I just picked up a big handful of the bubbles and threw it at her. This turned into a melee of bubbles flying that only stopped briefly when Dan walked into the room to see what all the laughing was about. He just stopped, looked, and left the room without ever saying a word, while we went back to our own tamer version of Girls Gone Wild.

I didn't have to wash the kitchen floor for a month.

So yeah, my kid is smarter than your kid, cause she knows 1) not to put potato peels in the disposal, and 2) not to put Dawn in the dishwasher. Of course, she also knows how to do her own laundry correctly, how to saddle a horse, how to train a dog to do about a dozen tricks, how to plant bulbs, how to parallel park WELL, and how to bake some wildly delicious chocolate chip cookies, so all in all. That's just a sample of her talents. Like the apron pictured above. Click the image to shop, cause I've gotta pay the plumber somehow.

Post Traumatic Seth Disorder

2009-04-15T22:54:00.000-07:00

We had to go get family pictures done last night. Some of you may remember that we had them done last fall,
and that they came out rather nicely. Well, our church decided to redo the church directory, as they do every couple of years and Dan, being the frugal soul that he is, didn't want to pay the $10 to have our current family picture inserted, so we had to go and have it done again by the photographer that church hired.

Have you ever tried to convince three teenagers that they need to dress up for a family photo, for the second time in less than a year? Well, let me tell you, it's not fun.

First of all, you have to make sure that everyone is actually going to be around for the picture. Wednesday night was a good bet, because a) it's youth group night, so odds are that two of the kids will already be at church and b) LOST is on, so no one makes plans. This is the logic that I used, however Dan just planned it for a Wednesday by sheer luck. I told him that HE was going to be the one to break it to the kids, which he did, two nights in a row, at the dinner table.

I was rather surprised at the lack of response to his announcement, till I realized yesterday afternoon that no one had been listening. Jill called from work. I reminded her about the pictures, and she got a bit testy, saying that she was going to have to rush home from work and take a shower so that she didn't smell like the barn when she went, and why were we getting the pictures done again anyway? I tried to use the youth group thing as a rationale, and she even more testily informed me that she didn't get off work in time to go to youth group, and wasn't going to be able to go. Oh, and she was "in the mood for a good dinner." Whatever that means. She ended up hanging up on me when she found out that her father and I had made plans to go out to dinner with friends, thinking that the kids would be at youth group, so her "good dinner" was going to have to be prepared by her.

Seth was no problem, except he seemed to be having trouble understanding the English language, as usual. I told him to wear his jeans (Dan said he was wearing a suit and tie, and I informed him that he was going to be sadly out of tune with the rest of his family, because we'd only get them there if they could wear jeans. Jeans it was.) and to put on the blue polo shirt I had bought him last week. "What's a polo shirt?" he said. Oye and vay -- this could take a while. "It's the light blue shirt that matches the yellow one you wore to church on Easter." "The one I can wear to school? That's not against the dress code?" "YES!" He was also informed to take a shower and wash the hair that was sticking straight up from the back of his head. (He has a Dennis the Menace cowlick. You will see its importance shortly.) He showered. He brushed his teeth. He came out wearing jeans and a turquoise polo shirt that was a couple of sizes too small. "Is this it?" he said. "Uh, no. Doesn't that feel tight? You want the light blue one that matches the one you wore to church last week." "Oh," he said. "The one I can wear to school? The one that's not against the dress code?" (Can you tell he's more than mildly obsessed with the dress code in the high school he's going to in the fall?) "YES!" He wanders off to his room, then yells back, "is it the button down one?" "No! It's pale blue. It matches the one you wore to church last Sunday." "OH!" he says. "I found it."

I wasn't holding my breath that he was going to come out in the right shirt, but miraculously, he did. Two down.

Thomas had been warned multiple times of the countdown to the pictures, when they needed to be there, where they needed to go, etc., because Dan and I were going out to dinner, and expected to meet the kids at church afterward. I told Thomas to wear jeans, and some semblance of blue, as far as a shirt. I knew he didn't have a polo shirt, because he thinks that they are old men shirts, so I told him if all else failed, wear the shirt he wore for family pictures in the fall. I knew it was clean and hanging in the hall closet upstairs, so I figured I was safe, since he lives upstairs, right next to the hallway closet. The hallway closet that he asked me to clean out of all of the junk, so that he could store the stuff that he's bought for his apartment (then never used, but that's another story).

Well, Dan and I went to dinner, and got done early, so we went home to get the kids. One dressed, one in the shower, and Thomas nowhere to be seen -- not that that is really all that unusual. He's kind of a ghost around here. Jill finally got out of the shower and went upstairs, then promptly yelled down that she didn't have anything blue to wear. I told her just to find something blue-ish and that would be fine. She yelled back some unintelligible reply that expressed her unhappiness with life in general. I was in the kitchen straightening up when Thomas flew in and said "a button came off this shirt and it's the only one I have to wear, then disappeared. He left me holding a red plaid shirt, sans one button. It was now 7:20, with pictures to be taken at 7:50. I yelled out to him to look in the hall closet, because he had at least three shirts there that would work for the pictures, and he said he was getting in the shower. Nothing like waiting till the last minute. Thomas came back into the kitchen at 7:35 with soaking wet hair and said that he didn't have another shirt to wear. Another one who doesn't understand the English language. Oye and vay.

I told him to check the UPSTAIRS hall closet, you know, where you live, because he was going to find several other shirts that would work, and he disappeared upstairs yet again. Meantime, the next door neighbor stopped by, asking Dan to help, of all things, with opening a jar of artichokes, so in the midst of everyone getting ready, there is an exhibition of brute strength going on in the kitchen. Seth wanders in at 7:40 barefoot, carrying his socks, and Jill said something about her phone and went out the back door. I told Seth to get in the car, Dan yelled up to Thomas that the bus was leaving, and several honks of the horn, and a tight fit in the back of the Yarus later, we did, indeed, make it to church on time. It was at this point, standing in the hall of the church, that Thomas asked why we were doing family pictures again. "Because they're updating the directory." "Why couldn't we just use the other pictures we had done." Dan replied, "because I didn't want to pay ten bucks for them to use that one."

