Monday, October 6, 2014

The Flip Side

So here's the nice thing Rob did for me.

I have been opining for years about the roundness of lip balm.  There are few things more annoying than your burt's bees lip balm rolling off your night stand and under your bed, especially when you are already snug in your bed and you have to lean over the side of the bed and sift through all the under-bed dust bunnies with your hands to find your lip balm because your lips are just so dry and they're getting dryer by the second because your lip balm is out of reach.  My million dollar idea was to make lip balms in triangular shapes so they can't roll.  Rather than twisting them up, you would push them up.  I've been kvetching about this for years.  I know I'm far too lazy to actually make something like that happen, but why is no one else thinking of this?  Its an outrage.

So Rob texts me from work:

Someone solved my problem, with an oblong rather than a triangle, but still!  Genius!
Somehow, my desire for a non rolling lip balm did not send me out of the house immediately to go buy one.  Law and Order must have been on.

The next day, I get a call from Rob who had walked half a mile on his lunch hour to buy me this lip balm.  He called me to review the flavors and bought me two of them: Vanilla camomile for bed time, and grapefruit for morning time.  Wasn't that nice of him?  The company that makes it is called Hurraw, in case you're like me and hate rolling lip balms. And don't start telling me about the Eos lip balm; I'm not interested.  Lip balms should be long and thin, not spherical.  That's just wrong.

So, except that Law and Order is never on when I want it to be, I have nothing left to complain about.

(just kidding.  I can always find something to complain about)

Thursday, October 2, 2014

My Shit List

Its been almost two months since I posted here.  Sorry.  I'm trying to start a business, and it takes time.  And I'm in school, learning the history of furniture.  That's not a joke.  And there's all that TV to watch.  I've switched from Law and Order SVU to regular Law and Order.  Even though there are, like, 5000 episodes of Law and Order, you'd be shocked how many episodes I've seen already, even though I've only watched 10 or so episodes.  Also, when I didn't watch Law and Order, it was on every channel all day long; now that I'm looking for it? Can't find it.  Damn that NCIS.  What about my needs?

My printer is broken.  I hate problems like this.  Little persnickety things that have to come to resolution and they cost money and take time away from Law and Order.  Uncool.  So far, I'm not buying a new printer, although that may end up being the cheaper option.  I'm getting the old one fixed.  Hopefully.  I don't want to spend $65 to find out I have to spend $100 on a new one.

You know what Rob did?  He made cookies for his work team last night, and he cleaned up after himself, but did not do any of the other dishes that were sitting there from dinner.  Its like he worked around them on purpose to make some kind of point about how much time I spend watching Law and Order and not doing dishes!  I see how it is.  I know the grannies out there are going to scold me for scolding him for only doing most of the dishes and not all of the dishes, because I'm so lucky I have a husband that will do any dish at all, but screw that.  His arms aren't broken, he can put two plates in the dishwasher.

Next time I'll tell you about the lovely thing he did for me last week, but for today, he's on my shitlist.  I'm gonna leave those dishes there all day to make my own point: I can work around dirty dishes just as well as the next guy.  He probably wont enter the kitchen, or notice the dishes if he does happen to pass them while getting himself a beer, and I'm the one who will be staring at the dishes all day, but my point is still valid!

Tuesday, August 12, 2014


So you all know that Robin Williams committed suicide yesterday.  Its impossible to avoid the news.  I have taken this very hard, like, Newtown hard, and I've figured out why.  I read an article this morning that talked why the whole nation is taking this loss so hard:

 "when someone who publicly advocates for a disease that you're intimately familiar with decides the pain is too much to bear - even with every resource available to him - what hope is there for the rest of us who battle this disease on a daily basis?"

I have told you all about my own problem with depression, and all I could think about today was that as low as I got, and as much pain as I was in, it can still get worse.  I was never suicidal, but knowing that the bottom of my abyss was nowhere near the actual bottom is both tragic and terrifying.

