Friday, December 3, 2010
Here I am smiling and crying, my kids confused out of their minds. We're watching a million versions of this awesome concept (Sound of Music in Central Station in Belgium? My kids are dancing their butts off right now, asking if we can do this in the mall sometime. eh ha, probably not)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Mr Incredible walked in the house with a shimmer (or was it a tear for Peppy?) in his eye telling me not to laugh. I don't normally laugh at people or things, or altogether immature scenarios, but seriously:
|sorry too lazy to turn this around|
|Peppy you look like hell|
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Right now my dread is that I don't have hot shoes. This is muy, muy bothersome for me. First of all, I had a group of 10 or so people tell me the other day that they think I'm taller than Mr Incredible (a rectangle always looks taller than a square). This does not fly with me. I used to very confidently wear heels with him (we are both 5'9). Now I feel as though I'm going to be stuck wearing- what? Flats and dress with tights? That, too, does not fly with me. (and if you're wondering, my "hot shoes" that I had suddenly started making my legs feel less Sarah, more Bristol-esque. In other words, salvationarmy.) I know I could get away with boots, but flat boots are cazh.
So what's a girl to do? My best advice to you is to stay tuned. Because I'm at a loss.
|versus Mr Inc. Who looks taller to YOU|
These past 4 or so days have been particularly tough ones. I've been overly
Let's take, for instance, giving the baby medicine. Mr Incredible suggested I should because she was feverish and cranky. You would've thought that he asked me to lug the tv from the basement and hook it up to the computer from the DVI to the HDMI cable. I moaned and groaned so afraid that for SOME reason me giving her medicine was going to work out. "Why don't YOU do it? It's your first day off in 6 weeks and all YOU'RE doing is sitting watching football." And when he replied, "sweetie, I just went out and bought the medicine, and actually I'm working on my homework" all I heard was "oh, baby, it's just the Opt-World HDMI cable you'll have to use to hook it up. You can do it!"
So I pulled myself up by my boot straps, and I did it. I gave the baby Tylenol. And it spilled all down the front of her, on the floor, on my Dry Clean Only sweater. I lost it. I threw the teaspoon and exclaimed that it was HIS fault, damnit. Why did he buy the RED STUFF????? MY Baby only likes the PINK STUFF!!! He calmly replied, "well, next time we'll have to use the dropper." In other words, the HDMI switcher, ya know. I started having a mild anxiety attack. And then baby fell asleep. And once again, I realized it was all alright. Everything's okay. It always is. But the prospect of what COULD happen is always looming. Always in front of my face. It's the Irish in me.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Remember how the van bit the dust? Yes, well it has been sitting at the car shop since then until we could decide what to do with it. Much is involved in that decision. First we have to clear everything out, which in itself will be epic. I have everything from sunscreen to boots that don't fit anyone to my my marriage certificate. ha. Really. Then we have to decide where to dump it. Did you know that there is a fine to bring it to a dumpster??? Absurd.
I didn't want us not having a car to be a family affair, but my dad and Mr Incredible are going to try try try to make the van drive from the shop to the store. My Dad following Mr Inc in case the car breaks down. When I told my dad that I would follow him so my Dad didn't have to be involved, he looked at me as though I was asking him to direct me toward the best dating sites or to give me internet fax reviews. In other words, he thought it was absurd for me to risk waiting on the side of the road with the girls in tow, while we waited for the tow truck.
So everyone silently at your computers say a little "vroom baby vroom" for me. And the monstrosity called minivan.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Unlike most/some people, I have no fear or dread of the hospital, dentist offices, nursing homes. As mentioned in my previous post, I lovvee them. Mostly because I've never been traumatized by any of the above (knock on woooooood) but also because I was exposed to these things all the time. The biggest and probably only problem I've had with my experience with the nursing profession is that no one (Mom, Dad or Sister) let me ever have any say in what scrubs they wore. Always modest, always blue. I'm talking to you, too, Mr Incredible. If I was a nurse, no matter what the establishment (because i do what i wunt) I'd totally be sportin hot pink scrubs.
