Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy Valentine's Day



Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
William Shakespeare






Love is not blind - it sees more, not less. 
But because it sees more, it is willing to see less.
Julins Gordon




Who knows?  
But love certainly is a many splendored thing . . .




Happy Valentine's Day to all my sweets!



Friday, February 12, 2010

You Are My Sunshine

What sunshine is to flowers, 
smiles are to humanity. 
These are but trifles, to be sure; 
but, scattered along life's pathway, 
the good they do is inconceivable.   
Joseph Addison  


 
Just look at that flower. 

Isn't it beautiful?
  
I could get lost in it today.


Deepest thanks to Penny for sending me some sunshine today.
Go see her at The Hen House, it's always worth the time.


The truth is, I clutch it desperately today.


Today, give a stranger one of your smiles.  
It might be the only sunshine he sees all day.   
~ P.S. I Love You, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.



Allow me to pass some sunshine on to some other wonderful blogs:


Chicken Boys -- When I visit, I feel like I am at their house with my feet up having a great time with friends.


Delightfully Diva-ish -- She is wonderfully warm and wickedly funny. 


Laughing with Angels -- An exquisitely beautiful blog, and pure peaceful inspiration to me for more reasons than I can list.


The Lemon Cottage -- This is a fast-growing blog for good reason, she's brilliant and wonderfully fun, too.  She is also a tax preparer, so she is crazy-busy right now, so cut her a break until 4/15.  



The T-Cozy -- Going to her blog is like going over to a good girlfriend's house . . . the kind who makes good tea (the right way) and serves it with charm and warmth and her whole house is like a treasure trove of (mostly) vintage loveliness.



Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves.  
~ James Barrie






Thank you, Penny and my fellow bloggers, mentioned and unmentioned. 
 
 




Wednesday, February 10, 2010

A Taste of Freedom, Humiliation, and More Snow

So I haven't been off my street in several days. Snow, snow, everywhere.

With a forecast of at least another 12 inches due last night, I had to get out. I had to get somewhere, anywhere.


The minute my husband got home last night, I jumped in the van and headed to the closest thing I could think of:  JoAnn's. I took mercy upon my son and took him with me.  He hadn't been anywhere in days, either.  It had just begun to snow, but the roads weren't bad yet.  "What's the worst that could happen?"


 



We got to the store just fine.  I found my bamboo size 8 24" circular knitting needles easily, too easily, actually; I needed an "outing."  I wouldn't be out again for several days.  So we had a stroll around the store some more.




Ever the bargain hunter, I didn't stop until I found the clearance aisle. They had a bunch of those big tin stars 70% off. Those stars have never been quite my style, but I don't hate them. Honestly, I think I was desperate for something else to think about, so I went over to look at them. There were about 10 on one rack and one by itself on the other. I cleverly reached for the one by itself so as not to tangle with the rack full. The next thing I knew . . . and I still have no idea how it happened . . . they were all falling. One. By. One. Crash!  Bang!!  It sounded as if someone was banging two aluminum trash can covers together, over and over.  And then these long boards painted with rosebuds and girly sayings also began careening off the bottom shelf. No idea how or why those would even move! The noise seemed to go on forever. It was as if it was happening in slow motion.

Being that we were way in back by the employee stock room, an employee came running out of the break room still chewing her food to see what had happened. She said she thought the roof had fallen in. Ooops I focused my efforts on apologizing profusely while I helped her pick it all up.  She then went back to her dinner.

Still not to deterred from our scamper of freedom, my son and I continued shopping.  My son could hardly walk for holding his stomach from laughing so hard. The child can be quite the teaser when given some material -- no idea where he got that trait.  He was having a field day. And I couldn't really blame him; all the times we've told him not to touch things in stores.

We found a few more things to buy, and reluctantly proceeded to the check out. The checkout clerk rang everything up and suddenly I realize I left my wallet at home.  It was sitting on the desk at home (from when I needed a business card from my wallet). In my defense, I am usually fanatical about putting my wallet right back in my purse, but this one time I wasn't -- probably because I didn't think I would be going anywhere for days and days.

