junkie

Hello. My name is Katie. And I am addicted to Perler Beads.





I bought this bucket of fun for my girl yesterday. We played with them at a friends house a few weeks ago, and she LOVED them. They are great for building fine motor skills. They require just a pinch of creativity. And they keep a kid occupied for a good chunk of time. What is not to love?

We sat down and opened the bucket shortly before supper. My son quickly lost patience and declared the whole "game" BORING. That didn't stop me. Or my girl. We pressed on with our Perlers until we ready to iron our plastic masterpieces, rendering them eternally fused.

Oh. my. goodness. There is nothing like the feeling of melted up plastic beneath your hot iron! I could not stop. We kept on crafting through the evening meal, and right up until bed time. After tucking the kids in, I made my way back to the kitchen table, where we had been making the Perler Treasures, with the full intention of cleaning things up. But do you know what I did? I kept making. And making. And ironing. Until my eyes started to feel sticky from looking for the right color bead. Which was when I looked at the clock. Huh. 10:30? Maybe it's time I push away from the table.

I sat there looking at all of the fused plastic wonderfulness. More stuff. (It's just what I've always wanted.) This is when I tried to justify my addiction. Maybe this stuff could be worth something? No. No, it's not worth anything. Maybe I could make them into Christmas ornaments? No. No. ....No. Maybe I could give them as gifts? Only if I was six. Somehow, I think a melted plastic coaster is only endearing when your young grandchild makes it for you. The patheticness increases exponentially with every decade of age. I am not (always) pathetic.

Sigh.

If you ever come to my house, and open a closet door, and happen upon a huge stash of random plastic flowers, suns, stars and animal faces, please show compassion. I am weak.

yesterday

An overbooked ENT/DERM department meant taking the first available appointment. The only opening happened to fall right at school let out. Thank goodness for grandparents that are near and willing to lend a hand. My mom came to the rescue and afforded me the luxury of going to my appointment with out any one in tow.

I arrived well over twenty minutes early. (It seems I get ready and out the door much more quickly by myself. Who knew?) The receptionist took my name. I took a seat. I took a breath. Then another. It felt unfamiliar to sit there alone....unfamiliar, but nice. Really nice. (I love my children.)

After several minutes of quiet reflection, I took a look around. Seven elderly individuals. One teenage boy and his mother. Huh. Ear. Nose. Throat. Dermatology. It took me several minutes to connect ears to hearing aids. I couldn't get past ear infections and ear tubes. You know, because you have to make up stories in your mind about everyone in the waiting room.

The boy and his mom were rather obvious. He was there for acne treatment. I'm sorry, young man. One day, you will be very handsome. I'm sure of it. Just ask your mother. I'm certain she would tell you the same. And she'll probably tell you on the way to your first class at college. Because, I'm pretty sure she's coming along with you. She has Helicopter Mother written all over her.

Once I figured ear = hearing aids, I thought I had all The Elderlies pegged. (I say Elderlies with love. I love Elderlies.) But! On closer inspection, I noticed several of them spotted with bandages. Aha! They were there for reasons similar to mine. You could tell the ones that needed hearing aid assistance. They talk louder. And say "Huh?" And then their wife says, "THAT WAS SUSAN. YOU KNOW, CARMEN'S DAUGHTER."

After assigning a story to everyone in the room, I decided to pass the time by reading. I hadn't brought anything along, so started to look for a good magazine. Hmmm. Slim pickin's. I'm not a huge Nick(alodian) fan. So, half of the reading material available in the room didn't pique my interest. But, neither did the 8 back issues of Arthritis Today. Time for more quiet reflection.

I thought random thoughts until it was my turn. The nurse thanked me for my patience. Are you kidding!? I was having a great time! Had it not been for the mole they cut from my arm, it would have been the highlight of my week. Like a spa. Without the massage and pampering and ambiance.

1 2 3

one little baby in my arms.....one mama hand pecking at the keys

two sweet wonders asleep in their beds

three blessings. three beautiful blessings. three how did we get so lucky amazing wonderful blessings.

Beverly

When we were first married, I worked in the most wonderful store. (I made no money. But! I bought a TON of fabulous things.)

The best part of that wonderful store was the {even more wonderful} women with whom I worked. It's where I met Beverly. She is the kind of woman that you meet and then want to be. She's smart. Witty. Wise. Classy. Composed. She's a Proverbs 31 kind of gal.

She has six children. Six of the most obedient, good natured, kind, honest, well adjusted, self confident children on this planet. They are all grown now....and they are just what I want my kids to be....how I want my kids to turn out.

She has this way with people....it's hard to describe. There isn't an angry person that she can't calm. A naughty child that she can't tame. A lofty puffed up snoot that she can't bring down a peg. A down-trodden outcast she can't uplift.

