note to self:

When you run out of Baker's Joy do not think you can get away with using only Pam to grease a bundt pan.

really? . . .

This came in last week's mail:

in the line of duty

While opening a can of black beans for dinner I managed to slice my finger open and bleed profusely. Two hours, a $20 copay, and seven stitches later I have this fashion statement to show for it:


I think I'll tell people I got in a knife fight or something--anything more glamorous than black beans.

remains of the day

It's nearing the end of another day and here's what I've got to show for it:

A bill from the plumber who came to unclog my laundry sink drain in the basement:

A sad end to one of my favorite pairs of everyday shoes (I guess I shouldn't be surprised, they are 11 years old). After sloshing through the Costco parking lot with a cart full of groceries in the rain I noticed that not only was my foot slightly damp, but the hem of my wide-leg pants was out and they were dragging in the slush as well.

When I chose to document the demise of my shoes I realized that they have been much more ratty looking than I realized, and that I probably should have retired them long ago.

Leakage onto the cuff of my blouse from the ground beef I bought at Costco (and are those really horrid age spots all over my arm? Perish the thought!):

Spattering of both mud and spaghetti sauce on my blouse and sweater. I had to make dinner in stages, in between running the kids to and from piano lessons, stopping by my mother's house to frost a cake for one of her neighbors, and picking up Mark from work. (Yes, having one car is really fun--at least it's a good one!) I know it looks like I'm pregnant, but I'm not. I've never taken a SP of my stomach before and I haven't mastered the most flattering angle.

My homemade spaghetti sauce that, due to the above-mentioned running in and out, bubbled over onto the stove and made for a messy clean-up. Thankfully, I had help. Truthfully, my family was so excited to actually have me cook a meal that the mess didn't seem so bad.

The rain turned into a violent snow storm (really-in a matter of 20 minutes or so). It continues to pile up and Sarah is hoping for a snow day tomorrow. Welcome to Colorado weather, Linda from California!

At least now I'm wearing stretchy pants and my favorite ratty old wool sweater (one I refuse to give up--despite its condition-- and decline to photograph any time soon.)

Edited to add: Sarah got her fondest wish granted! We just found out that all Jefferson County schools have been canceled for tomorrow.

a case against predictive texting

Last weekend was our Stake Conference and Mark, as the Stake Clerk, was at the church from about 3:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m. I received a text message from him shortly before the 7 p.m. leadership session asking if I would please bring him something to eat, as he hadn't eaten all day and was famished. Having just ordered pizza for the kids, I quickly snatched the last few pieces and put them in a Ziplock bag, found an empty Target sack and added an apple, a granola bar, and a bottle of water to complete the feast.

Arriving at the church just minutes before the meeting was about to begin, and not knowing where Mark was, I decided I would hang the "bag of eats" on the door of the clerks' office for him to retrieve when he could. I stood in the foyer and hurriedly sent him a text message to alert him of the drop-off.

Thank goodness I proofread my message before hitting the send button, or Mark would surely have been confused!

Almost a week later I'm still chuckling every time I think of it.

. . . and this is what I hate about costuming

Our show closed last Saturday night--thank heaven! My friends often ask me, "How do you do it, Denise?" This is how: I let absolutely everything else in my life take a back seat--family (which encompasses laundry, meal prep, house cleaning, phone conversations with out-of-state loved ones, blog reading, etc.), church assignments (more difficult to do so this year--thank goodness I have supportive counselors and a fabulous Compassionate Service Leader), friends (sorry about never texting you back, Paula, when you were in town. . .), and of course sleep and healthy eating (and I wonder why I'm just getting over one of the worst sinus infections I've had in a while).

This morning, deciding that my sanity hinged upon "getting my house in order," I took yet another day off work and decided to try to make order out of chaos. Sadly, the following photos were not staged in any way. This is just the way my house looked this morning, after several weeks of neglect.

My bedside table/dresser. Note unmade bed in the mirror:

Both my kitchen and dining room tables were covered with weeks of miscellany. Of course, we never ate dinner at the table, so where's the problem? Note Emily's "cartoon" sunglasses I've had to resort to wearing, as mine broke and I have not had time to get them fixed or replaced. Also note the last of the Christmas decorations that have yet to be stored away:

Note bags from HomeGoods containing a design project for a patiently-waiting client, as well as miscellaneous coupons (likely expired by now) clipped who knows when:Another pile, in a different location, for a different patiently-waiting client:
The laundry center--not a pretty sight.
The ironing pile (which does not include all of the hanging items pictured in the back of the previous top photo). Most mornings the kids feel lucky if they can simply pull a rumpled something out of the pile to wear that day; hey--at least there's a possibility it may be clean.
No wonder I can't iron:
My sewing area. When things get so crazy I don't take time to clean up one project before moving onto the next, hence the pile of scraps and unused fabrics strewn about the floor:

It's gross, but I had to document the un-vacuumed floor. It's WAY worse in the sewing area. Yes, Jessie--those are the ever-present remnants of Moosey's favorite rope chew toy. Don't ask where the spare change came from!