"Buddy," Thomas said, "I would've spotted you that ten bucks, just so we didn't have to do this again" -- a reply that was quickly echoed by the other two kids and the wife.

Took a couple of poses with the little family, and then got one of just the brats, since we'd forgotten to do that in the fall. We even managed to get one with Thomas almost smiling -- how that happened, I'll never know, since he was most unhappy that his hair was still wet. I just figured he looked like a good conservative Baptist, with his hair gelled back. We're Presbyterian, but oh well. Everyone was even in a fine mood on the way home -- probably because Dan sat in the back going home, to help keep the peace. Jill's lament, because at this point, she lives in a constant state of lament, was that "back in the day, it wouldn't be proper for a girl to be in the backseat with two guys," to which my response was that back in the day, a girl wouldn't BE in the backseat of a car with a boy unless her father was there, so it was all good.

We were joking and carrying on, right up till we pulled into the driveway. I was the first one in the house, and had just put my purse down when I heard Jill laughing, glass shattering, and Dan yelling frantically that someone needed to get a towel. Yep, it's not Utter Chaos till blood is flowing. Turned out that Seth was running to the house, because Jill has a penchant for playfully locking him out if she gets there first, which she had. He had his hand out to push the door back open, when Jill tried to slam it shut, putting Seth's arm right through the glass in the door, completely shattering it, and cutting Seth's arm in four or five places.

Dan yelled for some gauze, which Thomas got. Jill disappeared. I stayed away from the hallway because Dan didn't bring him in the house right away, and there wasn't room for all of us in there, and the dogs needed to be corralled. There was lots of yelling, dogs barking, blood, glass, you name it. Somewhere along the line, Thomas ran upstairs to get something, and informed me that he'd had to go online and tell his crew about what happened. Because, you know, it couldn't wait. Oye and vay. Jill finally showed up, and never would admit if she disappeared because she felt bad for trying to kill her brother, or if it was because she throws up at the site of blood -- which would have only added to the mayhem. A quick inspection showed that Seth had several areas that maybe could use one or two stitches, by my assessment, but Dan of course told Seth it'd be fine. He could just man up and it'd heal just fine.

So yeah, we now have Seth's arm bandaged up with a patchwork of gauze and bandaids, there's no glass in one panel of the back door, I've told Jill several ways that she could kill someone that would a) be less messy and b) wouldn't irritate her father in having to repair the door. Personally, I'm surprised that glass survived the last sixteen years we've been in this house, especially with three kids, but I guess all good things must come to an end. At least we're no worse for the wear.

And so I had to go find something appropriate to show you, and what else better than a brother-sister outfit from Simplicity? The pattern itself is a wounded bird, meaning it's missing pieces, but it's cute as all getout. It just wouldn't be ok to wear with the high school dress code this fall. Click the image to shop.

Jen and Lisa's fabulous adventure Part 1 Dude, Where's My Sign?

2009-04-07T07:16:00.000-07:00

So my friend Jen, of momspatterns fame, came to visit last month. Dan was going away on the missing trip, so we figured it was time for a little girl time. Jen knows my penchant for disorganization, so she was going to help me with some purging and such.

Dan, of course, was sure that I had invited a serial killer to the house because, you see, Jen and I had never actually met. She and I have talked online forever, via email, IM, and in different forums that we frequent, but she lives in Florida, and I live in Indiana, and the twain just had not met yet. Dan doesn't get the whole online thing yet, and it didn't help the cause at all when he heard that Jen had met her hubby online. He was relieved to know that he would be home to protect me for the first day or two. Yep, he's my knight in shining armor, protecting my against Xena-like pattern sellers.

So Jen and I talked a time or two on the phone before she came up --which was, in itself, progress, since we'd never talked before this either. We were pretty giddy about the whole thing, planning to go through my stash 'o patterns and catalogs and such. You know, it's not often that you meet a fellow pattern junkie, so this was really something! Jen asked how she would know me at the airport, because she had only seen a few pics of me in the past. I jokingly said I'd make her a sign, then enlisted The Brat to do it for me.

The Brat, of course, was not feeling her creative juices flowing until literally 15 minutes before I was to leave to pick up Jen, when she suddenly said "didn't you want me to make you a sign?" Uh, yeah...........three weeks ago, when I first mentioned it. ::sigh:: We started scrambling for things to put on it, and Jill wrote (what else) JEN in big purple letters on the posterboard. We added her website logo to it, some pattern pics, a picture of Sawyer from Lost (since he's her man), and some other random stuff, and I took off for the airport while the marker was still drying.

Indianapolis has a new airport, and I'd never been to it, so I was a little concerned about time. I left the house a little late, the new airport is a bit further away then the old one, and I had no idea about where to park, or where she would be coming out from the plane. The new airport is kind of funky -- I parked, then had to go up an escalator, down some stairs, across one of those moving sidewalks (which has lights that randomly light up and start playing disco music now and again, kinda like the Billie Jean video does 70s), then up another escalator, just to get to the terminal. Then I couldn't find where her gate was, because her flight wasn't listed on the list. Oye and vay. I was sure that, because I was a few minutes late, I had left a not-so-total stranger alone in a strange airport, and that's not really the first impression you want to make.
I finally asked one of the staff people, who pointed me in the right direction, where a flight was coming out. I didn't see her, and didn't even know if it was the right flight or not, so I started texting her to see if she'd landed yet. Next thing you know, I hear "where's my sign," look up, and there she is, all 5'10" of her, standing right in front of me.