Another good quote I read recently, and if I remember correctly it was from an excerpt from Rob Lowe's book (but I'm sure he wouldn't take credit for it) is Never judge someone's insides by their outsides. 

If you are out there and feeling low like I am, IT WILL GET BETTER, I PROMISE.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

He Does't Know

She's at camp.  She's at camp, she's at camp, she's at camp.

Rob thinks I'm mean when I wipe my brow with relief that she's gone for a week, but HE DOESN'T KNOW.  He is not the one who has to go ten rounds with her about putting her dish in the dishwasher, or about turning off the TV, or not being so snotty.  He's not the one who gets texted at 11 p.m. with messages that she can't sleep and is afraid of something she saw on Parks and Recreation.  He doesn't get yelled at, and defied at every turn, and she never rolls her eyes at him.  And do you know why?  Because he is Daddy Good Times!  He gets home, and they high five 16 times and hug and do puzzles and make fun of mom.  They both apparently believe that I should have infinite patience and be calm and kind 24/7.  HAVE THEY MET ME??

I miss her a little.  She is kinda cool.  I'm mostly thinking about which activities she is doing right now, and hoping she made some friends in her cabin, and I'm checking the whether in those mountains every hour.  I tried to find some small things to send in a care package, but could only find large plastic crap, and the camp doesn't allow food to be sent.  If I could send a batch of cookies up there, I would.  I just sent her a card.  See? I have a little bit of a heart.

Leila's fish is swimming around in his bowl next to me.  I moved him out of her room so I don't forget to feed him and end up killing him while she's gone.  He really darts around in there.  Where is he trying to go?  Even if he successfully got out, and were able to breathe air, he would just get eaten by a crow or run over by a car.  Doesn't he know he is safer in his bowl?  He looks like he's trying to tell my something with his little fish mouth:  HELP ME! YOU'RE NOT MY REAL MOM!

Ok, that's it for today.  Adios.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Experiment Ends in Complete Failure

I've been informed that the Russians are missing me, so I'm back!

Leila is leaving for camp in a few days and I am SO READY.  I just hurt my foot twice trying to maneuver around her rat's nest of a room, and declared that I was going to throw everything away while she is at camp unless it is spotless by the time she leaves.  The experiment to see how long it would take her to clean her room if left up to her own devices is over.  The conclusion we can draw is that she will never clean her room, and will be happy to live in her own filth forever as long as she can play minecraft on her ipod touch.  She was like this as a baby too; never cried when she had a poo diaper.  She was perfectly content to slosh around in it.

I'm over it.  She can live in her own filth when she's a grown up all she wants.  Her roommates will just love her.  Wait until they find out that she wont pick up a dirty dish and put it in the dishwasher because its "disgusting" even if its the dish she just ate from.  And just wait until she uses their towels and they end up all nasty.   And when she uses all the glasses in the house for a few gulps of water and leaves them by the sink?  They'll throw her a freakin' party.

I realize with all the hormones and tears and puberty that maybe not making her clean her room sounds like a good idea, and I've been pretty self righteous about it, like I'm such a cool mom eliminating that battle from our repertoire, but my coolness supply just ran out and I'm gonna start making her clean that hell hole like every other mom out there.  You know what else? I'm gonna get her a good old fashioned alarm clock so that I can take her stupid ipod touch away at night and she can't use waking up as an excuse.  ENOUGH!

Of course, I wont actually have an opportunity to put all this tough love into practice because she's practically not going to be here for the next month.  But when school starts?  Put on your seat belts, its gonna get bumpy!

In other news, I'm in summer school learning drafting, both hand drafting and CAD drafting.  You know what?  I think I have a knack!  Not sure I want to be a draftsperson, but it made me lament my terrible math education.  I should have been a geometrist.  And if that's not a career, I should have invented it.

UPDATE!  Leila just came out of her room with some cable and you know what?  I THINK SHE'S CLEANING UP!

