if you can't take the cold, stay out of the kitchen

I wish I were as thin and young as I used to be back when I used to think I was fat and old.

sigh.

We're waging window wars here at my house. I'm the kind of fresh air freak who gets all claustrophobic if there's even a threat of stuffiness in a room. As soon as the temperature outside crests the 65 degree mark, I'm opening the windows. Sometimes even before, if a flash hits, which has been happening more frequently these past few months.

And I absolutely have to have the window open at night, no matter what. Especially because my hubby is like a radiator -- nice to cozy up to on a chilly winter night, when my feet are cold, but not so much during those times I have to throw off the down comforter and turn the pillow over to the cool side.

So how is it that during the day he follows me around shutting windows, complaining about being cold? Is it some kind of cruel joke that his aging thermostat and mine are in conflict?
Just one more case of the Divine Matchmaker having a cosmic laugh at pairing two polar opposites? Maybe that's it -- either iron will sharpen iron, we'll learn to submit to one another out of reverence for Christ, or I'll have to move to a tent in the back yard.

the grandbaby cure has met its match

I have done a pretty shabby job of sharing this little dude with the blogosphere. It's not due to any lack of Mimi pride or delight in his dearness and cuteness.

I think I've been doing a pretty shabby job on several fronts, actually. I could list them all for you, but that would only serve as a reminder to myself. And to be honest, I am not needing any further reasons to be bummed.

I don't know about the rest of you, but when I'm in the dumps, I don't like being around myself. And I feel even less like inflicting my gloom on everyone else.

Doesn't it seem like life goes through phases? I've been here before. I recognize the scenery. I pretty much hate it.

And I also know that in viewing life from the dumps, once I've got these gloom-tinted glasses firmly in place, it's darned near impossible to see anything as being "...noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy." (Phil 4:8) Each setback, each area of failure on my part, each disappointment, is magnified and in turn justifies the depression I feel. I sink a little lower into the mire, and it's a little harder to get out.

I wish I could find some glowing spiritual application to make....some pointed discourse on how my hope is planted firmly on the Solid Rock. I know these things intellectually, but my heart is not there right now. And I'm disappointed in myself about that, too. bluhhh...

So whatever landscape imagery works for you -- desert, valley, pit -- that's where I am right now. Not asking for sympathy or solutions -- just not sure how bloggy I'll be. It's hard to write about struggles, and not much fun to read about them, either.

Really, consider it a favor.

home again, such as it is

You know that phrase, "not a happy camper"? Now I fully understand it. If next year's spring break trip calls for spending any nights in the stinky pop-up, Lee, Betsy and Jo are all invited to go in my place.

My house is still in varying stages of destruction and construction. The latest casualty was my dining room windows. I have in their place a big giant hole that goes all the way to the floor, which is covered in a substantial layer of dust.

My computer has a virus -- you may want to sanitize your hands after visiting here.

Jim's back went out last Sunday and is showing no signs of returning.

We had snow flurries today. It's 38 degrees.

~~ sigh ~~

As if my own hair is landing me any recording contracts

I am so sorry, Carly. I never should have bashed your shirts. I had no idea that it would land you in the bottom 3, for heaven's sake! What a shocker. But Girlfriend, you'd better wise up, because your shirt from tonight wasn't much better. Honestly. We need a What Not To Wear intervention in the worst way.

I wonder what Nick would do for David Cook's hair. Anything would be an improvement. Washing, perhaps, for starters. Just a thought.

And while I'm on a hair roll, I'd also spring for a barrette for Ramiele. I'd love to see Amanda's hair in some kind of non-skunk color. Like a soft brown with maybe highlights? I was born in Lafayette, but when she has her concert at a bar there, I probably won't make the trip. I wonder if she'll go back to nursing again. I wonder if she ever frightened any of her patients. I'm slightly okay with the fact that she won't be around the Idol stage anymore. I think she was mildly frightening in general.

I missed Brooke's curls tonight. All straight-hair girls yearn for curls, so it seems unconscionable that she would straighten hers. I hope Syesha brings hers back, too, although I agree with Corie that sleek was the right call for her sophisticated performance this week.

I don't understand dreadlocks. Could anyone have them? Or is it a certain type of hair that just naturally gets shaped that way? Are they all his hair? How could one break off? I'd like to spend an evening with Jason Castro anyway, but mostly because I'd like to get the lowdown on his funky do.