|get this man some SCRUBS!|
So here we are, Mr Incredible approaching the end to his nursing school. I'm waiting, just wondering, even though I know, that he, too, will never ever wear character scrubs. And I'm starting to appreciate that a little more everyday. Because who really trusts a man wearing mens' nursing scrubs with designs on them, anyway? Then again, I don't trust too many men that wear white sneakers, either. ;)
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
When I was born my 7 year old at the time sister asked if I was Italian. Because I came out with SO MUCH dark, thick hair. We're Irish and German, no we're not Italian, no I'm not the post man's daughter, I just got the only strand of hairy dna in my entire ancestry. So if you're anything like me there is no doubt to the question 'If you could have only one thing while stranded on a deserted island what would it be?' umtweezersduh. Not that I'm prideful, but more that my rescuers wouldn't mistake me for a gorilla. AND if you're anything like me then you know there is no light like natural light. Not even halogens. So basic "if and only if" math says 'if you are hairy and only if natural light is suitable to do a thorough job then you tweeze in the car.' No doubt.
|these are the things I learned in college. ie to be super woman|
Unfortunately I didn't think of that when Jamie the tow man towed my car and all 4 sets of tweezers away. To it's final destination. Well, no, actually just the car shop. But 4 days for my face is final destination.
Yesterday emerging from the shower my two year old said, "Peppy pooooped." This sort of um, shit, throws me over the edge. So I went into our family room to find it. No where to be found. No where. But it stunk to the high heavens. Then I saw it: smears on the couch. I nearly lost my head and Peppy nearly lost his life when I decided that some fresh air would do us good. (after wooliting the um, shit, out of our couches and scrubbing them.) So we walked to Walgreens. On the way I realized Peppy was covered in fecal matter. We dropped Peppy off at the groomer to get bathed. Then picked up 2 sets of tweezers at Walgreens. Then went to Pizza Hut for dinner. Then walked home.
So friends, I'm happy to report that our house smells fresh, Peppy's ass is fresh, my face is fresh and I'm a new woman. All with out a car.
|thank you Duquesne. For making yesterday possible.|
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Over the weekend I received an email to do some advertising on my blog (for money! Oh for the love of money.) My friends were over as I was checking me email. And we may or may not have been carousing. Anydrinkfest I eagerly (oh so eagerly!) replied to my email just to have my gmail go apesnap on me. So I googled this person's name who sent me the email and clicked on the link that brought me no where. All I could find was his facebook, linkdin, myspace. But then, oh then, I saw something about a virus. So I looked at it and behold! I found it, I caught him! This "man" was not a man, he was a virus (from which I'll with hold his name. Because I leaked it like whoa this weekend.) A virus that gives you all sorts of popups! I virus that is a nuisance, though not that bad.
I panicked and like any other good blogger I blogged about it immediately (after the headache subsided the next day). I titled the post 'I'll be damned, ________.' And damned was I when I received an email from him this morning. Damned was I when I rechecked my references. Damned was I when I realized you should never drink and read emails. Or research spam and viruses. Damned was I when I realized I lost my visions of laying in a bed of cash that I'd earned through blogging (without using Adsense!). Damnit.
But in all seriousness, I do owe this guy a sincere apology. It is totally not my style to slam someone's name, especially all over the www. But I really did think that his name was the name of a virus, so I didn't have any hesitation. I was sure satellites were watching in my windows all day, until I got his email. I felt like such a predator. Sorry, ______.
Now who wants their business in my sidebar???