See? It pays to lose your temper and throw in a well placed "God Damn it!!"  She knows when I say God damn it that I mean business.

So GOD DAMN IT! someone comment on this post so that I know your'e still out there!

Love you.

Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Perfection, You're an Asshole

You know how the universe speaks to you?  Well, the universe was hitting me over the head with a shovel yesterday.  Okay, I get it, universe, you can stop shoveling me!

It started when Rob sent me this article about perfectionism and how many problems it causes us.  Then I was cruising facebook and read this article Anne Lamott wrote about... Perfectionism.  Then I was channel surfing in the afternoon and Katie Couric had on a dame that wrote a book about the perils of... Perfectionism.  All of these things were unrelated, not like when you see the same actor on every talk show in the same week pimping the same movie.  And I didn't go looking for any of them (or did I?)

So I asked myself, after the second run in with perfectionist dogma, why is this coming into my life today?  What am I supposed to take from this besides the obvious?

I do not consider myself a perfectionist.  I'm an eye baller, not a measurer.  I don't beat myself up over failures, I'm more of an "oh well." type.  However, I do take pleasure when I get things perfect.  My own measurement of perfection, not anyone else's.  I like things to be just so, and I have to talk myself down a little bit when they're not.  I like rules and parameters and un-ambiguous answers.  In class recently, we've done a color theory section and we had to mix paints and make a color wheel.  I hated it.  I like 2 + 2 to equal 4, and that's not the way it works in color mixing.  It was crazy making.  This is why I like baking better than cooking: Cooking uses a recipe as a guide, and then you "salt to taste."  I am paralyzed by salting to taste.  Or, you're supposed to go to your local farmers market and buy what's fresh and in season and make it work.  This does not work for me.   I like the recipe to be the gospel, and I never deviate from it.  That's baking.  

I think my daughter suffers from perfectionism.  She has a history of being good at everything at the first try, and when she isn't, she gives up in less than a minute.  Then she beats herself up because she can't do stuff, or she's not perfect at it.  This causes a lot of anxiety.  I've been wondering what, besides hormones, is causing her anxiety, and I think the universe was trying to speed up the process of discovery yesterday.  Thanks, universe.

Have I made her a perfectionist?  I mostly brag about what a total loser I am, so it doesn't seem like I have, but I probably have, what with my baking and my math.  But why doesn't she focus on the things I'm terrible at?  Like planning what's for dinner and cleaning the grout in the bathroom? And eating a healthy diet and exercising?  I'm a complete failure at those things! I am the most mediocre gardener in the world, and I almost let a baby fall down the stairs one minute in to a babysitting gig the other day.  Brick stairs, not carpeted.

Parenting is hard.  And I don't want to hear anyone bragging about how they are a perfectionist.  Its a DISEASE!  Read the articles, and tell me you don't see yourself or your kid in there.  I dare you.

Friday, May 2, 2014

Can I be Done?

It has been a busy morning.  I have gone grocery shopping, dropped things off at the vet, and gone to the pharmacy (which was closed.)  When I came home, I did laundry, cleaned up the house, scrubbed the stove, installed a hanger in the closet for my new vacuum cleaner, and paid bills.  I'm not done yet.  There is more stuff to clean up, and I want to actually use the new vacuum, and there's laundry to fold, and I still have to go to the pharmacy.  

When it is enough?  When can I be done?  I am pooped, my feet hurt, and my hands smell like rubber gloves.  I really like to start the weekend with a full fridge, clean laundry, and a tidy house.  Its easier to relax that way.  But, man, what a pain in the ass.  

So, I'll put in two more hours, one and half minimum, and then I'm done for the day.  Enough is enough.  By Monday morning, this whole house will look like a tornado went through it, anyway.  Dishes will be piled up, the stove will be greasy, there will be clothes and crap everywhere, and I'll have to clean up all over again.  What the hell is the point?  And don't get me started on Leila's room: she hasn't gotten sick of living in a shit hole yet, and none of her dirty laundry made it in to the hamper for laundry day today.  

