Talking With Myself

I talk to myself. Actually, since I came to this realization and started paying attention, I am amazed at how often I converse out loud. Now, I am including everything from the disgusted mumbling under my breath to the all out conversations I occasionally have with myself and everything in-between. Before you ask, yes, I do answer myself on occasion and I give myself some really good advice and most of the time I am brutally honest. I have caught myself in a few little white lies, but we have talked about it and I think that little issue is getting much better. 

My favorite is when I have conversations in the car with other drivers. Because of the communication barrier large metal vehicles pose, I find myself filling in their portion of the conversation for them as well. I am amazed at how nice and apologetic they can be even though I have just cussed them out at the top of my lungs. Unfortunately, their driving abilities rarely improve even though I have offered many constructive suggestions as to what they have done wrong and what would make future situations more tolerable for all parties involved. Maybe I need to work on my telepathy skills a little more in order for the conversations to be truly valuable.

Just yesterday I was in the store and couldn't help myself for exclaiming out loud my sheer amazement at the cost of patio cushions.  Really, $25 for one chair cushion that goes OUTSIDE, to be destroyed by the elements and replaced within 2 years. For our outdoor table with 6 chairs that would be $150 in cushions and I bought the entire set for $198. So essentially, I bought the table and chairs for $48 and the rest was to have the 6 cushions. Come on, I can't buy a single cushion because I know I am being royally screwed and after discussing it with myself, out loud, I left the store without any cushions.  I am sure that if anyone listened in on my conversation with myself they would have completely agreed with my rant, but alas, the fact I was ranting to myself might have stopped them from actually listening to the words. On the bright side, my little conversation saved me a boat load of money!

Occasionally, my conversations aren't received very well even in my own home. You would think that after this many years living with me they would all be used to it. Sometimes my family overhears conversations that might unintentionally offend them or cause a little discomfort. I have noticed this usually occurs when I am cleaning the house and I am conversing with myself about my sheer amazement that they are completely incapable of picking up after themselves. Once in a while I might raise my voice a little if I stumble upon a 3 day old food plate or half drank milk glass shoved under the sofa, but  again, I am only talking to myself during these discoveries.  If my cleaning up conversations makes them that uncomfortable they might try to avoid the entire situation by putting a little effort into preventing my rant inducing discoveries, just a thought.

As far as I am concerned, I think my little conversations are completely within the acceptable behavior category. After all, I am not hurting anyone. Occasionally, I help myself to save money although some conversations have been known to convince myself that a certain purse or pair of shoes was a vital purchase regardless of the seemingly outrageous price tag. My family seems to become extremely motivated following their occasional eavesdropping sessions and a side bonus is that my house gets cleaned much faster. So really, I just see a tremendous amount of win win situations resulting from conversations with myself. My self must be a pretty smart girl.

Moving On

I spent a good portion of today helping a dear friend pack up her kitchen for her upcoming move. Most people would say I am nuts for volunteering, but for me it was a day well spent for many reasons. I truly enjoy my friend's company and I benefited from having a few hours to chat and laugh with her. Organization is a trait that I have in abundance and to lend that to someone for a few hours is a reward as well. Also, the circumstances surrounding their move aren't the most ideal and if I can offer any assistance that can ease their burden then it is a gift to me that they allow me to share this time with them.

My own family are no strangers to moving. My husband and I have lived in 8 different houses since we have been married almost 12 years ago. Add 4 more to that if you want to include the 2 years we dated before we were wed. I have packed many a box, lugged many books, heaved my share of furniture and I would do every single move again in a heartbeat. Each home we have shared has brought us our fair share of happiness and sorrow. We have made life long friends in some places and have let go of others because of the distance that separates us. Some moves we anxiously planned and waited for while others were thrust upon us because of circumstances. Some moves have yet to happen, but we hope some day they will.

