Check out the new header that my beautiful, generous, and amazingly talented friend Sanna made for my blog. How cool is she? I love the tiara--isn't it so ME?
You should check out Sanna's store too. See the link over there on the right? Lots of good stuff there. I love the new rose purse.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Puppy Love
I love my big, dumb dog. Even though she stinks like stale Fritos and sheds all over my kitchen floor, she's still my dependable, furry little walking buddy.
This Lily cuddle photograph was captured by Ten.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Random Tuesday Thoughts
I'm zipping online for just a minute while peace reigns in my household. I realize that it's temporary so I'm taking advantage while I can. I put the boys in separate rooms with a book each and told them not to come out until they finished the book or I came to retrieve them--whichever comes first. Note: I will NOT be going in there to retrieve them any time soon.
Here's a few random thoughts:
Another reason I'm excited about moving to Hendersonville...Maggie Moo's and Marble Slab Creamery are within a mile of each other. On the way to Mom's Sunday after our realtor failed to show up for the Open House I stopped at Maggie Moo's to drown my sorrows in dairy goodness. Oh. My. Heavens. You MUST try the peanut butter ice cream with Reese's cups mixed in and served in a waffle bowl dipped in dark chocolate. Sa-wooooon! I took it outside to the marble fountain on the patio, propped my feet up, and dove in. But I couldn't finish it. I ordered the smallest size they sell but it was still too much to eat all at one time. I put my leftovers in Mom's freezer and ate the rest of it for dinner. Next time I'll order the child's portion.
So here's something funny I heard this week...
From my BFF's four-year-old when we were at the water park when we were sitting on a blanket talking, minding our own business, and she was inside the fence, choosing to pay attention to us instead of play in the water:
B: Could you guys please zip your lips?
Grace: No ma'am, we will not zip our lips. We're having a conversation and you're being rude.
B: Oh. Well, when you're finished talking to Miss Teble, then could you please zip your lips?
Ten acted like a very mature person this morning, giving me visions of the great man he's going to be someday. Ten and I (and Grace's oldest daughter) went to the funeral home to show support for his Girl Friend whose grandmother died unexpectedly on vacation last week. (Notice the space between the two words. He made a big deal of telling me that she's a girl who is his friend, but she's not his girlfriend.) Even though it was uncomfortable for him and he's not used to being in a situation like that, he comported himself with great poise and maturity. He even went with me to the open casket to pray for the grandmother. He hugged his Girl Friend without acting like a goofy boy and told her that he was sorry for her loss. I was proud of him.
Of course, the minute we got home he started arguing with his little brother and generally making a pest of himself because he is, after all, a ten-year-old boy. With a pesky seven-year-old brother.
Here's a few random thoughts:
Another reason I'm excited about moving to Hendersonville...Maggie Moo's and Marble Slab Creamery are within a mile of each other. On the way to Mom's Sunday after our realtor failed to show up for the Open House I stopped at Maggie Moo's to drown my sorrows in dairy goodness. Oh. My. Heavens. You MUST try the peanut butter ice cream with Reese's cups mixed in and served in a waffle bowl dipped in dark chocolate. Sa-wooooon! I took it outside to the marble fountain on the patio, propped my feet up, and dove in. But I couldn't finish it. I ordered the smallest size they sell but it was still too much to eat all at one time. I put my leftovers in Mom's freezer and ate the rest of it for dinner. Next time I'll order the child's portion.
So here's something funny I heard this week...
From my BFF's four-year-old when we were at the water park when we were sitting on a blanket talking, minding our own business, and she was inside the fence, choosing to pay attention to us instead of play in the water:
B: Could you guys please zip your lips?
Grace: No ma'am, we will not zip our lips. We're having a conversation and you're being rude.
B: Oh. Well, when you're finished talking to Miss Teble, then could you please zip your lips?
Ten acted like a very mature person this morning, giving me visions of the great man he's going to be someday. Ten and I (and Grace's oldest daughter) went to the funeral home to show support for his Girl Friend whose grandmother died unexpectedly on vacation last week. (Notice the space between the two words. He made a big deal of telling me that she's a girl who is his friend, but she's not his girlfriend.) Even though it was uncomfortable for him and he's not used to being in a situation like that, he comported himself with great poise and maturity. He even went with me to the open casket to pray for the grandmother. He hugged his Girl Friend without acting like a goofy boy and told her that he was sorry for her loss. I was proud of him.