I just said "OH! Here it is," and flashed it for her. She loved it, of course, and insisted on a picture of me with it under the Welcome to Indianapolis sign -- a picture where I am still laughing, because we were so happy to finally have met. Got the luggage, took her home, where Dan eventually showed up and pronounced her to not be a serial killer after all. More tomorrow about this fabulous adventure, but meantime, click the image to shop in Jen's store. She needs some cash after all the shopping we did whilst she was here.

A stomp down Memory Lane

2009-04-01T21:14:00.001-07:00

I've been dashing madly through three states in the past couple of weeks, gathering sewing patterns everywhere I go. Dan, of course, thinks it's really weird, especially given the fact that he doesn't like car travel, but I'm in my element.

The patterns I got today contained tons of wonderful styles, including 50s party dresses, 40s sundresses, and everything from playsuits to swimsuits and wedding dresses. But what I found interesting was the kids' patterns.

I don't usually get a lot of kids stuff, because it's not a huge market of mine, but these were some seriously cute ones. The one that caught my eye is shown at left. You may wonder why this one? Well, it's because it reminds me of my two sisters and me.

The dark haired one on the right reminds me of my "big" sister Linda. I say "big" because she's a few years older than me (ahem: eight) but she is quite a bit shorter than me. She does, however, have the dark hair shown here. The lighter haired one on the left reminds me of my "big" sister Amy, who is as vertically challenged as Linda. Being the youngest, I always looked at them as so cool, and such fashion plates -- especially because they wore cool 70s high school stuff, and I not only had no fashion sense, but also was too big to fit into their petite hand me downs, once I got to be about ten years old.

Tiny, petite cool hipster sisters. How cool is that? But look on that pattern envelope at the little tyke in front. That little one looks like she has some serious attitude, so she MUST be me! She looks like the sisters have probably told her not to do whatever she wanted to do, and in her little head she is saying "oh yeah, man, I'm GONNA," while she stomps off with her Barbie.

That'd be me, and I dare my sisters to say I'm wrong. They won't.

So.............

2009-03-23T21:37:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been almost two weeks "jobless" now, and boy am I having fun. I hadn't realized how much I was missing by drowning in the cesspool of corporate America, but I'm starting to get a little bit caught up.

Our dining room table, however, does not reflect this. It's a modgepodge of folded pattern repros, awaiting their envelopes and labels, original patterns waiting to be filed, a pair of boxer shorts that need a quick repair (I'm not asking questions there, folks, so don't you do it either), fish supplies (more on that later), and a potpourri of other stuff. Yes, that table is my project for tomorrow (which is now today, so technically, I'm already behind).

I have, however, had plenty of time to list fun patterns on the website, including some of the 682 I bought during an overnight trip to Chicago last week. Yes, I drove 3 1/2 hours one way to buy 682 patterns. And yes, they were REALLY good ones. These are the things you can do when you are sans job.

Thomas' bff came and spent part of spring break with us, so I put him to work. Mell is 6'3", and was quite comfy on my couch, so I had him bring in the printer, tossed some pattern boxes at him, and he scanned roughly 400 patterns while watching one of the weirdest mixes of movies I've ever seen -- I wish I could remember what they were, but I've slept since then. I know that one involved vampires, and one was Next Friday, but other than that.......just take my word, it was a weird mix. But hey, he saved me tons of time on the scanning.

Best thing that happened that week was that my buddy Jen, of momspatterns came to visit. We spent enough time working on patterns that I ended up on major asthma meds the next week, but the pattern rescue is richer for it. Not to mention the fine Estevez (seen above) that she found whilst we were trolling around. Sorry folks, it's already sold, but take a gander of it at Dorothea's Closet. It really is a sight to behold. And yeah, there's a whole shopping story behind it. Not to mention Jen's experience with the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department. Oh yeah, we don't do anything small, folks.

So this week is dedicated to organization, now that the fish have been freed and the Modes Royale are listed. More about Jen and hostage fish later.

All Good Things..........

2009-03-05T00:45:00.001-08:00

I'm a firm believer that God places signs in our lives, to help us figure out where the heck we're supposed to be going. I believe, also, that we don't always pay attention to those signs a good portion of the time. That's how it is that fortune cookies helped me figure out a new path.

We order Chinese food at work, not too often, but once in a while. I'm always amused by the fortune cookies, with their sayings like "you are going to put shoes on today" and the like. Of course, on the back, there is always a word in Chinese which, for me, usually ends up being something like "paint" or something like that. And of course there are always the obligatory lucky numbers, which I always swear I'm going to play in the lottery, and never do.

We ordered Chinese a couple of weeks ago, and I had to laugh at my fortune, because it said "opportunities surround you if you know where to look." Well, looking around my cubicle, I saw another fortune, taped to the front of my monitor, which said "a fascinating project is in your future." Hmmm.....what could that be? Maybe it could be the lady who called, saying that her kid had swallowed a Lego pirate's telescope, and after he passed it, could he have it back, after they sterilized it? Uh.........no. How gross is that? Gross, but not fascinating.

Then I got an email from my boss, with ground rules to our leadership meetings, gleaned from some book that she read on how to be a better leader. I laughed when I read that we would now be coming out of meetings with decisions made on the issues, because in six years, I don't think we've EVER decided anything in a leadership meeting. Reading on, I read that we would be going from the presumption that everyone actually wants to be here, in these meetings. That got me thinking.

I don't want to be here. Then I remembered the fortune cookies, and the fascinating project that supposedly awaits me. I've never gotten a fortune like that at home, yet I had two from when we ordered Chinese at work. Could God be talking to me through a carton of takeout? Crazy.

