It has been one hell of a week.

I mean to say.

★So as I start the prospect of my busy weekend, I feel like I need to come to you, my peoples of the intranet, and give you the update of what's been up over here at my house. (Not actually at my house, this particular use of in my house is used as Urban Slang, as in, "This is my house, yo. Stay outta my house."

Because I've got street cred and stuff.

Stop laughing.

I'm not gonna dance for you, though. So you're safe. )

★So now I'm going to go about the business of the grocery store to prepare for the company we're having this weekend (dinners both tonight and tomorrow), cleaning the house, preparing my supplies to paint at church (Yeah, I paint during the service. It's out there, but very cool all the same) and memorize the rest of my lines. All in 48 hours.

Cover me. I'm going in.
Her name is Christine, and she lives in my mother's GPS.

The name Christine is a nod to Mr, King, of course.

(My name is not, FYI.)

Seriously, though, I've driven all over the Metroplex this week. I went to Dallas to see David, Ft. Worth to see Kristi and Sally, Hurst to see Deadra, and Irving to see Cherie and Rachel. These folks run the gamut of pals from my very oldest friend that I've known since we were three, to a former student of mine that just graduated with her theatre degree.

But to go all these places and not succumb to my truly hopeless sense of direction (Nolan says that I can't find my butt with two hands and a flashlight), my mother leant me her GPS.

I've learned that a GPS is a truly helpful thing. It's a bit unnerving, though, the first time you hear the placid, disembodied voice telling you, "In 1.8 miles, turn left." It gives you sort of a big brother vibe, all rolled up with the creepiness of the book about the 1958 Plymouth Fury come to life.

And even though she's truly a help, there's always room for operator error. If the girl said, "Recalculating," once, she said it four hundred times. I evidently don't follow directions very well. She got huffy a few times, and I swear I heard her roll her eyes more than once, but for the most part, she's a lot like me. She repeats herself ( a lot) when she doesn't get a response, gets a little irritated when things don't go her way, and shuts up when things are good.

I like her. I don't need one, given that I can drive anywhere I need to in my hometown in less than 20 minutes. But if I lived here, I sure would. I'd even have one built into the car, maybe.

As long as it wasn't a Fury.
Someone recently asked the question, "So, have we become our parents?"

My first reaction? 'Oh, heck no. I'm still cool.'

Which is a dead giveaway for someone who is patently not cool to say.

I've noticed for some time that my behavior, what comes out of my mouth, specifically when dealing with my kiddos, sounds a lot like the advice that someone once gave me. I think I've even called my sister and said, "Oh, my gosh! I'm MOM!" I give you a list of examples, for your Wednesday evening perusal:

The top ten! )
† I am uninspired by the blue strawberry. *frowns* Everything I've started out writing is blerghy. I do like the quote, though. Also, did not get kicked out on the first round. *confetti throw*

† Mosquitoes are from the devil. I've been having a weird reaction to them this year. The bite area gets really red and swollen and hot, and then it hurts for a few days. Also - bug spray is gross.

† Made strawberry balsamic jam, two batches of blueberry peach, and plain peach jam over the past few days. I think I'm done being the pioneer woman, for awhile.

† It's impossible to keep my home clean and orderly with the boys home. They are a whirling tornado of sloppiness that have waaaaay more energy than I do. If I told them to clean up every mess they make, I'd just be cleaning constantly. And yelling all the time... so... School starts in a month. *nods*

† My house is too big. By the time I'm done really giving it a good go, cleaning wise, it's time to start over. No, Nolan, I don't want to move.

† Saw Despicable Me Friday with the kiddos. I laughed a little, I suppose. And little Agnes was cuuuuute ("It's so fluffy, I'm gonna DIE!"), but overall, I'd give it a meh.

† My mom's in Russia right now, and they didn't take their cell phones or laptop, so are unreachable for the next 10 days. It's not like I NEED my mother; I'm 37 years old for crying out loud, but knowing I can't talk to her is irritating. She and Tom are taking a cruise down a river in Russia, though. Sounds cool, right?

