High Waters

We have attractive ankles in this family.  I know, because I see them on a regular basis.  All the boys like to wear the low- or no-show socks.  Hello, ankles!  We also have an apparent aversion to wearing long pants.  They must feel too restrictive, or something.  We had to institute a rule that no shorts could be worn when the temperature was below freezing.  Ben sprints up the starts on a start winter morning, heads straight to the outdoor thermometer on the back door, cheers if it is 35 degrees, and dons his shorts.

Between the shorts and the low socks lie the ankles.  Hey, good looking!  Oh, and the pants are so often too short.  More ankles.  These boys grow like a bunch of tipsy dandelions who got into the Miracle Gro. Why do I not notice their lovely ankles until we are at church?  Last week, David's choice of white socks to wear between his dark pants and black shoes didn't help to camouflage the ankle situation.

Eddie just brought me a crop of nice jeans that had somehow shrunk.  We used to call them "floods," or "high waters," thinking they would be useful to wear when splashing so you wouldn't get your clothes very wet.  Chris's socks and ankles are getting a bit too much airtime, as well.

Here is Ben, just after his recent band performance.  How handsome (the ankles).  The rest of him is pretty fetching, as well.  Too bad these are expensive tuxedo pants ("thuckth-ah-do," for all you Father of the Bride fans) - not something I can run down to the store and just pick up.  Come to think of it, I can never run down to the store and just pick up some pants for this tall drink of water.  When was the last time you saw a pair of 28x36 pants on the rack?  Maybe he's a 30 inch waist now.  That would help a tiny bit.

Until then, we're ready for the flood.

Paint Happy

Ben came home from school today at the regular time.  It always startles me just a bit that my afternoon is that far gone.  Naptime quiet vanishes so quickly around here.  Before Ben even came around the corner to where he could see me, he loudly announced, "Mom, I know you are painting again."  Busted.

I've already painted the finials on the curtain rod, several picture frames, a wall sconce, and the ceiling fan.  They all look great.  Today it was the fireplace.  Perhaps I'm getting carried away.  Maybe the fumes are getting to me.  But you see, we moved into this house over two years ago.  It is 40 years old, and hasn't been updated at all.  I'm finally out to change that up a bit.

May I present... the fireplace, in all its 1970's glory:

The stonework is massive.  It is wide, and goes all the way to the ceiling.  It matches the floor in the front entryway.  I have to say that stone isn't my favorite material, but it would be suicide to tear it out.  I've decided to like it instead.  Much easier.  The gas fireplace matches the stone nicely, but I can't quite deal with the gold trim.  

I cleaned the whole thing (ew), and protected the stone with some butcher paper, a drop cloth, masking tape, and one of David's old research papers on Eli Whitney.  A can of high heat black spray paint later, we had this instead:

I thought it would be glossy, but it didn't turn out that way.  I'm trying to decide if it is worth repainting.  Maybe I'll just learn to like it.  It is less interesting to look at, which is what I wanted.  I also painted the fireplace glass with a nice clear coat.  See how clear it made the formerly smoky glass?  Wouldn't it be nice to have clear paint that actually made things clear?  I'd use it on lots of things!  How about clean paint - makes things clean?  I'd be addicted.

I think I need to rest from the fumes now for a few days.  No more painting.  Except that hook that sticks out of the ceiling that I can hang a plant on.  And maybe a few more picture frames.  And the eyeball lights.  And...

It's About Time

More than a dozen years ago, my sister-in-law took me to an enormous European store.  We were happily lost for quite a while before finally wandering out, our arms laden with fun doo-dads we hadn't known that we needed.  A few years later, we moved nearly a thousand miles, and found ourselves again near lose-yourself-in-happy-shop-ville.  Among other necessities I discovered, I purchased four clocks.  Like this.

I loved the simple design, the white-on-white coloring, the clean numbering... let's face it.  The clocks were cheap.  Dirt cheap.  I love that more than anything.  I had intended to put the four clocks up in one room, in a row, and label them.  Like London, Paris, Constantinople and Buchanan, Virginia.  (No offense to the quaint town of Buchanan.  I'm totally in love with rural Virginia, and I have Buchanan ancestors.  It's meant to be that I go there someday.)


I think I actually did hang the clocks up in the boys' room at one point, but then we moved and they got packed.  That happens a lot when you move 13 times in 10 years.  Since then, the clocks have been separated and hung wherever we needed to know the time - the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom.  Since moving into this house (umm... nearly three years ago), they haven't even been hung.  They've been resting tiredly on the mantle, drooping against the counter, or languishing in a box.

I finally collected all four of them, and decided that it was time to hang them like I'd originally intended.  I got out the tape measure and figured out how to space them evenly on the wall.  I found four little nails.  I even found the trusty old hammer my dad gave me when I went away to college.  I climbed up on a chair, ready to make holes in the wall.  And dropped the hammer.  On my foot.  I'm talented that way.

(I did eventually get the clocks hung, and I didn't even say any bad words.  Now if only I could find some batteries for them.)