Thursday, November 11, 2010
And people, this is the start of something good. Not only is it a buzz in itself, I am a new blogger and we are going to conquer blogger one post at a time. Starting with soap.com. ahem. Anyway. You really ought to go follower her. She's desperate. Yes she's desperate. Words that she wouldn't dare say, but I'll most def say for her. Stay tuned. And go check out my better third (Mr Incredible could not be excluded from that. But there's nothing weird going on, either.)
|strangely we have next to no pictures together. she has really fast blink reflexes.|
Friday, November 5, 2010
I love finding out new ways to get lower payments. By divine grace a realized that the girls qualified for super cheap health insurance- that's a saved at least $200! But with all of these saved payments we'll probably just be putting them (soon enough) to a new car with hubcaps. Because have I told you? Poor little minivan is breaking down more than it's running. Well, not quite true, but it stutters more than it runs.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
So let's leave with a little poll. You know I love polls. Situation: We have 1 roll of toilet paper left. I'm dashing through Wegmans with vitamin C, cranberry juice and water. I pay, and go into the bathroom so I can make it until I get home. In the bathroom I realize that we are in the midst of running out of toilet paper (at home), and at the rate I'm going (or not) we'll be out in the morning. Would it be unethical to steal a roll from Wegman's bathroom? Remember: THE BURNING. I cannot possibly run to the opposite end of the story to get toilet paper. Let's have at it.
ps. I did not steal any toilet paper. I also did not run to the other end of the store to buy some. I merely put it out of my mind and figured I would cross that bridge when I get to it. That's always a bad decision. I always make that decision.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I can't believe I've become just another wasted space in the blogosphere! I've neither participated or contributed to the blog world. I'm tellin ya, it's this damn dog. (peppy I'll love you til the ocean turns to yogurt. Or you get hit by a car.) peta leave me alone. He's fine! Although, he did run into the street today, but since goose, deer and golf cart crossing are all too common on my street the drivers navigated little Peppy just fine.
So how are you, friends? (I know, the most awkward rhetorical question possible for a blogger to ask.) I've been good. Busy. I have this completely unnecessary itch to spray paint all of the insides of my cupboards.
And I've put myself on a spending freeze. Why, you ask? Frankly, I have no idea. Go figure I made this "commitment" to myself as I was pouring the last glass of milk and chomping on the last piece of produce in our house. The girls had crushed pineapple for snack today. My friend and I had champagne and shrimp cocktail for snack today. And peanut butter on spoons. Siccckkkk.
I'VE to bed. I will I WILL check in soon.
Much love from ME to YOU. Whoever reads this and comments will get a special prize. I'm not sure what yet, but believe me. Because YOU are my faithful ones.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Hello, it's been awhile (part 14)
CSN has given me another promotion (yay). Last time I mentioned (yes, a mere mention!) I was able to purchase a wonderful quilt for the baby's nursery! It looks sooo good. I'll take a pic soon. I love it so much I'm actually going to get another one to have matching twin beds in the nursery (soon to be the big girls' room)
In all honesty, CSN is worth taking a look at. It's like a high quality Walmart online. I has anything from dining room chairs, to quilts, to dog strollers. yesssssssss.
Here's the quilt I got (and what I'm getting another of)
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I wrote a (mean, in retrospect) comment on someone else's blog. Along the lines of, wow that was boring. Only because I'm every day thoroughly entertained by this person. I've read the blog for at least a year every day, sometimes checking MORE than once in hopes that there'd be another post.
My comment: funny? Apparently not. Hurtful? Apparently so. But whoa Uncle Sam did I get some nassssty things said about me. On that blog. On facebook. AHHHH and such is the life of being able to say whatever you want to another person because this is all virtual.
Hey, at least I didn't try to disguise myself and comment as Anonymous. Righteous.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
My perfectly fitting jeans are fitting very imperfectly, and I'm always tugging at my clothes so they don't ride up, ride down, get bunched in the wrong places. Such a frustrating place to be in. The biggest problem of it all seems to be my appetite and love of all food/drink. That plus no self control has ground moving effects. Quite literally.
Poor Mr Incredible could hardly stand one more three-lettered question or comment. Clue: ends in t, starts with f and has a vowel in between. And 'fit' is not the correct answer. My poor children, even though they have not expressed in so many (or any at all) words, could barely stand one more day of me jumping for dear life into my jeans, red faced and sweating, and anxiously albeit politely asking them to leave my room so they could not watch in horror the spectacle I was creating.
