I could be more positive and call this post:
"My First Attempt At Decorating For Fall"
But it was a failure in the worst possible sense.
Last week, I decided it was time to deck the halls for Halloween. Yes, I love Halloween. (And Jesus. Just in case you were wondering.)
I love love love decorating this time of year. I never felt my Fall decor was inferior before. Before the internet.
Thanks, Pinterest.
Have you seen them?
The handmade banners? The monogrammed pumpkins? The costumed kids sipping homemade cider? The lighted leaf garlands? The twinkling sparkly orange explosion of all things Halloweeny and Fall?
If Martha Stewart ever made you feel inadequate, then Pinterst will make you jump off your roof.
I should have just stopped looking, because when I pulled out my plastic plug-in pumpkins, the scarecrow with one leg, and raggedy dollar store garland... it got ugly.
I don't mean "ugly" in the sense of looking bad. I mean "ugly" like "I am throwing a grown-up temper tantrum on my front porch" ugly.
The boy was in charge of the lights in the bushes, and every time he got the cords just so, the neighborhood cat menagerie would tear through and pull it down. He was barefoot, and a swarm of mosquitoes decided to eat his feet.
While he was jumping up and down cursing at the bugs, the light cord and the cats, I was hanging decor on the front door. (I don't really think he said actual bad words. He probably just thought them. Like his momma.)
I was unwinding my twinkly orange lights and lush leaf foliage and trying to staple them up over the door. Every time I stapled, the force of the staple CUT the leaf garland. All I was doing was chopping up leaf garland into segments.
When I tried to attach the lights with the stapler, it started chopping up my light strand, too.
(Those light strands may work if one bulb is out, but they do not work in pieces.)
So I climbed down and found some tiny hooks to hold the lights. After what felt like HOURS of twisting and hanging, I managed to get the lights up and stepped back to admire my work.
The home we are renting has a beautiful glass door. It weighs 3 tons and slams with the force of a meteor hitting Earth. Not exaggerating.
Like a scene out of a horror movie, the door (which had been propped open) decided to close and take the corner of the light strand with it.
The 3 ton door shut hard, shattering 78 tiny bulbs at once, and a hail shower of orange glass rained down upon me.
I calmly walked into the garage, put on my shoes (because all great decorators do their work barefoot) and grabbed a giant black trash bag. I ripped down all the lights and picked up all the leaf garland segments and threw them in the bag.
I cleaned up the glass, cut my thumb on a shard, and vowed to never decorate for Halloween again.
My mosquito-bitten assistant had abandoned me at this point.
In a rage, I grabbed a plastic pumpkin and plugged it in. I was determined... We were AT LEAST gonna have one decoration.
Well, no.
We weren't.
The bulb in Mr. Plastic Pumpkin was burned out.
It took every bit of self-control I possess to NOT drop-kick that pumpkin and his grinning un-lit self across the street.
I just left him there on the porch.
I went inside, and I think I may have declared that God doesn't want us to decorate for Halloween.
I may try again, so stay tuned.
Or I may wait until Christmas, pull out my staple gun, and chop up some evergreen garland.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
Even If It Was A Spider
My not-so-little boy was mowing the grass in the backyard this week when he walked under the clothes line and walked through a spiderweb.
Yes... I said "clothes line." The house where we live is a rental, and there is a line in the back yard for hanging clothes. I suppose the homeowners liked to line dry their clothes. When I was little, my momma used the one in our back yard.
Let me make a clear distinction at this point.
It's all I can do to get the clothes from the pile in the floor to the laundry room, washed, dried, folded, and put back up again.
If I had to use a clothes line, the first thing I'd hang would be myself.
Anyway, while cutting the grass, the boy tore right through a spider web. I didn't see him do it, but I'm sure it was a spectacle. He hates spiders. I also don't know too many people who enjoy waltzing through one of their webs. Ghiiisssh. It gives me the heebie jeebies.
When the boy called me over to show me the spider, it wasn't because he'd crashed her web or because she was unnaturally big or icky.
It was because she was already building it back.
Very cool.
We stood in the yard and watched her for a minute or two, and let me tell you... she was busy.
It was one of those times I don't ever want to blow right past.
For just a few minutes, my not-so-little boy was content to watch a spider. (Pardon me while I cry and flashback to when he was 4.)
