You're Four

In the Beginning

He's Fresh!




I'm thinking 'phone home'...

Using Your Words

I added the "f-ers!"

Stuck on the Moon

I wouldn't advise peeing...

Here's to You(and me, too)

I'd just like to congratulate my friend on working her ass off by losing some major weight the old fashioned way. One year ago today was her start date and she has lost close to 100 pounds! OMG! These are for you!

These pretty petals you see ALSO won "The Embodiment of Spirit" awardthis weekend and will be featured on the gallery brochure in color! Yay! Today I sent off work to two juried shows for late this summer. Wish me luck! XO

Morning Humor

This morning I was just out of the bath when the wee one exclaims,

"Heid, your boobs are drippy!"

"Gee, thanks."

No one is EVA gonna see me naked again.

Fork n' Hay

After all of the drama tonight. I get him in bed and can barely wait to watch Lost and SONOFABITCH it's high school basketball season. Can you hear me screaming across the continent as I pull my hair out?!

Hold It!

I splogged too soon. When I walked into the dogs room about a half an hour ago I could scarcely believe my eyes. A piss line went across one of the dog beds and up the bottom part of the wall.

"O my gosh! What is this? Who did this?" I exclaim.

"Well it wasn't me. It was one of the dogs," he says.

Somehow he's lost his charm and I don't find it quite as amusing.

"Jeepers, SF! You can't just go around peeing in the house! You know what will happen? The dogs will start to think it's okay for them to start peeing everywhere!"

"I'm sorry mom. I apowagize(yeah, that's how he says it)"

"Well, I'm really upset! That's just not cool!"

We go upstairs and I give him a quick bath and shampoo and he smells and looks heavenly. Like black currant absolute and patchouli. We get his monkey pajams on and I ask,

"Okay, so are we clear on peeing? Have you peed anywhere else in the house?" a part of me knowing I have to be cool.

"Well, I peed on the floor here and behind my caterpillar and once over my plasma car behind the couch" he says, batting his dreamy little bluebugs at me. Jesus, Mary and Joeseph. I make him show me exactly where and I clean it up, even though the evidence is gone in the dim light of the evening. I mean it could have been weeks ago for all I know.

"Can I have my Buzz Lightyear now? I'll pee in the toilet from now on. I promise, Stommy."

My hand reaches to where I have it and he says, "I knew it was in your pahhhcket" all fa-la-la-la-la singsongy. For some reason I'm hearing the theme from Damien the Omen.

It occurs to me that maybe this is payback for peeing on that guy's dorm room floor in the middle of the night twenty years ago. Karma...

A Real Pisser

The other night I was wrangling up the dawgs to take them outside. This winter, the snowbanks have been so high, I just saddle up the pugs and let the Chidler roam, being contained by said snowbanks. I took them out and in passing saw SF standing on the fainting couch in their room. Yes, the dogs have their own room.

He was looking a little devious, but I smiled anyway. I came back in, unstrapping the hounds and taking off the winter gear.

"Stommy(my nickname) one of the dogs peed!" he squeaks.

Muthafuckinrescuehoundsfromhell, I think as my internal ire skyrockets and steam comes out of my ears. I walk in and there is a spray line across the window sill and on either side of the 100+ year old barnwood panels.

"What the heck(believe me, I wanna say fuck)? What happened? Who did this?"

"Well, it wasn't me," he says, "it was Ginger."

I was in awe. "O, Ginger!(sonofabitch)"

"It wasn't me" he chimes again.


"Did you do this? I mean if you did, you should really tell the truth" I say.

"Stommy, I did do it and I apologize."

"Well, you shouldn't do that! But I want you to know that I'm really proud of you for telling me the truth. It's very brave to tell the truth when you know you've done something wrong," I say and give him a big hug.

Then we cleaned the piss up together. O joy! O love! Togetherness and a teachable moment over urine.

We Go From Here

This morning I was cringing at the thought of the usual drop off for SF. I could feel the anxiety rising as she came toward the car and asked how we were doing this morning.

"Oh fine" I said dryly.