So I'm taking some very sound advice and trying to go no carb for 2 weeks. 14 days. No big deal. Really what I should be doing is sleeping with a plastic bag over my head. Because that's easy to do for 14 days too.
It's 1pm on my second day of no carbs. I politely declined a Tim Hortons egg, cheese and sausage biscuit and a donut of any sort. And then when I came home shaking from the effects of too much coffee and no carbs (carbs=food) I downed 2 ninety seven percent fat free hot dogs. I was licking the ketchup and mustard off of my plate as fiercely as I would've licked chocolate icing off of an unsuspecting two year old's birthday cake.
It's that bad. But only twelve and a half more days to go.
Have you done any no carbs? How did you survive it?
Sunday, September 5, 2010
|Ugh this pic doesn't even do them justice|
I'm 5'9. And so is Mr Incredible (height may or may not be his only un incredible characteristic.) And what better place would I have to wear these than an Indian restaurant? Where I can one up small Indian men two times with 1) my height 2) my thick (er?) Buffalo accent? I bet Bristol felt like me, too.
|Bristol are you feeling self conscious than your leg is bigger than his head? Very relatable tonight, Bristol. Very relatable.|
|Sarah, why do your legs look so much hotter than mine?:|
|and this pic DOES NOT DO MY LEGS JUSTICE.|
|One Oh! Calcutta martini (two parts liquor to one part pineapple juice to one part Indian cologne)|
|Indian waiter, "you get rose he get beel."|
Sunday, August 29, 2010
So really, what should I've expected when I read a novel by an Irish 23 year old? A series of untimely and tragic events, of course. But I didn't expect that. I expected the book to be just as wonderful and moving as the movie P.S. I Love You. (I don't even really like movies, let alone get effected by them. During ps I love you I was streaming tears the entire time. I'm not sure if pregnancy hormones had anything to do with it, but I'm not willing to take the risk that it wasn't.) The cover of the book says that it's by the same author. Which should've been my second red flag. If you like a movie so so much, chances are the book can't live up to the movie. And isn't it always a shame when you read the book then watch the movie? ( I hear Eat, Pray, Love is exceptional.)
and And that was the only credit that the book cover gave to this book. No New York Times reviews. No reviews at all, really. No preface (not that a book needs them, because frankly, I never read them. Although I always realize in retrospect that I should've read the preface. This happens every single time.)
So. With all that being said, I need to say one more thing. I never thought that I'd be the type of person that would write a bad review on a book. It is someone's piece of art, after all, and who am I to slander that? Why would I deter someone else from reading it? (especially since it's just a depressing novel?) I have no answers to that question other than I can't believe I wasted 450 pages (but only 3 days, if I might add) to read it.
It was series after series of missed meetings with the true other. And then when they're fifty and divorced and baby mamas and baby daddys and failures failures failure and 415 pages of FAIL they decide "oh my true love! We've been "best friends" (let's face it you can't have the opposite sex be your best friend through marriages et cetera et cetera) since we were 5 now let's get mawwwwied even though your post menopausal and we have a combined three children in three different countries. AND you're a successful doctor who only cares about work and YOU'RE always bitching about being a single mother and the manager of a hotel who didn't even pass health dept regulations." And you're attracted to each other why?
There is one thing I was impressed with, however. Apart from the epilogue, the whole book was written via letters, emails, Instant messages. But when I think back about the story, the times and places of events are very clear. That is the one and only thing that I would describe as "talent" or literal "piece of work." But boyy, was this book a piece of work.
I also like the Title (main character's name) Rosie Dunne. Who wouldn't want to be named that? And I liked reading it in my own version of an Irish brogue. That was the one thing that kept me from scratchimg my eyes out.
So if you're ever in the mood to read a very frustrating story that uses phrases like "gone mental" and "demented" and every 150 pages mentions a drag queen named "Miss Behave" to jazz the story up, this is definitely the book for you.
But clearly, I don't want to talk about it, so keep it to yourself.