Moving can be a cleansing experience as well, both literally and figuratively. While you pack away your life you have the opportunity to purge the material objects that might be holding you back. Letting go of some memories is the only way to move forward so that you may make new ones. Moving away can also take you out of situations or away from people that aren't good for you. You might not even realize that those things are toxic until you gain the distance to see a bit clearer. In fact, I know there is one move we made that I can honestly tell you saved my marriage. If we would of stayed I am not sure we would of survived so for that move I am eternally grateful.

We are lucky that our kids are extremely adaptable to all of our nomadic travels. Most kids would put up a fight, lay on the guilt or refuse to budge from their home. Not our kids. Luckily, they look at every move as an adventure and the possibility of new friends and greater opportunities. I hope that is a reflection of my husband and I but I have always known our kids are far smarter than we are so I don't really think we can take the credit for their awesome spin on moving. More than likely, we have thrust them into enough moves that they recognize the inevitable and make the best out of it. That is one trait I hope they never grow out of.

But you can never escape the pure torture that is the actual move. The hours of labor packing the boxes. Trying to fit your entire life in a truck that is always just a smidgen too short. The frustration, exhaustion and the inevitable anger at anyone or anything that doesn't cooperate. I don't think there is a move we have done that my husband and I are actually speaking at the end of it. For a good week after a move we are usually only exchanging a terse "fine" or "whatever" with one another, and yes, that is the PG version but know that I am an R type of girl, you can imagine the rest.

So to my friend, I hope your move is smooth, your belongings escape unscathed and your family settles into your new home quickly. Whatever trauma might befall you in the next couple of days is truly temporary and together you will make it to the other side. But if all else fails, throw an R rated tantrum, have a stiff martini and call me...I know which boxes the martini glasses are packed in!

Building with my Pop Pop

My Pop Pop and TuTu

It is no secret that I have been on a home improvement quest lately and some of my projects have included concrete, power tools and immense amounts of manual labor. One of the rewards for all this hard work is the ability to invite friends over to entertain in our modestly upgraded surroundings. So we did. Last night some dear friends of ours joined us for dinner and s'mores and before the festivities got underway we proudly showed off our recent additions and works in progress.

The work in progress is my Pinterest inspired wooden benches. Construction of the four solid wood benches is complete and they are in the process of being sanded and prepped for paint. The husband was impressed that once he sat down on a bench he found it remarkable sturdy. The wife on the other hand was in awe that I had accomplished the planning, purchasing, construction and assembly all on my own. Her amazement only increased when I told her that I didn’t use any plans or how to web sites, just a piece of paper, a measuring tape and a love of power tools. What seemed a reasonable task to me was something she could never fathom doing, which got me to thinking...why wasn't there ever a moment of hesitation or a doubt in my mind that I could pull this off? The answer was surprisingly simple, my Pop Pop.

My grandfather has always been called Pop Pop, a name given to him by his oldest grandchild...me. My perception of Pop Pop has changed drastically over the years. Some were gradual changes while others I can pinpoint to specific events in our lives. I am not sure if it was him changing or me growing up that enabled our relationship to evolve. I can tell you that I am pretty sure that I have experienced just about every human emotion available when it comes to my Pop Pop.

When I was a small child I spent my summers with my grandparents. My mom would drop me off on Sunday night and return to pick me up the following Friday. Those summers are the foundation of some of my earliest memories. I developed a lifelong friendship that I cherish with my grandmother and she became not only my TuTu, but one of my best friends. My grandfather worked during the days but I remember having dinner together every night. He was a large man of few words. To me he ate the strangest things, like peppers and red beat eggs. He put massive amounts of salt and pepper on everything that passed through his lips. He was the only man in a house of four women...five if you include Sandy, the dog. During those summers I can honestly tell you that the man scared the crap out of me. He didn't yell often but when he was angry you knew it and feared it. I don't ever recall him raising more that his voice to any of us, but that voice was scarier than the boogie man.