I miss you, Beverly.

Ah. Beverly. Beverly! Everyone needs a Beverly.

Hey! Buy your wife flowers

Just sayin'.

(she especially loves tulips)

:)

a cleansing weekend

My kids will be otherwise occupied this weekend and I plan on attacking the excess clutter in both of their rooms.

I tried to put everything away yesterday to no avail. It's impossible. There is more stuff than place to put it. It's ridiculous. And criminal. A lady's gotta be able to push around a vacuum.

We have this little rule. Maybe it's a little bit unspoken....come to think of it, I don't know that I've given fair warning, which is not fair play....but I'm the mom, so I can do these things....

The rule I have with myself is that if anything is left out and small enough to get sucked up into the vacuum, then sucked up it becomes. We've lost many a Polly Pocket accessory in this manner.

Perhaps, I'll just bring the shop vac up there and go to town.

Things I never thought I'd {have to} say....

I mean, seriously:

"Please don't lick the walls."


"Please don't lick the windows."


"Please don't lick the railing."

Christmas in January

Yesterday, I got these in the mail.....



Can you stand it? I can't!



Dorothy! The Cowardly Lion! The Tin Man! The Scarecrow!

Three little mice!

These!

This!

.

When I was growing up, I got to work in the family store. My grandfather owned a clothing store, and for awhile, my grandmother had a little "cove" where she sold fantastic yarns and these kinds of crafts as well as lovely women's ware (women's wear?).

.

One of the company's sent these craft samples in 1979. Ever after, they decorated the store's Christmas tree. The tree that I helped to adorn....along with all the other tinsel-y garlands that jazzed up the store each Christmas. (I can still smell the smell of that garland.) ((TALK about glitzy sparkle. Wooo!))

.

I just KNEW all those years of working would pay off!!! :)

.

Thanks, Aunti Cook!!

Sticky Apples

Two Christmases ago, I bought myself this picture from my favorite store. (More awesome purchases from that store here and here.)

It has a cool saying:



I love how the color is sort of "old newspaper" black and white:



Wait a second, what is this? Color?

Huh. It appears as if some horses have taken up residence on the fence in this picture. Did they come from one of the fields or down the lane?

Perhaps the apples don't fall off the trees here, they just stick right on as they come down, and these stickers are a payback from my childhood?

give me my {stimulus} money

The sky is falling!

Our economy is in the toilet!

Buy gold!

Keep your money in your underwear drawer!

Really? I mean, I know that we are all in economic hardship. And some people are SERIOUSLY facing hard times--and it's not their fault. But the majority of us are not doing that bad. You know? Sure, we've had to cut back. Cut back on eating out. Cut back on unnecessary spending. Cut back on family vacations.

Cut, cut, cut. Snip, snip, snip.

But all of those cut backs are on total frivolity. How many of us have had to sell our vehicles? (I'm not talking about a downsize.) How many of us have had to eat only rice and beans? How many of us are eating only one meal a day? How many of us are really hurting? REALLY hurting?

I get that the housing situation is a nightmare. And I'm sure some people are legitimately in trouble. But how many people bought too much home, just because they could? How many borrowed at the absolute maximum allowed, and put nothing down? How many took that adjustable rate mortgage, telling themselves that in 5 years when their ARM would go way up, they would be making more and could afford that increase?

How many didn't do their homework, and trusted that the banks knew best? That the banks had their best interest in mind. (Because banks -the big ones- are in it for the people. They care. They give a flying pig ear about the future financial stability of Donald and Susie Homemaker.)

I realize that there are exceptions to these rules. But, if we were all very honest, can we see that we are the only ones to blame? We are the ones that pay for car repairs with our credit cards. We are the ones that buy more Christmas gifts than we can afford, and then come up short somewhere else. We are the ones that spend the extra money on eating out, or new clothes, or games, or toys instead of putting our surplus into savings. We take big trips, buy big cars and keep up with the Jones', when instead we could choose to learn contentment.

Do we take ownership for all our mistakes?

Do we?

Or do we point the blame towards our nation's capital? Our electorate should have stopped us! We don't know what we're doing! The banks forced us to borrow! Am I supposed to wait until I have cash in hand to make a purchase? Was I supposed to WALK to work when my car broke down??! I don't like rice and beans! Should my children go presentless at Christmas?!!!!!

I am entitled to all these things!

You must figure out a way for me to have them!

Uncle Sam, I'll be expecting my check mid February. If you want my vote, you'll have to buy it from me.

Hypothetically speaking...

....if the punishment of going to bed with out supper prompts the response, "Okay. Goodnight. I love you." Do you serve the enchiladas for breakfast?

Happy New Year.