Well, my monthly goals are shot. Today is the last day, and if it weren't for that pesky holiday thing, I could possibly pull it off. But as it stands, I have small children who awoke this morning, asking if they could don their costumes right away. Er, no. You have two full meals to get through first. I'm pretty sure Bob the Builder isn't coated in oat crust by noon. Let's hold off a bit.
We did get many boxes of clothes sorted, washed and packed up for shipping. Now to get them out before postal rates go up again! (Which is, honestly, a whole new goal of itself.) The boys were a great help, sacrificing their room for the staging area, and playing with Miss Emily the Destructor while Smidge and I moved loads. It's so funny to see them excited about doing wash. Sort of like there's something wrong with their wiring. But you know, I'll take that. Help and happiness are just that, and not to be turned away, no matter how weird their forms.
Wish I had a clue what today's plan is, but I don't. Zorak is helping his brother with some science project, and so he's had the computer at night. The organizational portion of my brain can only be accessed when the full moon reaches it's zenith and the wolves howl on the... no, wait. Well, whatever it is, that part cannot be accessed in the light of day. So here I sit, with paint cans around me, kids eating oatmeal, cursing this early morning sunlight and wondering why we can't remember to get curtain rods while we're out. (For clarity's sake: I'm the one cursing the sunlight. The oatmeal eating children are stunningly chipper at the moment.) I know I ought to have a plan, but for the life of me, I can't get one to come together.
Well, it's probably not going to come to me, sitting here writing. Guess I'll go do the next thing and perhaps it'll all come together, no?
Have a wonderful day, and Happy Halloween!
Kiss those ghouls!
~Dy
Tuesday, October 31
Monday, October 30
Home Remodel, Stardate -317828.44
(Yeah, that really is the stardate - cool, huh?)
Well, we have a floor. It's currently five feet high, piled in the foyer and the guest room. But it's ours, baby! And having it here, taking up space, is much like getting a Vitamin B12 shot - we're ready to roll! The energy and motivation those boxes have spread throughout the house is nothing short of amazing. Even my beloved caffeine can no longer give me this boost.
And so, today we'll finish lessons early, head to Lowe's for more primer (because, evidently you kind of need that to paint a door -pfft- details, details), some screen and spline (because there's that whole pesky issue of storm windows and the desire to see through them, open them. whatever.) then home again to finish our work.
The flooring we purchased from iFloor.com - wonderful people to work with. We arrived right at closing time, thanks to our unfamiliarity with time zones and the fact that we'd be crossing one. But if Darlene and Jonathan from the Dalton store were quietly wishing us a slow and painful death from veering off the Interstate on the way home, they never let on. We appreciate that. They were most helpful, interactive, and thoughtful. I know that, for them, flooring is a daily thing. They probably have nightmares about wood floors battling it out with laminates. Everybody they meet is putting in a new floor, and soooo excited about it, and thinks they're the only people in the world who have ever done so. We get that. But they also treated us as if they cared that we're putting in a new floor, they were enthused by our excitement of it, and they never once felt the need to inform us that - hello! - it's an entire industry and no, we're not the only people in the world who have ever done this. That's salesmanship. Plus, they complimented the boys and thought Miss Emily was too cute. ;-)
We left with something completely different than what we'd intended to pick up. We got there, and it didn't say "buy me" the way it did on the computer. After an hour, Zorak clicked on what wasn't quite right about the kind we'd originally chosen. It looked great online, but in person, it was... mmm... well, he leaned over and whispered, "Doesn't that look just like the paneling we pulled out?" I snatched Baby Girl up off that sample and tried very hard not to let my flashbacks show. We went with something else. (Consider this a warning - shopping online can be a lot like internet dating. The hunk in the dark oak you met online could turn out to be nothing but a drunk in a dark paneling wife beater!)
We went with this. It's a little bold, but so was the Adobe Ghetto in the kitchen, and we love that. This goes with the cream, the green, and the adobe colors. I think we're going to love it. And if we don't, that's okay, too, because with four children, I doubt it'll be visible most of the time, anyway.
Sooo, between now and Wednesday, with lessons and Halloween thrown in there for good measure, I've got to get this house Floor Ready (you didn't actually think our plan worked last weekend, did you?) The goal today is to ship out boxes: boxes of clothes, boxes of borrowed things, boxes of gifts. There will not be anything left in our house that is not ours, or should not be ours. This is mydream, er, goal.