During my early adolescent years was the first time I viewed him as a man. I will never forget the summer that my grandparents were going through a rough spot. My grandmother was often visibly upset and my grandfather began having more than a couple night caps in the evening. I was old enough to understand what divorce was but naive enough to think things like that didn't happen to grandparents. It was a hard realization that these people were after all, only human. They experienced the same grief, anger and frustration that the rest of us dealt with. They were not above those things; they hadn't earned a get out of grief card. They hurt and that was when I learned that no one was immune to the pains of life. The invaluable lesson my grandparents taught me that summer was you don't give up on marriage. I watched them fight, cry, talk and weather days of silence but they did it together and remain married to this day.

During my teenage years my family moved a great distance away from our home town. My mother had remarried and a fresh start was in the cards. I wasn't around my grandparents that much during that time but they were there for the important stuff. They made the 2000 plus mile drive to attend my high school graduation which meant the world to me. My mother had divorced again and we were about to move even farther away. To say the least, emotions were at a high and my mother and I were constantly at each other's throat. One remarkably rough evening she and I were waging World War 3 and I was attempting to storm out when I was stopped by my Pop Pop. He was still larger than life to me so out of either fear or respect I stopped. He then proceeded to make a quick little speech to me which I am sure was insightful and poignant, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what he said. I was so overwhelmed that he had spoken a complete sentence to me the actual words were a complete blur. As I said before, he was always a man of few words and this was honestly the first time he had ever spoken a complete sentence TO me. I was so excited by this revelation that I rushed to tell my mom and we laughed over this turn of events and remarkably, World War 3 experienced a cease fire. Not sure if Pop ever knew what he did for me that night or if he knows how he did it, but he showed me his love, understanding and compassion that night and I will forever be grateful.

Fast forward another 10 years to my wedding. I wasn't the first to be married in our family, but I was the first to have a destination wedding. We had chosen to get married in Hawaii knowing full well that some family and friends might not be able to make it. It was important for us to keep it small and intimate and we knew Hawaii would afford us that. There was only one glitch in our plan, my Pop Pop doesn't fly. My Grandmother loves to travel and they have always had an RV and driven everywhere they wanted to go, but there isn't a bridge or ferry that could get that RV to Hawaii. I wanted these two people that have been the most constant thing in my life to be there. I don't know who did what, what back room negotiation were made, but my Pop Pop took his first and only flights of his life to attend my wedding. He loved me more than his fear. I have never felt more cherished and for that he will always be my hero.

Through all these changes my Pop Pop has built everything in our lives. When my Grandmother wanted a family room added to their home, my Pop built it. When she wanted a porch for the house he poured the concrete patio for the front and built a sprawling deck for the back. He was constantly tinkering and building things. Of course, he didn't do it all on his own and usually my father was his faithful sidekick. Pop was constantly ordering him around and somehow my dad would be the one bruised and battered while Pop escaped injury free. Some projects were so big that everyone was pulled in to play a role, but Pop was always the master mind and site supervisor. Over the years, Pop Pop taught us all that anything could be built with time, patience and usually a little bloodshed. In some ways I think that is how Pop showed us all that he loved us. He put up pools and built swing sets for us. He built room additions for TuTu; he created picnic tables so our family had a place to gather. Although I doubt any of us realized it at the time, Pop was building the threads of our lives.

So because of my Pop Pop I believe I can build anything. I can envision projects, plans and creations and I never doubt I can do it. The joy I get from building these things has always amazed me. There has always been a sense of pride, but it went deeper and I could never pinpoint what that was. It is love. Building things is a way to show love. My Pop Pop taught me that and my Pop Pop has built a lot of things for many people. My Pop is a pretty amazing man, he must be because he helped build a woman out of a little girl, and that little girl is a woman that loves to build.

Football is OUR Sport?

My boy is everything a wonderful 7 year old boy should be. I know I am biased, but he is cute and charming, rough and tough, silly and fun and has the attention span of a mentally retarded knat. This shortened attention span coupled with his exceptional stamina make his involvement with sports not an option but utterly necessary if we are to retain any sanity as his parents. As we have traveled down the road of organized sports with our son, there have been a few bumps along the way. We have tried almost every sport with him and while he likes them all none of them have captured his heart and therefore he doesn't stick with them very long. Baseball was a trial on all of our patience. There is just to much time hanging out for him...remember, very short attention span. Swimming was great to wear him out, but going back and forth in a pool for an hour every day bored him to the the point of hatred. Soccer is fun for him but the sport requires skills and that dreaded ability to pay attention. We are rapidly running out of options except the one option we have been resisting for years...football.