My work desk, where everything from school, church, mail, etc. gets unceremoniously deposited. Yes, that is a wrapped Christmas box containing a church object lesson used last December:Part of my kitchen counter, representing the remnants of my last-minute pretzel-making-gift project (for closing night thank-you's) and my varied assortment of vitamins and cough remedies:

And, though (thankfully) not in my house, there's all of the waiting, dirty costumes at the high school to be dealt with--LATER.A self-portrait of exhaustion at the end of the show's run. What would I do without my dear friend and co-conspirator, Teri?
And whatever would I do without my ever-supportive and non-complaining husband Mark? This photo was taken after Thursday night's show, hence John in costume and makeup.

*sigh* Let Real Life commence.

hellish hail

As if I wasn't having a hard enough time trying to keep my blog current, our power was out for 48 hours this week, throwing my week into chaos.

A little after 10 on Monday night I was enjoying a relaxing shower at the end of a very productive day when, about halfway through, I heard and felt a frightening sound--above the sounds of the streaming water and the radio. Fearing my furnace was about to explode (our hot water heater/furnace combo--an antiquated beast--resides in a closet in our bathroom and at times makes menacing thumping noises). "Oh NO!" I'm thinking. "The house is going to blow up and I'm going to be found naked and dead in the street! What an embarrassing way to go."

And then the lights went out.

It didn't take me too long to deduce that we were in the middle of a tremendous thunder and hail storm. Thankfully John, knowing I was in the shower, was quick to bring me his Nintendo DS, which when opened and sitting on the counter, provided adequate light by which to dry off and dress. Whew! I wasn't going to die naked after all.

I was impressed by the kids' quick response to an emergency situation. The storm hit so suddenly and with such severity; thanks to their quick response time and action (as I was otherwise occupied) windows and doors were expeditiously closed, allowing no water to enter the house.

The outside of the house, however, did not fare so well. We awoke the next morning (still no power) to find the back of house looking like this:

Some of the holes are three and four inches big! We were fortunate that no windows shattered, as many of our neighbors' did. However, the frames are broken, dented, and cracked--like this:

Our gutters and window frames look like someone with anger issues took a ball-peen hammer to them. The saddest part to me is my little garden in the front of the house. Remember reading about my efforts to beautify? Well, Monday afternoon I decided I would surprise Mark (who was out of town) for our upcoming anniversary and add some finishing touches to our joint gardening effort. I stopped at the nursery on my way home from work, dropped another $50 for some fill-in plants, and together with the kids planted everything for FHE Monday night. For at least three whole hours my garden looked really good.

On Tuesday morning my garden looked like this:

. . . and my potted basil looks like this:

Emily, Sarah, John, and his friend George helped me rake and clean the yard (remember I said that Mark was out of town?). After a few hours of work we had raked about 15 bags of leaves--just from the front lawn. Though the decimation of my little garden is disappointing, it was somewhat heartening to at least get the debris cleaned up, and it felt pretty neighborly, as everyone else on the block was out in their yards doing the same thing and we would occasionally walk over to a neighbor's house to exchange storm stories and damage estimates.

The good news? Our power came back on last night around 10 p.m., but not before I had to attend to some urgent Relief Society business by candlelight and flashlight.


The bright spot? My rose bush, a Mother's Day gift this year from Mark, came through the storm nearly unscathed--amazing, when you consider the state of everything else in the vicinity.

For another great account of our eventful week and more photo documentation, see Emily's post.

it seemed like a good idea

Me (at 6 p.m., after a full day's work and day that required me to get up at 4:45 this morning): "Let's go to Taco Bell/Pizza Hut for dinner. Sarah, we can use the coupons you got from school for reading to get two free Personal Pan pizzas."

Sarah: "But I really want tacos instead."

Me (after a small moment's pause): "Okay, John can have both pizzas and I'll buy you some tacos." That will hardly cost a thing--and it will be worth it because it will be really quick, allowing me to get down to the basement sooner to start the sewing night shift.