I'm off to read about training my puppy, for a dose (or more) of reality.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Wait. Who am I kidding? I still wait for just one more follower. And a different commenter. Heck! I even got an anonymous commenter the other day! The only reason I was sad was because I wasn't verbally harassed by he she (it?). And I'm still, STILL waiting for the day I get a Cambodian spammer in my comments section. That's official like relationship status on facebook official.
So I'm imploring your help. Because when Jen says that she's blogging for her job (pffff) and Emcy asks "how do you have 104 followers? Not that I care how many followers I have...*trailing off...* (pfff) and Rose is "online journaling" we all just know that they are new bloggers who haven't come to grips with Step 1: Admitting. Admitting that we are powerless over our need to be noticed. To have followers.
We all want to be leaders of a circus. In our case, it's a virtual circus. Which is pretty thought provoking. Descartes, anyone? (Rose?)
So I'm going to strongly advise you to go read their blogs and follow. Follow. Follow. And I'm going to proudly list them on my blog roll under my (not yet existent) Friends and family Blogs. I always thought those friend and family blogs were such a Below the Belt Move. Like saying, "these are outrageously awesome blogs under 'My Faves,' but please excuse my Friends and Families' blogs." Not so, friends.
I guarantee youll be slightly envious of their way with words. Dormant Gloria Steinman? Yes please. Delightfully and maybe overeagerly assisting policemen (while describing her husband as having a 'clipped bark'?) Uh thank you yes. Chicken wings (too many?)? Forgetting to take out the garbage (again?)? Now that is empathy at its finest.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
New dog, you say? Kiera, what's this? Answer: I don't know!
Here's the story. We wanted a labradoodle. We as in I suggested a dog to Mr Incredible. Ya know, someone to play fetch with. Labradoodle- hypoallergenic, relatively mild, kid friendly. I always wanted a big dog. So it met the criteria. Yesterday we go to the pet store, conversation as follows:
Me: Mr Incredible just so you know if there's a labradoodle in there I'll want it immediately.
Him: No, we're going to go through a breeder, not the pet store,
Me: Just sayin.
Lo and behold, there was the sweetest lookin' labradoodle you ever did see there. (commence whining and my argument why we should get him right.now.)
Until took him out and played with him, that is.
|Just a flesh wound.|
|in all his glory.|
With Pep in his step.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
|What I look like on vacation. no for real.|
Did you know that if Toronto were in the US (tomato tomahto, ay?) it would be the third largest city after nyc and la? Approaching the big city, I thought, 'Ikeas! skinny people (maybe even famous)!, musicals! and Asians!' Round number two: Approaching the city I thought, 'Please God don't let there be more traffic jams that creep up so fast on you that I'll get whip lash and more importantly, will let the kids wake up."
I won't get into all the wonderful nitty gritty details of it. But this much I'll say: Starbucks under our hotel room. Tim Hortons in Canada. Pool. Beach. Mountain. Someone else washing all of our dirty towels. Beer. Martinis. Wine. Live music. Need I say more, friends?? Need I say more.
|Front: capri sun. Back: cranberry lime martini. It's not everyday that I have martinis. (garnished with limes, that is.)|
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Have you ever read design interior blogs when you're tired? Gone to TJMaxx when you're tired? Tried ordering off the dollar menu? Decided between an ice cream sandwich and York mint patty? (I ate both plus another york mint patty. the big ones.) Gone to AAA to rent a van with all four hubcaps? DMV?
So now I'm tired an anxiety ridden. I'm not good enough and AAA and DMV employees have successfully made me feel inadequate and have left me wondering if my children are in fact comparable to ferrets. (So I didn't brush their hair today!!!!!) Most importantly, I'm frantically calling, emailing, scouring craigslist for a dresser like this:
(mind you I'm not trying to get a new bedroom furniture sets. This is for our living room/den)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Fast forward (rewind?) four years ago when I had expiring frequent flier miles. Choose from the following: Martha Stewart living, Fishing, Golf, Southern Living. Obvious.