Of course, the minute we got home he started arguing with his little brother and generally making a pest of himself because he is, after all, a ten-year-old boy. With a pesky seven-year-old brother.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
How bad was it?
It was so bad that even the realtor stayed away. **Updated**
Yep, it's a pretty good bet that your Open House is going to suck when your own realtor doesn't even show up.
No, unfortunately, I'm not even joking. We spent two and a half days washing windows and cleaning the house and our realtor didn't even bother to show up. Even worse, I couldn't track him down on his cell or at home or at the office. If WE can't get in touch with him, how are potential buyers supposed to reach him? I'm so mad right now I can't even stand it.
Luckily my husband is a great salesman. He stayed home to greet any "guests" we might have and I drove up to Mom's to pick up the kids. (See, we'd even made babysitting arrangements so we could get the house ready! Grrr!) One family and one lady came by and Dan played host, answered questions and did all the things that we're supposed to be paying our realtor to do. I swear, if we get an offer from one of these two groups I think Dan is going to earn the 6% commission!
**Updated at 9:36 pm: Dan talked to the realtor, finally, and found out that he had a "family emergency" today. Dan has all the details and I won't share them here. We're going to have another Open House next weekend, a "realtor's only" Open House some time this week, and an ad in the local paper (Hello? Why weren't they already putting ads in the local paper?) too. I'm trying to think very Christian, forgiving thoughts right now because I do like our realtor. He's a really nice guy and I want to have faith in his ability to sell my house.
Plus I don't want to resort to lap dances and car washes yet.
Yep, it's a pretty good bet that your Open House is going to suck when your own realtor doesn't even show up.
No, unfortunately, I'm not even joking. We spent two and a half days washing windows and cleaning the house and our realtor didn't even bother to show up. Even worse, I couldn't track him down on his cell or at home or at the office. If WE can't get in touch with him, how are potential buyers supposed to reach him? I'm so mad right now I can't even stand it.
Luckily my husband is a great salesman. He stayed home to greet any "guests" we might have and I drove up to Mom's to pick up the kids. (See, we'd even made babysitting arrangements so we could get the house ready! Grrr!) One family and one lady came by and Dan played host, answered questions and did all the things that we're supposed to be paying our realtor to do. I swear, if we get an offer from one of these two groups I think Dan is going to earn the 6% commission!
**Updated at 9:36 pm: Dan talked to the realtor, finally, and found out that he had a "family emergency" today. Dan has all the details and I won't share them here. We're going to have another Open House next weekend, a "realtor's only" Open House some time this week, and an ad in the local paper (Hello? Why weren't they already putting ads in the local paper?) too. I'm trying to think very Christian, forgiving thoughts right now because I do like our realtor. He's a really nice guy and I want to have faith in his ability to sell my house.
Plus I don't want to resort to lap dances and car washes yet.
Friday, July 11, 2008
New Olympic event: Weedeater toss
I have a love/hate relationship with my string trimmer. Okay, I was trying to be positive but really it's more of a hate/hate relationship. I hate the thing enough when it's actually working but I hate it even more when it's not.
Yesterday I tried to start the stupid thing so that I could do all the weed trimming and save Dan the trouble so that he'd have more time to pay attention to me. Priorities, right? So I re-read the directions, as I do every time I try to use the thing, and slid the silver thingy to the choke position and tried to start it. No dice. Fine, no problem. I moved it to the B position and tried again. Nuh uh. Not happening.
I wiggled and jiggled every piece of the trimmer, pressed the bulb that makes more gas go into it about a dozen times, and pulled the starter dooey so many times that I gave myself a giant blood blister at the base of my second finger. You know, the "birdy" finger. Which I used repeatedly while cussing at the trimmer under my breath. It was unfazed, being used to such insults.
I got out the owner's manual and tried to identify the problem. I took the thing apart (as I've done before) and cleaned the air filter. I cleaned the muffler housing thingamajig (that's the technical term for it). I pulled off the cover over the spark plug and would've removed it but I was too tired to walk to the garage and find a 5/8" socket/wrench/tool doohickey. By then I was more than ready to admit defeat. I didn't want to weedeat in 97 degree heat anyway. And I felt a little better when Dan couldn't get it to start either after changing the spark plug and adding some oil/gas stabilizer stuff. So it wasn't just me being a girly girl--the trimmer is possessed!