So I was thinking that when I'm a rich and famous hairstylist and have lots of disposable income to throw around, the main thing I'm gonna want my personal assistant to do for me is Holiday Planning.

I figure there's a maximum number of years that a mom can feel enthused about the never-ending responsibility of making every occasion special and fun. Because of the spacing and number of my kids, I'm pretty sure I hit my limit about three years ago. I used to love decorating for each holiday that came along. I hung flags for every season on a post outside my front door. I'd cheerfully haul out all the little seasonal trinkets and I found it delightful to shop for goodies -- stocking stuffers, Valentines, shamrocky green gum, Easter treats, birthday party favors..... Now I just get this sense of "ugh, not another thing I have to shop for..."

It's sad, really. Because now that I have grandkids, I should be getting a second wind, a revisiting of the fun of filling Easter baskets. But instead I'm dreading having to come up with baskets for the three kids left at home. Not to mention the certainty, as I've whined about before, of finding Easter grass on my floor until Christmas comes around.

Then again, maybe part of my holiday blah-ness stems from the sheer financial stress of having to buy stuff all the time. And if I was truly rich and famous, that wouldn't be a consideration.

So cancel that, and just hire me a Nick Arojo of my own.

size matters

Dear Tide,

I have been a faithful devotee for the last 30 years. You have seen me through all the laundry that a family of seven has generated. I have been fiercely loyal, never wavering in my commitment, even when Dynamo is buy one, get 2 free. Why are you messing with me now, at a time in my life when I am so reluctant to embrace change? When I need to know I can feel secure with the status quo in my laundry room, at least. When my feeble, wrinkled hands need to reach for that familiar blue cap and fill it right up.


What is this "2X ultra" stuff? I don't trust it. I want my big bottle. I am skeptical and unhappy to have to pay the same amount for a bottle half as big. Who can believe that half as much detergent is going to be as fully effective?

There are some things in their original form that are just right. They don't need to be improved. Lays potato chips, for one. Coke, for another. Were you snoozing during the whole "New Coke" fiasco? You should have been concentrating.....wait, never mind that. You should have been paying attention. No one asked me if I wanted a new formula.

Can you imagine trying to foist this line of marketing on the milk drinkers in my house? Here -- have HALF a glass of new 2X ultra milk. It's all the nutrition and every bit as satisfying. You're hungry for a steak? Try our new concentrated 2X ultra steak product. It's half the size, with all the flavor. Yum.

I'm imagining where this trend might lead.... Thirty years from now we'll be buying Tide in bottles the side of Visine. One drop gets your whole load dazzlingly clean!

Of course by then I'll probably be washing my clothes in Downy, so it won't matter.

O Harland, ye done me wrong

I know that as soon as I tell y'all about our Saturday night you'll be calling and writing and lining up to party with us. Because we're that kind of crazy fun.

We love Outback. Jim's dad loves to give us Outback gift cards, so it works out swell. Usually. We had wanted to go out to eat last night to celebrate Susannah's return from camp and Danny's football visit to his college.

We had to reschedule, though, because Dan's girlfriend needed his input on which prom dress she should get. She had picked out four but couldn't decide between them. Buying a prom dress these days is big stuff. Girls from our school have been known to travel to Chicago, and spend more on their dresses than I did my whole wedding. The shop where she had selected her dresses will not sell the same dress to two girls from the same school. So she knew she needed to act fast. I can't believe the pressure.

I have to say that of all my boys, Dan would be the most likely to go along with this assignment without balking or hyperventilating. Something went right in his genes or his training and he is actually a pretty good clothes shopper. We decided to wait until tonight to eat out, and that way we could celebrate the Doing Of The Saturday Chores, as well.

We interrupt this post to bring you an important report on The Dress.
They made a decision and she brought the dress by here and oh my word is it ever gorgeous. You know the dress that Glenda the good witch of the north is wearing in the Wizard of Oz when she comes floating down in that bubble? How it stands out around her in billowy layers of shimmery sparkles? Well that's what her dress looks like. In mint green.

Isn't she beautiful? If you could see her in this dress, you'd know that it was a completely legitimate reason to postpone dinner out. The words Fairy Princess spring to mind. And it makes me wish I could go back to my high school prom and wear something like this, instead of my Gunny Sax peasant dress that had a big bow in the back and ecru ruffles on the puffy sleeves.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled post, already in progress.