Needless to say, I've fallen in love. Martha, I love you and all of your turquoise orange stuff and crafts and print out lists and recipes and cookies of the day that I receive via email every single day. And your paints! oh, your paints, Martha! I was in a bit of a white wall hell when you withdrew your line (maybe they withdrew the line from you) of paint from Lowes. But you know that Home depot would pick up those pieces.
Today I was in celebratory retail therapy mode (again) (Mr Incredible's semester is over) at TJMaxx and I found Martha's cookbook for $12 from 50. I don't know whether I should eat it or read it cover to cover or start baking feverishly. Fat and furiously.
My little snowflake of respect for martha has now snowballed out of control. Sure! I'll make sesame cookies. Sure! I'll make nautical coasters. Yes! I'll hang up your must have for a laundry room list up in my laundry room. Of course! I will sweep the floor every night if you tell me to, Martha. Actually I'll lick it for you. What's your favorite Martha craft? cookie? list?
Let's talk Martha.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Since I am American and my July has been so patriotically busy everyone EVERYONE is overtired. My kids are adrenaline rushed overtired. Simply put: they're so tired they can't sleep. My head has been spinning. Yesterday everyone woke up uber early from their naps which put me in a fit of rage.
Me: God, you need to take my rage away, please, thanks?
God: Plan a vacation
Me: omg, God, you're so smart.
Hiiiiiiiiii kids!!!!!!!! I'm so happy you're awake! I love you and I don't care that you're whining incessantly because we're going on vacationnnnnnnnnnnn
Do you have any suggestions for a vacation spot (relatively cheap) in the Northeast? I made the humongo mistake of googling it. We'll pass on family massages, thanks.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Hi! I'm back and I might even be ready to commit. Fingers crossed.
For a while there I just kinda lost my mind. I'm busy being bored. Bored as in Mr Incredible is home 6 hours a night and I need. to. fill. the. days. So I shop. I shop for food, I shop for me, I shop for Mr I, I shop for my family, I shop for birthdays that will occur in November. Expensive habit, I know.
I've also been busy being American. Because if you're not busy in July then you're not American and your passport should be revoked immediately. Many a hotdog's been ate and an icecream cone been slurped (lie I don't like cones). Beaches have been tread upon and pool's a peed in.
The whole gardening spiel that I wrote about? Niet. Too sticky, too many bugs. And it only looks okay. Which, if you think you know me, means that my towel is just about thrown in. For this year anyway.
See you tomorrow?
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
My basement: turns out it's not sewage, might not even be a foundation problem. Might be Roto Rooter are just this side of "professional plumbers."
What I've been doing: remember how I've said I can only really deal with one creative outlet at a time? Well I am a full fledged gardener (maybe.) I've transplanted (!!!!) a bush, I'm planting so many perennials I could have a mini nursery (not true). I've been weeding, watering, planting, Miracle growing, planting, planting. Weeding. I super puffy fluffy heart gardening. I'm already bracing myself for the loss I'll have to endure during the winter. Unfortch, once I take the winter break from it, come next spring I'll have no idea what the h I got myself into. Maybe not, we'll see. Carpe diem.
For a while I really felt like I had nothing much to say that was anything less than a Jewel song from her Spirit album. I was consumed in serious thought full of angst about the world we live in and what will become of me and who? who? is it that I love so much who will die first? Was that a run on sentence? sorry. Orange you glad I didn't blog these past couple weeks? I was pretty much zero fun. I completely delighted in my dread because it was a feeling of hopelessness it was just something to think about.
I totally have to get some pics up on this drab blog. I'll take some of my garden. And maybe the big pile of carpet that we ripped up from our basement before we found out it wasn't sewage. Maybe I'll tell you what I've been buying these days. (recovery of a somber mood = retail therapy.)
this makes me happy sad. watch it. happy sad as in why did i eat all those cookies last night.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Roto Rooter man is downstairs in my basement replacing my sump pump again (in less than a month) saying things like "Some things to tackle," and "your work cut out for you" and "$4,000- $5,000." We have another plumber coming to give us an estimate on the $1,800 fix in the next "few hours." (you get why that's in quotes, don't you?) And soon we'll have a FOUNDATION man coming within the next day because we need a new foundation or some crazy jazz because soil and sand is "weeping" through holes that the previous owner drilled in the ground. Hence our sump pump dies every time it rains.