After much thought, I realized that I was getting ready to go on vacation, and why come back? I've been ready to leave for about a year now, but couldn't decide what to do, so it was time to take a leap of faith. I emailed the boss my resignation, and emailed a few friends who 1) would want to hear it from me, not the grapevine and 2) would spread the word. Well, the word spread like a bush fire in Australia, and when I arrived at work the next day, some people were sad, and some could barely refrain from showing their glee. I, however, felt more gleeful than all of them, because now I'm a free bird. I have no idea where my path will take me from here -- probably to my websites for a while -- but it's taking me out of my cubicle and into a life full of possibilities.

We ordered Chinese again that afternoon, and what did my fortune cookie say? "It takes guts to get out of the ruts." No lie. And you say fortune cookies are not real? Bah. And for the interview I have on Friday, I'd wear this fabulous Dior dress, from Damn Good Vintage, but damn, it won't fit me! Click on the image to shop.

Status Update

2009-02-05T08:00:00.001-08:00

You can learn a lot about people, from their Facebook status. Mine, at the moment, says "Lisa is heading for the nation's capital this afternoon, with three teenagers. Pray for us!" Yeah, we're doin' it, and you'd better pray. My status before that said "Edit
Lisa LOVES LOST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!" because man, last night's show was GOOD, and I was beyond sad to see it end. I can't wait till next week.

Some of my friends' statuses are as follows. (Insert random name before the status, cause these people gotta be anonymous:

has no water because somebody(initials are MT) left the garage door up after taking out the trash!

would appreciate some prayer: my dad may have had a stroke and is current in icu.

forgot my speakers were turned up and I almost karate chopped my PC because it spoke to me.

is wondering..."Am I the only person in the world that hasn't ever watched LOST?" {mental note from editor: enlighten her}

is feeling virtuous after doing the laundry.

Like I said, you can learn a lot from people's status. So imagine how sad I was today to see that one of our "adopted" sons is now single, after being madly in love for the last year and a half. Jill came in and informed me, and promptly started singing Air Supply's "All Out of Love." When I pointed out how wrong that was, she switched to "All By Myself," and was promptly interrupted by Dan's hardcore version of "Love Stinks." Yeah, my family + empathy. Not happening.

So now my status is that I'm loading up soon to go, and Dan? He's packing for cold weather, wearing Thomas' shirt and jacket, and probably my socks, cause that's how he rolls. But that's a story for another day. Meantime, don'cha just love this red lace confection, from Couture Allure Vintage Fashion? I love it seriously, and am so sad it's sold. But, as Dan would sing, "Love Stinks." I'm outta here till Monday, folks, so that's it.

Things learned about the husband during inventory

2009-02-04T09:32:00.000-08:00

Dan hates winter, not because of the cold, but because people don't do as much painting in the winter, so he's not crazy busy. I like winter, in part because of the snow, but also because when he's not busy, he does laundry, cooks (a little), and cleans the house. Since my primary job is usually busy in the colder season, I like having the help. It's the whining that makes me want to put nail through someone's head.

So I took two weeks of vacation from work, to go home and do what? Work, of course. On the websites. Meaning it's time to do inventory. We did it last year for the first time, and Dan bailed on me halfway through. That was when I had one website, and now I have two. I kept reminding him of his promise, just so he couldn't pull that "you didn't tell me" stuff that men tend to do. I got started on one website the night before last, after he was done for the day. We've also been moving everything around, and the poor boy was tired. But now I have an actual workspace, complete with shelves and table, and all the shipping in one place. And we've discovered that our sunroom has a floor. Go figure.

We finally got going on inventory in the afternoon, much to Dan's chagrine. He had finally run out of reasons to NOT help me with it, so we settled in to get the books straight. I've always said that if you want to really test the strength of your marriage, wallpaper with your spouse -- which, I might add, is something that we will never do together again. He is not even allowed to mention the word wallpaper to me again, but that's another story for another day. What I did discover yesterday is that another way to test the strength of your marriage is to do inventory together.

Things I discovered about my husband during inventory (which is still in progress -- we got one site done, and are now working on the other, which will be much more difficult to do):
1. The man has ADD. He cannot stay on task for more than maybe, if I'm lucky, ten minutes, before he's off on a tangent, asking what the boxes way on the other side of the room are for, why can't we label the boxes yet, do people really buy these things, and oh, I need a drink. Or something to eat. Or anything to get him away from the inventory.
2. The man is completely obsessed with painting. I asked him to put up the shelves for me, and when I went down to ask him something, he said, in a not too patient tone, to be careful on the steps, because he had just painted the edges of the risers. Who, I ask, paints the edges of the risers? The answer: a man evading doing inventory.
3. He has an almost sick relationship with his shop vac. The man will shop vac anything. He bought me a wonderful Dyson for mother's day a couple of years ago, and what does he use? His little shop vac.
4. He missed the listening skills part of kindergarten, but he's great with organization. I may have to tell him something three times, but once he gets it, he gets it, and it's all fabulously sorted out.
5. He's got a thing for labels. I mean, he LOVES labels. Constantly wants things labelled, even after I've pointed out that we can't label until we know what is going into the boxes.

That said, he's a great help, and I am well on the way to organization in my workspace. Of course, the kids are nowhere to be found, because they hate everything to do with sewing patterns, because that means I might ask them to do something tedious and boring. Not to me, mind you, but to them. Even the dogs stay away, which is no small feat. But I will say, Jill made some Oreo snow ice cream, which was a big hit with the help. She and Dan have ditched me for now, and are at the Y, whilst I take a little break to rest my back.

Why rest the back, you ask? Because as they were going out the door, Jill said "hey, do you have some tennis shoes?" "Yes, they're on my feet. I think they used to be yours, and you gave them to me." "Well give them back to me. I don't have any laces in mine." So the girl not only distracted the help with food, she took him completely away, and left me barefoot in the kitchen. Oye and vay. On the good side of inventory, I found this cool nightgown pattern that I thought was listed on the site, and wasn't. Well, it is now, so click the image to go there.

