Love Thursday: I Heart You

I found this heart several years ago and decided to use it in a way that would let our family support each other. When someone is going through a tough time or is disappointed or discouraged, whoever is in possession of the heart passes it on with a little note of encouragement attached. My kids have passed it to each other with notes as simple as "I'm sorry" or "I love you." Sometimes the note is a little longer. I have even helped the younger ones write something. The kids have given it to us and we have also passed it to them.


There is something wonderfully simple about the blue heart and what it stands for in our home. It reminds us that for all of our differences, we are a family that is ultimately bound together with love. It lets us know that we are, no matter how we are feeling at the time, not alone. It is a physical reminder that love surrounds us--even when we're feeling sad, lonely, ugly, disappointed, or unlovable. Love is there for the taking.

Happy Love Thursday. May you take all the love you can get.

A Little Crafty:Before and After--Folding Shelves

A couple of weeks ago when I was trolling Goodwill, I came upon this shelf. It wasn't my style in the finish I found it in, but I kinda liked it. I walked around some more, debating in my head if I had a place to put it and what exactly I'd do with it. Then I went back and looked more closely at it and decided that it would work in my youngest daughter's room.

A couple of summers ago, I painted a little table to go in her new "big girl" room and thought that I could make this shelf a matching piece. Here is the table.

We have since moved from our old house and this room is a temporary room for Mary. We have a loft that we're going to wall in and that will become Mary's room, making the room she now uses as a bedroom, my eldest son's room. (Didja get all that? Confused? Welcome to my general daily state of mind...Ahhh, brain sprain!) My two boys are sharing a room right now and that has worked for several years, but since both of them refuse to quit growing, space in their room is getting a little tight. We haven't painted this room (Mary's current room/James' future room) because it didn't make sense to paint it twice, once in Mary's color and then again for James. So Mary's black/white/pink/green color scheme looks a little strange against the tan walls, but whatever. We'll get there, right?

So I got out my trusty primer and changed the shelf to this:

And then with white spray paint and some acrylic paint it became this.

**Note--the pink is not as Day-Glo in real life as it looks in these pictures. Pinkie swear.

I am, however, a little on the fence about something. Well, a couple of things, actually. Give me your opinions--are there too many dots? Not enough dots? Should I put something in the middle of each shelf, like a monogram or flower or swirl to match her bedding? Here is Mary's bedding: Should I leave well enough alone and move on to the next project? Oh wise Internet people, what do you think? Help a girl out, mmmkay? Thanks!

Right In My Own Back Yard

A few nights ago, Patrick and I were sitting outside watching the sprinklers run. Woooot! Yes, we are the original Fun Couple. We were watching the sprinklers run, because when you buy a foreclosed property, some things don't work right and our sprinkler system is one of them. We aren't complaining. It's nice to have. It just hadn't been run in a couple of years since the house was vacant for so long and now there's sediment in the line so one of our zones runs all the time and we (meaning Patrick) have to monitor things. (Whew! Run-on sentence much, Sara?)

So there we were enjoying the nice evening when something along the tree line caught my eye. I did a double take and said "What on God's green Earth is that?"

There, prancing about amongst the clover, was a little varmint with a bright white tail. At first, I thought it was a skunk. Then I thought several things: a) I've never actually seen a skunk that wasn't paws up, lying stiffly along the side of the road, b) I don't think skunks actually prance--I think they're more of the ambling type, c) seeing a skunk in they daytime would be strange and possibly mean it's rabid? Gack! Rabid skunk!! d) this creature's tail wasn't striped. And finally my mind rolled along to e) that's not a skunk--that's a squirrel.

It was one weird-ass squirrel. Almost literally, actually. The rest of the squirrel was your run-of-the-mill squirrel. But it's tail was bright white. I've seen many a squirrel in my day folks, but never one with that kind of tail. Now, I know there are white squirrels in existence. In fact, they live not all that far from where I grew up. But this squirrel was like a cross between a white squirrel and a regular squirrel, but instead of getting a mishmash of traits, it got the regular squirrel everywhere but the tail. If I didn't know better, I'd think that the bajillionaires behind us were generating their own nuclear power and dumping the waste in the tree line, causing these Weird-Ass Squirrels.

See what I mean? Strange days, indeed...

Also, guess what?! We have yet another turtle nest in the yard. Different turtle this time, but it laid its eggs in the same area. It's gonna be Turtlepalooza around here come August.

On a completely different note, my comments are fixed. I would really love to hear from you. Your comments are the fuel that keep me going. If you only say "hi" or even "please quit writing, you suck" I'd like to hear from you. Of course, if you leave the second kind of comment, I might delete you, but at least you'll know that you've stated your piece.

Odds'n'Ends III

The other day I was sitting in the living room, attempting to read while the children ran around the house, screaming like banshees and tearing every single toy from it's shelf and then dropping them all over the house. It was raining. We had planned on going swimming and daddy was supposed to go with us. It would have been the first time all summer he would have made it to the pool. Mother Nature had other plans. It involved making my children stay inside and alternate between fighting with each other and fighting with me. Good times.