We talked about how funny it is when people walk through spider webs.
We talked about how God designs the spider to just KNOW what to do. No one teaches her how to spin that web, and no one was there telling her to get up and spin it again because some gangly preteen ripped it up.
We talked about the gnats she was already wrapping up for dinner.
We talked about the giant fake spider we hang on our door every Halloween.
And then it was all over in a blink. I was back to watering the plants, and he was cranking up the mower again.
So when you come visit us, you won't find clothes hanging from our clothes line.
(You may find me.)
All we have hanging out there is one determined spider.
And I owe a tiny thanks to her for slowing down time for me and my not-so-little boy.
Yes... I said "clothes line." The house where we live is a rental, and there is a line in the back yard for hanging clothes. I suppose the homeowners liked to line dry their clothes. When I was little, my momma used the one in our back yard.
Let me make a clear distinction at this point.
It's all I can do to get the clothes from the pile in the floor to the laundry room, washed, dried, folded, and put back up again.
If I had to use a clothes line, the first thing I'd hang would be myself.
Anyway, while cutting the grass, the boy tore right through a spider web. I didn't see him do it, but I'm sure it was a spectacle. He hates spiders. I also don't know too many people who enjoy waltzing through one of their webs. Ghiiisssh. It gives me the heebie jeebies.
When the boy called me over to show me the spider, it wasn't because he'd crashed her web or because she was unnaturally big or icky.
It was because she was already building it back.
Very cool.
We stood in the yard and watched her for a minute or two, and let me tell you... she was busy.
It was one of those times I don't ever want to blow right past.
For just a few minutes, my not-so-little boy was content to watch a spider. (Pardon me while I cry and flashback to when he was 4.)
We talked about how funny it is when people walk through spider webs.
We talked about how God designs the spider to just KNOW what to do. No one teaches her how to spin that web, and no one was there telling her to get up and spin it again because some gangly preteen ripped it up.
We talked about the gnats she was already wrapping up for dinner.
We talked about the giant fake spider we hang on our door every Halloween.
And then it was all over in a blink. I was back to watering the plants, and he was cranking up the mower again.
So when you come visit us, you won't find clothes hanging from our clothes line.
(You may find me.)
All we have hanging out there is one determined spider.
And I owe a tiny thanks to her for slowing down time for me and my not-so-little boy.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Updates, Updates, and Sports
I feel like a TV News Anchor. But I have less hair and not-as-white teeth.
Here's what you need to know:
1. Baby Kitty has a home! Well, she's still living with us, but she will soon be headed to her new and permanent home. My sis-in-law's cousin is taking her. She has a teenage daughter, so Baby Kitty will have 2 sweet mommas.
By the way, we haven't named her, which I suppose is good... her new mommas can do that. But we call her Baby, Boo Boo, BB, and Tank. (That last one is a hoot - it was my nephew's suggestion.)
2. Dan/Daddy is recovering well from his back surgery. I haven't gone into the gory details of how and why he came to need his spine operated on. He and the docs are not 100% certain what "event" caused the damage. It could even be an old gym injury. Let's just say he doesn't always make the wisest decisions when lifting things. Things like washing machines.
3. As for me and my foot... it has been determined that the "Great Sewing Machine Drop of 2008" is the culprit in the foot pain. So I let the podiatrist inject my foot with a veeeeery long needle. Which only made it swell and hurt worse for 2 days. Then the regular old pain came back. There's a follow-up appointment this week, so I may require another injection. Good times.
We interrupt this update to apologize for the geriatric turn our news stories seem to be taking. Granny and Pepaw are apparently one injury away from the AARP. Sorry.
4. The boy is full swing into football, and I have refrained from wrapping him in bubble wrap. So far.
I told him and Dan/Daddy there was nothing safe about a sport that required THAT MUCH padding, protection, and gear.
So far, he's proven to be a little Heisman contender... interceptions, touchdowns, great yardage.
Here he is (#55) on the sidelines sporting his pick socks. The team and coaches are all wearing pink for Breast Cancer Awareness this month. How dang cute are those socks?
I still wish he was playing soccer. Or the guitar.
And that's your recap for the last week or so.
I would make a terrible News Anchor.
Now, Weather Person? That's another story.
