Shaking Things Up Around the House

You know how you can get those wild ideas at times that concern either moving every piece of furniture in your house to another position, redoing some room top to bottom, or better yet - a combination of the two ideas? And you know that look that your husband gives you when you decide to share those fantasies that are running around inside your head? That look that tells you without a single word that he is not planning to help you with any of the task and doesn't begin to understand why the house cannot remain exactly the way it is until the day you die?Well, guess what. My husband doesn't give me that look. No sirree. Not only does he not give me that look, he listens intently to my ideas and then says, "Honey, I think that sounds like a great plan."
I know. I won the spouse lottery. That is why I don't play any other lottery games. Lightning really doesn't usually strike twice.

My latest house inspiration came about a week ago when I decided it was time for our main bathroom to get a little sprucing up. And by sprucing up, I mean rip out everything except the tub/shower and the toilet and start all over. By ourselves. Even though we often need help opening a gallon of milk.I want to pull up the hideous vinyl floor, lay down a sub-floor, cut slate tile and install it, sand and paint the walls, redo the vanity, replace the hardware, rip off the vanity top, and here is the tricky part - pour a concrete vanity top and install a vessel sink and new plumbing.

Again, with absolutely no expertise or experience. And my husband thinks it is a great idea. He's ready to rent the tile saw and the concrete mixer. He's embraced my ideas and googled all about them. We're going to start mid-January after the kids go back to college and the Christmas stuff gets packed up.

Yes, it's a pretty safe bet we'll be in over our heads and make a holy mess out of a large chunk of that room.

But, we sure will have a lot of fun in the process.

And no, you can't have him. He's all mine.

My Holiday Wish List, Inspired by the AMAs

Here it is, Wednesday. The day before Thanksgiving. And I know what is on each and every mind out there.

Shopping on Friday. Personally, I don't enjoy the Black Friday hullabaloo. I'll just stay home and eat leftovers all day. That's enough torture for me. But, since you all will be out and about anyway, I thought I'd go ahead and give you my holiday wish list. Just in case. I have been very good this year. To make it easy on you all, each of my gifts is inspired by the show that has been inspiring middle aged, suburban moms for years and years - the American Music Awards.

First up, I need some new eyeliner. Something to make my eyes pop. I'm not sure which brand it is, but I'd love whatever Adam Lambert is currently using. It must be great. He can use it while apparently speed dating on the stage and it still doesn't run or smudge. Even while making out. That's some good stuff. I want that.
See this bare wall in my house?Boring.

What I want for that is Lady Gaga's headdress.
I figure on the wall it will look something like this.
You can't make a nice cake without a cake stencil.Rihanna's dress should suffice.
While this next gift is not glamorous, it is truly something I need. Some of the carpet in my house is loose. You know how a seam will start to stand up after some years and wear and tear? I need some carpet tacks. I'm thinking the shoulders of Rihanna's other outfit will work beautifully. Those puppies should hold the carpet down nice and firm.
I hate to reference Lady Gaga twice but that girl has it going on. She reminded me during her performance that I really need some more conditioner for my hair.
Those winter fly-aways are tough.

Like Alicia Keys, shirts without tags to show me the front from the back are always a confusion. If you get me a shirt, make sure I know which way to wear it.
I'd also enjoy a parakeet. I'm not sure what reminded me of that.Firming face cream?Well, with that note in the spirit of the season, I will wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving and a good Friday, however you chose to spend it.

Driving, Comments, Ashton Kutcher, and Potatoes

You know how you have a weekend with only one or two commitments and you have all sorts of things planned in your mind to get accomplished but then your college daughter sends you a text that says "I feel awful. Can you come bring me home?" so you drop everything and drive two hours to get her and two hours home? Me too! Odd that you and I had the same kind of weekend.
Of course, I had conflicting emotions. I was terribly sad she was sick. But thrilled she still wanted her mommy. It is always gratifying to be needed. The entire dynamic of our home is different when she is here. It's sunnier and lighter.