So I'm left with approximately 4 brain cells, the power of prayer and my fist beating my chest "O Domine, Miserere, O Domine Miserere, Iesu Christe, Miserere"
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Rain is like an erratic teenager. So much potential to be so good, but even more potential to be devastating. So much good comes from it, yet so much damage can be done. Mama don't know whether to love im or hate im.
Last month we got a notable amount of rain and our sump pump went kaput on us. There was flooding in our basement, we had to throw out some of the girls' toys, but really the dehumidifier took care of us. Probably not the correct way to go about a mini flood, but it turned out fine. $500 dollars later and a new sump, I thought we were in the clear. I was wrong.
Most of the rain that came (in our most recent storm) was during the night. When I woke up first thing in the morning to get Mr Incredible's scrubs out of the drier, there was ankle deep water in about half of out basement. Psh, a little rain water never hurt anyone. So I waded through it, shook off my wet feet, went back upstairs to tell Mr Incredible that we were flooded. again. and worse. Hung up my pants to dry because why would I wash them? just a little rain water on the bottoms. We called the plumbers again, thinking maybe?? it was a faulty sump, even though I could hear it still running still. The plumber came (8 hours after they estimated) and couldn't figure it out. Next morning they sent another plumber to figure it out. I was (still) barefoot and was (still) wearing these:
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I went out for a delightful wonderful time with my good friends tonight. In absolute passing they mentioned how my blog is scratch your eyes out uppity. Of course this is what stuck with me for the rest of the night. That I don't let on to my true self, feelings, etc. Other people have said the same thing to me. And a friend's friend read my blog (once) and thought I'm super perfect. (wait, okay, I just flattered myself a million times over, but that's along the lines of what people were saying). I do try to take a positive spin on my blog. a) who wants to read people's woes? (answer: a lot of people. so they can "relate.") b) what if ex boyfriends are reading this (answer: yes, I'm that vain) c) why the h would I want to air my dirty laundry (answer: at least my dirty laundry is smeared bananas on the shoulders of shirts)
But honestly, I've had a pretty shitty week. Then again, "shitty" is relative. I could not think of a life that I'd rather have. Because I love my life. So I guess this all is the viscous cycle of am I acting cheerful or AM i cheerful? TBD.
Mr Incredible and I have been at each other's throats. I (still) haven't printed one picture since my 8 month old was born. I've hung nary a picture on our wall to decorate the house. When I asked Mr Incredible if my love handles were coming back he answered that "maybe I should just start walking some more." (no, that's not emotionally abusive or insensitive, I expect him to answer those types of questions in honesty) My kids, particularly the eldest, are painfully shy and it can be so frustrating sometimes because people cannot see all that she has to offer. Sometimes I feel like in wanting to please everyone I please no one.
But really? That's really what I have to complain about? I have a good life. I suppose it is a cheery life, full of life, love and more love. But I do fight with my husband, yell at my kids, make a fool out of myself, and have elephants and cougars and a mirrored wall in our bedroom. I'm fiery and emotional and sometimes feel not good enough. It's not perfect, but what is?
Maybe 'Imperfect Daisies; The Tale of a Real American Housewife' should be more like The Tale of a Cheerful American Housewife; or Sarcastic American Housewife; High Strung, Low Energy American Housewife; Disregarding American Housewife
SUGGESTIONS? you know I love your opinions.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Actually, she should be apologizing to me because what the h, lindsey? Where is What I Wore Wednesday!?!??!?!?!!??! Turns out I'll have to do my own pitiful, pitiful, so so sad version of WIWW (<-- not world war 1 or 3).
Drumroll: (In other words I'm feeling narcissistic and embarrassed that I really think you care about my clothes. I'M TRYING TO BLOG EVERYDAY HERE, PEOPLE.)