Off to the lake

We're heading a bit north for a week of sleep and sun. I'm a little wary of lakes for several reasons, the top being that it's unnerving stepping into water I can't see through. Anything could be in there, folks.

This gets me laughed at, of course, much in the same way I giggle at people who are dismayed to find that ocean water is salty. Heheh. Fun times, indeed.

See ya next Saturday. :)

the meme of fives

Five minutes to yourself: how would you spend them, ideally?

Hmmmn. Not enough time for a nap. Not long enough to get into a novel. Probably lying in the back yard under an oak tree and a bunch of bright sky.

Oh, ideally. Right, ideally. Okay, lying in a cabana, eating truffles and having my feet massaged under a bunch of bright South Pacific sky. There we go.

Five bucks to spend right now; how would you spend it?

I'd buy a kite, except I don't suppose it would be very decent for five bucks. So maybe lots and lots of bubbles. Or perhaps a single issue of this magazine, you know, to flip through during my truffles and foot massage.

Five items in your house you could part with, right now, that you hadn't thought of already?

1. A couch. Maybe two. We've inherited couches from several generous souls, and I like them just fine, but there's only one I ever use. I'm a sit-on-the-floor girl, myself.

2. The red wooden easel that nobody uses. Actually, my kids would use this again if I'd draw on it with them. Note to self here.

3. Leftover Easter candy. All the good stuff was gone by April 10th.

4. Okay, I'm running out of things. Honestly, we could live just fine without 98% of the stuff in our house...in fact, we could live just fine without the house itself...so none of it strikes me as particularly more expendable than the rest. We use most of what's here, but we don't need any of it.

5. There is no 5. Go back and read 4 if you're confused.

Five items you absolutely, positively could never part with in your house?

Technically speaking, I could part with all of it. I don't want to part with any of the other five members of my family; it's hard to imagine surviving that kind of loss. I think I would survive, though, simply because I'd take a breath, and then another, and then another. And all the while I'd be thinking how surprising it is to be able to breathe in a world where they no longer reside.

Five words you love?

Snarky. Superfluous. Belly. Delicioso. Poinky.

Five people I tag:

We all know that I'm morally opposed to tag, so hey, if you want to do this, go for it. If not, don't go for it. :) Because I'm so equal-opportunity like that.

(Just add water)

space to breathe

There's never enough time to do all the nothing you want. (Calvin&Hobbes)

cruel & unusual

So guess who popped up at my door (again)? Yep. Mr. Mail Fellow.

And guess what he had in tow (again)? Right. One of these guys.





And guess who it wasn't for (again)? You got it.

Woe is me.

I considered telling my friendly postal worker that he's fired until he comes back with something addressed to me, but as he's built like a professional linebacker, I went with plan B.

{PLAN B: SMILE AND TAKE THE PACKAGE}



So this time the box was from my parents.





Now, I can pass up the Dora stickers and gummy bears, but bitsy mushroom cookies with the chocolate caps? We're talking flagrant cruelty here.

Still, I dutifully dispensed the gifts to the beloved grandchildren. But a few hours later, the snack packages sat open about the house, so I pilfered a mushroom here and there as I went about my daily routine.

And for the record, I was extra good with that last box. I didn't eat a thing. (Okay, well, technically, there was a partial package of pretzels/chocolate dip that sat out for a day and a half, at which point I considered it abandoned by owner. So I ate that, but it was borderline stale by then, so it really ought not count.)

But back to woe is me.

When exactly did my kids become remarkably more popular than I am? I suspect the answer is the moment my first child was born, which means it has only taken me nine years to catch on to this trend.

So um...does anybody have an urge to mail me something? Anything? A postcard? Half a stick of gum?

Things are looking pretty grim. I might have to go sing the worm song and mail a box of boxes to myself.

Hmph.

growing

an exercise in self-control

So the mail-fellow made another happy appearance at my door (what a delightful chap!), this time hefting a parcel from my aunt and grandpa on Kauai.