Viva Las Vegas: The Paper Trail

2009-01-29T20:56:00.000-08:00

Communications with kids are always interesting. It used to be that we communicated by a letter in the mail, then telephone calls. Nowadays, it's cell phones and texting. Jill says "who emails? That's so outdated." Well, it wasn't, back a couple of years ago when we went to Vegas.

I had told the kids to only call if the house was burning down - an admonition I quickly withdrew after meeting a couple on the way to the casino who told their kids the same thing. I guess they shouldn't have been surprised when their kids called and told them to sit down. They'd truly burned the house down. Oye and vay.

Well, I had also told the kids to email and let me know how things were going. Email helps to keep the parents out of the immediacy of the fights, but still keeps us in touch. Guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I got my daily missives. Below is an unauthorized, abridged version of the discussions:

From Jill, dated 6/12/06:
SUBJECT: WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?
I'm pretty sure the subject speaks for itself...

Yeah, you know that star-fish that was hanging in the kitchen? Timmy ate it. I hope you weren't to attached to it...

Hurry up and get home,

Jill.

From Thomas, dated 6/13/06:
SUBJECT: What up
Missed your call today, so I figured I'd just email you.

Day one went fine, had a little bit of a problem breaking a boredom spell in the afternoon, but we just went to the park and hung out, hit a few balls, and played catch for a couple hours. Came back, took Jill to work (she was going to hand her two weeks notice in or something likek that - but I guess she said that whoever she needed to talk to wasn't there), got dinner dinner with Seth, rented a game, came home, watched a couple movies, and now I'm here.

....I've been trying to keep things simple in terms of necessities that we need that you guys usually supplied... I asked Jill to cook dinner (becuase Lord knows Seth and I would probably blow the entire fucking block up), and Seth and I would set, do dishes, etc. But apparently this is too much to ask, and we got into this huge argument about it. I honestly have no idea how this is not far, and she couldn't tell me either. She even called me a sexist, rofl. I guess she thinks she has the pants on right now, and she will just have to disillusion herself. I have the car. :D [Thomas was the only driver in the house at this point. Jill only had a permit.] So I kind of resolved that by telling her she loses either way, since if she's going to be like that about things then Seth and I will just go have a decent dinner elsewhere and leave her to cook for herself, and I kind of won her over with that. I might be coming off as mean, but oh well, just trying to mediate things.

Speaking of the car, it's driving quite fine...but I don't think you probably expected anything different.

I guess they don't realize that I am quite fine with driving just about anywhere they want to go (within the realms of safety and yadda yadda), but they don't want to seem to want to go anywhere fun or out of the ordinary. I'm actually the one trying to think up of something - ANYTHING - to do. Hopefully they'll chill out and become more imaginitive than I...but if not, this week is going to be a long one. I am jobbed with paying for everything so far. Oh well, if she hasn't gotten to me yet, I don't think it will throughout the week.

At least there are always hundreds of movies to keep me entertained..until my hard drive gets here. [His computer had ::gasp:: melted down right before we left.]

This e-mail is probably ridiculous incoherent since I'm rather tired, but oh well.

Win million in Vegas and such,

tsutter

From Jill, dated 6/14/06.
No Subject.
Mom,

please call your eldest son, Thomas, and tell him to put the gosh darn toilet seat down when he's done using the restroom. He absolutle refuses no matter how hard I try. When I asked him to put the toilet seat down he told me I was being lazy and that I should put it down. He also called me a control freak (just because I asked him to put the toilet seat down). Every time I ask him to do ONE thing he spazzes out and tells me to do it (Which is why the house is a mess right now).

Help me? Come home? Tell daddy I miss him and I hope he feels better.

Jill.

From Thomas, dated ten minutes later. He is obviously unaware of his sister's edict:
SUBJECT: re: What up
Will do.

Also, Seths RAM and my hard drive came today, but..

the hard drive is SATA. I needed ATA133. :/

I ordered another one, but I had to sacrifice a ton of stuff I would have wanted (though it was also cheaper, obviously), but beggars can't be choosers. I got the first one refunded, and I'm gonna try and ship it back today..just need access to a printer. So I'll probably head over to your double and use the one there and check out your mail situation.

[Translation: his computer should be repaired, but they sent something incompatible with what he has, so he has to return it.]

From Thomas, a mere twenty minutes later. I must've been around to respond to Jill's email.
SUBJECT: Re: What up
toilet seat more like lol get outta here i already destroyed her with MASSIVE LOGIC in that debate

[At which point, I noted that he had lost all punctuation and capitalization skills, and reminded him that men have been trying logic on the toilet seat issue for decades, and they will never win. Because they are wrong. And to just put the seat down, and we will have peace in the world, because putting the seat down should not be underestimated, in its importance to the universe. But I digress.]

Thomas' last proclamation, three days later. I guess he'd stopped caring, but he sure wasn't happy later that day, when he found out we'd gotten bumped from our flight and were spending the night in Phoenix, arriving home a day later than originally planned. I don't remember what I had sent him, but I think it was some version of the above note:
SUBJECT: re: What up
forget that

PS Jill's mega ultra super emo today holy crap

next time you guys do this you are taking her or I am going with you

I can't stand this. oh my god I snapped at her today 8)

The only thing we heard from Seth the entire time we were gone was this:
1. Get off plane.
2. Call home to tell kids we have arrived.
3. Seth answers.
4. "Hi Seth, we're here."
5. "Oh, I guess that means your plane didn't crash? Cool. Want to talk to Thomas or Jill?"