Have a good weekend, everybody

Thursday, April 24, 2014

The Easter Bunny is Dead

The other day was Easter.  The week before was a crazy busy one with a big family wedding and all that those entail, so I was not super psyched to get up at the crack of dawn and hide plastic Easter eggs, lovingly filled with chocolate, all over the yard.  But the effing Easter bunny was still alive and well in my daughter's heart, so what could I do?  I think it was heroic of me to even remember to get Easter candy at all, even if the dog did suss out the reases pieces and eat them all like a little pig.

There was no ritualistic getting down of the Easter box and wrestling with the plastic Easter eggs to fit tops to bottoms.  Oh no.  I went outside around 7:30 in the morning, and tossed foil-wrapped chocolate eggs all over the lawn from the balcony, and then went down to "hide" some things in the bushes.  Done.

Leila had slept on the couch for the second night in a row because I hadn't had time to put her clean sheets on her bed.  She asks me "Did you hide stuff in the yard for me?"

I have been waiting for about three years to be finally done with the Easter Bunny and his cohorts.  It was wonderful and cute while she was little, but I'm tired of all that sneaking around now, and I just want to hand her her presents and be done with it.

So I say, "What's that now? Are you asking me if I'm the Easter bunny?" Yes.  Yes she was.  So I said, "Yes, I am the Easter bunny." and she says, "What other magical creatures are you?  Like, are you the tooth fairy?" and I said, "Yes, I am the tooth fairy."  Then she says, "Don't ruin Christmas."

We went outside to "search" for the eggs that I'd strewn all over the lawn, and they were gone.  I asked L if she had already gone outside, but she hadn't, and then we saw a scrub jay hovering over us looking guilty.  Damn bird stole all the chocolate eggs!  Can you believe it?  The bird did not, however, steal the kit kats, or the DVD of Talladega Nights hidden behind the garden box.

So there it is: No more Easter bunny, she's lost all her teeth, and the jig is up with Santa Claus, too.  Thank you Easter bunny! Bawk bawk!!

Thursday, April 10, 2014


Today is one of those days where nothing on the to-do list is remotely interesting or fun, its all tedious chores that no one wants to do.  This includes having to go to the DMV.  How do you face a day like this?  I just want to go back to bed, but, to add a wrinkle, there are roofers banging around on my roof and jostling my house, so I don't feel like I can go back to bed and watch TV because what if they see me?  They're working their butts off on the roof, and I'm lounging around with the ladies of The View?  Same goes for taking a shower.  I don't want to be naked in my house when there's a bunch of guys going up and down ladders.  What if they punch a big hole in the roof of the bathroom and they're all waving at me in the shower, like, "hello, lady!"

I know this is a first world kind of day, but we first worlders are allowed to whine, a little bit, sometimes, about having to chat with the dishwasher repair man for the third time in three weeks while he tries to get the dishwasher to work.

And the DMV? That shit's not funny.  My front license plate disappeared from my car.  Now, I would be fine cruising around without a front plate, but my recent speeding ticket has made me paranoid, so I have to surrender the remaining license plate, and order a new one.  I wonder how much that's gonna cost me.

Oh, and Tuesday I did online traffic school.  Talk about a pain in the ass. Did you know that they've changed their minds about the 10 and 2 position?  All these years I've been driving recklessly at 10 and 2, and now they tell me is 9 and 3 or 8 and 4 because of the air bags.  I tried driving this way yesterday and, no sir, I did not like it.  It feels wrong.

So that's the short story of my upcoming day.  I also have to clean out the fridge, and I should organize my closet, but I just don't know if I can handle that today.  I'm in no mood.  I hope my dishwasher works and I perk up.  I just can not do any more dishes by hand.  Screw that.

How's your day?  Anything fun I can be jealous of?