"You know, I'm sorry I missed your call again. When it's a phone number I don't recognize, I don't answer it and by the time I check my messages it's too late to call" she said.

"I'm the same way" I said.

"You know I was going to call you this morning just for a mother to mother chat. We(the teachers) were talking about how SF is one of those kids you'll never forget, you'll remember him when you're 60. He is extremely bright and he's figuring things out that we don't want him to figure out yet" she continued.

I was relieved and shocked and comforted by her words.

"I know how you feel" she said, "just when you think you've turned a corner, you're right back where you started."

It felt like a brick had been lifted off my chest. My friend and I often discuss how our boys behave, but he's still at home so I don't have anyone to compare notes with.
He's just been a little squirrely. Normal boy behavior. I just take it so hard. His tea making priviledges were taken away because he can't control the sugar bowl. He dumped an entire bowl of Trader Joe's into his cup.

"At least it was good sugar" I remember one of his teachers quipping.

I know I 'm going to have my hands full for the next fifteen years. I will keep the lines of communication open, never assume things(this is a struggle as I tend to analyze everything) and be present and loving* to my little wunderkind.

*even when he's pushing my buttons or ignoring my suggestions or talking like "bwah-ba-bwah-ba-bwah"

Throwdown

Sometimes I could just slap myself for starting the whole 'notebook' of progress with SF's teachers. I brought it upon myself and now we are going to convene and come up with a plan to discourage negative behavior. I'm more than willing to cooperate. At times, I really hate going at this alone. It is hard in this silent house. Dogs asleep, boy asleep. The Chidler really can't advise me on talking points or what not to wear. I had great taste, now I'm just post-grunge on a daily basis. I wear pigtails and patchouli. I don't know how to do any of this. Fuck.

Saints and Ghosts

This afternoon I went digging through the attic in hopes of finding a vintage viewmaster and reels I thought I had. This is not an easy thing to do. Access is through a small door inside of SF's closet. Flashlight in hand, I removed a few things so I could get in there.

It's a small space not much taller than me nestled in the southern eave of the house. There is no rhyme or reason to the things I've kept. It's like a mumbo jumbo mind trip into what I am. My handbag collection was placed there before SF arrived and I haven't looked back. I have so many amazing bags I could cry. I didn't though. I decided to haul one of the horking boxes of vintage jewelry I stashed away when I cleaned up for the newcomer. Two feather beds, a Hudson's Bay blanket and a very old camera collection make up the majority of the dura mater without dissecting too much.

I find old letters from my cousin Thom and his ficticious short story about desperate housewives long before they existed. There is an old postcard from a dead boyfriend while he was institutionalized. It is a Rembrandt style looking painting of a man leading an ass with a woman and a baby riding sidesaddle. His last words were "Be good".

Then I find an envelope addressed to me from Dino circa 2002 with a photocopied article from a 1999 issue of Men's Journal featuring Tom Wolfe writing about the lack of orginality in "today's" art and design. It's all about people recycling and regurgitating what they find in what he calls "The Big Closet". I reread each of these items and put them back for another time.

I found a photo of my friend Bill. We were both new students when we started our sophomore year. It was signed on the back: "Heidi, The love of my life-you've been one of the best friends I've ever had. Beyond. Love, Bill Frederick". I had to laugh.

My hands were totally grimey from touching old metal and dusty paper. Much of this stuff came from my grandmother's house. She was Catholic. I found this little medal. I stuck it in my pocket and went downstairs to goog it. What an eerie story and oddly fascinating.

I've decided to keep her in my pocket instead of putting her back in the attic. I think she'd like that. In fact, I think she'd say "Bless you, my child."

Skyworms

Birthdayness

I found SF this kickass easel for his upcoming birthday. Not only that, I 'commissioned ' my uncle to make him a cool art caddy similar to an old wooden toolbox. On top of all this joy, he's also getting a set of 24 Stockmar beeswax block crayons in a wooden box and a set of Stockmar watercolors. I intend to set him up right in the living room. Don't let me forget the dropcloth. In the summer it'll be pleinair under the pergola...

do You?

