I've Been Stimulated By Bush

What did you buy with your government hush money? We spent our stimulus package on a couch and chair! Jenny helped me come up with ideas to convince husband that it was absolutely necessary to spend the money on furniture instead of boring stuff like...bills. We decided to go with the following pitches;

1. Tell husband that the current couch had been recalled because the fabric causes cancer.
2. Casually mention that the neighbors came over for a chat on the couch, and by the way they have Typhoid.
3. Point out that the metal bar sticking out of the bottom of our current sofa will end up costing us more in ER bills than buying a new sofa would.

In the end he fell for the night of a 1000 BJs pitch again. Someday he's going to figure out that he should ask for payment up front. Till then we'll just file this one with all the other "Night Of" IOU's.
(And yes, we got the dark brown chair too. And yes, I'm totally freaking out that the "chocolate" color will end up looking like "poo". We also bought the set last week when both pieces were almost $300 less! Each! The customer service lady told me that these might go on sale Memorial Day weekend again. Just in case you want to have a poo colored chair too.)

Picture Day: T Ball

Grandma and Daughter being silly.

Coach Dad and Son.

"Yes! First Base!"

Coach Dad points the way home.

The Disease That Kills Kittens

Click on the picture to see what horrible malady the poor young gent suffers from.

Link via Slightly Warped

Elkhorn Flea Market Pics

Tela, Mom, my 2 Aunts and I had a really nice time at the Elkhorn Flea Market. The Aunts are from Racine, WI so they met us there. While Mom and Tela were forced to road trip it in my slippery when wet minivan. One of the things I love about having Tela along is that she has this contagious woody woodpecker laugh. So when she teases because you've said "Arewethereyet. Doyouthinkitwillbemuchlonger? Doya? Eh?" for the fifth time you can't help but crack up with her.

We made a pit stop to ask for directions and I found this funny sign on a gas station fridge case. Lost energy for only 99 cents? Sold!

Here's a picture of Tela totally not amused by the freezing weather, or how excited her sister was about it. I was all, "The dealers will totally give us a cheap price now because they just want to pack it up!" and she was all "What? Did you say something? I couldn't hear you over my CHATTERING TEETH!".

I was so nervous as we approached the button lady's stall, but it was still there!

Behold the glory that is a card table groaning with awesome buttons...

And she is so organized. The bins are sorted by type; glass, vegetable ivory, etc. And then the button are attached to these cards by hand. You can buy individual ones off the big cards, but the little ones are sold as one piece. And they truly go for a song compared to Ebay or Etsy. I swear I was shaking by the time I got halfway through the bins.

I talked with her for awhile and found out that she opens up a card table, slides it against her dining room set and sorts buttons for hours at home. No TV, just her and her buttons. When I asked if I could take a picture with her she was a little WTF strange lady? But in a sweet, elderly WTF kind of way. So I grabbed a nearby customer and asked her to push the button on my camera. I look awful in the picture, but I have to post it because it has the button lady in it. My chin could give Duddly Do right a run for his money. And I think I gave myself the sugah-betes by eating too much cotton candy so I'm squinting through a headache.


Isn't she adorable though? Pictures of the stash coming soon...

Sign 104 That I'm Wicked

There are times when I'm sure my impatience has destined me for a straight ride to Hades. Namely, my total impatience with handicapped workers. At the Jewel I have to count backwards from 100 as the sweet, smiling lady puts a single item in a plastic grocery sack. Ties it up. Then gently places it inside the cart. She does this for every single piece of food in the cart until you have used enough plastic bags to stroke out any environmentalist.

So today at the car wash I knew I was getting a metaphysical slap upside the head for this huffiness. I agreed to get the "Vinyl protection plan" for the interior of the minivan. Lured by the promise that apple juice would just roll right off the newly treated vinyl for the low cost of $16.99.

So after cleaning the interior of the van they pulled it over to the side and handed a handsome and handicapped gentleman a squirter of Armor All and a sponge. God bless his heart, but daughter and I sat at the car wash for almost 2 hours waiting for him to wipe down that interior in slow motion.

Finally, I had to walk over to another employee and ask that they pretty please help our guy to wrap it up. So another worker came over, did a quick and thorough wipe down and then told the our dude it was all done. The handicapped guy stopped, frowned and decided that he needed to do over all the work the other guy had just done. And slowly started wiping the car again.

About a half hour later (It's been 2 and half hours at this point) I just walked up and put daughter in her car seat and started to close doors. I thanked him, told him "great job!" and gave him a big tip. He looked peeved that I had interrupted his task, sighed and walked away.