Here's what you need to know:
1. Baby Kitty has a home! Well, she's still living with us, but she will soon be headed to her new and permanent home. My sis-in-law's cousin is taking her. She has a teenage daughter, so Baby Kitty will have 2 sweet mommas.
By the way, we haven't named her, which I suppose is good... her new mommas can do that. But we call her Baby, Boo Boo, BB, and Tank. (That last one is a hoot - it was my nephew's suggestion.)
2. Dan/Daddy is recovering well from his back surgery. I haven't gone into the gory details of how and why he came to need his spine operated on. He and the docs are not 100% certain what "event" caused the damage. It could even be an old gym injury. Let's just say he doesn't always make the wisest decisions when lifting things. Things like washing machines.
3. As for me and my foot... it has been determined that the "Great Sewing Machine Drop of 2008" is the culprit in the foot pain. So I let the podiatrist inject my foot with a veeeeery long needle. Which only made it swell and hurt worse for 2 days. Then the regular old pain came back. There's a follow-up appointment this week, so I may require another injection. Good times.
We interrupt this update to apologize for the geriatric turn our news stories seem to be taking. Granny and Pepaw are apparently one injury away from the AARP. Sorry.
4. The boy is full swing into football, and I have refrained from wrapping him in bubble wrap. So far.
I told him and Dan/Daddy there was nothing safe about a sport that required THAT MUCH padding, protection, and gear.
So far, he's proven to be a little Heisman contender... interceptions, touchdowns, great yardage.
Here he is (#55) on the sidelines sporting his pick socks. The team and coaches are all wearing pink for Breast Cancer Awareness this month. How dang cute are those socks?
I still wish he was playing soccer. Or the guitar.
And that's your recap for the last week or so.
I would make a terrible News Anchor.
Now, Weather Person? That's another story.
Friday, September 23, 2011
When Good Grandmas Go Bad
We have a rare blessing. Dan/Daddy and I still have 3 grandmothers living. I have one, and he has two; so many people our age have none... we are blessed.
One of Dan/Daddy's grandmas is a bit more "feisty" (we'll say) than the other.
She cracks us up. We all call her "Nonie."
She has those skills that so many people of her age and generation have:
1. She will tell you EXACTLY what she's thinking. Even if the rest of the room would not say it. Even if it's unpleasant. Even if it might be embarrassing.
and
2. She likes to repeat things. I don't mean repeating in the sense of telling the same story twice. I mean repeating in the sense of saying something 3,956 times. Even if the rest of the room would not say it. Even if it's unpleasant. Even if it might be embarrassing.
Most folks refer to it as "beating a dead horse." (not a pretty word picture)
For example, one of the first times I met her, Dan/Daddy and I were dating. (He tells me I should have run then, but that's another story for another day.) His mom had made some BBQ for dinner. Her mom (Nonie) declared,
"Hey! This BBQ is hot!"
It was spicy BBQ, but she felt like it was too spicy. So she began to tell us.
Over and over and over and over.
"This BBQ is hot."
"This sure is some hot BBQ."
"This is the hottest BBQ I have ever eaten."
"You sure did make some hot BBQ, Honey."
"Wow! This is hot BBQ."
You get the picture.
The hot BBQ incident happened over 15 years ago, so you can imagine how Nonie has honed her dead horse beating skills.
The only thing that Nonie adores more than repeating things is her grandson... Dan/Daddy. She ADORES him. I don't have the heart to tell her that he did not, in fact, hang the moon.
Anywho....
Dan/Daddy had his back surgery last week, and in all the times Nonie's called to check on him, I have told her he's doing great. He is, really.
It is a very slow recovery, and he isn't a fan of slow recoveries. He's been a good patient, but he's not the most obedient patient. He wants to be back to his old self a little faster than the doctor will allow.
It's just best if Nonie knows he's recovering. It is best if she DOESN'T know he's pushing himself a bit too hard too soon.
Well. The boy (my boy) took matters into his own hands last weekend and called Nonie up.
To "rat out" his dad. To get the thrill of knowing she's gonna begin to beat that dead horse again. Except this time, the "dead horse" is his slow-moving daddy.
Within 2 seconds of the boy calling Dan/Daddy's Nonie, the phone beeped with a text.
