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.

rockin' end to a snowy day

I woke up to about four inches of snow, which continued to come down heavily all morning long. Mercifully, Mark traded me cars, as mine is not so good in bad weather and I have a longer commute to work than he does. This photo doesn't really do the day's weather justice. I took my camera with me to work, thinking I would be an awesome blogger and snap a photo along the way. My drive ended up being of the white-knuckled variety so thoughts of blog posts were put aside.
It had stopped snowing by the time I got home around 1:30 p.m. and I decided to shovel a bit, "a bit" being the operative phrase here. The snow was much heavier than I bargained for and I still had my high-heeled boots and skirt on. I decided it was a good project for John to finish when he came home from school.

I decided to try one of Michelle's recipes from her blog for dinner, a creamy potato soup, which--when paired with a loaf of my mom's homemade bread--made for a tasty meal at the end of a snowy day. For FHE we talked about Remembering (sound familiar?) and wrote thank-you notes. Before the kids went to bed, John cajoled Mark and I into joining the family rock band for a round of Guitar Hero. I sang the vocals on "Heart Breaker" and must admit that I've never really listened to the lyrics of that song before. It was a little weird to sing about "releasing my inner fantasy" with my kids.

The evening had a few rocky spots, but I'm choosing to remember the good parts. Remind me next time to let someone else take the group SP so my head doesn't look so large.

paint progression

Although Sarah's room still looks a bit like a Bronco zone (for those non-Colorado readers, the Denver Broncos' team colors are orange and blue), we are making progress. The carpet isn't up yet but the walls, ceiling, doors, and most of the trim are painted--hooray! And yes, Serin, the ceiling really is orange, too. That stupid hole in the wall above the shelf used to have a hideous metal light fixture attached to it. What idiot thought it would be a good idea to have a light fixture 18" from the ceiling? I've got to find an electrical plate with which to cover the hole (or perhaps a cute piece of art to lean on the shelf).

My dad built me this shelf that I brought from our former house. It has been hanging from our garage rafters for over four years and I am so happy to finally give it a place inside. I got a little teary-eyed when I read this forgotten inscription on the back:

My dad always signs his finished work on the back in a black Sharpie marker. Finding this one made me want to record the one on the bottom of my solid hard-rock maple butcher block that he made me almost 23 years ago, the first Christmas I was married:

I will always love those little forgotten love notes from my dad. Mark had to saw off about 7" from the end of the shelf to make it fit in the room. I made him pose for this manly shot with a power tool--he's my man!

The next step is to pull up the carpet, but having had a headache in some form or other for the past several days, I just wasn't up to tackling it myself this afternoon. Mark said he would take it on tomorrow.

And I just couldn't let my favorite painting shoes go undocumented. They're an old, old pair of Dansko clogs that are SO comfortable and have seen me through more projects that I can count--cross-country projects in fact, ranging from Colorado to Pennsylvania to South Carolina!

Hopefully by next week at this time Sarah will be once again sleeping in her own room and I can start putting the house back to normal. It's always amazing to me when I paint a room in the house how it seems to throw everything into chaos. I'm ready for the chaos to end.

end of an era

It finally happened. As I was walking quickly out of the post office early Wednesday morning, rushing to make my next stop--Costco--before hurrying home to meet my sister and her client, my favorite EVER and most comfortable pair of summer sandals broke. My rhinestone flip-flops--broken beyond repair! I had to walk, lopsided, out to my car with one shoe off and one shoe on. This time I really could have qualified for the handicapped placard.

Adding insult to injury, I not only had to return home--even though I was already three-fourths of the way to Costco, but also drive barefooted, as my broken sandal happened to be my right one. I hate driving barefoot.

I knew that my time was growing short with my beloved shoes, as I had already had to mend the holes in the sole with duct tape, but I was simply not prepared for this sudden loss. For now I can only hope to find sandals this stylish and comfortable by next summer. Farewell.

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.

jumping in with both feet

Deep breath--here goes! After daily inspiration by celebrity bloggers like my nieces Jessie and Michelle and friend Jill (my claim to fame is that I actually vacationed with her once), as well as goading by my daughters Charlotte and Emily, I'm finally doing it. I'm starting my very own blog.


I admit to a little foot-dragging, as I'm concerned about adding one more thing to my seemingly endless list of things I want to do (and don't always get done). But a recent post by one of the above-mentioned blogging divas has inspired me to do it for me. I realized that I don't have to worry about how often I post, or whether or not anyone reads it, or what they think. I also realized that it may help ease the sadness in having my two oldest kids leave for college (they are probably the two main people who will read my blog).

So for what it's worth--here goes! I'm jumping into the blogging world with both feet (in cute shoes, of course).