Seriously, our car had been absolutely K-Y'ed. The steering wheel was so slippery I couldn't even grip it. The interior was so slicked up my sunglasses wouldn't even stay inside their little tray. Which was probably best because I needed them to block the intense shine once the sunlight hit the car as we drove away.

So I hear you universe. But maybe a little less lube in my next lesson?

Potty, Boy Trouble and Hostas

Is it really Friday already? Just checking in so you don't think I've Oxy Powdered myself to death. So far this "cleanse" is like having a mild and manageable stomach flu. No cramps or queasy tummy. You can hold it in. But you need to be near a potty about every 2 to 3 hours. Lots of emphatic, "Come on kids time to USE THE POTTY!" at Target.

Mostly I've been preoccupied with the son situation. I'm not sure how much to disclose since I don't want him to read this years from now with mortification. (Unlike finding out his mom talked about bowel habits online. Cause that's not mortifying. Nope, not at all.) Acceptable public parent embarrassment seems to include; telling stories of naked mall streaking and bad haircuts. Behavior issues...maybe not so much? But we're working on helping him out and staying normal and upbeat.

Not much funny in me today I'm afraid. I'm going to take the kids to the park and then split Hostas. Enjoy the day.

Best Ebay Feedback Ever

Plus this is totally how I feel about you. Totally.

Checking In With Kate

Since Kate died I've had time to sort out the whole relationship a bit. I'm realizing that she was a survivor, and being with a survivor can be daunting. They tend to bring close all the horrible things that we would rather not think about. But time has helped me to be able to look back and appreciate her more, to focus on the good conversations. And to again be grateful that she was brave enough to go through the adoption process.

Kate was very spiritual. She believed that when she died she would watch over all of those that she loved. So when I got a package in the mail today from Milwaukee I knew it was from Kate. Her best friend Linda sent me some art work and poetry that Kate had created when she was alive. Here is one of the poems, I typed it exactly as she wrote it.

Child of my womb
Born out of rivers of pain
washing away the sorrow
as the years passed by.

Child of my womb
Raised by others, as I set you free
to chose another path
than that which bound you to me

Child of my womb
Now a woman, in your own right
keeping me awake at night
Wondering, wandering in who
you have become

Child of my womb
Married lady, mother of your
own child of your womb
Blessed be your life and
those beyond.

- Rev. Kate Bradley

Gin In My Apron Pocket: Cleaning House

Call it snake oil if you will - but I swear I feel so much better after wearing those detox foot patches. Less achy and more energized. I even had a momfriend at preschool exclaim that I looked a lot brighter and perkier this week. Foot patches!

I talked husband into trying the patches with me - though he teased mercilessly when I pulled out my herby smelling Ziploc bag. Forcing me to listen to his "You put your weed in it" routine. Believe me, if I thought they would work better if I smoked them I would be rolling Takara blunts. Of course my patches were black as tar in the morning, while his had barely an inch of schmutz on them. Figures his asprin-shunning self would be squeaky clean.

I'm carrying on this theme of natural cleansing by knocking back my first dose of Oxy Powder tonight. The bottle says to take 4 of these GIANT sized pills a night for a week. They recommended taking them with a glass of lemon water. How nice. There is no way water would carry these poo missiles down my throat. I had to scrunch up my eyes, attempt to relax my swallower and then drink a big gulp of Budweiser after each pill. If it works, you may not hear from me for awhile.

In other self improvement news I've lost another pound and a half since my last Gin posting. This brings me down to 210.5 and one less stink eye from the Weight Watcher lady. I've also been making husband wake my lazy butt up earlier in the morning. (This task is better assigned to him than an alarm clock as my poor hearing prevents me from registering those high pitched electronic beeps. The only thing I hear are those heavy duty wind ups. And they tend to traumatize the children.)

I used to love lying in bed in the morning and listening to husband take care of the kids. Knowing that for that brief half hour I was in charge of no one. But I've been trying to get up earlier so that I've performed my morning absolutions before husband leaves for work. And being able to shower and blow dry without having to referee wee boxing matches makes for a much better mommy mood. I'm learning that the payoff for being groomed, and prepared for the day is worth giving up that fake-sleep time. I think. Honestly, I think the fact that I can choose to get up earlier is pretty exciting. There was a time when dragging my feet out of bed felt like the hardest thing in the world to do.

Don't forget to check out what the other gin tippers are up to...