As it is my self-appointed job to teach all of you moms of young kids about your future, let me state unequivocally - they are always able to turn your life booty over teakettle with one simple phone call. Yes, a baby or a toddler can wreak havoc on a schedule. So can a college student. For instance, both of mine are now coming home tomorrow instead of us picking them up Wednesday. So, best I can figure, I have 48 hours worth of living to do in about 18 hours.

The cranberries are popping on the stove even as I type. I have a to-do list so long, it would read better than this blog post. But, isn't that the essence of a holiday - more work than we could ever possibly accomplish? I thought so.I do have time to get a few other random thoughts out of my head that have been rattling around in there for a few days.

*What is up with the comments link being at the top of so many blogs now? Does anyone else besides me think that it odd? I read down to the bottom only to find that I'm participating in a new kind of Where's Waldo search for the comments. I am a person who craves order. Rational thinking. A sense of purpose in the world. This new trend rocks my world. And not in a good way.

*I've decided to surrender to my google reader. Yes, it will always have the upper hand in our relationship. I cannot possibly get down to "zero" on the number of posts in there. It wins. I give up. Oddly, since giving up, it has looked much less smug to me. I highly recommend you surrender as well.
*I'm still trying on the twitter thing. I still don't grasp its purpose. I am open to any and all advice and tutorials. Why do I want to understand it? To fit in. Plus, if Ashton Kutcher can understand it, I have to be able to. I might surrender to my google reader but I'll never surrender to Ashton. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.
*When the pilgrims started this whole holiday based on food, did they realize that the blending of so many different households under one roof for a day would entail the making of so many different potato dishes? I just don't think they were that forward thinking. Or maybe they just didn't care about us southerners and our love for anything we can dig up out of the ground.
The cranberry sauce is smelling incredible so I need to go put it in a dish and lick the pan. I mean wash the pan. Plus, those potatoes won't peel themselves.

Forget What I Said About Getting Older

If you've read my blog for any time at all, you are no doubt intimately aware of my dislike for grocery shopping at my Kroger on Wednesdays, which are senior citizen day. But, in some cosmic karma scenario, of course I am always out of something absolutely necessary for life on a Wednesday. Perhaps cheese dip or cream cheese. Yes, something that urgent.
And so it is that most Wednesdays find me pulling into the lot only to notice that there isn't a single available space. After wondering aloud to myself as to why everyone is at Kroger at the same time as me, I next go into "what day is it anyway?" mode. Suddenly it all becomes cataract clear.
About a month ago, I pulled in only to find some sweet older lady with her car half in the island at the end of the row. You know what I'm talking about. Concrete curb area - usually filled with dirt or in this case, rocks. Yes, rocks. Large rocks.
And there she was, two wheels up in the island. I wanted to park and go help her. I really agonized over this. But I was truly afraid that she'd panic, slam the car in gear, hop the curb and run me over.

So, I went into the store and informed the manager. Crisis diverted.

Until two days ago. When I once again found myself with a grocery list on a Wednesday. And let me tell you - those seniors were so thick in that store, you couldn't stir them with a cane. I tried to get through as fast as possible. I just left my cart at the end of the aisles and walked down to get what I needed. I as efficient. I was not flustered. I was proud of my youth and vitality.
Until I glanced up at the screen as I paid. And there were the words in large font clearly visible at the end of my order: Senior Discount Applied.
Vile words. I should have slapped that young man scanning my groceries upside the head with my purse. That's an old lady thing to do, right?

I Really Need an iPod

I did a lot of driving this past weekend. Three hours down to get my son, three hours back. Then repeat two days later. Yes, I realize I would drive less if I bought him a car. He reminds me of that all the time. And if you've been sent here by him to encourage the vehicle purchase, tell him Hot Wheels are still where it's at.
When I spend that much time in the car, especially the legs of the trip where I was alone, I listen to the radio. It helps to keep me awake. Plus, I am that fool you see singing at the top of her voice as she travels down the interstate. I sound great in a car. I've never quite figured out why I don't sound that good anywhere else. Odd.
I heard some great songs. I am a big fan of the classic rock and sometimes I would be lucky enough to pick up a great station coming through loud and clear. I will listen to light rock too. But no rap. And no country. Yes, I do live in Tennessee. Thanks for pointing that out. But no, we don't all listen to country music. Or wear camouflage. Or drive pick-ups with a dog in the back. There's me and two other people that don't do those things.
And I do listen to the radio. I don't own an iPod or Zune or any other mp3 player. And I don't even understand satellite radio. So, I mostly surf the radio for stations.

