Archive for May, 2008

Tom’s brother, Gary, has been researching their family tree. It has branches upon branches that surprise us. Tom is not only distantly related to the Current Occupant, but the Current Vice-Occupant as well. Ewww… The only bright side is that if he’s distantly related to the Current Vice-Occupant, then he’s also related to Barack Obama as well. I’m waiting for an invitation to a State Dinner. I’ll let you know when it shows up; I’ll need dress input.

But yesterday’s discovery was the cherry on top. Gary discovered that Noah Webster, the super-duper language dude, compiler of the first dictionary, wordsmith of the highest order, is a distant relative as well.

There’s a delicious irony that the men in my family are related to both the guy who developed the dictionary of the English language, and the guy who is most responsible for the destruction of the English language.

I’m afraid to search too deeply back in my heritage; God only knows what I’ll find back there.

So…does anyone have any great tips for getting paint out of carpet? Dried paint? Other than ripping up that builder-grade crap and laying down laminate wood flooring?

Why, you ask?

Because we survived the Casa de Chaos Annual Memorial Day Weekend Paintapalooza! Finished a day early, as a matter of fact…only because we decided the first coat of the cream color covered well and Tom didn’t want to attempt the vaulted ceiling on the ladder with a pole again. He practically got down on his knees and kissed the ground every time he climbed down from the heights.

But it is beeeeyuuutiful. A creamy cream/yellow on most walls and going up the stairs, and a copper/bronze on the two non-vaulted walls. No, we’re not afraid of color, why? ; ) We also moved the family room furniture in there, so it’s a grown-up room for a change. The downside is that the family room (which is part of the kitchen and has the monstrous TV) has no furniture. Guess what’s on the wish list now?

So today will be spent, yet again, catching up on crap that slid by as I was doing other things. You know, minor things, like seventeen loads of laundry. Cleaning the basement so we can move a ginormous piece of furniture down there without killing ourselves. Prepping for the yard sale I’m doing with a friend this weekend (what was I thinking?). Working in the garden…wait, that can wait a few days until it warms up. Besides, the mower is broken, so who cares? Setting fire to Cleaning off my desk. Dealing with the 88 emails in my inbox. Working on my business. Entertaining J, who watched, no joke, 8 hours of TV yesterday as we were painting. We”re going to the library today to make up for it. And, last but not least, enjoying the last 72 hours of the school year. A is out for the year on Friday.

Let the fun begin!

Oh, and really, I need those carpet cleaning ideas. As much as I’d love the new floor, it has to take a number in the queue.

I saw this news story today and was insulted they took my idea! I’ve threatened to put  A on eBay since birth. Um, daily. When he was younger it may have been hourly. I can’t remember, those days stole my brain.

For crying out loud, it was obviously a joke listing, not child trafficking. Give the kid back to his parents. It’s hard enough having a 7 month old without the authorities getting their panties in a knot. Comedy releases the pressure.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to write up a listing now. A two-for-one offer. Both blond, blue-eyed boys with delicious senses of humor.

On second thought, I’ll just keep ‘em.

Momumo tagged me for my reading material:

Here are the rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people and post a comment to the person who tagged you once you’ve posted your three sentences.

Oh help. Ok, I’ll play along…but only because I have a book sitting here and I don’t have to go searching for one. LOL!

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

“Like all great philosophical ideas, this one is simple to understand but virtually impossible to imbibe. OK-so we are all one, and divinity abides within us all equally. No problem.”

Tag, you’re it if you want to play…because I’m burning dinner as I write here…

And now the review. I’ve been trying to write this for, oh, three months. About the time I finished the book.

I.Loved.This.Book. I am going to read it again soon. Like Harry Potter, it sat on my table for several weeks before I picked it up and then I couldn’t put it down.

If you’re not familiar with the book (and you’d probably be living in a cave if you haven’t heard of it), the author goes through a bit of a mid-life crisis (realization that she desperately no longer wants to be married) and takes a year off from her life to find pleasure again. She spent four months each in Italy (to eat), India (at an ashram to pray), and in Indonesia (to bring it all together…and find love).

Gilbert’s writing draws you in, brings you into her world, and you don’t want to leave. As I read about Italy, I wanted good Italian food, made with freshfreshfresh ingredients. As I read about India, I wanted to drop it all and go to an ashram for meditation…if for no other reason than I’d only be responsible for myself there. And as I read about Indonesia, I fantasized about bringing it all together, finding my center, and bringing that feeling back home.

Did I mention I loved this book? And I’m going to read it again soon? It’s the perfect summer read. It’s an easy read, perfect for the back porch with the beverage of your choice, and ideal for thinking lofty thoughts. Summer thoughts.

Go get it, forget the library for once, and buy it. Read it. Mark it up. Tell me how you liked it.