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Missing: Bumble Bee Earrings

Rob and I are conducting an experiment.  Leila is sloppy youngster, like most youngsters, and cleaning her room is about the most oppressive thing that can happen to her.  She doesn't put away clean laundry, she doesn't put dirty laundry in the hamper, she leaves her crap all over the house, she loses homework and bike lock keys and her cell phone and her new earrings and all other sundry.  She sleeps under piles of clothes and books, and doesn't seem to mind.

So, Rob says, "I wonder how long it would take her to decide to clean her room on her own if we just didn't bring it up.  Let's find out."  I agreed, so here we are:  I haven't asked her, or bribed her, or insentivized her in any way to clean her room for about a week now.  The rule I have made up in my own mind is that I will take her stuff from around the house and her clean, lovingly folded laundry, put it in her room, and close the door.  If she can't find something, I'll say "I don't know where that is, you should check your room."  I'll let her know on Thursday that laundry day is Friday, and see what she comes up with.  If she runs out of clean underpants, too bad for her.  I'm keeping my mouth shut, and we'll see what happens.

This morning she asked if she could have a friend over this afternoon. I looked at the state of her room and almost said "No, your room's not clean and you wont have any space to hang out." But instead I said "sure."  Maybe her friend will tell her to not be such a slob, but I wont.  I will make her hang out in there, though; why should she enjoy my tidied living space when her room is a sty? She says she's lost her new bumble bee earrings, I'm sure they're buried in that shithole somewhere.  The cell phone is another matter.  She said "you'll probably kill me if I can't find it!" and I said, "no, you just wont have a cell phone anymore, and that will suck for you."

I don't know who this will be harder for, her or me.  Close the door, close the door, close the door...  How long do you think I can hold out?

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Her Menstrual Flower

Before I go any further here, I want you to know that I have permission from my daughter to tell you what I'm about to tell you.  I didn't even ask, she offered, saying "Aren't you gonna write about this in your blog?"  so here I go.

Leila got her period.

It started like this:  A little over a week ago, some girl at school told Leila about a movie called Human Centipede.  I'm not going to describe it, except to warn you that you should only look it up if you have a strong stomach and you think poo is funny, which I do.  Leila does not have a strong stomach, and gets her lack of poo humor from her father, so she came home from school and bawled her eyes out because just the description of the movie was so disgusting and disturbing. She came completely undone.  Then she threw up. Later in the evening, she got over the grossness of the movie by yelling "Bullshit!" in her head whenever she thought about it.  She said it made her feel powerful.  But she still slept in my bed, just in case, and kept on crying.

The next morning, the crying was back, as was the anxious stomach, and the lack of appetite.  She picked at some food, and mostly made it through the day, but she continued to cry - no wait - howl, every afternoon.  I kept her home from school one day because she threw up in the morning and I thought she might be sick, but she wasn't.  The crying went on for 6 days.  She alternated between not knowing why she was crying, and coming up with reasons like: she doesn't want me to ever die; she doesn't ever want to grow up and move out; one day her grandparents will be dead; what if she has an ulcer?  She just about broke my heart.

Then she called me at school on Wednesday and said "I got IT" and I prayed that the crying would be over.

Now, getting away from the crying for a second, I have been planning how to celebrate her first period and usher her into young womanhood (ew) since before she was born.  My mom's words of wisdom to me on that January 23, 1983 were "Shit.  Do you know what to do?  Ok, let me know if you need any help."  and that was it.  No ritual, no nothing, so I always planned to do the opposite.  (Rob brought her a pink rose, and she called it her menstrual flower, hence the title of this post. Then he walked around singing "Girl, you'll be a woman soon" by Neil Diamond)

I took Leila out of school the following day (I know, bad school district citizen) and we started by sleeping in, then I took her to get her first mani pedi (which she was so excited about, but then got nervous because she didn't know what to do and couldn't understand the manicurist, and then she realized its all really boring) then we went to lunch, and then we went shopping.  When the ladies at the store asked her if it was a school holiday, she told them we had taken the day off because she had "just started her menstrual cycle."  And she told everyone who would listen that she had PMS.