And now I've got to go actually be productive, rather than just writing about it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Well, we have a floor. It's currently five feet high, piled in the foyer and the guest room. But it's ours, baby! And having it here, taking up space, is much like getting a Vitamin B12 shot - we're ready to roll! The energy and motivation those boxes have spread throughout the house is nothing short of amazing. Even my beloved caffeine can no longer give me this boost.
And so, today we'll finish lessons early, head to Lowe's for more primer (because, evidently you kind of need that to paint a door -pfft- details, details), some screen and spline (because there's that whole pesky issue of storm windows and the desire to see through them, open them. whatever.) then home again to finish our work.
The flooring we purchased from iFloor.com - wonderful people to work with. We arrived right at closing time, thanks to our unfamiliarity with time zones and the fact that we'd be crossing one. But if Darlene and Jonathan from the Dalton store were quietly wishing us a slow and painful death from veering off the Interstate on the way home, they never let on. We appreciate that. They were most helpful, interactive, and thoughtful. I know that, for them, flooring is a daily thing. They probably have nightmares about wood floors battling it out with laminates. Everybody they meet is putting in a new floor, and soooo excited about it, and thinks they're the only people in the world who have ever done so. We get that. But they also treated us as if they cared that we're putting in a new floor, they were enthused by our excitement of it, and they never once felt the need to inform us that - hello! - it's an entire industry and no, we're not the only people in the world who have ever done this. That's salesmanship. Plus, they complimented the boys and thought Miss Emily was too cute. ;-)
We left with something completely different than what we'd intended to pick up. We got there, and it didn't say "buy me" the way it did on the computer. After an hour, Zorak clicked on what wasn't quite right about the kind we'd originally chosen. It looked great online, but in person, it was... mmm... well, he leaned over and whispered, "Doesn't that look just like the paneling we pulled out?" I snatched Baby Girl up off that sample and tried very hard not to let my flashbacks show. We went with something else. (Consider this a warning - shopping online can be a lot like internet dating. The hunk in the dark oak you met online could turn out to be nothing but a drunk in a dark paneling wife beater!)
We went with this. It's a little bold, but so was the Adobe Ghetto in the kitchen, and we love that. This goes with the cream, the green, and the adobe colors. I think we're going to love it. And if we don't, that's okay, too, because with four children, I doubt it'll be visible most of the time, anyway.
Sooo, between now and Wednesday, with lessons and Halloween thrown in there for good measure, I've got to get this house Floor Ready (you didn't actually think our plan worked last weekend, did you?) The goal today is to ship out boxes: boxes of clothes, boxes of borrowed things, boxes of gifts. There will not be anything left in our house that is not ours, or should not be ours. This is my
And now I've got to go actually be productive, rather than just writing about it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, October 29
Party like a pirate!
Well, you'd think I'd have taken more photos, what with all the effort that went into this little project. But once he was in the suit, he was in character. Who knew pirates moved so quickly?
We made it to the party, had a fantastic time, ate tons of food (we brought beans and cornbread, homemade chips and green chile con queso - my mouth is still on fire). Most all of the photos have other people's children in them, and I am too tired to crop or blur all the faces, so I've only got a couple of pics. The Dads were great sports, and I think this was the all-around favorite game of the night:
Smidge went as Bob the Builder, but he wouldn't wear the hardhat. He kept it in sight the entire time, but just wouldn't put it on. He did, however, have a fantastic time!
I couldn't get James to hold still for any other pictures, and I was holding Miss Emily most of the time, so didn't get any shots of her but one (and I haven't edited out the background noise in that one yet). But for now, as you can see, we made it. We had a great time. And the costume has held up to a full 24 hours of wear so far! Yay, Tony!!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, October 28
A joke from James
Q: Who do you need to find when your serger's broken?