Football is not my son's sport. I have told myself this for at least 2 years now as he has begged me to sign him up season after season. He is my baby boy and I just can't bring myself to put him in the middle of a field and watch him become the target of a well placed tackle. He will get hurt. This is not a guess or prediction, this is a fact. The other fact, the one that has probably stopped me more than anything else from signing him up, he will hurt someone. You see, even though I can say out loud that football is not my son's sport, I know in my hearts of hearts that it is and at some point of his football career he is going to probably dominate.

You see, for my boy, life is a full contact sport and always has been. In fact, one of my tactics for not signing him up for football before was because it was a flag football league. When I explained how it would work my boy was disgusted and disappointed that they would consider having a football game without tackling. "What's the point, Mom?" Apparently, that argument has ceased to exist because while they won't let a 6 year old play tackle football, reaching the magical age of 7 is all it takes to be able to successfully beat the living crap out of someone and call it sport! It is eerily reminiscent to the days of Gladiators and true blood sports.

My little Gladiator happily took to the field a few weeks ago and has never been happier. I begrudgingly admit that he is doing well, having fun and even learning about the game. He wants to make his Coach happy and although he has no idea yet who the running back is, he tackles every kid in his field of vision until his coach rewards him with a hit on his helmet and a "good tackle". They practice for 2 hours a night, 3 nights a week and let me tell you, it is cold! As the "football" parent (because my husband is across town sitting on a pool deck for 2 1/2 hours 5 nights a week) the consolation of enduring the long cold evening is the sheer entertainment factor these little gladiators provide. Just imagine a group of little boys, most of them not even weighing 50 pounds soaking wet, running around with 10 pound ginormous helmets on their heads and no pads. It's like watching Revenge of the Bobble Heads.

But these Bobble Heads are fierce and they are coming together rather nicely. They can successfully tackle each other, sack the quarterback (as soon as they figure out which one he is) and even make some pass completions. Of course, for many the simple fact of successfully catching the ball is a little overwhelming which essentially stops any further forward motion on the play. They run around like mad men, do push ups, high knees, and various other drills in their quest for greatness. They are going to be unstoppable when they hit the field against an opposing bobble head team when the time comes!

So begrudgingly but proudly I can now say I am a football mom. I sit on the sideline and root for my little boy to pummel the crap out of other kids. I have given him permission to "knock him down until he can't get back up again". He is committed to staying in the game no matter what. Just last night he came home with blood on his jersey and he was a little disappointed to realize it wasn't his own. I reassured him it was only a matter of time and it would be his blood that would be shed. He is a football player. Watch out bobble heads, my boy is coming to a field near you!

Cake in a Cup

Cake in a cup. No, seriously, there are recipes out there for a multitude of different flavored personal creations that you can make in a matter of minutes utilizing one single coffee mug. What sadistic wacko came up with this idea? I'm pretty sure it was an employee at a sweat pant manufacturer or leisure wear conglomerate or I know...the makers of those Pajama Jeans! Because let me tell you, once you cross over and enter the world of cake in a cup those pajama jeans are going to be the only thing you will be able to put on!

In all honesty, the concept is genius. How many times have you wanted a little something sweet, but realizing the limits of your will power or the fact that you have absolutely none, you deny that sweet tooth craving. But alas, the craving doesn't just go away! In fact, it deepens, festers, patiently waiting for just the right moment to rear its ugly head. It catches you off guard and quickly consumes you until you find yourself a pitiful heap of lost consciousness completely unaware of your surroundings or the passage of time clutching a chocolate covered fork and licking what was once a lovely serving platter that brimmed with 3/4 of a decadent Death by Chocolate 3 layer cake. The only will power you have remaining is quickly summoned to hide the glutenous evidence and concoct a plausible story to cover your  chocolate crumb trail.