I peel my celery...

Skin Deep

I was meandering around TJ Maxx with my mom yesterday when I came across these. I'm all for staying as young looking as I can for as long as possible without being sandblasted or chemically peeled(yet). I also think that there is something to "it's what's inside that counts."

Plus, I really like to try new and alternative treatments.

TJ's original price was $39.99 for 60 packets(2x a day = thirty day supply). In my current Dole Pineapple-like existence I would have to pass. O, but Dear Reader, I didn't have to when they were now marked down to $10 a box. My impulsive streak could afford this! I bought two boxes and went back for the third and only box left today.

Imagine my freaking surprise when I saw the retail price of $100 a box on the website! Yeah, so let me clarify this: $300 worth of trendy nutriceutical skincare for $30(that's cheaper than popular OTC brands like Olay). I'll giv'er a whirl! In 90 days I should look as smooth as a baby's ass, or feel like an ass. Stay tuned...

Spring Is Here

Stepping outside yesterday and today, I could really feel the change. Winter is doomed to a painful death of melting and the air, almost warm, is coming alive with the organic smells of a world in bloom.

At 32 degrees when the sun shines brightly, it is warm enough for a sweater and a scarf as you dash out to your car. It's almost time for street sweepers(mind sweepers would have been better) to come and wash away the debris of seasonal affective disorder.

Pretty soon, maybe even tomorrow, the crazy, short wearing winter bike rider will be shirtless. Shouting and shirtless. If I were him, I'd take the words of Taro Gomi and yell as I rode down the street, "Spring is here!"

How Now Brown Cow

Kiss My Ass Direct TV

Dear Direct Tv and your sleazy subcontractor Premier Communications,

Thanks for making me wait for over two weeks to receive your overpriced service and then to find out that there is "no line of sight" when you've already installed one dish on my house years ago(and I've had your service) is a total crock of shit. Nevermind that when you were supposed to show up btwn 12-4 it was 5:15. Dickheads. I hate you. I hate you for making me wait and then pissing out on the deal. If I could, I'd smack your docile customer service reps that say "uh huh and I'm sorry you feel that way". Fuckers.

I realize it's winter, but if your lazy 'roid ridden ass won't scale a ladder to do what's right then look for another job. Pissheads. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Mandalay Prefers Lavender

Electric Nest Warmer

by Mary Robinson
you can just barely see the three prong cord to the right...

D Day

I feel like a filthy, dirty whore. Tomorrow is the day when Direct TV HD gets piped in to the casa. Only one receiver and no Tivo. I have to draw the line somewhere. I do have my pride. If you're looking for me, I'll be over at Bravo.

Paunch & Cookies

Yesterday my mom and I stopped at a little place for some thrifting. We were downstairs looking at glassware when I was reminded of the fact that I'd make punch for SF's birthday. My mom used to have a cool punch bowl but got rid of it over the years.

A sweet lady overheard us and chimed in, "I have a punch bowl. It's antique and it's just sitting there."

"I'm sure you'd want more than I was willing to pay," I smiled.

"No, you can have it" she said.

We live in the same town so last night, by the time the front doorbell rang I had already forgotten about it and thought 'who the hell would be ringing the front doorbell?'

It was her with my new old punch bowl. I thanked her and she saw SF. He said thanks too. I washed it and it's cool, heavy glass. I told my mom I was going to bring back the adult punch bowl party. But I really don't need anymore punch in my paunch.

Why can't I just be slim and happy and brainless...switch to autopilot and become almost zombie like in my weight loss approach? The answer is very, very simple...I like food.

Crazy (by crazy I mean train...)

This is me flying down Grand Ave shooting pictures at 35 MPH. This guy lived downstairs from my friend. He's given to whimsical moments of kicking his bike out in traffic and bitching aloud about nonsense only he understands. Poor fella. She said he was faking it.