And that was it. Viva Las Vegas: The Paper Trail. And we haven't gone away without them since, other than a quick trip to Michigan last fall, when no one called or emailed. I guess they just don't care anymore, since two of them can drive now. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. Click on the image to buy the cool paper dress, available on ebay from Hide N Seek Treasures.

Viva Las Vegas: Ground Zero

2009-01-26T23:06:00.000-08:00

Sorry to have ditched you for a few days, or did you notice? Had to watch the inaugaration, the Lost came back, then I had to go to Chicago to bond with the sister (who claims that she has somehow missed out on life because she's the middle child. Whatever.)

When last I blogged, my car had been painted, but on the wrong side. I told the car people that I'd bring it back to get painted on the RIGHT side when we went out of town the next time. Turned out that that took almost a year. Hubby and I decided to go to Ebay Live, to get a tax deduction, and a trip to Vegas, where we'd never been before.

Tickets bought and all, when we suddenly have a rainstorm that looks like Pete Rose has finally had his vengeance, because baseballs are raining outta the sky. I was on the fifth floor, at work downtown, and watched the whole debacle, thinking the whole time that yep, my van was out in it. Ended up looking like a huge golfball with all these little dents all over it.

So yeah. Now it not only had to go in and get the repainting done correctly, but also get the hail damage fixed. I called and made an appointment, reminding the shop of what had happened the year before. I was a little surprised that they didn't remember, but hey, these people didn't paint the right side of the van to begin with, so what else could I expect, I guess.

The morning we were to leave, we drove out to the car place with both vans. I get into Dan's van and he informed me that he needed me to call and order him a phone, because he had dropped his phone in his cup of Starbucks when he left the house, and now it was dead. This is the man who has run over his phone, dropped MY phone in the toilet, lost one to a can of paint, and on and on, so I don't know why I was surprised. He needs his phone for business though, so I figured if I got on the horn right away, he'd have a new one by the time we got home from Vegas.

Called T-mobile, and finally got through to a real person -- ever navigated their menu? It's a nightmare. So there I am, explaining the perils of Starbucks to the customer service rep, whilst Dan drives us all back to the house to get our luggage. Right about the time we got up to the Pizza Hut on the corner where we were, a lady pulls out in front of the van and WHAM! Hits it. Everyone screams in the back seat, Dan starts yelling about it all, and I'm still on the phone with the guy from T-mobile, who asked what happened. "Oh, we just got hit by another car," I said. "Oh my gosh," TmG (T-mobile guy) said, "do you need to go?" "Heck no," I said, "you stay right there. I don't want to have to navigate that menu again. Everyone ok? Yep. Keep going."

So there I am on the side of the road, ordering a cell phone, with the kids remarking how mad their dad is gonna be, waiting for the police, whilst Dan talks to the lady and her husband. Cause yeah, that's how we roll. It all worked in the long run, because the new phone was there when we got home.

Downside? The fact that the idiot insurance agent never could get the time difference in his head, so he called EVERY morning that we were in Vegas, promptly at 6am. We couldn't get away from it either, because I had to leave the phone on for the kids, in case the house burned down or bones were sticking out, but yeah, that guy never had a particularly warm conversation with me.

And so yeah, if you want to know how the kids survived that trip, hang on. Tomorrow: the paper trail. And if you just flat out want to look at something pretty, dig this gorgeous red taffeta dress, from Fast Eddie's Retro Rags.

Viva Las Vegas Part -1: The Pregame show

2009-01-18T17:55:00.000-08:00

I guess I started this whole Las Vegas thing backwards. Call me dyslexic, but I told the end first. Our trip to Vegas actually started over a year before we actually went there.

I used to work downtown. At the time, I drove a van which has since been absconded by The Brat. Got up one Saturday morning and was sitting in the kitchen bleary eyed, when Dan started yelling at me to come outside and look at something. He didn't sound too happy, and when I got out there, he said "when did this happen?" He was pointing to the passengers' side, which had beautiful circles all over it, where some wonderful individual had dug their key into the side of my van, creating a piece of art that not even his mother would be proud of. I told Dan I had no idea when it happened, and go the "how in the hell could you not see this because someone just dug into this van, and even as wild a kid as I was, I'd never do this to someone's car" lecture. Didn't matter. I still didn't know when it happened, since when I come out at midnight, I usually climb in the driver's side, not the passengers'. He just muttered something at me that sounded like the dad in "A Christmas Story," and wandered off.

No worries, I figured, because we were getting ready to go to Seattle, to see my brother for a few days. I made plans to drop off the van while we were gone, and it was going to be ready when we got back. Perfect. Dropped it off, flew to Seattle, saw the bro and his family, and flew home. (I won't mention the panic attack I had on the flight home, because I suck at flying, and pretty much figured that we were not going to end as well as those people standing on the wing of the plane on the Hudson River last week. But I digress.) A few days away from the kidlets always does the parents good, so we came back happy, refreshed, and ready to conquer the world. Till we went to pick cup my van.

We pulled into the parking lot, and there it was. Shiny and beautiful, and I remarked how nice it was. We got out to look at it, with Dan going to the passenger's side, and me going to the driver's side. I remarked how they must've buffed up the driver's side, because it looked mighty fine. Dan was really quiet. I walked around to where he was, and found him there, staring at the side of the van. The unpainted, still full of artwork side of the van. I don't think he said much till he got inside the body shop, where he proceeded to ask the owner to come out and look. "Now you tell me," he said, "just how in the HELL could you not figure out that you were painting the wrong side?" The guy, who admittedly was pretty old, and had cataract, just spit on the ground and shook his head. "I got no idea," he said, right before he said for us to leave it there so he could paint the correct side.

