living in her wake

I often marvel at my good fortune in having Susan for my sister. How is that I, of all people, was chosen to share a common gene pool with her--only the most talented, generous, ingenious, and creative person I have ever known! Anything unusual, trendy, beautiful, or colorful in my house or wardrobe I can pretty much chalk up to her uncommon generosity and/or brilliantly creative mind.

She has her own interior design firm and retail store in Pennsylvania (well worth the trip, if you're ever near Yardley, PA) and occasionally does projects for out-of-state clients. In the past she has hired me to help out with projects in her home state, as well as in Charleston, SC, Nantucket, MA, and most recently my home town of Lakewood, CO.

Susan's visits, however, are not what you'd call relaxing for her. Last week we worked nearly 30 hours in three days, one night working late and then having a slumber party. Somehow, working with Susan doesn't seem so much like work--it's just fun to spend time together and learn from her (and she pays generously--or gets her clients to, anyway). Here's a sample of one of the rooms she's putting together for her client's daughter:

I want this polka-dotted rug for Emily's dorm room!

I'm always sad when it's time to part ways--even though I may be a little tired. Living in Susan's wake is one good place to be.

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.

birthday video at last!

I finally got the birthday song video to load properly. Enjoy!

See--I'm not the only one

I've been fighting the blues today, missing the girls and not looking forward to Mark being out of town this week for business. I'm not even used to just four yet, and now Mark's departure makes three. I've been trying to keep my chin up, as my mood seems to effect those of everyone else at home (one of the more burdensome tasks as a mother, that of Mood Maker).

I was doing fairly well until John came up while I was making dinner, and with a teary look in his eye said, "I missed hearing blow dryers when I woke up this morning!" Who knew that a fourteen-year-old boy would miss the sound of his sisters styling their hair on Sunday morning.

The bathroom does look a little empty without the customary tangle of appliance cords.

On a brighter note, I was getting a package ready to send the girls and was thinking I'd use my cute Good Mail labels from Jill, but wishing they said "Mom" instead of "Denise." Lo and behold, what to my wondering eyes should appear in Friday's mail, but a cute card with a sweet note and a little bag of "Good Mail from Mom" labels! Thanks, Jill--you're not only very thoughtful, but apparently a mind reader as well.

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.

Sarah's Big Day

"As Sarah fell--exhausted--into bed tonight, she told me, "Mom, this is the best birthday I've ever had!" I'm pretty sure she says that every year, but I'm glad that the day lived up to her high expectations. She looks forward to her birthday, I think, more than Christmas and sometimes I wonder if it can really live up to all the hype. She did a better job this year, however, of pacing her fun throughout the day instead of opening all her gifts, eating all her treats, and spending all her birthday money (a staple from her Canadian grandpa) within the first ten minutes.

She was pretty excited to get a Razor scooter, as she had been pining for one for some time now. This was a little more of a "grown up" birthday for her, as many of the things she received are items for her forthcoming bedroom re-d0 (can it really be called a re-do if it has never been done in the first place?). Anyway, I was wondering if she would miss the usual gifts of Barbies, stuffed animals and the like, but she was thrilled with it all.

I was missing her older sisters again when I felt their absense at the birthday dinner table (especially when it came time to sing the rousing Petersen birthday song), but as I watched Sarah throughout the day I felt the comforting reassurance that I still have a little girl in the house--one who, though she now like things like room decor for her birthday, will still be my little girl for a little while longer.

Happy birthday, sweet Sarah!

P.S.: I have the cutest video that I tried to post of the aforementioned birthday song, but was unsuccessful in my attempt to upload. . . .

finding my groove

Nothing like a busy life to yank me out of the doldrums. Sarah's 10th birthday is tomorrow (I've always lamented the close proximity to Charlotte's birthday) and I've been staying up late trying to finish her "10 Things" album. I've chosen a pink and orange color scheme which, coincidentally, coordinates with the palette we've chosen her bedroom makeover (that will be her main gift this year, but we're just starting the project--hopefully it will be finished by Halloween!).

I only got teary-eyed once yesterday, which is progress. I did catch myself, however, when I was making a mental list of the many things I still have to do to get ready for Sarah's birthday, and I thought, 'Oh, I'll get Emily to make the cookies for Sarah to take to school on her birthday.' Yeah, right. Guess I'll have to make them myself. {sigh}

Life goes on, and I'm gradually getting back into my--new and revised--groove. More to follow.