A: A sergeron.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
A: A sergeron.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, October 27
TLM - Reprise
Ahhh, the Phoenix rises from the ashes, thanks to the kindness of Tony, the owner and Super Duper Repair guy of S&R Sewing and Vacuum Center in Decatur. I'd called the Huntsville store (along with every store in a three county radius) this morning, and they'd said he was swamped, but if I dropped it off, he'd try to take a look at it. I said thanks, but explained that there was a little boy who kept poking his head in, asking if he was a pirate yet, and that I'd try another store. I understand that lack of preparation on my part does not constitute an emergency on anyone else's part. Besides, they're having a big Grand Opening sale and they really are swamped.
The phone rang about five minutes later. It was the lady from S&R. Could I get to Decatur by nine? Tony would be there, and he would see what he could do.
Glorioski! Christmas come early! I made everybody throw on clothes and shoes and off we went, in the rain, singing made-up songs about mom's incompetence and Nice Mr. Tony. He looked at it and said he'd have it fixed in an hour. AN HOUR? Oh. How. Cool. So we scouted out a little diner to have breakfast and hide from the rain while we waited. We ate til we thought we'd pop, then slogged back through the rain to pick up our little serger. All fixed and shiny and happy. And even better, a little square of Ghirardelli Dark chocolate tucked under the presser foot. (I think I'm in love!)
The sparkly woman-bling shirt is now a fairly piratey looking vest. The white shirt has been laced. The boots have their wee pirate spats (for lack of a better term). Just have to alter the britches a bit and do a little detail work. And best of all?
It's only 1:30!!
This means we are not going to have to arrive at the party with John dressed as a leaf bag! He's so excited.
Yay!!
Dy
The phone rang about five minutes later. It was the lady from S&R. Could I get to Decatur by nine? Tony would be there, and he would see what he could do.
Glorioski! Christmas come early! I made everybody throw on clothes and shoes and off we went, in the rain, singing made-up songs about mom's incompetence and Nice Mr. Tony. He looked at it and said he'd have it fixed in an hour. AN HOUR? Oh. How. Cool. So we scouted out a little diner to have breakfast and hide from the rain while we waited. We ate til we thought we'd pop, then slogged back through the rain to pick up our little serger. All fixed and shiny and happy. And even better, a little square of Ghirardelli Dark chocolate tucked under the presser foot. (I think I'm in love!)
The sparkly woman-bling shirt is now a fairly piratey looking vest. The white shirt has been laced. The boots have their wee pirate spats (for lack of a better term). Just have to alter the britches a bit and do a little detail work. And best of all?
It's only 1:30!!
This means we are not going to have to arrive at the party with John dressed as a leaf bag! He's so excited.
Yay!!
Dy
Thursday, October 26
TLM - 11:35PM
DENIED!!
Man, betrayed by the technology my grandmother adored. It's a decaying process. Her daughter could not use the things, and I, evidently emit some sort of magnetic pulse that causes metal to lock up. (And yes, it's been oiled. Honest.) So, the serger is dead. The sewing machine has no cord. Not sure which of us thought it would be wise to pack a sewing machine separately from its cord, but there ya have it.
Jess thinks I'm insane. She's nice about it, but I know she does. ;-) It's not so much the thrill of it that I love. Not a big thrill-seeker. It's the idea of doing things (making costumes, decorating BEFORE Christmas Eve, buying Easter baskets and actually having time enough left that they need to be stashed away) that I love. The thought that sustains me all year long is that "next year I'll do better". But while I'm wistfully dreaming of "next year" and how wonderful it'll be and how together I'll be, "next year" sneaks up behind me and plants its foot in my, um, plans. Every time.
That's it. I'm buying Christmas presents online on Monday.
And now, I'm going to scroll through the yellow pages and line up possibilities. Perhaps somebody will take my serger in tomorrow morning and I can still make the 5PM party? Then I'm making a fresh pot of coffee and staring into space, darnit.
Ah, well, there's always tomorrow!
Dy
Man, betrayed by the technology my grandmother adored. It's a decaying process. Her daughter could not use the things, and I, evidently emit some sort of magnetic pulse that causes metal to lock up. (And yes, it's been oiled. Honest.) So, the serger is dead. The sewing machine has no cord. Not sure which of us thought it would be wise to pack a sewing machine separately from its cord, but there ya have it.