Well, I did have my checkbook and asked if that would be alright. Fine, as long as I had a driver's license number, the clerk said. Nope. My driver's license is in my wallet (right where it should be) only my wallet is currently at home on my desk!  I pleaded my case. The clerk said she would have to check with the manager. So she makes an embarrassing, and slightly hostile, call over the loud speaker. Who comes . . . you can guess, can't you?  Of course, the still-chewing woman from the stock room.  She turns out to be the manager. Imagine how happy she was to see me waiting earnestly and perhaps pitifully, at the register.




I again explained the embarrassing situation -- people were now, of course, gathered behind me in line -- and she refused. I offered to call home and have my husband tell it to me. Nope. Then, as nicely as I could, I implored her, it was only $35, it was not as if I was buying a sewing machine. Somehow, that changed her mind. She finally relented, but insisted I call home and have my husband read me the driver's license number (something I had regrettably offered earlier).  So, as if I am not embarrassed enough, I now must also bring my husband into the situation.  How completely humiliating. But I was not going home to face the next several days snowed under without the specific knitting needle required to make a certain felted bag that had been nagging me for days now.  Nope, I neeeeeded this stuff; it was essential.  (By this time, my son was practically rolling on the floor with smug laughter, but trying his best to hold it together because I had, by now, explained -- twice -- how this was not at all funny. anymore.  And to think I almost didn't bring him. No good deed goes unpunished.)

I finally walked out of that store with my dignity and pride battered and bruised, but I had my stuff, my bag of treasures.  I felt a peculiar mix of victory and defeat.  All just to get out of the house, once, before the next storm submerged us all in snow. again.


Now we have at least another 12 inches of snow added to the 30 from the weekend.  Everything is closed.  Everyone is at home.  No idea when the snow will stop or how where we'll put it all this time.

Good thing I've got my new bamboo knitting needles.





Monday, February 8, 2010

Excuse Me While We Dig Out


We have a lot to do.


 
Some are helping more than others . . . see the guy under the table?  That's supposed to be our snow dog.


I'll be back soon to tell you all about it,


Wednesday, February 3, 2010

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

 

Have you ever taken a hot air balloon ride?
I have, and someday I will tell you all about it.




Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Mudroom Saga: Flooring

The other morning, my husband and I got our weekly mochas and lattes to go and strode over to the large home improvement store across the street.  I was brimming with enthusiasm and ideas. 

I like color.  Perhaps something with slight color variations . . . something subtle.  Earth tones.  Or not.  Checkerboard?  Oh, I've always wanted a checkerboard floor . . . not black and white; no, something perkier . . . red and white?  Red and gray?  Pink and yellow?  Okay, no . . . that won't be marketable, and we plan to probably sell this house someday.  Okay, back to something mainstream.  But with some color.  Something with a little personality.  Not the plain beige stuff easily found in all fast food joints and grocery store dairy sections.   




We arrived in the flooring department to find that all the ceramic tile looked almost exactly the same and, yep, much like the stuff I step on when selecting a jug of milk.  Well, okay, I'm not being fair.  You can choose lightish or darkish.  But otherwise, it's all pretty much the same. 

I made this observation as an indictment of the entire selection and was moving the argument in the direction of going to a dedicated flooring store.  Before I could make my considered conclusion known to my husband, he seized upon my proclamation that all the tiles look the same and cut in front of me with his conclusion instead:  If they all look the same, clearly we should buy this close-out stuff in the corner that is about a third of the price of any other tile offered.  Hmmm.  Not the direction I was heading.  Hard to really refute, based upon the premise I had set down.

It does all look the same, as I had just carelessly announced.

It is neutral, which is what we really should put in.

It is alarmingly affordable, another handy fact since we plan to spend most of the budget on the storage system.

And it is only the mudroom.  No one goes in there but the regular inhabitants of this house.  It need not "say" anything about us or our tastes or preferences.  It need only stay put, look clean, and not detract market value from our house.  Even this dairy-section selection would be a vast improvement over the stained, peeling, dingy 30 year old linoleum in there now.

Backed into a logical corner, I had to counter . . . "But still."

In an effort to diffuse the situation,stall for time, and avoid getting dairy tile, I sent my husband on to work while I rocketed around town looking at storage systems.  Surely, one would select the storage system first, so many options in lovely faux-but-still-expensive veneer . . . cherry?  maple?  pine?  white?  silverrrrrr?  Then we'll select the flooring to coordinate.


Yeah, that sounds like a plan. . .



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