I heard Christmas music. One station was playing only Christmas music. On the second weekend of November. Now I love me some Christmas and Christmas music. And I'm a big believer in keeping the Christmas spirit year-round. Inside. Early November is pushing the songs in my book.

And have you noticed that disco music is played more now than it ever was in the disco era? I came of age in the disco era. Donna Summer was my hero. Loved the Bee Gees. But that little dalliance with disco lasted but a couple of years. Then disco died in a big way. No CPR could have saved it. Except, now it is back. And I never noticed back then just how high those falsetto voices were. How did that ever get popular? And why is it played constantly on "flashback weekends"? Surely we have other things to flash back to as well.But the worst, the absolute worst, was when one station decided to play "Welcome Back Kotter". Can anyone tell me why that song was ever played on the air? We don't hear the Brady Bunch theme song or I Dream of Jeannie. Whoever thought "Welcome Back Kotter" was radio worthy? And why did it get stuck in my head?
For hours. And hours.

Which brings me to my question. What songs annoy you when they get stuck in your head? One Sunday, walking into church, I promise you that the song "I Like Big Butts" started up in my mind. Do not ask me why. I do not know. Anyway, that song was in there all through church. (I'm sorry, God.) Since that time, that song has popped into my head more times than I care to admit.
So, give me some other horrible songs I can get stuck in there. I want to hear your worst playlist. Come one, I can take it.

I'm Liking this Aging Thing More and More

I'm old.

And some things about being old are lousy. My failing eyesight, those wrinkles in my face that make me actually pull my skin back on the sides and think "Hmmmm", the fact that elastin apparently has a 45 year lifespan and I'm 47. Yes, those things are not pleasant. Finding clothes that fit and look stylish at this age? Nearly impossible.Oh well.

But some things are great. I had always read that there was a certain attitude that came during your late 40s or 50s. An attitude in which you know how you feel and you are very comfortable with that knowledge. You've quit changing just to please others.
I like to describe it as that self-assuredness you had a teenager except now you actually do know something. It is great.
One of the situations my age has brought into clarity the most is that I tend to take on the mood and attitude of whomever I am around and I carry that with me much longer than I am with that person. So now, I mostly spend my time with people I like. Doing things I enjoy doing. I can say no to social situations or requests with very little guilt. I have finally figured out why the older mommies do not volunteer to do things. It's not because they are tired and worn out. It's because they don't want to. I couldn't imagine this before. But now I'm there and it is a beautiful thing.

Yes, old is beautiful.

Who's Up for a Snack?

If someone came up to me and said "Debbie, tell me the best thing about having older kids", I'd immediately tell them that I'm thrilled to be out of the snack race.And this is something even you folks without kids know about because in our culture, we must provide snacks everywhere for everything. It is just that kids magnify the snackiness. I've really wondered if anyone even eats at home at all anymore.

It starts with preschool, I believe. Even if they are only there a few short hours, there are snacks to send in. A calendar of snacks to sign up for. Rules and regulations - no peanut butter, nothing homemade, no sugar.Then, it continues into elementary school with a vengeance. It was always a magical coup if I could produce just the snack that would earn my child oohs and aahs from the other children while still falling within those ever increasing guidelines given by the teacher.Sports teams add another whole dimension to the snacking. First, we were only on teams that provided snacks after games. Then, we were asked to also provide orange slices for halftime. Then, someone decided we needed snacks for practices.
Sunday school? Snacks were needed. Girl scout meetings? They cannot occur with the snacky goodness.

It got to the point where I would be pushing my full to the top and things falling out grocery cart through Kroger only to realize that 75% of what I was buying was prepackaged juice boxes and snacks. To haul out of my house.