We thought we'd leave early enough to beat the Saturday crowds at Outback, and incorrectly guessed that if we were there before 6:00 we'd be in pretty good shape.

We just needed a quick stop at DB's to admire Baby JR on our way. His mom said we could go ahead and hold him because it was time for him to wake up, anyway. He's so cute and dear. Even when I played "patty feet" with him he did not want to wake up. But it was okay, because he was making all kinds of funny faces in his sleep. I'm pretty sure I'm not anywhere near that entertaining to watch while I'm sleeping. (This has been just a small rabbit trail on the road to the main story line.)

When we got to Outback at 5:50 there was an HOUR wait. The girl with the clipboard said that even if we'd been there at 5:00 we would have had to wait that long. As much as we love Outback, we were all too hungry to wait until almost 7:00. Jim left me there with the beeper while he drove up and down the main street, but every other eating establishment seemed to have hungry people spilling out into the parking lot as well. So we decided to forget the whole dining out experience and stop at KFC on the way home, because the "you were in a band?" commercials lately have been making me crave their mashed potatoes.

But the whole time in the car we had to try to ascertain that no one was going to be too upset about that plan. Because some of us were thinking we should try the Chinese buffet, and some of us were thinking we should try the sub sandwich place and some of us were thinking maybe Qdoba and some of us were kicking our brother's seat and some of us were grouching at our sister and some of us were embarrassed because Dan's girlfriend was with us and certainly this would never happen in her family.....

When you're feeding six ravenous people --people who are already a bit grumpy about spending the last hour salivating in anticipation of Outback steaks, only to have to settle for fried chicken -- and they all have different ideas about what kind of chicken they will even consent to eat, and you know you're going to need extra mashed potatoes, it can add up to a pretty big order. I felt confident that we were covered, simply because I'd ordered a little of everything, gave the girl my Visa card, took our two bags, and we were on our way.

We didn't realize until 25 minutes later once we were unpacking it all in our dining room at home, that we were missing the 12 pieces of chicken strips. The last thing we felt like doing was driving all the way back to the store, so I just called them up, trusting that they could credit my card. If it had been an order of french fries I wouldn't have bothered, but it wasn't a tiny amount of money. And there was a principle at stake. Plus one or two picky chicken eaters. Not to mention a husband who said that it would cost $6 in gas to drive there and back again.

But the sweet thing on the phone said there wasn't a thing she could do for me unless I came into the store tonight and brought my credit card with me. Jim thought maybe he could talk sense to a manager, but she in turn referred us to the 1-800 corporate number, where the helpful customer service agent said they'd have to submit the request or some such rigamarole, and we should have someone contact us by Tuesday to see IF we would be entitled to any money back.

Not "Oh, here, let us send you a coupon for a free bucket to compensate you for your inconvenience." Not "Oh, definitely let us credit your account and we'll go ahead and take off the cost of the 12 biscuits, as well." Not "We're terribly sorry that we're not set up to do credit card refunds, but the next time you stop into the store, we'll be happy to offer you 12 pieces of chicken strips and a medium popcorn chicken at no charge."

We'd been so hungry, but it was frankly hard to eat, what with all the smoke pouring out of Jim's ears and the tension so thick you could spread it on the biscuits. Clearly the days of "keep the customer satisfied" have passed away, along with the Colonel himself.


I think next Saturday night we'll stay home and eat peanut butter. There will be plenty -- just get your name on the phone ahead seating list and you can have some, too!

snow day -- the sequel

OK. I withdraw all my snarky cynicism about the weather forecasters. The "Storm Team" had been forecasting all manner of dire weather conditions for last night and today. Winter Weather Advisory. Heavy Snow Warning. Severe Weather Alert. Yeah, yeah, yeah.....I've heard it all before.

Out my window I saw nothing falling from the sky. It usually happens that the snow falls all around us, but misses our township.

But this morning there are probably 5 new inches of snow out there -- enough to cancel school again. It would have been another golden opportunity to sleep in, except for the four phone calls I received in the span of an hour.

I always thought that old people liked to get up early. It would seem I haven't outgrown that teenage urge to sleep until 10:00 or later.

So now I'm mildly grumpy. It doesn't help that I have a dentist appointment today. Bluh.

But it's February! (Pinch punch first of the month and no returns.) Baby month -- unless HB decides to come 19 days late. For our daughter-in-law's sake, I hope that's not the case.