I had a few glasses of vino and about five or six dark chocolate fake De Met's(by fake I mean Nestle) turtles. Thanks for fucking up a good thing Nestle. Snowflake(by SF I mean me) had to do a "Peace Report" featuring a country of his nationality. He won't tell you that he picked Poland. He'll say he picked "Polish". He ( I mean me) had to take a cereal box and decorate it with fervor. I put SF shirtless in goggles wearing his striped pants standing in front of the Polish flag (using CS2) and listed famous Poles, including the North and the South. Har Har. (and Hot Lips Houlihan). On the reverse is Falat's self portrait from 1896(on the side he's with SF conferring).

Getting to the point, tomorrow we are invited to come and view the cereal boxes at school. Yes, my hair bristles at the thought. If I had a big fattie (by big fattie I mean marijuana joint, by joint I mean cigarillo, by cigarillo I mean cigarette), I might have just indulged myself before school. Something I have never done. I think Julian(by Julian I mean Falat) is sexy and says, "why not Ms Mamma, why not?" Keeess me you fool. Maybe I will Julian, maybe I will. XO


ps...this weekend my mom said I looked like "that rock star, oh you know... the one...the rock star she said, married to Sharon, you know" with my round sunglasses on.

Little Blue Dreamers

Erehwon in Winter

My English Love

I finally bought something I blogged about. Instead of procrastinating and dilly-dallying, I went on a hunt. I always thought I wanted a Dualit toaster. They're classically cool looking and world famous. But unlike days of old, their parts are now outsourced and then they are "hand assembled" in the UK. Well, that's just not acceptable, bub. I wanted the real deal. So after weeks of searching, I found it. It just magically appeared.



I found a brand new commercial Rowlett toaster on Ebay. The starting bid was higher than most Dualits but no one else bid on it. Happy Friggin' Birthday to Me! If I actually had to buy this from a company that shipped them from the UK to the US it would have cost me around $500 for this hunk of chrome goodness.



OMG. I love it. It's totally gorgeous and unlike the 'other inferior English toasters' this is actually handmade.

The slots are so wide I can put whole English Muffins or Bagels in! It toasts to perfection. I love the cool Nixie tube it has just above the dial when it's working hard to complete my order. It has a pleasant DING! when the item is done. Unlike regular toasters, your stuff stays down in the innards of the toaster until you push the plunger to retrieve it.



Talk about warm fuzzies. I've got 'em.

There's a flashy little brochure the toaster came with plugging the Rowlett 'lifestyle' complete with quotes from famous English writers like George Bernard Shaw:

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food." Don't I know it.

My Funny Valentine

Sincerely, MsMamma

Maybe I've been in denial that I've had another birthday. Thanks for the good wishes. My friend Dennis said I didn't look a day over 32. Beggars can't be choosers so I guess I'll take that. I've been preoccupied with maybe buying an LCD TV and then I think 'what the hell are you thinking' when I could really use a new Mac more than anything. But still, eventhough I don't have any "services", I'm sick of the 13" Sponge Bob and it's ugly twin, a big black 20" Sony from 1991. Such is the life of the enigma MsMamma.

Maybe a new tattoo is in order. 'Scuse me. I have some paint I have to watch dry.

Don't Lick Me

She is like the sacred truffle sniffing pig of Fronce. Yes, Fronce! As she clomps through the fresh deep snow like an aimless tiny landship in search of buried treasure, she finds her joie de vivre in the tiny caper like orbs left behind out of the behind of some rabbit's ass. She delights in its pungent aroma(its secret known only to her) and simplicity(she hasn't gagged on one yet) throwing caution to the wind as she gobbles it down.

Friday Night Birthday

Snowflake had a really great day at school. I was so happy, especially after spending the morning reading "Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Lives of Boys". It's an amazing book. My friend had seen the PBS special and said it was really eye-opening. So far it seems essential to anyone who wants to really understand the difference in which we treat boys and girls from birth. It makes sense. I can see the lives of my brothers in this book. Especially my brother who is no longer alive.

I had bought a new DoughMakers 9" square baking pan. Why? When I showed it to SF he suggested we make a birthday cake and celebrate. That sounded good to me. Together we made an Irish Butter Cake with Irish Cream Cheese Frosting.