Then she cried all the way home, like the pinky-toe piggy.  And I'm not talking about gentle weeping, I'm talking screaming, howling, bawling.  I made up stories about the guy at In 'n' Out Burger who had sold us our milkshakes to make her laugh (Seth, the In 'n' Out chipmunk man with back acne and super long armpit hair) and that would work for a few seconds, and then she would cry that we were being so mean to Seth.  I told her that if, when I died, and they wanted to name a freeway after me, they should name it the Douchebag Memorial Freeway.  She thought this was funny, and then cried some more. She cried for another day or two, and then she felt like herself again.  Phew.

The period itself was wholly uneventful.  It came and went, and we haven't seen it since.  But we did buy, like, 10 pair of underpants, just to be on the safe side.

So that was that.  Years of planning, and it was a success.  Except for the crying.  She's back to normal now, and I lied and told her she shouldn't expect to cry for a week every time she gets her period.  That ought to hold her for a while.  So I guess the next milestone is what? drivers license? first kiss?  I'm ready!!!

(if you would like to read about how Leila learned what a period is, go here.)

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Hello Russia!

I had two comments on my last post.  I haven't gotten a comment in ages, so I was moved to look at my reader stats to see if anyone had searched on "Dog butt" or "itchy butt" and found my blog by accident.  That does not seem to be the case.  Nonetheless, I welcome all readers with itchy butted dogs!

The update is that the home cooked diet is not helping, even though I switched to London Broil.  I know it can't make that much of a difference in only a few weeks, but what I did find is that the home cooked diet is a pain in my ass.  Also, I spoke to the vet, and they are really not advocates of home cooked diets except in extreme cases of older dogs who can't tolerate anything else.  So I'm switching to perscription venison.

Who the hell knows, right?  Maybe my dog needs anti anxiety meds and grilled cheese?  That sounds like an excellent meal to me!

In other news, I'm on a diet too, just like my dog, except that I do not have an itchy butt.  Anymore.  I lost 2.6 pounds in the last week.  Only 48 to go!  I'm a little bit obsessed with how many calories are in everything, but I did eat pizza last night and I didn't worry about it.  It felt so good to just eat with my mouth and feel sated, and drink wine.  God I love eating and drinking.  They're my favorite.  I would rather eat and drink than do anything else.  But today I'm back on the wagon.

This post is not funny at all.  Not every one is a winner, I guess, but I did want to say hello to those two commenters, and encourage anyone else out there to comment.  All you russians looking for porn that show up on my stats all the time, say hello!

Friday, March 14, 2014

I've Become on of Those People

So, my dog.  He's the itchiest little guy you ever met.  His little butt is completely raw from dragging it on the carpet, and I don't even want to think about the microbes living in the carpet now.  Ew.

I've tried everything.  I spent a fortune having him allergy tested, and he's not allergic to anything.  I've changed his diet, put him on expensive prescription food, and nothing helps.  So yesterday, I took the plunge:  He is now on what is called a Home Cooked Diet.  I poached him some skinless chicken breasts and thighs, baked him a potato, and steamed him some carrots, and that's now his food for the next week.  No salt, no additives, just a little fish oil for his skin.

I had a colleague years ago who used to boil a chicken once a week for her dog and I thought she was crazy.  Who would do this?  Its a dog, for pete's sake!  But here I am, boiling chicken for my dog.  And it was organic, too.  I like supporting that kind of agriculture, but I have to admit I feel really stupid buying my precious pooch organic chicken and potatoes.  He can't believe his luck.  Although, he would be happy with a bowl of treats from the litter box.  He's not very discerning.
He's really lucky he's so cute.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Ricard Mantalban is a Liar

My creative energies have really been going elsewhere, and this blog is so neglected!  Sorry faithful readers, if there are any of you left out there.