From Dan/Daddy to the boy.
"I am going to kill you."
Apparently Nonie had called him.
To rant and rave and scold him for not taking it easy.
Let the dead horse beating commence!
The boy thinks it's hysterical. (It is.)
Dan/Daddy thinks it's annoying, yet sweet. (It is.)
I can honestly say that even 5 years from now, when he's running a 5K or jumping out of an airplane, she will still be telling him to sit down.
"Don't you need to take it easy, Honey?"
"You better rest a bit."
"Your back isn't what it used to be."
"You need to sit down and rest."
"You better rest and sit down."
And the boy will be rolling in the floor, holding his sides, and laughing his hiney off.
So will I.
One of Dan/Daddy's grandmas is a bit more "feisty" (we'll say) than the other.
She cracks us up. We all call her "Nonie."
She has those skills that so many people of her age and generation have:
1. She will tell you EXACTLY what she's thinking. Even if the rest of the room would not say it. Even if it's unpleasant. Even if it might be embarrassing.
and
2. She likes to repeat things. I don't mean repeating in the sense of telling the same story twice. I mean repeating in the sense of saying something 3,956 times. Even if the rest of the room would not say it. Even if it's unpleasant. Even if it might be embarrassing.
Most folks refer to it as "beating a dead horse." (not a pretty word picture)
For example, one of the first times I met her, Dan/Daddy and I were dating. (He tells me I should have run then, but that's another story for another day.) His mom had made some BBQ for dinner. Her mom (Nonie) declared,
"Hey! This BBQ is hot!"
It was spicy BBQ, but she felt like it was too spicy. So she began to tell us.
Over and over and over and over.
"This BBQ is hot."
"This sure is some hot BBQ."
"This is the hottest BBQ I have ever eaten."
"You sure did make some hot BBQ, Honey."
"Wow! This is hot BBQ."
You get the picture.
The hot BBQ incident happened over 15 years ago, so you can imagine how Nonie has honed her dead horse beating skills.
The only thing that Nonie adores more than repeating things is her grandson... Dan/Daddy. She ADORES him. I don't have the heart to tell her that he did not, in fact, hang the moon.
Anywho....
Dan/Daddy had his back surgery last week, and in all the times Nonie's called to check on him, I have told her he's doing great. He is, really.
It is a very slow recovery, and he isn't a fan of slow recoveries. He's been a good patient, but he's not the most obedient patient. He wants to be back to his old self a little faster than the doctor will allow.
It's just best if Nonie knows he's recovering. It is best if she DOESN'T know he's pushing himself a bit too hard too soon.
Well. The boy (my boy) took matters into his own hands last weekend and called Nonie up.
To "rat out" his dad. To get the thrill of knowing she's gonna begin to beat that dead horse again. Except this time, the "dead horse" is his slow-moving daddy.
Within 2 seconds of the boy calling Dan/Daddy's Nonie, the phone beeped with a text.
From Dan/Daddy to the boy.
"I am going to kill you."
Apparently Nonie had called him.
To rant and rave and scold him for not taking it easy.
Let the dead horse beating commence!
The boy thinks it's hysterical. (It is.)
Dan/Daddy thinks it's annoying, yet sweet. (It is.)
I can honestly say that even 5 years from now, when he's running a 5K or jumping out of an airplane, she will still be telling him to sit down.
"Don't you need to take it easy, Honey?"
"You better rest a bit."
"Your back isn't what it used to be."
"You need to sit down and rest."
"You better rest and sit down."
And the boy will be rolling in the floor, holding his sides, and laughing his hiney off.
So will I.
Friday, September 16, 2011
This Face
This is the smallish face that showed up on our doorstep (literally) this week.
She must have known that a bleeding heart softie lives here. (Make that 3 bleeding heart softies.)
I took her to the vet and spent a sad amount of money getting her checked out and treated for a respiratory infection. Then I spent some more money on de-worming meds and flea treatment because we don't have the heart to look at that face and tell it "no." That's probably what's wrong with the boy. Not worms... We can't say "no" to cute faces.
She barely weighs a pound, and the vet says she's probably about 6 weeks old.
We've known her for 3 days and we already love her to pieces.
The sad part of the story is we can't keep her. Our very overgrown and spoiled cat H-A-T-E-S her. Hate is a mild word.