As I sat rereading the same sentence over and over about 34 times, Mary came in and decided that what I really needed was a piano concerto. Mary's musical style could be described as, um, experimental and esoteric. In other words, not terribly conducive to reading. But I kept trying. I forged ahead, reading the same sentence about five more times and then Mary's song stopped. She hopped off the bench and bowed and then said in the voice she reserves for posh and fancy things "That song was called 'The Dancing Panther Captures the Flag.' Did you enjoy it?"

It took every shred of willpower I had not to snort. Seriously. Every shred. I clapped and told her it was brilliant. She told me that someday she is going to grow up and make up songs for people. With titles like that, I think that she'll be making millions and able to keep me in a style to which I've never grown accustomed.

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I broke a tooth last week. Well, not actually a tooth. More like part of the overlay that the dentist put on my tooth.

Back in February while in for my regular dental checkup, the dentist discovered that the last lower molar right before my wisdom tooth was cracked. (Yes, I still have my wisdom teeth. When they started coming in I was a teenager. Well, duh. Anyway, our family dentist told me "You have a big mouth, you should have no problems with your wisdom teeth." Thanks a lot. That statement has given my parents all kinds of mileage...) I hadn't been having any problems with it, but they insisted on fixing it.

Rather than putting a crown on it they put some sort of porcelain overlay on it. (You dental types, don't laugh at me. I can't see what they're doing in there! I just pay the bill for it.) About two months later, that tooth became sensitive and I didn't like to chew on that side. I know, not a good sign, and I had every intention of getting in for an appointment. It just didn't seem urgent and there were other things--like life--that got in the way.

Tuesday night, my tooth made the decision for me. I was sitting at the computer, chewing a piece of gum. As usual, I had been chewing on my left side. I briefly shifted the gum to my right side bit down and heard and felt a crunch that made me shudder. I have nightmares about breaking teeth. What are those about anyway? This made me do a full body heebie-jeebie dance.

My sons, who were sitting next to me became quite alarmed but I told them I was fine, not to worry. Then, being young boys, they insisted they had to see the damage. I obliged and opened my mouth. "Aww cool! Ewww! Whoa!" they exclaimed. Yeah, I'm awesome with the elementary school set and I'm available for birthdays and bar mitzvahs...

So I found myself sitting in the dentist's chair on Wednesday afternoon. I don't get freaked out by the dentist like some people do, but I wasn't looking forward to this visit. I knew it meant about two hours in that chair and that I'd be wrung out like a wet dishrag when I was done. Also, I forgot to bring my ipod, so that meant I was going to have to listen to everything. Ugh.

As I was in the chair with my jaws wedged open and 6 instruments and 9 fingers in my mouth, I was attempting to watch Andrew Zimmern on Bizarre Foods through the dentist's arms. Yeah, not the best choice of show when you are sitting in the dentist's chair. He was in the Caribbean and there was some fabulous eatin' going on. Things like Cow Skin soup and some dish with pig and chicken feet. Mmmm...yummy... Suddenly my gag reflex was hyper-sensitive. I wonder why?

Anyway, there I am with the dentist and his assistant up to their elbows in my mouth and we're listening to this show and then the assistant asks me if I would ever eat any of that stuff. "Are you an adventurous eater?"

How in the name of Great Googly Moogly was I supposed to answer? Why do they do that? I mean, assuming I could move my tongue, I'd still have to maneuver around everything else in my mouth. "Nmoponomhmo," I managed. And then I shut my eyes. Not only was I hoping to shut out any more bizarre foods (raw conch anyone?) but I was praying that she would get the hint that my mouth was otherwise occupied at the time and as much as I'd like to carry on a conversation with her, I simply wasn't able to.

The upside was that my work was still "under warranty" and I wouldn't have to pay for it. Next time, I'm bringing my ipod if I have to staple it to my ears.

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My husband is notorious for getting song lyrics wrong. We have spent many evenings laughing at the words he inserts because he doesn't know what the words really are. On Sunday afternoon, he had a song running through his head and he kept singing the same words over and over. I started to laugh at him.

"Sentimental gentle wind...blowin' through my life again....blah, blah blah," he'd sing.

"14 joys and a will to be merry..." he continued.

"That can't be right," I laughed. "14 joys and a will to be merry?? What does that even mean?"

Suddenly we were singing it with extraordinarily goofy words and cracking ourselves up.

"Sentimental gentleman, will never get a date again..."

"14 toys and they all belong to Mary..."

Last night I decided to find the song. Not only were we both surprised to discover that Fleetwood Mac sang that song (WTH?) but that my husband, the anti-lyricist was correct! It does say "14 joys and a will to be merry." (Again, I must ask: Wth, Fleetwood Mac?)

Now, I will never again be sure if my husband is lyrically incorrect or if the musicians were simply too high to notice that their words MAKE NO SENSE!!