We had to go to the store because the only baking powder I had was from my polish granny circa early 90's. The hilarious thing is that she gave it to me in 1994 and it expired in 1989. It's in a cool old metal can. I ended up buying more Kerrygold butter and some Droste Dutch process cocoa because I'm feeling very epicurian lately. It's nice to have with my Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla. Whatev.

It was delish and the first cake I've made from scratch(or in my home for that matter). Love the new pan. He put the candles on and I lit them up. He blew them out with gusto as we celebrated his third birthday for the second and probably the last time. Afterwards I sang Happy Birthday to him and he blushed. Happy Birthday my creative, curious and boistrous babe. I love you my sweet little baby boy.

I Am Flower* (hear me roar)

But not a meercat.

I wish I would have looked more closely at the books I bought at B & N on Sunday. Unknowingly, but knowing, I bought two books by Dr. James Dobson- The New Strong Willed Child and Bringing Up Boys. I started with TNSWC and found SF isn't really what he classically describes(thank Allah). Last night I turned to the chapter in BUB on The Causes of Homosexuality and then The Single Parent and Grandparents.

OMG. My blood just started to boil. Little did I know I purchased books from a man who thinks homosexuality is a treatable 'disorder'. And rather than giving real solutions for single mothers, he goes into a story about how his own wife came from a broken home. He continues on by saying that his wife's mother prayed for a good man to come along and take care of them. What do you know? It happened and he's been a loving father-inlaw for over 40 years. Apparently if SF spends too much time with me, that's unhealthy and he really needs a man to show him the way in the world.

There are even a couple of pages he devotes to some reformed liberal now confirmed right wing dipshit who finally relented and let her boys play with toy guns after a bonding trip to Gettysburg. I could go on and on, but why bother? According to Mr. Dobson, I am royally screwed. With these odds I'm sure SF will be a flowery flouncing homo if I don't get a good man into his life soon or he'll be in prison eventually. Well Mr. Dobson, I disagree. Focus on my middle finger.

Blue Italian

I just hate it when people I like get involved with assholes. Assholes who take advantage of their ideas, their hard work and claim them as their own. These are the same assholes who want everything for free and when you expect them to pay for something they usually exclaim "non profit". Assholes.

Italian Blue

A little late night madness.


A message to Snowflake and his sassmouth.


Now, that's better.


Next: some new mod furniture to funk the joint up...

Green

This afternoon I went to open the refridgerator for the pizza from last night. I ate a piece and I sensed a weird astringent scent. Ick. I opened the frigidare(my polish granny's usual name for it) and investigated. Cabbage was firm and fine but I tossed it anyway. Romas were alright but being paranoid I threw them away. That left the crisper... There in the twilight of its age sat a deflated clementine hiding its hideous secret. It was green, GREEN! Green like only freakish mold can be and it smelled like, like the sterile vault of some Doctor's office from childhood. Swabs...the most pristine Q-Tip imagined...almost like the liquid nitrogen they freeze warts off with. Mmm...

On Sucking

It's amazing how not working takes away from my blogging time. Seriously. The last thing I feel like spending time with is the computer, even though it's my sweet ancient baby in terms of its age and speed. I've had every intention of writing about the wonderful and beautiful scarf I received from LaLuna and the cool recycled bags Chrissy sent from the real Northwoods. I will get to it with pictures, I promise!

Bah. I spent the weekend painting my mom's living room. It's a big bastard of a room with 12 ft ceilings and we're both short, so it was a taxing nightmare. Special thanks go to GlamGranola for borrowing us her six foot plus ladder/husband. We couldn't have done it without you, Pedro!

Beyond the blue was a seriously demanding Sunday with SF that left me spending the $100 my mom gave me for helping her on parenting books from Barnes & Noble. No, I don't want your damn discount card for $25. You'd save $6...no effing thank you. But really, I'm okay.

I have figured the trick to controlling SF's behavior is via his access to the vacuum. Yes, the vacuum. He knows the difference between a Dyson, a Hoover, a Cone, a Shark and an Oreck. And he loves them all deeply. For good behavior he gets to vacuum after school. And if he isn't a good little drone, he won't have access. For him it will totally suck. How ironic.