And now, for your reading pleasure, here's a story in which I humiliate both myself and a fourteen year-old boy simultaneously. *curtsies*

Get a coke. This one is sort of long. )
persephone33: (Mini Scotty)
( May. 25th, 2010 01:09 pm)
Because I need to see this in black and white:
  • Make Ethan's birthday dinner tonight.  He could have chosen anything in the world, and he chose hamburgers and hot dogs, God bless him.  I used to ask my mom for Chicken Kiev and Chicken Fried Steaks for my birthday dinners.  Sorry, Mom.
  • I still have to decorate his cake.  With a Marine Corps insignia?  Um...  going to have to Google that.  Oh, good grief.  Looks hard.
  • make 2 dozen deviled eggs for the funeral meal I'm in charge of coordinating tomorrow.
  • also make 2 peach cobblers.
  • also finish dipping 4 dozen cake truffles
  • also prepare two briskets
  • also be at church to set up, receive prepared food and clear up after
  • clean house for home group dinner tomorrow, pick up fajita meat and peppers and onions from Ruby Tequila's
  • mow the yard before home group tomorrow?  I don't see this happening.  People can see the long grass.
  • Thursday...  there was something on Thursday?  Shoot.
  • Write (heartfelt?) thank you notes to each of the boy's teachers (5) and send them to school before Friday
  • Pack for our trip to Denver on Friday
  • Fix Nolan's ipod with all the stuff he wants on it before Friday
  • Find some time in there to workout...
Okay.  That doesn't look so bad.  Cover me.  I'm goin' in. 

**You know how some people say, "OMG!" as an acronym? I'm instituting "LHM!" for "Lord have Mercy!" It's gonna catch on. I can feel it.
persephone33: (Default)
( May. 9th, 2010 02:06 am)
I have lots of memories of my mother as a little girl. Our home was modest, but always comfortable. Money was tight, but my mother still made breakfast, packed our lunches and made sure a hot dinner was on the table every night. I remember coming home from playing outside and smelling dinner cooking as I walked up to our front porch and thinking, "Wow, that smells great!" Mom made me clothes, braided my hair, rolled it up in pink spongy rollers for church, then hot rollers when I got older. She taught me "Pain for beauty" and "Pretty is as pretty does" and the dangers of navelgazing (Mom's term for being too self-obsessed). She made sure that I didn't leave the house in jeans that were too tight, let me raid her closet and jewelry box, and taught me that less makeup really is more.

Mother always made sure that the tooth fairy did her job, that the Easter Bunny was on time, and that Santa Claus used different wrapping paper than all the other presents under the tree. Christmas was always an especially fun time; we baked Christmas cookies and hung out in the little kitchen at 214 E. Vilbig Street, watching mom do what she did best.

She changed my sheets and washed my clothes, gardened and grew vegetables for the family to eat, taught me the value of work and to aim higher, to be consistent, to not be satisfied with mediocre results, and that unless I was bleeding out, I was going to school. She taught me that no good would ever come of whining, and that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. I learned the value of getting a job and making money, and the pride that comes from a job well done.

Mom helped to give me (and Nolan by default) an incredible wedding. Nolan and I still say that that our reception was the best party we've ever been to. (And hey, we're us. We've been to some great parties. Not only is mother a good mom, she's also a good mother-in-law. Nolan and Mom didn't really like each other for the first few years we were married; I remember some pretty intense "discussions" (read: fights) but thankfully, due to some unspoken agreement between the two of them and their mutual love for me, I believe that they truly love one another now as mother and son without any strife at all. That gives me more joy than you can possibly imagine.

She's a phenomenal grandmother. All it took for her to hop a plane to Amarillo when I was two weeks past my due date with Ethan was that she couldn't reach us on the phone. She took a cab from the airport and showed up at the hospital; the woman loves me, and she adores my sons. I LOVE that she loves my kids. They adore her, too, and get so excited when "Granny Carolyn and Papa Tom" are coming to visit. (As a sidenote? I love Tom more than my luggage. I'm sad for everyone who doesn't have Tom in their lives.)

And today, after Nolan, mom is the first person I want to tell my good news to, one of the only people I call when I need to cry and the one I talk to when I need someone to pull me back from the edge of insanity. She's a strong woman, a wonderful mom and a great Granny. We couldn't possibly ask for anything more.

Love, you, Momma. Happy Mother's Day. And because I'm me and half Dad's (and a procrastinator to the very end despite all your hard work), your present is gonna be late. I'm nothing if not consistent. And that's all due to you, little woman.
persephone33: (Mad Ninja Skillz)
( May. 6th, 2010 03:35 pm)
It's documented. Look it up.

(It's only documented right here, but whatever.)

Nolan decided to take me to San Fransisco this weekend! We only just decided to go on Monday, and we leave in the morning, so it all sort of snuck (not a word. sue) up on me. I have managed to exercise with a friend, do all the laundry, pack for the kids and I, and get Ethan's choir uniform and tie dyed t-shirt ready for his performance tomorrow (Which I'm going to miss! I'm a bad mom. A mom who will be in California having goooooood wine). I've been to the chiropractor (because my back protested all the mopping I did yesterday -- but the floors are SOOOO mopped), the dollar store to get supplies for my acting class this afternoon, managed to cook my lunch for this insanely healthy VLC diet, AND went to JoAnne's, got fabric, filling and thread, and made AJ a phase 2 moon costume (Um...don't ask. I didn't) for his school play on Tuesday.