School has been awesome.  I love it.  I do not mind the 87 mile round trip, and all I want to do today is homework, but I have to grocery shop.  I can't wait until Leila has a drivers license and I can send her to the Safeway.  I hate that place.  It saps my chi.

Yesterday I learned all about leather in my materials class.  Interesting, but it did put me off leather a little bit.  When you really think about the fact that its animal skin, and that they peel it in two, its just kind of gross.  Like Silence of the Lambs.  At the break, I showed my age by asking my teacher what "Fine Corinthian Leather" was.  He did not know, and assumed it was leather from Corinth.  Oddly, there is a wikipedia entry for Corinthian leather, even mentioning Ricardo Mantalban (if you're even 10 years younger than I, you wont know what the hell I'm talking about) and it says that "Fine Corinthian Leather" was a marketing name made up by ad advertising agency for Lincoln luxury cars, and that the leather on the seats is actually from New Jersey.  How's that for taking the romance out of your Lincoln? Ricardo Mantalban: Made of Lies.

Part of the homework that I will do today is to go through magazines and cut stuff out.  I've been hoarding design magazines, and just subscribed to about 50 of them.  I hope I don't burn out on this.  I should really pace myself.  It would be really ugly to OD on Veranda and Elle Decor.  All those paper cuts.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Pink Mildew Redux

What I really want to do today is my homework.  I want to type up my class notes (per the teacher's instruction, she's a little anal) and read my text book.  But I have work to do today, and a messy house, and my allergies are acting up, so instead of doing what I need to do OR what I want to do, I'll write to you.

I love school.  It feels almost frivolous to spend 2 hours talking about masonry, and rip pages out of magazines and scour Pinterest.  Its also nice to be out of my house for an entire day.  I know that sounds weird to people who are a lot busier than I am, but its true.

I got new white towels for Christmas, part of my goal of making my home a little more like a hotel and a little less like a garbage dump, and the bright white of the towels points out how dingy all the other white in my bathroom is.  Walls, tiles, grout, yuck.  I need to do some serious cleaning in there.

WAIT!  I have to tell you something!  Since the inception of this blog, I've complained about the pink mildew in the shower, and how its relentless and haunts me, and is impossible to conquer.  Well, I have conquered it!  Here's what you do.  You get one of these (mine is not as fancy):
And you fill it with water and a few drops of dish soap.  You leave it in the shower, and while you're in there, you do a little scrubbin'.  It totally works!   I also learned that you're not supposed to use vinegar on your grout, which I have been doing for years, and now my grout looks awful.  I've actually tried to regrout it, and I discovered that I hate grouting more than almost anything.  Thank you, Pinterest, for educating me on these household secrets.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014


I had my first day of school yesterday, and this is what happened:

It was awesome!

First of all, how fun are college campuses?  I picked up my class materials at the bookstore, I got my student ID, and consulted my campus map, it was so exciting! I was not the oldest person there, but almost, and I could have gotten a free copy of the New Testament if I had wanted to.  A guy with a beard was just handing them out!  For free! 

Then I went to my first class, Intro to Interior Design, and check it out: Part of our homework is to visit model homes and answer worksheet questions about them.  I also have to read three extra materials of my choosing, like a design book OR articles in design magazines, or watch a show on HGTV and write a summary.  Hello: I get college credit for watching TV and reading magazines?  Score!

My table had two other middle aged mom types like me, so I'm not alone.  The professor looks like a kindly grandma, but she's a little spitfire. 

I drove 87 miles round trip, and was so jazzed that I drove extra miles into the city to buy this cool messenger bag, and then to Staples for my supplies.  I bought binders and tabs, and a notebook and tape flags, and then Leila suckered my in to getting her a scotch tape dispenser in the shape of a dog.  Total, I drove 130 miles..