I suppose I should have mentioned yesterday that we’re all fine here. The storms and tornadoes were all north of here and missed us. We had a bit of rain and hail and that’s it. Pure luck. A is still talking about it, and will for the foreseeable future, but that’s how he is. His school was under lockdown for an hour yesterday and everyone in his classroom was under their desks for that entire time. I’ve never been so thankful he’s in an interior room with no windows. Seeing the dark clouds would have panicked him. His teacher, bless her, gave the kids a test (while they were under their desks) so they’d be quiet and have something to focus on. But we’re all ok here. Lots of clouds today and the possibility of storms, but I doubt much will come from it.

When Tom was 12 his house was destroyed by a tornado. He, his younger siblings, and his mom were in the basement at the time. He’s not a fan of bad storms. Neither am I. My first year teaching I lived in Iowa and taught in Illinois. Several times I had to cross the Mississippi River in the afternoon, trying to beat the green clouds home.

When we moved here to Colorado, we were grateful to learn that tornadoes were rare on the Front Range and were weak at that. Strong straight line winds were common, but as long as they weren’t in a tight little circle…

You will be hearing this afternoon and this evening that several towns north of Denver were hit by tornadoes this afternoon. They were. And some of the damage is pretty bad. Windsor was hit hard. We’re still under a tornado watch until 8:00 tonight, and a tornado warning for us right here where I’m sitting expired 15 minutes ago.

There was another storm cell over Boulder county that moved over us…and as I dashed outside to move my van into the garage in the hailstorm, there was apparently a small tornado jumping over us.

Now I’m hearing reports of 6 confirmed tornadoes. The big one that hit Windsor was 3/4-1 mile wide. This doesn’t happen here. Not tornadoes this big!

After the storm finished with us here, it moved up to the town where A goes to school. He doesn’t do well with storms; he’s heard Tom’s stories too many times. I can’t believe the school hasn’t called. I figured he’d be freaking out by now.

The big one that hit Windsor…you’ll see the pictures on the news tonight. It was a large, powerful, fast-moving storm. I have a friend whose family lives up there; she can’t reach them. The cell towers have blown down and she can’t reach her family.

Some of the damage is astonishing.

Let’s hope this is the end of it for today.

Know how I know spring is finally here?

Is it the leaves on the trees? No.

Is it that I’ve finally purchased (and Tom planted) my spring flowers/vegetables/ground cover? No.

Is it that, holy hell, the boys are out of school in a matter of days? AGH! No.

The solicitors are out.

So, as a public service to anyone considering coming to the House That Chaos Built, let me outline Jen’s Rules for Selling Crap On My Doorstep.

1. 1. My basement is already finished.

2. 2. No, I don’t want an entertainment book to support a wheelchair basketball team I’ve never heard of.

3. 3. Strangely enough, the HOA requires us to have our backyards landscaped damned near immediately and we’ve been here almost five years, so…do the math. I’ll help…NO!

4. 4. If you’re going door-to-door looking for houses to clean, I don’t want you cleaning my house.

5. 5. If you think I’m going to buy organic vegetables mail-order from someone ringing my doorbell, you need to go back to smoking whatever you’re growing with those vegetables.

6. 6. If you’re wearing a Scouting uniform and are polite and articulate, I will actually buy your cookies/popcorn/Christmas wreath.

7. 7. That also goes for High School Band Members selling something for that trip to Disney World. BTDT, actually do have the t-shirt. And don’t dick with me, I know your director.

8. 8. And, no, for the love of all things sweet and holy and good, I am NOT going to buy meat off your truck!

I have a favor to ask of all of you. My dear friend, Kate, set up a blog this weekend when I was there visiting her. Oh yes, and her adorable little boy. My GOD, did I love on him all weekend. And I’ve never missed my cherubs so much. No joke. Usually I leave and I’m great and I miss them, but this past weekend I was yearning for my kiddos and that was unusual.

Anyhoo…head on over to Kate’s new place and share a little love. Yes, she took the picture in the header; she is one hell of a fantastic nature photographer. Been published a couple of times. Good thing I love her so much or I’d be mind-numbingly jealous. Leave her some comment love, tell her to come visit you, which blogs to go hit…that sorta thing. Oh…and she’s running on little sleep, with a five-week old, so no sudden moves. ; )

And just how long have I known her? Over 20 years…more than half my life ohmyGodIjustdidthatmathandholyhellI’mold. We’ve been BFF since freshman year in high school and that we’ve stayed such great friends is amazing, seeing as how this past weekend is the most time we’ve spent together in the last 15 years. She’s the sis I never had and it kills me that she lives so far away. Eventually she’ll come out to Colorado to shoot some photos and she’ll be unable to leave. I can only hope.

Go say hi. I’d appreciate it.

(I wrote this the other night while visiting Kate)

So I’m here in southern Illinois with my dearest friend and her five week old son. He is a beautiful infant, all curled up in that sweet peanut shape, doing that mouth slapping thing when he’s hungry, and having magnificent blowout diapers. Yeah, I high-fived him on one today, it was epic.