I did not get to the post office. Sorry Mom and [ profile] leigh_adams, the stuff I need to send you is sitting on my dresser, mocking me. It'll be next week and late, but still super cool. My most sincere apologies to the both of you.

My literary friend Holle Wood (aka [ profile] norablackbird, not that she ever uses her LJ and YES, that is her real name) dropped off some new books for me to read! Wheeeeeeeee! I love reading on airplanes. It's the BEST. Thanks, Holle!

Now I'm off to teach class have dinner with a group of girlfriends and see the musical 'Grease,' for which I made two quilts , three kelly green cheerleader skirts and sewed a ton of hot pink rickrack to fuzzy white bathrobes for the Beauty School Dropout number. I cannot think of a better way to kick off my vacation weekend!

See you all on Tuesday!

And happy mother's day to my sweet mom, and all you other girls out there with kidlets. Have a great day!
So. I'm a seamstress. I sew. Before you pass judgment and go, "LAME!" let me explain. I only sew really, really cool stuff. Or stuff that can be used in cool ways. Stuff that I like.

Yeah, maybe it is lame. Read on if you aren't convinced I'm destined for "dorkiest" at my 20 year (gag) high school reunion. Oooh. I hope they don't give out that award. That would SUCK.

Again, I digress. I'm here to tell you a story. And let me preface with this: if I had actually leaned the fundamentals of sewing from my mother, I wouldn't be in this mess. My mother has always sewed. She made me a lot of cute clothes when I was little, along with some unfortunate culottes, but, hey. It was the eighties. What could she do?

I didn't learn to sew from mom. And even if she'd tried to teach me, I wouldn't have let myself BE taught from her. It's like cooking. Our personalities don't mesh well in academia. In other ways, we get on great, just not when she's trying to tell me what to do. Because I automatically want to do it MY WAY; and MY WAY, though well intended, never works as well as Her Way. Probably 'cause she's the mom and has 24 years on me.

Dang it, I digressed again.And it's not for me, either. )
persephone33: (practically perfect in every way)
( Mar. 7th, 2010 02:43 pm)
Hello, lovely friends!

Life has positively eaten me over the last week. With Nolan gone, every spare minute was spent either sewing, acting or sleeping. The show is going really, really well; I've received more compliments for my performance on this one that I have in a long time. Just about every line gets a laugh. It's very gratifying. But that's not what I'm here to talk about. *see title*

Bet you didn't know those were possible. )

And my sweet husband is home safe and sound, praise the Lord. I could not be happier. I'll post pictures and tell stories from his trip later, but right now we're busy talking and cuddling and having some good quality time together.
persephone33: (Christmas converse)
( Dec. 8th, 2009 11:48 am)
Toasted coconut, lotsa pictures, and how we spent our afternoon, yesterday. )

Oh. I guess I forgot the toasted coconut part. Those were yummy cookies, too.
I don't like dolphins, woodland creatures on the whole, celery, wrinkly things in baked goods (if there are brown chunks it needs to be chocolate or nuts), tapioca pudding, or gourds of any kind.

Gourds... like pumpkins, squashes, zucchini, the melon family, etc. Don't bring it around here. We'll not have it. (Well, my family might. But since I'm the head cook, grocery shopper and bottle washer, I speak for all three of the boys and myself.)

I think pumpkin pie is an aberration of nature. To quote my sister, "I think people should make dessert out of something that is, oh, I don't know, NOT a vegetable."

Preach it, Em.

SO when Mom sent me this, she knew I'd think it was freaking hysterical.

Thanksgiving Bathroom Humor )

HEE! &hearts Thanks, Mom. I'm still grinning.
persephone33: (maid)
( May. 20th, 2009 10:23 am)
If you're a boy, you can stop reading now.

You've been warned.

Okay. Don't say I didn't tell you to turn back.

My mother is perhaps one of the most generous people that I know. She always gives thoughtful gifts, things that she knows that I'll like, and she always brings me presents when she visits: a pound of coffee, good chocolate, sometimes clothes. But one of the things that I love that she does is when she brings me stuff that she's bought for herself that she ends up not liking, or it doesn't fit her right. I've gotten loads of shirts and a few skirts, lipsticks, perfumes, a few pieces of jewelry, etc. It's fun!