I must have complained about it ad nauseum because one night my husband had to leave to go to work and paused at the door. "It's my turn to bring the snacks", he yelled back in to me. Then, he laughed and scampered away.

However, as kids get older, the snack requirements do lessen. I haven't sent snacks to school in a couple of years. We only have snacks at scouts for special occasions. And I started speaking up about my dislike for feeding my kids all this junk every time they left the house. When I finally told the rest of the team parents that I didn't think our kids needed snacks for practices, the other parents looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and relief. Seems I may not be the only one tired of keeping the juice box industry afloat.
Now, the dips and chips I take with me to my Bunco evenings? Those aren't snacks. They are noshes. A completely different category altogether.

New Jobs for Bloggers

I'm going to have to relinquish my post as the person that keeps you up-to-date. I just became aware of a story that had somehow passed me by. Apparently, Proctor and Gamble created a "seasonal" bathroom in New York City the last three years during the holidays. As one who has shopped more than enough during the holiday season, I am certain that extra restroom facility was greatly appreciated. It was such a success that P & G decided to repeat their efforts this year. With one addition.Bloggers. Yes, P & G hired five bloggers to "interact" with the throngs of bathroom users during this holiday season and then to blog about their experiences. They are calling it "Enjoy the Go".
Well, then.

First, obviously we need to send out a big old congratulations to those five bloggers chosen to assist the fine folks with their effort to enjoy the go. What fun they will have. I've only been to New York once but the friendliness and chattiness of the citizens there are legendary. I am sure the hustle and bustle of the holiday season will only serve to bring out the best in them. Not to mention the fact that when I am burdened down with holiday packages and trying to buy gifts for everyone on my list for $12.98, I am always ready to strike up the banter with a total stranger. Especially if I'm going to the restroom at the same time.
Which brings me to my obvious next thought. What other avenues of blogging are we overlooking? Where else are bloggers being underutilized?

I'm sure, like me, you immediately thought about your annual medical exam. Be it for a man or woman, who wouldn't want someone standing by with their laptop to document the fun? We'd call this one "Post the Probe". It would be so popular, we'd give this job to the newbies. Help them build up their readership.
The more popular bloggers would be rewarded with the better jobs, of course. "Dish the Squish", which is of course blogging during mammograms, would be one to fight over. When I think of all the great times I've had during those, and not a single blogger around to get it all down for posterity, well, it does fill me with regret.We all know how much fun those dental appointments can be. I bet the line would be around the block for the chance to be the blogger to "Spill and Drill". You know how that waiting room can be such a riotous place right before people enjoy their root canals? We have to have one of our own getting all of that richness down.
Obviously, the career possibilities are endless. And here we were, worried about our reputations as bloggers. Afraid the world would never take us seriously or give us a chance. I am so happy we are finally getting the attention we deserve.

In a toilet.

Permanence

I was blessed to have in my life my mother's older sister and her husband. My aunt and uncle were an incredible couple. Their love and devotion for each other shone through whatever they were doing. They were a couple who gave freely of themselves to each other, their children, family, friends, and people they never knew. My uncle was the first person I ever heard of working for Habitat for Humanity. My aunt manned the resale store when their local H of H opened one. They were the people that hauled me to the doctor when I was pregnant with twins and my husband was in Desert Storm.

I learned such valuable lessons watching them throughout my life. Most they taught me just by living their lives honestly and openly. They were huge practitioners of not sweating the small stuff - long before that phrase ever became part of our vernacular. She was kooky and demonstrative. He was quiet and contemplative with just a hint of a mischievous side. To me, they were the perfect couple.

They stayed that way even when ALS robbed of him his muscular function one small body part at a time. She was his hands when he needed her to be. Then she was his legs. Eventually, she was his everything. But, I guess she had honestly been that all of their lives.

ALS is a terrible thief. It steals all function except the mind. His sharp mind and quiet wit were still in there. He just couldn't show us. But my aunt knew. She knew who he was and what he was. She never forgot.

