Mother

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.

spoiled, but not a brat

As the baby of my family I long ago came to the realization that it's okay to be spoiled as long as you're not a brat. This position in my family has worked well for me over the years, especially as the past 21 have found us living close to my parents.

Case in point: My Sundays of late find me busy and often exhausted by the end of the day. While we have always enjoyed eating Sunday dinner with my parents, over the past year our pattern has evolved into my mother planning and making dinner at her house with very little--if any--help from me. To fully appreciate this gift, you must understand that a "normal" Sunday dinner at my mom's house consists of a beautifully-set table (nicely-pressed cloth napkins, always), nothing from a box or a mix (everything is made from scratch, be it gravy, salad dressing, or rolls), and an ever-changing array of our favorite homemade desserts to top things off.

This afternoon I arrived at my Mother's house to find this inviting set-up:

We found this tablecloth at HomeGoods a month or so ago and knew it would be darling with Mom's lime green dishes.

Corned beef brisket with horseradish sauce was on today's menu, accompanied by boiled potatoes, cooked carrots, artisan "rustic" bread, and Winter salad. Ah--a pleasing menu, indeed! But wait--that's not all. Mother surprised me with my all-time most favorite incredible dessert--my manna, as it were: Homemade Chocolate Pie. A moment of silence, please, while you gaze at this enticing photo.

Fights have been known to break out over who gets the last piece for breakfast. Usually I win.

So, while I feel somewhat undeserving, as well as moderately guilty for not contributing more to these fine repasts, I can't deny that I look forward to our Sunday dinners. I feel pampered, cared for, and loved. In my parents' home, surrounding the dinner table, I feel safe. I come away with a feeling of peace and reassurance that, though the coming week may be hectic and sometimes feel out of control, I always have this safe place to which I can return. And sometimes there's a chocolate pie waiting for me in the refrigerator.

Thanks, Mom.

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.

happy endings

At the end of a rather long and harried day I was surprised today with two delightful and completely unexpected gifts: The first, a daffodil yellow Cuisinart hand mixer from my mother, and the second, two boxes of Cadbury eggs--one caramel and one creme--from my dear and thoughtful friend Linda J. (who had read a comment I made on Charlotte's post about craving said eggs).

Wow! That's just about all I can say, Wow! Well that, and Thanks!

. . . 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.

10 things I love about costuming

1. The entire creative process, from conception to realization.

2. Shopping for fabric and patterns--the joy of textiles in general.

3. Spending time and (sometimes) being goofy with some of the most wonderful friends I've ever had the privilege of knowing. Feeling like a contributing member of my community.

4. Spending time with my kids and seeing them perform.

5. Finding the PERFECT accessories for the leading lady's ball gown.

6. Having the ability to see to it that my daughter has one of the cutest dresses in the chorus.

7. The secret pleasure of seeing some of my mother's and my old clothes and hats on stage (the coral dress with black buttons is one my mother made for herself about 50 years ago. The white hat is one my sister made for my mom about 15-20 years ago. The black and fuchsia dress on the left edge of the photo below was one of mine from the '80's).

8. The satisfaction of witnessing The Twirl Factor in action.

9. Making every performer feel like they look terrific--whether it's the leading lady or someone who stands in the back in the chorus.

10. Getting to know my kids' friends and classmates.

(I made this list so I will have something to remind myself of over the next six weeks. )