So last fall before we went on our cruise and she came to stay with the boys, I really didn't think anything of it when she brought me a bra. We almost wear the same size, and I thought it was just one of her cast offs. And let me just tell you, that this bra is life changing. It's really, really comfortable, has tons of support without an horrific under wire (See, you boys that are still reading? I told you to turn back.) and gives the girls some of their pep back. I love this bra. Love it. And it didn't have any tags at all on it, so before we left, I asked mom, "Where did you get this thing? It's fantastic. I want five more just like it!"

The rest of the bra story )

Oh, and speaking of bras, check this out. Would you wear a bra that pushes your d-cups up and out when your temperature rises? I... think that's a bad idea, personally. But that's coming from a girl who wears hand-me-downs from a unknown park tramp. :)
Everyone has a mother, or perhaps a mother figure in their lives. I'm grateful to my own mom, whom I've grown closer to as the years go by. My mom didn't teach me a lot of things, but I've managed to emulate her talents nonetheless; she's a fabulous cook, and she's a better seamstress than I'll ever be. We're also opposites in lots of ways. Where her home might be cluttered, it's always CLEAN, and mine is most often the other way around. The best thing about my mom? She's an awesome grandmother to my boys and I love watching them love her.

I remember lots of things about Mom, whose name is Carolyn, by the way. Isn't that a pretty name?

Anyhow, some stories...I grew up in the Dallas area, and even as a small child I remember being in the backseat of the car, driving around for hours, asking her, "Are you lost again?" ( a similarity between us.) Or her being a PTA president when I was in the second grade, or being a room mother in my class. When I was very young, I remember going to class with her (she taught fourth grade) and wanting to be one of her students. (I am a teacher.) In later years, when I was fifteen and difficult, she gave me nuggets of invaluable advice: "Pretty is as pretty does," and "Whiners leave," (I use that one a lot) "Pain for Beauty," and "No one likes a navel gazer." (Do you see a theme here? I guess I was pretty self-involved as a young woman.) She also pointed out that sometimes I was nicer to total strangers than I was to my own family (and to reconsider that), and that I should think of others before I considered my own wants. (I'd beat my kids over the head with this one if I thought it would make it sink in better.) She also loved me, reassured me, dried my many tears and stayed with me though countless illnesses, nursed me back to health a hundred times, came and stayed with me after I had my two sons and continues to be a rock when I need her. The cool thing is now? She uses me for that sometimes, too.

Anyway, Mom's leaving on Sunday for NYC and probably won't get the Mother's day gift I sent (*sigh* it'll probably get there on Monday) and I wanted to publicly thank her for being my mom. It was a thankless task at best sometimes, and I appreciate her diligence in raising me right, and for still being there when I need her. (Love you, Mom!)

So, friends! What's your favorite "Mother" story? Either about your own mother or your best moment of being a mother? Tell me, tell me! Share!
I know. It's the sound of nothing.

My company for the weekend just left, Katie's sacked out on the brick floor by my feet, Nolan's taking a nap, and the boys are playing with a cardboard box in the garage. Thousands of dollars worth of toys and what do they play with? A cardboard box. A rock, a hoop and a stick is all they need. Boys.

Anyway. Mom & Tom gave us a housewarming gift of PLANTS! WOO HOO! I planted two big pots with all kinds of fun plants for the front porch, two pots of geraniums on the back porch, and started an herb garden in the backyard. I got my hands dirty. I hoed. I used a shovel. I actually perspired. I might even have a sunburn on my nose.

I was not cut out for manual labor.

As I was pulling the huge rocks and chunks of concrete from the herb garden, earth streaked on my face and cute little sundress splattered with mud, cursing the construction people that obviously didn't pick up after themselves, I had quite the Scarlett O'Hara moment... "As God as my witness I will never weed a flower bed again!"

Or something like that.

It was a little more melodramatic when you were right in the midst of it.

Pictures, anyone? )

Oh. I've been meaning to say. I have an extra copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. (Yes, I'm aware that it makes me a HUGE dork.) I'll mail it to the first person who leaves their address. Or emails their address to :D Ooops! Snagged by Nicole!
persephone33: (Muttley)
( Jan. 21st, 2008 04:14 pm)

I dropped a curling iron on MY FACE this morning.  It slipped.  Anyway, I'm howling ('cause it freaking hurt) and my mother calls in:

Mom.  Do you want some ice?

Me.   (yells) Yes, but we don't have any freaking ice, the ice maker quit (re: all things with a plug) last month.

Mom.  (walks in my bedroom)  Here.  This'll work.  (hands me a bottle of Bombay Sapphire that I keep in the freezer)  Soothe yourself with a bottle of gin.

Me.  (holds it to my face, mutters)  It wouldn't be the first time. 


And you wonder where I get it.  *snort*



persephone33: (Default)


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