And I’m giving thanks constantly for the blessing that is a vasectomy. That I watched. And saw smoke. ‘Cause I wanted to make sure it worked.

Having an infant, especially a newborn, is the hardest thing in the world. There’s no talking to, no negotiating with, a creature who doesn’t give a rat’s ass what kind of day you’re having or how little sleep you’ve had or whether or not you’ve gotten to pee all day.

(As I’m writing this, it’s 10:40 pm, and the little guy is crying and I can feel Kate gently cursing him under her breath and wishing to hell he’d sleep for another hour. I know this situation; I lived it with A in all permutations.)

As difficult as they can be, and as batshit crazy as they make me, I love the stage my boys are in. They wipe their own butts. They feed themselves. A can make sandwiches and J can pour cereal. Both know how to refill their water bottles from the filter in the fridge. They play together wonderfully and both sleep through the night.

I am so grateful that we are done having children. Two is our limit, the most we can do. The other night we took A’s girlfriend to the school musical with us and holy hell, having that third one there…we couldn’t keep track of all three kids! We’d get two corralled and then lose the third. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I can’t imagine starting over with another little life. Another little boy, ‘cause let’s be honest, if by some wacko freak of nature a little sperm ignored the “bridge out” sign and jumped the divide, it’d be a boy. You know it, I know it. Murphy and his little effin’ law have the upper hand here. The mere thought scares me. Tom’s brother and wife have a little surprise due in September…8 ½ years after their first and 5 ½ years after their second. I try not to think of me in that situation; my stomach can’t handle that much more stress right now.

For a long time, even after the Big V, I tossed around the notion of having a third. Adoption was always there, right? Until this year. And then I realized that my baby days are behind me and I’m so good with that. I’m into the school ages days and love it. I can enjoy my boys and not gently curse under my breath the little tyrant who won’t let me sleep. I’m in a good place now, for the most part.

You do realize, of course, that by even mentioning this, Murphy is hiding the “bridge out” signs and rallying the troops. ‘Cause he’s in charge and likes to remind me of that fact. Hey, Murphy? Go bug someone else for a change. I got boys to go enjoy.

Dear Idiots Who Think Farting Around With TSA is Entertaining,

Traveling by air used to be fun. It used to be exciting, exotic, an event. You’d jump through the security hoops, get on your plane, and have a meal. A real meal. Like pancakes and sausage and orange juice. With a full-sized napkin. I remember those days and they were not that long ago. We’d joke about the food because, frankly, it wasn’t that good. But it was still a meal. On a plane. And it was exciting.

And then things changed. Traveling by air was no longer fun.

Saturday I flew from Denver to St. Louis to visit my friend Kate, who had a sweet little boy five weeks ago (and dang it, she had to go a day over, or her son and A would have shared a birthday seven years apart).

I’m grateful I had an awesome pedicure, for I got to show off my tootsies at security. I just hope to hell I don’t get some weird-ass fungus from walking barefoot.

I’m grateful I was traveling solo and didn’t have to wrestle the boys through security. I’m doubly grateful the boys are past the stroller/carseat for the airplane stage. Oh, thank you Lord, we’re past that stage.

I’m grateful I can now cancel my annual exam, ‘cause I’m pretty sure the cavity search would have caught something, and the patdown took care of the girls.

This is what traveling has become. I understand the need for safety, but can we please keep our shoes on, for crying out loud? Is it really necessary to drag a sleeping infant out of the carseat/stroller and carry him straight in front of you through the x-ray (really had to do this once; I was less than happy and A even less so)? Do we really have to hold our breath through security, praying nothing beeps so we can just get through and get on the plane and just get the hell out of that insanity?

When will common sense rule again? Ever?

My “meal” on the plane consisted of a single glass of spicy tomato juice. I could have purchased snacks, if I so desired. The entertainment was the travel map on the screen in front of me; I had no desire to purchase DirecTv viewing for the flight. There weren’t even music channels.

My seat, for all 5’11” of me, was a center seat. Somehow, when I booked my flight, my request for an aisle seat got lost in the ether. Changing it at the airport was futile, as it was a computerized self-serve check-in kiosk.

And this was a good day of traveling. No storms, no delays, no computer glitches to throw everything out of whack.

This is why we’re staying home this year instead of traveling. We may not even make it back to our parents’ houses for the holidays. Air tickets are so expensive, traveling is anything but convenient, and it’s too expensive and time-consuming to drive. Makes me sad. I have actually thought about throwing the boys on Amtrak for a trip to Chicago; may need to look into that a bit more.

So, Idiots Who Think Farting Around With TSA is Entertaining, this is what you have wrought. I just hope, the next time you fly, you’re the one getting the full body cavity search. It’s the least I can hope for.

Love and kisses,

Jen