Well, no way was I leaving it there. I need my van, man. I have kids to haul around. And inventory. And dogs. Et cetera, et cetera, as Yul Brenner said. So home we came in the van, and figured we'd wait till our next out of town trip to get it fixed right. It took till the following spring, right before our Vegas trip.

The compelling end to this store involves a cell phone, Pizza Hut, and a cup of Starbucks. But that'll have to wait till tomorrow. Just know in the meantime that a) when you go out with us, there's a prize every time and b) you can get this cool vintage Seattle belt from aprizeeverytime, on etsy.

Viva Las Vegas Part 1: The Dam-dest Thing

2009-01-17T19:59:00.000-08:00

Dan and I went to Vegas a couple of summers ago. We'd never been, and Ebay Live was there, so we figured we'd get a trip in, and a tax deduction at the same time. We've heard so many raves about Sin City, but since gambling's not really our thing, we never bothered, but I guess Vegas is one of those places to check off the list and say we've been there.

We stayed in some place off the Strip that I don't remember the name of. Did a few slots, ate at the buffet, and a few brief hours later, Dan was praying to the porcelain god. Horrible food poisoning put him outta commission for the first 24 hours. Did the ebay thing --- I had fun, even if he was bored out of his mind -- and decided to see the sites.

I have to say that Red Rocks is beautiful. We enjoyed it there, then headed to Hoover Dam. There we were, enjoying our tour, when suddenly alarms started going off. Long story short, we ended up in some outer part of the dam where no one is allowed to go, with a guard telling the tale of seeing a co-worker running down the hall with a cloud of gas coming after him. I think we were out there for the better part of an hour before they finally let us in and we were able to finish the tour.

We never did figure out what all the hubbub was about, of what the cloud of gas was, but I do know that I've never met anyone else whose trip to Vegas included an evacuation from a national landmark. I'm glad that Dan and I don't get freaked out too easily, or we'd never go anywhere. That's how Utter Chaos works though. My former boss used to say that she'd never go anywhere where Dan and I were out together, because 911 always ended up being called. Sad thing is, she was right.

I still wasn't too worried till the evening we went down to the casino, chatting with another couple along the way. We were remarking that it was the first time we'd left the kids home alone while we were out of town, with Grandpa just checking in on them every day. I said that we had told them that if they called us, there had better be blood flowing, bones sticking out, or the house had better be on fire. The wife of the other couple said "yep, that's what we told our kids too. Don't call us unless the house is on fire. They called us the first night we were gone and said 'you'd better sit down.' They had burned the house down. To the ground."

I dialed the kids and told them they could call anytime they wanted.

So if you go to Vegas, avoid the buffet, keep away from clouds of gas, and by all means, let the kids call you. And if you want a better memory of your trip, get this revamped vintage tee, from Perk Up Vintage. It'll definitely perk things up, and in a good way!

Ancient Chinese Secret

2009-01-16T22:51:00.000-08:00

I guess I haven't talked about work for a while. Maybe that's because I always seem to be at work. Working. Taking boring calls about vomiting, which is the diagnosis of choice lately.

With the change in temperature this week, we've been getting our share of other stuff, including some frostbite stuff -- cover up in these temperatures, folks, or your ears might fall off. Heck, even the puppy isn't liking this cold, cause he just does his thing and tears off for the door. It's cold, folks!

Last night, one of the pages we got said "chipmunk bite." Now, I know that I live in the city of concrete and gaseous manholes, but we were all trying to figure out how one gets bitten by a chipmunk in the middle of January in Indiana. Keep in mind, at my job, anything is possible, so we keep ourselves braced for anything -- like when I called someone tonight about "possible frostbite," and her "please enjoy this ringtone while we try to reach your party" song started blaring "chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose........" No lie. I couldn't make this stuff up.

So she gives a call to this lady, who has a Chinese name. Lady tells her that she was at work at her restaurant, and when she went outside, she saw a little chipmunk, and he wasn't moving. She was afraid he was frozen, so she took him inside and put him into a little container, to see if he'd come around. Checked on him every few minutes, and gave him a little poke. Realized she'd poked him one time too many when he reached up and bit her on the finger.

Me being me, when I hear the story, I wonder aloud if that chipmunk is now on the menu. Heck, my co-workers already think I'm warped for the things I come up with, so I tell 'em, "better not be eating any sweet and sour chicken at her place." Maybe I'll try Thai next time.

Nice day for a White Wedding

2009-01-14T22:21:00.001-08:00

We finally got some snow today. Finally. Everyone who knows me well knows that I love winter, as long as there is snow, because if it's cold, there should be snow, dammit.
So yes, I'm happy.

My brother lives outside of Seattle, and between the snow and the bum knee that he recently had surgery on, he's not been a happy camper. Seattle apparently is sadly unprepared for winter, and since he lives on a hill, they found themselves unplowed in, and were virtually trapped in the house for a while. I'd call that heaven, but he wasn't too keen on it, especially because he was in pain. I don't blame him there, I guess, but I still love me some winter.

My brother has a odd and wonderful sense of humor, which, I suppose, shouldn't surprise anyone, since we come from a long line of odd and wonderful humor. He calls his iPhone "the phone from God," because it can do anything from playing music to cracking a bullwhip. When I found out that the Vatican now has approved a prayer application, I told the bro he was right -- it really IS the phone from God.

One truism my brother taught me, back in the early days of MTV, was the importance of the three sleazes. Not to be confused with the three kings, especially this close to Epiphany, the three sleazes were an important part of 80s era music videos. Jeff assured me that no video ws complete until the three sleazes appeared. They were generally dressed in leather, and their job description was just to writhe around and look sleazy. I think they were supposed to give the impression that they were backup singers, but alas, they were just back up sleazes. Check out any Whitesnake, ZZ Top, or Scorpions video, and you'll know what I mean.

