More whiteboard art

Maybe it's because he is my offspring that I am so fascinated by John's artwork. I came up the other night to see him working on this. I didn't know what it was until he told me. So if you are confused, it helps to look at it in a different way. It is a picture of John (the black figure) painting in the garden and I am standing behind him (purple figure) watching.

I love the paintbrush. I love the "painted" line. I love the perspective. I love the grass along the bottom to ground his composition. I love how enveloped and cozy the whole thing feels. I hate that it was done on the whiteboard.

Dinner conversation

Tonight John said the blessing on the food; it went a little something like this:

"... Please bless everyone else's food... And please bless that I won't have to eat this disgusting meal... And please bless that mommy will give me something else to eat... that I ACTUALLY like..."

As the meal progressed he said, "I wish I were in China."

"Why?"

"Because in China it isn't polite to eat your whole meal."

Later... "This should be called Garbage-sewage Spaghetti instead of Heavenly Spaghetti."

At least he had one bite and didn't puke all over the table this time.

Like a scene out of the movie

One of my favorite movies is Spike Lee's Crooklyn. If you haven't seen it, then go out and get it now, or just stop by my house and you'll see the live action version.

I have found myself feeling like the mom in this movie on several occasions this week. I have been on a rampage with my kids, especially when it comes to getting out the door in the morning and sitting down to dinner in the evening.

Tonight played out just like the dinner in the movie. Children protesting the choice of vegetable, dad trying to praise mom's efforts at making a meal, someone saying, "pass the butta", and finally, the promise of chocolate cake once the plates were clean.

Oh, and true to the movie, we also had the gagging and vomiting when John was forced to have one more bite of squash.

Don't worry, he was fine enough for cake once the puddle was cleaned up.

Oh yeah, and true to the dad character from the movie, Jared even offered both the kids candy after they ate a big piece of cake.

Now if we could only lose Bitsy in the fold-out couch, life would be complete...

The ice is very slippery...

One of my favorite parts of the Olympics is listening to the commentators.

I am watching the female snowboard half-pipe competition and I hear the commentator say:

"It's like falling off the deck of your house, that's what these athletes are facing, a 20 foot drop."

Really, the deck of your house? Good analogy guy.

Actually, it works for Brady (my brother in law) who actually fell with the deck of his house maybe 10 years ago... while talking on the phone with Beth. I still laugh, but really it scarred him, he does not trust decking to this day.

A book review, bruised bananas, and junk archaeology

First of all, today was a true day off for me-- thanks to my Mother-in-law who had both the kids. I live for days like today, so thank you Sandy!

I skipped working out this morning to laze around and finish reading The Help. This is the kind of book you take with you once you finish. It has been a long time since I've read a book in which I've felt immersed in the story. I want to go back in time and meet the characters. It is the kind of book that explains why people form book clubs. I have been thinking about it all day... Anyway, worth the guilt I felt as I finally stepped into the shower at 11:45.

The other day the new SPROUTS market opened in our little town. Katherine and I went to check it out. One raspberry honey stick and several yogurt pretzels later, we were at the cashier to pay for our abundant produce. Only then did I realize I left my wallet in the car. I glanced back at the endless line and apologized to the cashier. Luckily he was able to suspend the sale while I got my card, and move on to the next person in line. When we got back into the store our bags were sitting against the wall waiting for us. I instructed Katherine to stay there while I went to pay. When I finished cutting in line to pay, I turned around to see Kitty sitting ON TOP of one of our bags like it was a little stool. Needless to say, we have a lot of bruised produce at our house... the worst off are the bananas, a few even squished open.

Oh and by the way, my new dream career would be doing what the guys from American Pickers do. They go around sifting through people's (usually some old guy with a farm's) junk offering to buy some of it. Then they sell it for profit. Only I wouldn't be so irritating and I wouldn't be on TV and I wouldn't be so dorky.

Is it ironic that I watched American Pickers and then switched over to Hoarders?

What is real

Happy Valentimes Day from Kitty!

In all my multitude of years I've learned a little something about Valentine's Day: It's about what's real.

I had a LOT of lonely Valentine's Days and had convinced myself that if I had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day that would be the most romantic, unforgettable day...

Then came the Valentines' when I did have someone... and I did get some nice gifts... but it all felt so FLAT.

Not what I had imagined in my little Fairy Tale (or is it Tail?).

Now I see that for me, it's not about the flowers, chocolates, dinners, etc. It is about the feeling of knowing every day that I love my family and that they love me.

It's nice to have a day to step back and appreciate that.

Excuse me while I brag...

Honestly... that tear in the couch is obnoxious...

I don't usually like to toot my own horn, but I am totally in LOVE with my quilt. I started it Saturday and finished it Sunday. It isn't huge, just big enough for my family room.

I got inspired to try a quilt when I decided it didn't have to be made from old lady fabric and when I saw this promisingly easy pattern. It was quite easy, except I can NOT recommend the pattern or the book it comes from-- too much ambiguity and very poor illustrations.

Do I sound like a sewing snob now?

Seriously, I am so pleased with it. I wanted to wait to wash it so that it would crinkle a little and look aged, but now I am afraid to do it because I didn't think about the red courdoroy bleeding. Now if I could just translate the feel, colors and look to the rest of my house I would smile all day.

The thrill of the thrift.

A friend of mine just updated her FB status to say something about looking forward to going to the fancy thrift stores in Highlands Ranch tomorrow. That status spoke to me in more ways than one.

First of all, the other night I had a dream that I got a job at Saver's and I had to live there. I got the job because I thought it would be great to get the first pick of all the stuff, little did I know I would be working for a slimy boss who was selling all the good stuff on the side.

Secondly, her status reminded me of my own Goodwill of Highlands Ranch (really Littleton, aka the old Albertson's) experience last month. Does this ever happen to you? You walk in to a huge store full of crap and once you get used to the smell (why do they all smell that way?) you begin to go through things. And once you've been going through the racks of clothes thinking to yourself, "where is all the cool vintage stuff everyone else seems to find?" the store starts to trick you. You see a cardigan that has a Gap label and automatically think, "oh, I should get this." Who cares that it's the tennis sweater everyone had in 7th grade, it's the Gap and it's at Goodwill. Then you look and see the blush pink LEATHER skirt for $8. And you catch yourself seriously considering it because it's leather after all. When you move on to the knick-knacks you think to yourself, "if I painted this it might work as a..." Don't worry, I usually end up talking sense into myself and leaving empty handed. Unless they have old Pyrex, which hardly ever happens probably because the slimy boss sells it on the side.

So then as I'm thinking about thrift stores my mind falls to the good old days-- college. The days when grunge was in and you could find anything cool at DI or Saver's. Remember my warm wool coat with the fur collar? Those were the days when I would sit on the floor waiting while Mark looked through every pair of khaki pants to find a pair that fit. His philosophy was that if you only had khakis you wouldn't have to worry about matching your clothes everyday. Those were the days when you could find awesome 70s style old man clothes, now they're all from the 80s and 90s.

Someday I'll find the magic piece of clothing, furniture, and Pyrex, then I too can stand in line for Antiques Roadshow beaming with pride as they tell me my treasures are worthless.

John said...

"Psycho teenage fourth graders, can you picture it?"