It was chock-full with this wondrous stuff:



Yep. All of my favorite Hawaii/Japanese snacks.


There's just the teensiest of problems:

The box is addressed to my children.



Right-o.



And what kind of mom would I be if I ate re-allocated their snacks? (No really, I'm asking. What kind of mom? Just a slightly annoying mom? Or a monumentally horrible mom? Might they forgive me by this time tomorrow?)




Alright, alright. You can stop scowling at me through your monitors. I shall deliver the goods unscathed.

Although I'm really not above begging my four-year-old to share with me.

things I learned last night

1. I like indoor plumbing. Last night our well pump shorted, and we were a waterless household.

Turns out we use water for a lot of things. Flushing toilets. Washing hands. Brushing teeth. Drinking. Washing clothes. Washing dishes. All things we planned on doing last night.

My husband will tell you that he doesn't so much know how to fix things. But he does know how to call people who know how to fix things, so our friend Rick (who is currently my favorite person on the planet) got us back up and running.

Anyway, it just made me realize how many people walk miles to pull water from a dusty puddle...and how fortunate and magnificently spoiled I am.

2. Duct tape is essential to life. The latest use I discovered: sealing off the gap between one's window air conditioner unit, and the sides of the window. You know, the place where that accordion thing that got lost two houses ago is supposed to go.



PS Happy birthday, Gina!

Well, it's not Bodiam Castle, but still

"Summer afternoon—

summer afternoon;

to me those have always been

the two most beautiful words

in the English language."

~Henry James

I am not deceased

I'm just in the middle of the craziest week known to humankind. I'll be back to a kinder, gentler life soon.

:)

a cure for the stickies

On a humid Thursday morning, you can't do much better than this:






















I carted my younger two to the sprinkler park with a bunch of moms and kids from church. We were a drenched and happy crowd. :)


More photos here:


60piggies' waterpark photoset

delicioso

I'm not much of a breakfast person. My appetite takes a while to rouse in the morning, so I'm generally quite happy with just something chocolatey to drink. Chocolate milk if it's warm out, hot chocolate if I'm frigid.

Now that I'm jogging in the mornings, though, I need to have a bit more fuel in my stomach.

Ah, and did I also mention that I like to eat the same thing every morning? I don't relish standing bleary-eyed in the kitchen and having to re-figure out what it's going to be. I need to decide just once what breakfast looks like for the next, oh, thirteen months. At least.

So enter my latest breakfast trend:



Oatmeal. Oh yes, oatmeal.

But this is not your uncle's oatmeal, folks, this is oatmeal all-dressed-up. A splash of milk. A dousing of brown sugar. Sprinkled liberally with slivers of dried cherries and almonds, and voila!

Not the prettiest meal, I admit, but my taste buds are doing the mambo.

This cracketh me up

So you know how I've been running lately? (Just nod like you know this.) Well, this week I hijacked my husband's mp3 player so I could have a bit of music for company. I love it.

The best part, though, is that whenever this song



jumps up in the mix, I'm startled into a sudden burst of energy. And it makes me almost laugh.

So yeah, if you happen to live by me and see some jogging girl morph from a sober plod to a smiling sprint, you'll know what song came on.

backyard baseball

How you know you've spent too much time sewing and/or blogging:

When your rump develops two flat spots from prolonged contact with the chair.

Kinda hurts, too.

the other nic

Sunday was the birthday of my brother's lovely wife. She's taller than I am, prettier than I am, and skinnier than I am. But she's nice about it, so I like her.

She also shares my name and my love for making jewelry...she's a very generous gal.

And now that she's opened it, I can show you what I sent her:





Happy (belated) birthday, Nic.

mwahahahaha

When a package containing the likes of this arrives on one's doorstep, the only reasonable response is to cackle with fiendish glee. (Thanks, Kimberly!)

I'd gloat write more, but my fingers are sticky.