One (of the many) Thing(s) I Hate About You

I knew it was premature of me to go to an employment service with the hope of being referred to a job that I thought I'd be perfect for. Instead it just crystallized how much I despise this shit hole that I reluctantly came back to after college. People can beam on and on about why they love it here and all of that quality of life bullshit, but the fact remains that this is a cliquey little berg and if you're not an ass kisser, forget it.

It's like the movie "It's Pat"-

Access Denied. Access Denied.

(Think fat ass office casual wearing a turtleneck and nails that were just too long for a man.)

Horses Whisper

I Was Happy, I Was Sad

It was a day of cleansing. I bought a vaccum and scoured the house. Then I scrubbed. I felt good because I took the dinero from my Saab and paid off my credit card en toto. That's right, no more 22% interest compounded daily. Adios, assholes. I was happy.

I lit a few candles waiting for my friend to come over. I had PBS on and the BBC World News. I just caught the bit about Heath Ledger. He was brilliant. I was sad.

Maybe it's cruel, but why is it always someone TALENTED, and not like Matthew McConaughey for example? Too sad.

On the Dole

Here I am all out on the dole and I find myself spending money that I shouldn't. It all started on Friday at the artist's reception for the Midwest Winter Exhibition. My photo looked so glam and gorgeous. But...I saw this cool quirky little sculpture and I fell in love and decided to buy it. It's called "Electric Nest Warmer." It's a crazy little copper wire bird embellished with found objects(the beak is a two pronged coat hook, it's feet: two forked serving utensils) and sitting on blue wire nest. There is a big three prong cord sticking out from under the nest. Why, Heidi, why?

On Saturday I felt compelled to spell out Snowflake's full name in adorable letters from tatiri at Target to the tune of $50. WTF. It looks great though. In a flash of buyer's remorse it made me wish I hadn't given him two middle names. Oy.

Today I scored some gingerbread Wiltonware baking tins at a local cook's shop for $2.50 each(normally $10.99). I bought two. Now I can make 18 gingerbread men out of jello, brownie or cookie batter at the same time.

The hilarious bit? I've lived in my house for 14 years and I have NEVER made cookies ONCE.

Then it was on to Target to look for a decent stick vac. I'm sick of lugging in the Shop-Vac from the garage and then hulking it upstairs to get the daily infestation of boxer and pug hair sucked up.

I left without a new vacuum. I came home with a really cute red Isaac Mizrahi party dress($49.99 now only $12.48), a really cute camisole by the same($27 now only $6.98), a Bodum hot chocolate maker frother pot($29.99 now $7.48), four dark chocolate candy bars to make said chocolate and a couple of insulated covered cups to put that or whtaever SF drinks in the livingroom so it doesn't spill all over.

I can see myself now, all June Cleaver in the kitchen, apron tied on to protect that fancy dress as I toil away baking gingerbread man shaped chocolate chip cookies. Man, I love unemployment! It's definitely not pineapple. But it's sweet.

I'm a Member

After waking up at an unusual time and feeling nauseous, the morning progressed into a panicky state of breathing and substances exploding out of both ends. Well Annie, it looks like I've finally joined The Club.

Wisconsin Christmas Tree

Shake Your Tail Feather

Ghost in the Machine

I hate feeling stupid for something I thought. Tonight I told my mother that it sucks when there isn't one person in the world that totally digs you. After my Christmas party I found a shirt that reminded me of someone. I inquired if it belonged to anyone and no soul claimed it. It smells so good. As I was driving home alone, I thought about how lovely gray flannel is and wept. In the background:

Just between you
Just between you and me.

Street Urchin Scrounge

This afternoon while I was looking for 'jobs' I ate some raw sugar snap peas. It must have been a shock to my system to have all of that greeness come down the pipe. That, or the Guatemalan poop used to fertilize them at 6000 feet. I was nauseous. I ate a cracker. I watched part of the movie "Thirteen".