Whatever. It's still a fun way to pass the evening. If you're ever over at our house, start singing a song. I can pretty much guarantee that not only will my husband start singing it, you will hear words inserted that probably don't belong.

Photo Friday: Gitchee Gitchee Goo!

Mary tickling the goat in the petting zoo area at the Indianapolis Zoo. She was reluctant at first to touch them, but then ended up "tickling" them and talking baby talk to them. After dog sharks, grizzly bears, giraffes, tigers, lions, lemurs, and the like, my child decides that a common farm animal is her favorite at the zoo. Go figure...

Eighteen Years In Numbers

My wedding anniversary was on Monday. It was a busy weekend what with the holiday and my family in. We still had guests on Monday, so the day sort of stole up on us. We both knew it was coming, but had decided to celebrate this coming weekend. We agreed we wouldn't even exchange cards until the weekend.

Then my husband went and broke our agreement. He blames it on my parents, who came by with some mums and wished us a happy anniversary. Patrick and I looked at each other a little surprised. I think we had both kind of forgotten what day it was. We kissed and hugged and told each other "happy anniversary," and agreed again to celebrate on the weekend. Then he promptly went out and bought me some sweet little roses. He is not to be trusted, I tell you!

I scolded him and thanked him and as I was placing the flowers in a vase, he blamed my parents and said he couldn't be outdone. It was really very sweet.

Later, I started thinking about how after so many years, things become routine and commonplace. Sometimes we take each other for granted. Sometimes we are irritated with each other. Sometimes we are so busy, the only time we really have to catch up is right before falling asleep--and sometimes we are too tired for even that. Life seems, at times, to be the same thing, day in and day out with very little change and nothing big to disrupt our routine. In short, pretty average stuff.

But as I thought back over the years since we were married, I have realized that we have had excitement, joy, grief, and uncertainty. I am not really a "numbers" person. I have always been more taken with words. But the numbers of our shared lives struck a chord within me that made me stop and look more closely.

Since July 6, 1991 this is how our life together has looked in numbers:

We have lived in 1 apartment and three different houses in two states. Combined, we have worked in 10 different jobs. We have 4 children who live with us and 1 who lives in heaven. We have owned 2 dogs. We have had 9 vehicles. We have traveled to one foreign country. We have vacationed as a couple or as a family at least 8 different times. We have buried three grandparents. We have endured one major blizzard--went out and walked in it even! (What can I say? We were idiots...) Together we have celebrated 69 birthdays and 170 holidays. Together we have shared approximately 6,570 days together.

Not all of them have been good. Not all of them have been happy. But they have all been worthwhile. And I couldn't imagine sharing all of that with anyone other than my husband. He has been my guiding weight. He has been my best confidant. He has been my biggest supporter. He has been my truest love. I only hope I have been to him what he has been to me.

Every day for 18 years we have chosen to love each other; in sickness and health, for richer and for poorer, in good times and in bad. I thank God for granting us such a blessing. And every day, no matter how exciting or how average, I will continue to choose to love him. I pray we will have countless more days to multiply our love.

Happy Anniversary, sweetheart! I love you!

I Have Those No More Holiday, Family's Gone, Low Down, No Good Blues

If my life had a soundtrack it would be playing the blues right now. Seriously. It would be all thrumming bass and harmonica and sad lyrics. It's not that my life is so bad, I'm just a little low.

After all the preparation and excitement leading up to last weekend. And then the excitement and busyness of the actual weekend with its numerous activities and frequent meals and all, well, now it's just awfully quiet around here.

My Chicago brother and his family left on Sunday afternoon. My parents left Monday. My Texas brother and his family left yesterday. My house is too quiet. My dog is exhausted and has taken to her bed. My children are grumpy and out of sorts. I don't feel like doing much of anything. The wind is out of my sails.

I suppose this is normal. (Probably the first time I can claim that I'm normal. Yippee for me!) I guess it's only natural to feel down after such a big build up. But I don't like it. And yet. I am not motivated to change it either. Kinda feels good to wallow a little. Poor, poor Sara....

It's just that I know that it will be awhile before we'll all be together again. It's been a year since we all last saw each other. And pardon my French, but that's just too damn long. Then because we are all so busy--or rather our growing children are--when we do have the opportunity to get together, it's generally only for a couple of days. Seems like the cousins just start to get reacquainted and then everyone has to leave again.

Waaahhh. Poor me.

Alright! Enough. I am going to look through photos from the weekend again. Then I am going to find a project to work on. Then, I might actually you know, do the project. But I'm done wallowing. We were lucky to have the time we did and it was fantastic! And as a bonus, there was no vomiting--we had a streak going for awhile wherein every family get-together was marred by puking. You can imagine the state this left me in, seeing as I don't deal with the barfing very well. We ate, we played, we laughed, and we had a fabulous time. Next time will be even better.

But before I begin with all the positivity, I'll just be taking this carton of Ritter's custard over to the couch and curl up in a ball while I listen to Muddy Waters. Waaaaaaa......