Cut to drive-through at Taco Bell/Pizza Hut.

Me: "I'd like three tacos and two Personal Pan pizzas--"

Sarah (interrupting): "Can I have a root beer?"

Me: "--and a root beer, please. I have coupons for the pizzas."

Fast Food Attendant: "We're out of root beer. And my manager says we don't take those coupons."

Me: "Oh."

John (from the back seat): "Don't forget I have Mutual tonight, Mom, and it starts in less than an hour. Can I have a Baja Blast with my pizza?"

Me (eying the lineup of cars behind me): "Make that one pizza combo, two drinks, and three tacos. Wait--" (throwing caution to the wind) "--add a medium Diet Pepsi, please." Maybe that will help me make it through the night shift.

Fast Food Attendant: "Okay, that will be $12.72. And we're out of bread sticks. Can you wait for seven minutes?"

Me (weighing the pros and cons of waiting vs. leaving without the bread sticks): "Sure, I guess we can wait a few minutes."

Fast Food Attendant: "Just pull around to the front and I'll bring them out."

Cut to parking lot, fifteen minutes later.

Me (falling asleep in the driver's seat while John and Sarah eat pizza and tacos respectively): "John, why don't you go in and check the progress of those *%^@!&! bread sticks!"

Another ten minutes pass.

Me (upon seeing John finally emerge from the restaurant): "Finally!" I'll bet they gave him a few extra to compensate for our interminable wait. "Did they give you any extra?"

John: "No. They forgot about us."

Me: "Good grief." I shouldn't have changed into my lounging clothes before leaving--I totally could have worked it to get some extra bread sticks. Oh, but I forgot, my feet were killing me and I was going for ultimate comfort, and I really just want to get home and start sewing.

Home, at last. Kids have already eaten.

Me (relishing the fact that I at least have some of my favorite salad in the fridge to have for dinner--and the fact that I finally have a moment to sit and relax): "John, are you ready for Mutual? It will be time to go soon. Sarah--you'd better get started on your homework."

Sarah (with enthusiasm--apparently bolstered by her nutritious taco meal): "Can I play you the recorder song we learned today in Music? It has CD accompaniment to go with it!"

Me (steeling my nerves and feigning enthusiasm for her musical suggestion): "That would be great, honey." *sigh*

love-hate relationship

Novocaine.

workman's comp

Workman's Comp is the kind of insurance your employer carries to insure against injury at the workplace. I'm wondering if the startling appearance of an unexpected and very large, hairy spider, and subsequent squishing of said spider will qualify me for benefits.

Keep in mind, this photo was taken after I had squished it, so it really was bigger than it even appears here. I was sorting through stacks of old blueprints and moving the prints from a file drawer to the floor to a trashcan and look what crawled out! Thankfully, my Amazing Mom Skills allowed me to dispose of it with only moderate horror and trepidation.

Sorry Jill, but I just had to post this one with the smudge of guts on the paper. (I killed it by putting the mercifully thick, folded set of plans on top of it and then stepping on the plans.)

I don't even want to know how or when the horrid spider got there, or if it has friends and family members lurking nearby. I just don't want to know. Thank heavens I had my camera in the car!

getting it off my chest

The 1993 Ford Explorer I drive does not boast many luxuries. While I am thankful that it does have power windows and locks (even if there is no remote key fob), and we did add a decent stereo about five or six years ago, it lacks many amenities commonly found in newer cars. Despite its 100,000+ miles, however, it still gets me about town and isn't too embarrassing for my kids to be seen in.

One thing I do have in my glove box that many people my age do not is a handicapped parking placard, courtesy of my 81-year-old mother and her failing eyesight and bad knees. When she obtained the parking pass a few years ago she was given two--one for her car and one for mine, since I often take her about town in my car. I admit there have been many times I have been glad to have that permit when we're out running errands, allowing us the advantage of greater availability and more convenient parking spots. I never use the permit unless she is with me, as that would not be honest or fair.

Well, at least I never have until last Friday.

I had to make a stop at a County office on my way home from work to pick up some papers. It was a drizzly day. I had on pointy-toed shoes that were cute, but starting to cramp my toes. It was slightly chilly and I had no coat. I was running late. There were no parking spaces that weren't a half-mile away. I was a desperate woman. And I did it.

I debated whether or not to limp out of the car up to the building, possibly making would-be onlookers sympathetic and less judgemental. I didn't.

Just had to get it off my chest. It won't happen again.