Billy Idol had it down to an art. I loved Billy Idol, with his punked out weirdness, and once told my brother that I wanted to walk down the aisle to "White Wedding," just to see what people thought. Of course, I didn't, but with the disaster our wedding threatened to be, that would've been the least memorable thing that happened.

I'm not exactly sure what it was that made me think of the three sleazes when I saw this wonderful Greco Roman novelty print dress, from one of my favorite sellers, the fabulous meloo. Musta been that closeup of the trio of goddesses, I guess, but it truly was the first thing that came to mind. And if Greco Roman isn't your thing, be like me, and just enjoy a little White Wedding, with its booty shakin' sleazes.

Ear-ie, Minnesota

2009-01-12T22:55:00.000-08:00

I talked to my parents yesterday because, of course, it was Sunday. Sunday means football. Football means Dan has invited a bevy of people over to watch the game, generally without telling me, which means that both the TV, the living room, and my husband are completely occupied for a period of several hours. Yesterday was only slightly different. He told me that he had invited a guy from the paint store over. And that he was making chili.

Came home from work and there was a pot of chili on the stove, and two people in the living room, which evolved into seven people over the next thirty minutes. Good thing that all but one has known us for years, because the first time I went to tinkle, I saw that there were also two loads of laundry on the bathroom floor. Oh well, such is the life of Utter Chaos.

In my great admiration for the pigskin, I went upstairs and started working on Jill's computer, which has gotten a virus that has, thus far, eluded me. While I was waiting for the computer to boot up, I called Mom and Dad. Normal updates on the weather and the kids, and suddenly my mom says "OH! I forgot to tell you. I was talking to your sister yesterday. She said it's twenty below there." My sister lives in that frozen tundra known as northern Minnesota, where every sentence ends with "ohyeahsheryoubetch." I pointed out to Mom that that's not necessarily all that cold there, and she said "yes, but when I was talking to her the other day, she went and let the cat in. A mninute later she told me 'oh my gosh' her ear just fell off!" A minute later, she said that the other ear was falling off too.

What the heck? I don't know how long it takes for a cat's ears to freeze solid, but apparently not all that long, in Ear-ie, Minnesota.

Me being me, I asked Mom if she had fried them up and eaten them. Maybe with some fava beans and a fine chianti. Maybe they'd taste like potato chips. Nothing says lovin' like a nubbin in the oven. And if a cat loses its ears, does it still do that ear licking thing that they do, like when they are declawed and they still keep clawing on the sides of boxes and such? I mean, it can't impair their hearing any, since cats don't listen anyway. But it would cause seriously problems with wearing these cool cateye glasses, from KarmaRox, on etsy. Guess now she'll be blind, too.

The Battle Between Good and Evil

2009-01-07T23:31:00.000-08:00

The Spare to the Throne got his braces yesterday. None too thrilled about it beforehand, he seems to be holding up better than his father did, if you remember the whole turkey sandwich smoothie debacle. Of course, it's early in the game, but the poor child has been warned so much by the entire family that he may just sail through this thing unscathed. All the kid has heard now for over a week has been "your teeth are gonna HURT." We'll see what the day brings, I suppose, but this kid has, shall we say, no desire to feel pain anytime in this lifetime. Ever.

The Bratty Girl has already been leading him down the path of unrighteousness. The orthodontist gives tickets out for good dental hygeine, meaning good brushing, of course. Jill tells this boy, "oh, don't worry about it, just brush your teeth three times in a row before your appointment. They'll never know the difference. That's what I did." And this brat always got the excellent brushing tickets. ::sigh:: She's a scammer, that one.

Then I caught all three of them, The Heir, The Spare, and The Brat, having a powwow in his room a couple of days ago. Deep in conversation, and without anyone screaming, mind you. This of course makes the mother worry, so I wandered in to see what was going on. The Brat had, after all, just told me the night before that we needed to have "The Talk" with her younger brother because, as she said, "he has gotten all of his information from Chris, so you just know it's gotta be messed up." Chris, incidentally, is his BFF, who does indeed, have his moments of early teenaged goofiness, so she might just be right. Oye and vay.

So the three of them are all in there, discussing what you are told what not to eat with braces, and what you really can eat with braces. "I had candy all the time," says the big brother. "You can't have gum, though, right," replies the youngest. "I did," said the beastie girl, who is, after all, determined to ruin her brother's teeth, or at least his relationship with his dental caregivers. Sweet after sweet they listed, and each one they declared perfectly acceptable, "no matter what they tell you." They, of course, not only meant the orthodontist and his staff, but also the parents, who coughed up the cash for this little endeavor.

"You'll get yelled at when you go for your appointment," I threatened, in the hopes of salvaging something here. Jill declared "I never got yelled at once, and remember all those tickets I got?" Seth tilted his head and gave her a look of deep thought, then nodded his head. This kid, who is the one who likes to follow the rules and keep the peace, has just been taken down by none other than his sister, a Sagittarian who, like her papa before her, likes to have one toe over the line and his older brother, who stood there silently, nodding agreement with a look of "listen to her dude, she knows of what she speaks" on his face. I stood there in his bedroom, complete with clean clothes on the dusty TV, dirty socks scattered on the floor, dog sleeping on the bed that has, incidentally, no sheet on the mattress, because the clean sheet balled up at the foot of the bed, since he has decided to sleep sans sheets......well, I digress, but you get the picture.

I stood there and watched the ruination of a young man in one fell swoop, and has his siblings to blame. Heck, he probably got a cavity just listening to this whole travesty of dental hygiene. Time will tell. And just to show off the inner turmoil going on when he REALLY wants a Snickers bar, but the angel on his shoulder says "don't do it, boy, don't do it," is this cool vintage halter dress, from Designer Exposure. Kinda pricey, but cheaper than braces, and information shared between a boy and his siblings? Priceless.