Jess thinks I'm insane. She's nice about it, but I know she does. ;-) It's not so much the thrill of it that I love. Not a big thrill-seeker. It's the idea of doing things (making costumes, decorating BEFORE Christmas Eve, buying Easter baskets and actually having time enough left that they need to be stashed away) that I love. The thought that sustains me all year long is that "next year I'll do better". But while I'm wistfully dreaming of "next year" and how wonderful it'll be and how together I'll be, "next year" sneaks up behind me and plants its foot in my, um, plans. Every time.
That's it. I'm buying Christmas presents online on Monday.
And now, I'm going to scroll through the yellow pages and line up possibilities. Perhaps somebody will take my serger in tomorrow morning and I can still make the 5PM party? Then I'm making a fresh pot of coffee and staring into space, darnit.
Ah, well, there's always tomorrow!
Dy
TLM - 8:38PM
Since last I posted...
I couldn't find my pins, so I stapled the soon-to-be-vest in order to size it. I'm sure it will turn out okay, but I can't say I'd recommend this as a "crafty alternative in a pinch". Just don't do it. The older kids think it's weird, and the younger ones get ideas. Bad, bad ideas.
The vest is ready for sewing.
The stapler is way up high.
Looked for the machines again. Got creeped out after ten minutes and came back upstairs.
Zorak got home. We all pounced on him with our glee and delight. He gave me one of those, "Have you been drinking?" looks. Hmpf. Back down to the basement.
WE FOUND THE MACHINES!!!
Why is my sewing machine missing the foot pedal?
Oh well. So, um, that all took place about an hour ago. Since then I've been battling the serger. I'm losing.
John's walking around in a pair of jeans and a dangly clip-on earring... I think he's a bit anxious.
Dy
I couldn't find my pins, so I stapled the soon-to-be-vest in order to size it. I'm sure it will turn out okay, but I can't say I'd recommend this as a "crafty alternative in a pinch". Just don't do it. The older kids think it's weird, and the younger ones get ideas. Bad, bad ideas.
The vest is ready for sewing.
The stapler is way up high.
Looked for the machines again. Got creeped out after ten minutes and came back upstairs.
Zorak got home. We all pounced on him with our glee and delight. He gave me one of those, "Have you been drinking?" looks. Hmpf. Back down to the basement.
WE FOUND THE MACHINES!!!
Why is my sewing machine missing the foot pedal?
Oh well. So, um, that all took place about an hour ago. Since then I've been battling the serger. I'm losing.
John's walking around in a pair of jeans and a dangly clip-on earring... I think he's a bit anxious.
Dy
TLM - 6:39PM
OK, so maybe I just haven't had enough coffee today, but just WHAT is so interesting about picking a seam? I swear, they couldn't have stuck to me any tighter if I'd been hiding chocolate in my pocket, hoping they'd leave so I could eat it. Not that, you know, I've... oh, who am I kidding. I've done that, and worse. And if I had it now, I'd be hiding, eating it.
Anyway, that's it. It's been over an hour and I've picked the seams out of two sleeves to remove them from the top. That. Is. It. Smidge is wearing one sleeve on his head. Kinda looks like a pharoah's head gear. James is picking the length of the seam on the other sleeve for me. I fantasize that the sleeves will become (magically, while I sleep) pockets for the vest.
I can't find my serger or sewing machine. Now that I think about it, I've asked Zorak several times over the past week to bring them up and always he says he will, but then forgets. I suspect he can't find them, either. They're really quite well-hidden. Did find the snap press. Perhaps Zorak can whip up a Boogie Nights outfit for himself this evening? But the kid's gonna go as a homeless petty officer in peacetime if I don't pick up the pace.
Dy
Anyway, that's it. It's been over an hour and I've picked the seams out of two sleeves to remove them from the top. That. Is. It. Smidge is wearing one sleeve on his head. Kinda looks like a pharoah's head gear. James is picking the length of the seam on the other sleeve for me. I fantasize that the sleeves will become (magically, while I sleep) pockets for the vest.
I can't find my serger or sewing machine. Now that I think about it, I've asked Zorak several times over the past week to bring them up and always he says he will, but then forgets. I suspect he can't find them, either. They're really quite well-hidden. Did find the snap press. Perhaps Zorak can whip up a Boogie Nights outfit for himself this evening? But the kid's gonna go as a homeless petty officer in peacetime if I don't pick up the pace.
Dy
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