And you know what?  I get to go back to school tomorrow, and I get to take an additional class (lighting and materials)

School is so awesome.  I'm gonna go rock some homework!

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

You Have to Laugh

For the last few mornings I've actually been awake.  This is a good thing!  Rather than sleeping hard until 10 a.m. I woke up at my regular time, and felt energized and awake.  That hasn't happened in a long long time.  So there's that.

I thought I'd tell you about a day I had recently that can only go in the You Have to Laugh file.  Okay here goes:

Leila had a cold for a few days.  She lived to tell the tale.  One morning when she was all better, I heard on Pandora that Whole Foods was selling lobster tails two for $10.  I had just seen an episode of Barefoot Contessa where she made a seafood gratin, and even though it looked amazing, I knew I'd never make it because it has lobster.  So this was my day!  I went to Whole foods and got all the stuff, even the saffron. By the time I left the store, I knew I had the cold.  I felt awful, and in spite of my plan to make this gratin, I knew I would have to go to bed.  I decided to head home over the hill to avoid the pre-Christmas traffic.  I'm driving down the hill toward my house, and I got pulled over by a motorcycle cop.  He apparently had been following me for some time, and I was so spaced out I didn't even notice.  He clocked me going 38 in a 25.  I didn't even have the strength to whine and beg and show cleavage.  I just let him give me the ticket and proceeded on my way. 

All I wanted to do was go to bed.  I got home with my lobster and my speeding ticket, and found the cardboard and foil remnants of one of those dark chocolate oranges.  It had been hidden in my closet, ready to put in Rob's stocking.  The culprit: The dog.  He was so happy I was home. He's always happy.  I called the vet and had to bring him right over because he ate the whole damn thing and it was a fatal dose of chocolate for a dog his size.  He had to stay at the vet all day, and then later I had to pick him up and take him to the pet emergency place so he could spend the night and be observed.  He was one of three chocolate dogs.  Apparently, he puked up entire un-chewed wedges of chocolate orange, but then wagged his tail and was just so happy to have the vet's attention.  He loves everyone, all the time, even when they're inducing vomiting and force feeding him charcoal.

This was about a 5 hour ordeal for me, and still, all I wanted to do was go to bed.  I ended up being sick for 10 days with a stupid virus, I missed parts of Christmas, and I was sure I had pneumonia (but I didn't.)  The dog cost us about $700, and then a week later cost us another $300 because he injured himself springing off the couch.  If you're keeping track, that $1000 on an 11 lb dog.  During Christmas, the most expensive time of the year.  And I haven't even tackled the ticket yet...

You have to laugh.

Friday, January 3, 2014

I'm Back?

I've told you that I haven't been writing, or reading, or doing any one thing at a time for a few months now, but I want to rededicate myself to writing this blog.  Its given me a lot over the years, and it seems a shame to just let it go.  Please bear with me while I meander through topics, and walk away from writing mid-paragraph, go on whip-lash tangents and lament my lack of focus.  Hopefully I can be at least a little funny in between.

This has been a very odd year.  I told you about my medications (that I am currently - and successfully - weening off of) but I also think that my addiction to Pinterest, Law and Order SVU and solitaire on my phone are contributing to my jitteriness.  So I'm going to be a little more disciplined about those things.  I'm going to have to because...

I'm starting school in a week!  Yes, its true.  I'm taking interior design classes at a community college very far away.  The one three miles from my house doesn't offer any interior design classes, and the programs in San Francisco require you to be a millionaire before your register for classes.   So I'm dragging my ass a gazillion miles from home twice a week for Intro to Interior Design, and Lighting and Materials.  I'm very excited.

I've been doing design consulting for free, but its time for me to make some $ at it.  I made $17.44 off this blog in 2013, and I'd like to clear at least 20 bucks in 2014.  I've been perusing my 100 lb textbook and trying decide what I will need for school.  Rob says I'll need a spiral notebook and a pen.  I think I might need a goatee and a jaunty scarf.