The Evil Martha Stewart
Mama 'Aint Happy
Kellyology
Notes From A Stay At Home Mom
Work In Progress
I Invented Motherhood
Bananas and Toddlers
Soy Is The New Black
The Grim Reality
Southern Suds and Lather
Pela Awakens
Flea D'Lure
Creative Rambling
MY Suburban Can Run Over Your Minivan.....and Will
Mama Fidel
Multiple Baby Pileup
You Couldn't Make It Up
Birth Control Without The Side Effects
The Babbles of a Brady
Sulky Cat
No Regrets For Me
La Dee Flippin Da

And it's not too late to join if you want to!

Headlines

Husband and I always crack up over Jay Leno's headlines so we loved this best of video. (via Neatorama) We especially laughed over the "free twinkies" ad because it reminds us of the odd things that come up on our Freecycle email. When you join Freecycle you sign up to get emails that list things that folks in your area are giving away for free. You might think the email would be filled with giveaways like an old washing machine or maternity clothes. But no, people are constantly listing items like "Free: Half eaten box of Nilla Wafers. Still pretty fresh. Pick up only". And what's funnier is that in the next round of emails it will say "Taken: Box of Nilla Wafers." Who the hell went and got those stale cookies?

Vintage Button Stash

I'm cleaning and sorting my supplies in preparation for the flea market binge I intend to do next weekend. So I was able to put a big bunch of vintage buttons up on ebay. The bag is filled with about 99.9% vintage buttons. But there are one or two new ones in it. If you end up buying the stash and you are a reader be sure to let me know so I can add some extra goodies to the package.

Thanks!

Oh Happy Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all of you mom's to be, new moms, old hat moms, grandmoms, adoptive moms, Auntie-moms, everymoms!

Amazing what a little debt will buy

New steps! They seem so big right now. So much cement! But husband assures me that once the new flower beds are in and the railing is up it will look more proportionate. I'm thrilled to be rid of our cracked steps with the weeds growing out of the bottom. Thrilled! So why is it I can't stop eyeballing that little paint splattered roof? Wouldn't it look so much better with some cedar shingles? And our house lights are so freaking teeny tiny. Were they that small when we bought them? Maybe some copper window boxes would help balance it out? Wait...what's that sound? Oh, it's the sound of husband reading over my shoulder and getting ready to throttle me.

And our house isn't sinking sideways into the earth, though I feel like I am right now. I had one overwhelming parent teacher conference this morning. Son's having a hard time at school. In general really. Nothing frightening, but enough of an issue that the teacher recommended we talk to "someone" about it. In the meantime, I'm trying hard to hold back the flood of "I've totally f'ed up my child" guilt so I can take care of what needs to be taken care of.

Love a Good JackHammer In The Morning

It's 6:45 AM and our neighbors LOVE us!

And yes, the house next door to us is two colors. They started painting it 3 years ago. But they're totally going to "try to get it to it soon" so I'm not worried.

More to come....

Tea Bag'n Feet

I was totally going to take a picture of my used Detox Foot Patch this morning. But when son started making "ack, ack" dry heaving noises when he saw them I decided not to. Quite nasty.

When you first put them on they look like rectangular, over stuffed tea bags. (Which will no doubt lead to nightly tea-bagg'n jokes from husband when I stick them on my feet) You really need to slap these on at bedtime since there is no way you could walk around with these pouches on your feet. They would burst and the little dehydrated flecks of Japanese voodoo would spray out around your sandals. So put them on before bed and then slip some socks on over the top.

I swear that the spots that I put the foot patches on felt kind of hot. Like something was working. (But that could have been because I pumiced the hell out of them before applying.) When you put them on the outer cotton is a pristine white. By morning, "ack", the herby insides have sort of melted into a lump. And the outside of the cotton is a dark tar black. Some say it's the toxins that have come out of your body. I tend to think it's more a reaction of the heat of your feet with the foot patch innards.

I got the variety pack of patches and last night I tried the Gold patch which is supposed to help with;

"Fatigue, headache, double vision, blood pressure, arthritis,rheumatism, skin problems, stress, slow learning, hot flashes due to menopause, and mood swings. Manufacturer recommends this for those who suffer from Crohn's disease, Fibromyalgia. Also recommended for heavy metals detoxing."

Quite a snake-oil like list of cures. But oddly, my feet didn't hurt at all when I woke up this morning. And usually I'm hobbled till they stretch back out after walking around. No pain at'all. Maybe it helped with inflammation somehow? Tonight I'm taping some shrooms to my feet with the Silver Agaricus patch. This one is supposed to fight off uterine cancer and reduce blood pressure. I'll let you know if I feel especially cancer free on Friday.

(By the way I'm sharing this because I'm an over sharer and not because I'm making some mad foot patch money of any kind.)