If I'd any strength whatsoever left in my arms, I would have thrown it across the yard. Instead, I went to Wal-Mart and bought some Roundup weed killing spray. One way or another, those weeds are going to die because we have another Open House on Sunday.
PLEASE pray that someone will come see this place and fall in love with it. I'll even throw in a slightly dented Ryobi string trimmer for free.
Yesterday I tried to start the stupid thing so that I could do all the weed trimming and save Dan the trouble so that he'd have more time to pay attention to me. Priorities, right? So I re-read the directions, as I do every time I try to use the thing, and slid the silver thingy to the choke position and tried to start it. No dice. Fine, no problem. I moved it to the B position and tried again. Nuh uh. Not happening.
I wiggled and jiggled every piece of the trimmer, pressed the bulb that makes more gas go into it about a dozen times, and pulled the starter dooey so many times that I gave myself a giant blood blister at the base of my second finger. You know, the "birdy" finger. Which I used repeatedly while cussing at the trimmer under my breath. It was unfazed, being used to such insults.
I got out the owner's manual and tried to identify the problem. I took the thing apart (as I've done before) and cleaned the air filter. I cleaned the muffler housing thingamajig (that's the technical term for it). I pulled off the cover over the spark plug and would've removed it but I was too tired to walk to the garage and find a 5/8" socket/wrench/tool doohickey. By then I was more than ready to admit defeat. I didn't want to weedeat in 97 degree heat anyway. And I felt a little better when Dan couldn't get it to start either after changing the spark plug and adding some oil/gas stabilizer stuff. So it wasn't just me being a girly girl--the trimmer is possessed!
If I'd any strength whatsoever left in my arms, I would have thrown it across the yard. Instead, I went to Wal-Mart and bought some Roundup weed killing spray. One way or another, those weeds are going to die because we have another Open House on Sunday.
PLEASE pray that someone will come see this place and fall in love with it. I'll even throw in a slightly dented Ryobi string trimmer for free.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Bankruptcy Worries
I forgot to tell you yesterday...
Dan's company is closing 87 more stores. This is in addition to the 120 stores they decided to close in May when they filed chapter 11. Luckily Dan's store is NOT one of them so we're safe. Please pray for all the folks who are affected by this bankruptcy mess. Corporate is saying that this is the last of the closings they're going to do. I hope that's true.
Just didn't want you to worry.
Dan's company is closing 87 more stores. This is in addition to the 120 stores they decided to close in May when they filed chapter 11. Luckily Dan's store is NOT one of them so we're safe. Please pray for all the folks who are affected by this bankruptcy mess. Corporate is saying that this is the last of the closings they're going to do. I hope that's true.
Just didn't want you to worry.
"Poop Fairy" just doesn't have the same ring
Last night the boys were sitting at the kitchen table eating chocolate ice cream and discussing Ten's recent lost tooth--a molar.
Ten: Here's something I don't get about the Tooth Fairy. Why teeth? I mean, who would want to run around collecting teeth? That's pretty weird.
Dan: Well, the Poop Fairy would be even weirder.
Ten and Seven, laughing: Euw! That's nasty.
Dan: And besides, you wouldn't want to go to sleep at night with poop under your pillow.
Ten and Seven: Oh gross! Dad, we're trying to eat here!
Dan: Hey, that's free advice right there. You can use that.
Yep. That's the man I chose to raise children with, folks. Because he's four years older than me and oh so mature and stuff.
Ten: Here's something I don't get about the Tooth Fairy. Why teeth? I mean, who would want to run around collecting teeth? That's pretty weird.
Dan: Well, the Poop Fairy would be even weirder.
Ten and Seven, laughing: Euw! That's nasty.
Dan: And besides, you wouldn't want to go to sleep at night with poop under your pillow.
Ten and Seven: Oh gross! Dad, we're trying to eat here!
Dan: Hey, that's free advice right there. You can use that.
Yep. That's the man I chose to raise children with, folks. Because he's four years older than me and oh so mature and stuff.
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