Even though the illness lingered far longer than imagined, she never left his side. She would take him, the home health nurse, his ventilator, and anything else he needed and put them all on their boat. And they would spend a day on the lake - just like they always had.

When you are young and hear those "for better or worse" words, there are some worse scenarios that we just can't imagine. She lived one. But her vows stayed true. She stayed true. She was as kooky and giddily in love with him the day he died as she was when he was young and strong.

We live in a disposable world. Popular magazines implore us to use disposable dishes around the holidays to ease our stress even though we know what that does to the environment, not to mention our personal finances. Just try to get a small appliance or some electronics repaired. Even the repairman that makes his living doing that will tell you it is cheaper and easier to discard it and buy a new one. And if you want to see how disposable our personal relationships are, just turn on the television or pick up People magazine.

Permanence isn't easy to achieve. I still think it is a worthy goal.

Funny, sandwiches used to be one of my favorite foods

I've been a proud member of the sandwich generation since 1991. And while I love sandwiches as much as the next guy (tell me if you can walk by a Subway when they are baking that bread and not suddenly feel hungry enough to eat anything in sight), I'm finding that being part of the sandwich generation is less about the yummy food and more about the stress.I don't like stress.

As usual, I do find plenty to observe and wonder over as a part of this experience. Yesterday, I believe the theme of the day was "Showing Debbie how both pieces of the bread are always the same". I'll explain.

For my youngest son, yesterday was braces day. As a family, we have been through this three times before. I knew to encourage him to eat his hard, sticky, and chewy Halloween candy first and save the soft things for last. And yes, as a certified chip off the old block, he asked for Doritoes for the weeks leading up to yesterday. Our orthodontist has a no chip that ends in "o's" policy. Which, when you think about it, cuts out most of the good stuff. Poor kid. Anyway, we tried to prepare him as best we could.As we were pulling into the driveway from the orthodontist, my mom and step-father were pulling in behind us. My mother is fairly young and very considerate of any parenting efforts I might be making, no matter how goofy they probably appear. My step-father, let's just say he is much older and doesn't hesitate to speak his mind. They had brought a nice bag of candy to each of my two boys. Sadly, some of the candy was on my son's "don't eat" list. Including gummy candy.
Here's where life gets interesting and almost like watching a tennis match as my head snaps back and forth between my young person and my old person. Who apparently see things from the same perspective.

"No", I tell the young person. "You may not eat the gummy candy. It is on your list of forbidden foods. Go look at the list."

He does. Then proceeds to tell me he can eat those because gummy bears are on the forbidden list but it did not mention gummy brains. I was able to convince him shortly that all gummies were in fact created equal and all were forbidden.

To which my step-father replies, "Well, eat one and try it."

Snap goes the head. Open drops my jaw. Had he not heard the entire conversation that had taken place 6 feet in front of him? Of course he had. But, at this stage in the game, he is more about the sweet treat at the end than even my son is. Finally, I had to resort to telling him that this little teeth straightening experience was costing us $4300 and I'd rather not test something expensive enough to transport my family over a small, gummy candy.

Pouting from both sides of the room.This lovely experience was soon followed by a phone call from my college freshman son informing me that he had joined the school rugby team (and had taken his $5000 mouth to join as well) and was loving the whole experience. But, I was not to worry. Although his job was to be tackled, he was not in the dangerous position. That position being one where the coach told them to push against the other team's sternum until they heard a crunch. Uh huh. And I gave birth to that person. I watched over him and fretted and worried and here is where I am today.
I had just hung the phone up from him when my father calls to tell me he is limping around. Because he fell off his roof. He climbed up there to blow off the leaves. And after he fell off the roof, he took the ladder around to the other side of the house and climbed right back up. (Yes, he is in his 70s). When I admonished him and begged him to find someone else to do that sort of thing, he informed me he had to be active and was not just going to sit around.
I'm thinking we need to start grandfather/grandson rugby teams. We can have other grandfather/grandson teams to sell candy in the concession stands.

We'd also need a lovely little wine vendor for the poor sandwich women like me.