Today I...

Today I have been working on our family room.  I took apart our at-least-30-years-old brownish metallic ceiling fan and spray painted it.  It takes a few moments to write this, but most of the day to do it.  I unscrewed the bulbs and removed the glass shades.  I wiped the dust bunny colony off the blades, washed the glass shades, and found a pleasant surprise: they weren't really frosted yellow, but clear glass!  The metal parts got a new, shiny coat of silver, and the blades went white.  I actually got it put back together before dinner.

I made dinner.  Yes, with spray paint on my fingers.  It was pizza and I didn't make enough (durn growing boys).  I washed, folded, and put away a load of towels.  I washed a load of jeans and gently dumped them in the middle of the floor because they look nice there.  I drove carpool to the school in the morning and in the afternoon, and went back again later because David had to stay after school (too many missed math assignments, I think.  Must have mother-talk with him.).

I listened to Alec tell me about how he asked a girl out to Prom (filled her locker with chocolate kisses.  She opens her locker, they all spill out, and she finds a note to the tune of "now that I've kissed the ground you walk on, would you accompany me to Prom?"  I also gave him a shoulder massage.  He loves me now.

I did my Pilates workout.  I didn't complain too much.  I visited with my amazing mother.  I babysat two of my adorable nieces.  I let the big boys watch Psych (their favorite show), and the little ones watch Green Eggs and Ham.  I acquired a gallon of "oops" paint in a lovely minty-sagey green color - just perfect for my bedroom (thanks, Erica!).  I did the dishes.  I made sure two scouts got to their meetings on time.  I held and loved on my babies.

But I didn't pay the bills, or get to the grocery store.  Good thing there is a tomorrow!

Today I am happy.

Man Make-up

No, there is no cross-dressing going on in our home.  Only the women (and that's just me!) wear make-up around here.  Make-up is so ubiquitous that we sometimes don't even notice it.  And then again, sometimes we do.

Trent was waiting in the line at a fast food joint.  He, the boys, and some of my brothers had gone to get an ice cream together.  When he returned home, he was telling me (while letting me finish his yummy Oreo shake) about the cashier.

"She was watching the couple at the front of the line argue about what they were going to order.  Her head stayed still, her expression never changed, but her eyes darted back and forth from one argue-er to the other, like she was watching a very boring tennis match."  Trent went on, "But the thing that made it all perfect were her eyes.  She had on very dark eye make-up, which exaggerated her bored look.  You know, the black..." he paused, searching for the word, his expressive hands drawing circles over his eyes, "...highlighter."

Yes, I do know.  And it's called eyeliner.  


And thanks for sharing your shake!

Stuffy Noses

Angel was complaining about an early morning bout of congestion.  She said, "I can't breathe wif mine nose because it is all stuck up."

Hospitality

I was looking through my photos and found some that took my breath away.  Alaska always does that to me.  Trent and I had the fortunate/unfortunate opportunity to go to Alaska last year.  Unfortunate because the occasion was a funeral - a sad "see you later" to a great man.  Fortunate because we got to go on a trip together (with our nursing babies, but without the other kidlets), and also because, come on, this is ALASKA!

It was a wonderful, whirlwind trip.  I was not anticipating how tired I would be, travelling four thousand miles and taking two red-eye flights - with two babies - within a week.  I was also not anticipating that Trent would fall so head-over-heels in love with Valdez.  We've even checked out houses for sale - all four of them.  :-)  But that's not what I wanted to post about.

It was so nice, after our trip up, to be able to crash at the welcoming home of a very sweet lady.  She opened her home to us, strangers, and took such good care of us.  It got me thinking of how I'd like to hostess people in my home.  My thoughts, in no particular order:

- Comfortable bed.  Not just the old one that we haven't thrown out yet.  And nice, sweet-smelling sheets.  And plenty of blankets and pillows.
- Alarm clock.  And perhaps a small pitcher of water to drink on the nightstand, a lamp, notepad and pen, and a garbage can.
- Toiletries.  Fluffy towels, shampoo, conditioner, razor, soap, lotion, hair dryer, hair spray, nail clippers and all the things you can't take on the plane anymore.
- Local events.  Brochures and ideas of things to see and do in the area.  I'd like to be better about taking my guests out to entertain them than just expect them to fit into my schedule.
- Pretty room.  Bed nicely made, room decorated well.  I want them to feel loved and pampered, not like they are in the way.
- Quiet.  Sometimes we all need a little bit of downtime or privacy, especially when travelling.
- Good food.  Yummy and heartwarming as well as tummy-filling - served with a smile and cheerful company.
- Think ahead.  I'd rather be over-prepared than leave my guests shivering with a thin "let me know if you need anything."

We just figured out how many thousands of dollars it will take to take the whole family back to visit Valdez.  Aack!  I think we'll just have to roll out the welcome mat and hope some of those good people will come to our place.  I'll go fluff the towels and try out a new breakfast casserole.