Elkhorn Flea Market

I'm totally excited to be going to The Elkhorn, WI flea market on May 18th. That's the flea market that the infamous button lady works at. I hope she's still kicking because I really want to visit her stall under the bleachers.

If you live nearby I urge you to check out the market. It is far cleaner than the Kane County, IL flea market and not as overwhelming large. And the roasted corn is the best. When I was pregnant I stopped at the end of each aisle to buy something. I'd do a row, buy a funnel cake. Do a row, buy a brat. It was heaven.

I'll be there with my mom and my sister. Just look for the blonde lady humping the leg of any good button seller. And I promise to take pictures.

Ecommerce Interview

Dane Carlson's Business Opportunities Weblog interviewed me. I'm not terribly riveting but I did remember to thank all of you guys for your awesome support in it. And there is a giveaway of a free necklace if you leave a comment on their site.

Picture Day: Zoo and Apple

Bingo, Blow Jobs and Sleep

I dig my new Bingo necklace. Mostly because I took a wire wrapping class at a local bead shop (Circle of Stones in Lagrange, IL) and used my learn'n to add the red bead to the necklace. It's fun to start learning how to do some jewelry making that doesn't involve glue. I'm trying to pace myself with the huffing of toxic epoxy that's required to make button rings.


I actually ordered some of those foot patches that are supposed to draw out all the metals and toxins from your body. It's quite possible that sticking a Dora The Explorer bandaid to the bottom of my heel will be just as effective. But I'm an easy sell for anything that promises to get nasty gunk out of me. And for some reason I've been super pale and lethargic lately. Jenny suggested that my monthly hemorrhaging might be making me anemic. I shudder to think I might have to take those God awful iron pills from pregnancy. I would rather give head than try to swallow one of those nasty, big pills. In fact, I think they should put that on the warning label.

I also had my nightly, "Why I suck as a mother" talk with my husband yesterday. Last night the topic was my general intolerance of the kid's shenanigans. It seems like they don't listen to me anymore. I ask nicely, I speak firmly, and then the voice that makes demons seem friendly finally gets their attention. But it's saddening having to speak like your head's going to start spinning around in order to get the kids to stop kicking each other over the last 100 calorie pack.

Husband suggested that sleep might be helpful. No more staying up till the wee hours on Twitter, or being crafty. Reinvest some Etsy cash into an afternoon sitter and then actually go to bed at a decent hour. So last night I hit the sheets at 11:30 instead of 1:30, sure I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. But I was sawing logs after about 5 minutes of pillow time. Which made me realize I don't have insomnia. I have the "the house is quiet and no one will ask me for a sippy cup at midnight" affliction. At midnight I can sit with a bowl of popcorn and husband won't ask me to review the bills, daughter won't see what it feels like to pee on the laundry pile, son won't tell me that my girl kisses are disgusting and the dog won't hump my leg. It's like the golden hour.

It's going to be hard to give that up man.

What My Days Feel Like

Ready. Set. Aaaaaaaaah!

Dick and Jane and Mother Garbage Pick

Daughter and I drove by a house that had boxes and boxes lined up out front, the signal for "garbage" in Brookfield. So of course, we pulled over to garbage pick. The owners came out when we were elbow deep and explained that their mother needed to go to a home and they were cleaning out her house. Truly, there was an antique shop's inventory on their front lawn. They urged us to take what we wanted before The Salvation Army truck pulled up.

Daughter was a huge helper, and we managed to load up vintage glasses, bowls, record players, toys and a really cool Paul Bunyan tee shirt for son. It was a good thing we stepped lively, because the truck rumbled up about 15 minutes after we arrived. The family was fantastically generous, and we have most of the items in our house. But I am selling a few things on eBay. One of which is a set of Dick and Jane readers.

It sort of breaks my heart to see "Bruce" and "Barry" written on the covers of the readers in childish handwriting. Bruce and Barry are grown men with grown children of their own, but their little boy handwriting is something their mom hung onto till the near end. I know that even though my kids are 2 and 5, in about 10 seconds I'm going to be peeing on my rubber mattress while they puzzle through all the "junk" I saved over the years. All grown up, but for the scrawl on crumbling preschool projects mom couldn't throw away.


But I was only allowed to get sentimental for a moment. Because life chose to open up one of the readers I was thumbing through to the page where Dick and Jane's mom makes a great game out of plastic dry cleaning bags;

"Here is something you can play with while I rest," said Mother.

"Three plastic dry cleaning bags for us to play with," said Jane.

"See, see, no airholes," said the Dick.