We've spent 2 days on the phone and on the internet searching for rescue centers, no-kill shelters, pet foster homes, and humane societies.
No one can take any pets. NO one. And that includes several cities.
They are all so overfilled already, and they can't legally have any more.
It is heartbreaking... it makes me see why some people (mean heartless people, that is) just dump unwanted animals out like trash. They really don't have many options.
I am waiting to hear from 2 more rescue places, but the path ahead for baby kitty is unclear.
My mom is considering taking her, but she doesn't really want another pet. She also has 2 very spoiled and unfriendly cats already.
So for now, baby kitty is with us. Getting well and getting lots of snuggling.
In the words of Bob Barker...
"Have your pets spayed or neutered!"
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Bring On The Artificial Pumpkin Flavoring
Since I last blogged...
Dan/Daddy had back surgery. Yes. BACK. As in cutting around the all-important spine.
We found a teensy tiny itty bitty baby kitten on our front porch on Tuesday. We are now giving her love, food, a warm bed, and very expensive medicine.
But mercy is she ever cute.
I went to the Podiatrist for some foot pain. Foot pain I now know is related to the great Sewing Machine Drop of 2008. Now I have nerve damage, and I have to get a shot. In my foot. Did I mention I hate needles?
All of these big life events are just pushing us along, and I need to stop and post some blogs.
On another note, I had my first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season yesterday. Mmmmm.
It may take several more of those to get me through the rest of the month of September.
Dan/Daddy had back surgery. Yes. BACK. As in cutting around the all-important spine.
We found a teensy tiny itty bitty baby kitten on our front porch on Tuesday. We are now giving her love, food, a warm bed, and very expensive medicine.
But mercy is she ever cute.
I went to the Podiatrist for some foot pain. Foot pain I now know is related to the great Sewing Machine Drop of 2008. Now I have nerve damage, and I have to get a shot. In my foot. Did I mention I hate needles?
All of these big life events are just pushing us along, and I need to stop and post some blogs.
On another note, I had my first Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season yesterday. Mmmmm.
It may take several more of those to get me through the rest of the month of September.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Croutons and Stuff
Here's what's on my mind, in case you wanted to know.
If you don't, then why are you reading this?
1. Why does a long weekend completely mess up my internal clock and calendar? Is it Tuesday? Is it Wednesday? Oh creature of habit and routine, I am.
2. Croutons are the best part of a salad.
3. I was doing some laundry. (Listen to the cheer from Dan/Daddy. He was about to have to build a bridge over the pile.) While doing the laundry, I found bullets in my washer. I can't help but wonder what would happen if they'd made it to the dryer.
4. Bullets in my washer are not uncommon. We were at my parents' house this Labor Day weekend, and the men folk went hunting.
5. The boy shot more doves than Dan/Daddy, and he has rubbed it in his father's face like nobody's business. Dan/Daddy has been gracious as the boy does the victory dance around him.
6. Our weather dropped from the range of "Satan's Domain" into the 60's over the weekend. There is hope.
7. The start of college football makes me happy. And it makes me want to decorate for Fall. Which makes me even happier. I am a simple girl.
And that is all I have for this Tuesday... I mean, Wednesday, update.
If you don't, then why are you reading this?
1. Why does a long weekend completely mess up my internal clock and calendar? Is it Tuesday? Is it Wednesday? Oh creature of habit and routine, I am.
2. Croutons are the best part of a salad.
3. I was doing some laundry. (Listen to the cheer from Dan/Daddy. He was about to have to build a bridge over the pile.) While doing the laundry, I found bullets in my washer. I can't help but wonder what would happen if they'd made it to the dryer.
4. Bullets in my washer are not uncommon. We were at my parents' house this Labor Day weekend, and the men folk went hunting.
5. The boy shot more doves than Dan/Daddy, and he has rubbed it in his father's face like nobody's business. Dan/Daddy has been gracious as the boy does the victory dance around him.
6. Our weather dropped from the range of "Satan's Domain" into the 60's over the weekend. There is hope.
7. The start of college football makes me happy. And it makes me want to decorate for Fall. Which makes me even happier. I am a simple girl.
And that is all I have for this Tuesday... I mean, Wednesday, update.
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