Suddenly it was time to pick up my little sprite and I dashed out the door, ready to spew at any second. On the way there I noticed the debris of some expunged renter. A mountain of cast-offs piled the boulevard. I spied a Red Wagon and thought hmm...

As SF's teacher was buckling him in, I urged him to quickly cooperate so we could check out the curbside treasure before someone else snatched it up. I hopped out and it looked nice, almost new. Damn, one front wheel was missing! Consulting SF, I asked him if we should take it anyway and try to find a replacement part.

When we got home, I flipped it over and discovered a 1-800 number on the bottom along with the model and date of manufacture. Sure as shit, we have a new wheel on the way for $9.57 including shipping. The gods are smiling on me today. Perfect cure for nausea.

Woobies and Such

I usually only wear cashmere sweaters. Years of shopping at TJ Maxx after Christmas have allowed me to acquire a nice assortment. However, my favorite charcoal gray v-neck had been forgotten in the bowels of the basement for too long. I wore it so much that it now has a Tom Waits in The Fisher King kind of look to it. At the cuffs are tears that allow me to stretch them, hook them, around my thumbs lending a nice ragamuffin flair.

Well, I finally picked it up off the floor and washed it. The unseen and mysterious fabric eating creatures of that familar dungeon have left their mark by eating a nice grouping of holes at the midsection. I'll still wear it though. I don't give favorites up easily. Sometimes never.

Freaking Out = Stocking Up!

The morning of week #2 started well enough. Drop SF off and go to the Y. Worked out and decided to go to 'Big Lots' for 'reasonable', almost expired foodstuffs. I spent about $46 and got a plethora of organic food including Muir Glen soup and Barenaked Granola. Then I went and got a large size vanilla iced coffee.

I decided I should check out "Aldi" since I've never been and I'm watching my cents. Not the store for me. I didn't buy a thing. Then it was on to WalMart's evil seductor, Sam's Club where I bought water and some other things that totalled $136. Hmmmm, yeah. Thirty tablets of Airborne and the Princess Bride...

It was on to the grocery store for a few small things like chocolate Silk and fruit. The cart was full of perishables and came to $116. I did get a big bottle of zinfandel(not the girl drink drunk kind...this is RED, RED, RED).

I'm stocked up. Now all I gotta do is cook! Uh oh.

When You Have Water

You may as well make snow.

This was from last week. We're now in the middle of our annual January thaw. Total weirdness for Wisconsin. Usually we're wearing shorts when it hits 40 in the Spring.

Saab Story

Last Friday I sold the Saab to a friend of mine. I suppose it couldn't have happened at a better time. I loved that car, but gone with it goes all of the memories almost forgotten. I borrowed that car to SF's other person a few times and there was a cigarette burn(yeah, thanks for being so careful...) that I looked at every time I drove the car. Boo Hoo.

Well, here I go again(on my own) to take SF to school in my 'jamas. I think I'll get some Joe and drive around for awhile. Good morning! Good morning! Good morning, morning, morning, to you! (sing it with me)

Getting Dressed

Well, I'm off to take SF to school. Today I actually have to make myself presentable and drop off my photo at The Center for Visual Arts. I had a dream last night that I was late in getting it to them and I couldn't be in the show. I think I'll come home take a quick nap and then get going. Maybe I'll make some coffee. Annie, get your gumption.*

*note to self

Dressing

You know what I love? That tasty crazy salad dressing you get at a Japanese restaurant on plain old iceberg lettuce(okay maybe it's just Japanese restaurants in Wisconsin?!). You know, it's like pumpkin colored and it probably has ginger and garlic in it. Does anyone know how to make this? I'll love you long time, if you do.

I Don't Know

...if it was a combination of the leftover brandy slush, one Drixoral and three Excedrin PM's, but I slept for 12 hours. I haven't done that in a bazillion years. My mystery illness has vanished upon waking, more so, no more sore throat! I could cry out of sheer joy! A miracle! I have to say, the sun is shining(for reals), the laundry is done(and folded and put away) and the trash is thrown out. I feel so rested and refreshed. I'm going skating. Happy New Year!