So really, the concept of having a single serving of decadent goodness in under 5 minutes could save countless regret laden binge fests. The reality of the situation is that having a warm and gooey personal cake in less that 5 minutes is entirely to convenient for most of us that suffer from the debilitating affliction of IHAVENOWILLPOWERitis. People, I found the recipe for Nutella Cake in a Cup 2 days ago and I already know the ingredients by heart!

These little treats don't skimp on yummy calorie loaded goodness either. This is not a healthy eating alternative. Although, I do make myself feel better by using organic flour, milk and eggs in my creations but somehow I don't think that negates the health issues that arise with the Nutella, sugar and oil. While web surfing for additional cake in a cup recipes I came across an 100 calorie version, but for some reason I skipped right over that one. Maybe when my pajama jeans don't fit anymore I will revisit that possibility.

In the meantime I have come up with an absolutely fabulous cake in a cup indulgent idea that is masked as a selfless and giving gesture. The end of the school year is rapidly approaching and therefore teacher gifts must be thought out and created. My mission, to gather and taste test as many cake in a cup creations, photographing my journey and assembling them and the winning receipies into a mini book lovingly bound and placed in a cake in a cup worthy mug decorated by my kids! Feel free to jump on this band wagon with me and in the meantime I will contact Pajama Jeans and see if we can get a discount on a bulk order.

The Beast known as Pinterest

I have issues. OK, I know we have already established that I have many issues but let's touch on only one at a time. I am the queen of the wild hair and lately I have sprouted more wild hairs than a Bigfoot has covering its entire body. I really don't know what comes over me but I can tell you that it comes in spurts, which is probably the only reason I remain married. My family has learned that the roller coaster that is my wild hair binges will only be around for a short while. Like a brilliant star, I will burn bright, blinding all those in my mini orbit only to putter out until I once again return to the comfort of monitoring the sofa and making sure no one steals it.

My latest wild hair binge is different though and I think it is scaring us all, me included. My normal "I just gotta get some stuff done" mantra has a new fuel, a drug, an enabling entity that threatens life as we know it...Pinterest!

Hello, My name is ______ (go ahead, insert your name, it is the first step after all) and I am a Pinterest Addict. I am known to sit up late at night, become engrossed while at my children's practices and anytime I am the passenger in the car you can find me cyber surfing the mother of all addicting web sites. I have wasted hours and hours perusing through pages and pages of fresh new ideas, recipes, crafts, quotes and just about anything that I can. I "pin" ideas constantly in anticipation that I will go back and take that idea and make it my own. Beautiful spaces crowd the pages and I want my home to look like those. I have been reduced to an envious, coveting fiend that wields a "to do" list like it is Excalibur. I will have a Pinterest worthy life even if it kills me!

In the last two weeks my Pinterest fueled wild hair and I have painted the master bathroom a beautiful sage green and accessorized it with rich tones of chocolate brown and forest green. Baseboards, doors and vanity were all freshened up with bright white paint and now we all refer to the area as our "grown ups" bathroom. I am in my 40s and I finally have a "grown up" room!

My Pinterest wild hair and I then moved outdoors and enlisted the help of my husband to dig out, frame and pour a new concrete walkway in the back yard. That was a two day project that included 1,710 pounds of concrete, 500 pounds of gravel and countless dirty looks of exasperation from my spouse. Our walkway is a thing of beauty but my wild hair was still not satisfied. We then moved massive amounts of dirt around to create a new flower bed with freshly planted ground cover and a wine barrel garden of fresh flowers. While we were at it we also planted some grass seed to try to bring back the area we trampled out during the concrete path project. You would think after all that we would be tired...well, I was at least but my wild hair still had other Pinterest ideas.

Currently, Pinterest Wild Hair and I are in the midst of a building project. With the rejuvenation of the back yard we are sorely lacking seating areas so bring on the benches! We are building 4 solid wood benches that can be rearranged and changed like a modular sofa to add seating, table space and countless other possibilities, which I am sure will be inspired by Pinterest. As I was dragging out the table saw for this latest foray into home improvement wonderfulness, I found myself promising my husband he wouldn't have to lift a finger. The look on his face assured me that if I didn't make good on that promise there would be some explaining to do!

Right now, Pinterest Wild Hair and I are experiencing a rain delay, which only gives me more time with my DIY crack web site and I have used the time well. I am no longer just a re-pinner, borrowing other people's ideas and peppering my boards with pictures of their realities to feed my insatiable dreams. I have PINNED! I thought I was addicted before, but noooooo. The game has been elevated to a new level with my first contribution to the cyber dream world. I posted a photo of my new wine barrel garden and something amazing happened. People re-pinned me! They like me, they really like me! My email box overflowed with notifications that my little photo was  being added to boards with titles like "My Dream Home" "Favorite Ideas" and "Things I Should Do". The high is better than any drug and I can't wait until my latest project is completed so I can pin again!!

I guess if you are going to have a wild hair there could be worse ones than the Pinterest Wild Hair. The house is looking great and the backyard is becoming the oasis I have always envisioned. There is only one problem, and unfortunately it is a pretty big one. Every time I pick up the computer, iPad or phone new ideas and photos magically appear further fueling my Pinterest Wild Hair. We might be in for a long roller coaster ride this time!

Notes to self and other random thoughts...

These are a few of life’s mysteries, facts and fictions that are clouding my mind lately.

·        Men can’t fold ANYTHING. I have watched my husband and I fold the same towel, using the same motions and one comes out neat and straight and the other one, not so much.

·        Musical instruments cost a FORTUNE. The clarinet we just “rented” for our daughter cost more than my first car!

·        Football is not for wimps. I know this one seems a no brainer, but you would be amazed at the kids on my son’s pee wee tackle football league. Seriously, if your kid cries over small bumps and trips he is not going to fair well when that 100 pound second grader with an attitude comes running at him with the intent of bodily harm.

·        Money disappears. ‘Nuff said.

·        Laundry appears from nowhere.

·        When you want a project done it will not seem like it will be that hard, meanwhile, to your spouse who is dragged into helping with said project will KNOW it is the hardest project you have ever devised.

·        Spouse will cave in and do any project when you threaten to hire someone to do it. (Deep down he knew all along it wasn’t going to be THAT hard).

·        Wanting to grow something in your garden is a noble and rewarding task, but it doesn’t change that fact that you not only have a black thumb but all your fingers and even toes are as black as coal.

·        Women can justify just about anything.

·        Really smart women can make it so they don’t need to justify it, but instead are just going along with and supporting someone else’s brilliant idea that they themselves aren’t sure where the idea came from!

·        There are not enough acceptable cocktail hours.

·        Toys that make noise should be outlawed. Even more so, the ones that do make noise that you give your child permission to take into the bathtub in hopes that it will cease that incessant chatter only to come back alive at precisely midnight and scare the living shit out of you, should include the phone number of the inventor so you can call them to scream bloody murder at them at midnight because if you are wide awake then by God, so should they!

·        There is never enough time.

·        Love makes the world go around and sometimes you just need to get off the ride for a while.

·        Family is the greatest joy and the root to all evil.

·        Money really does disappear…without a trace.

·        If you are calling me to sell something it would be in your best interest to have a live person that can actually respond in a timely manner when I say “hello” and not some computer animated douche bag that I can very easily hang up on without a miniscule amount of remorse.

·        If you are calling me to donate to your worthy cause be forewarned, guilt does not work on me because I was raised on guilt and am sufficiently immune.

·        Houses make the strangest noises when you are all alone.

·        If it doesn’t have fur it has no business being a pet.

·        Good books are worth every dime.

·        Good books borrowed from a friend means more money you can spend on the bottle of wine you can share.

·        Book clubs are women’s way of getting together, talking crap and drinking wine with really good friends. I REALLY NEED A BOOK CLUB!!

·        A clear head is a breeding ground for insane ideas.

·        I have the best insane ideas.