1. My favorite part of painting a room: pulling off the masking tape in long delicious strips.
2. My least favorite part of painting: finding that the paint leaked under the masking tape, or that the tape pulled paint off of the already-painted part.
3. Favorite paint color in our house: the pale olive green in the bedroom (name: emulsion. Not QUITE unsavory enough to nix my love of the color, but close). Favorite paint name: trailhead (a pale yellow).
4. Second favorite paint color: the bright reddish-orange wall in the TV room. Okay, going on it looked exactly like canned tomato soup, and I did have an "OMG is it too Seventies?" moment, but overall it works, and makes the space warm and cozy without seeming oppressive.
5. My actual real favorite part of painting? Being done. And I'm not there yet. So adios, amigos. Back to work.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Countdown Begins
Summer's almost over: the days are cooler, I'm starting to get emails and phone reminders from the elementary school, the school bus drove through the neighborhood today, checking its routes. By this time next week the kids will be in school and I will be frantically readying for work.
Here's what I want to finish up before I start work:
1. Painting the kitchen and laundry room. People, the hardest thing about painting walls is the prep, and these rooms, with their windows, cabinets, shelves, appliances, et cetera et cetera and so on, have MASSIVE amounts of prep. To the point where I stand in front of the wall that will definitely be prepped today and start to get headachey just thinking about it.
2. Trimming up the bushes on the sides of the house. The folks we bought the house from basically stopped trimming bushes about five years ago. The house is being smothered.
3. Organizing the basement. Right now it's just heaps and heaps of stuff that doesn't fit anywhere else. Kitchen stuff, camping stuff, fishing stuff, Christmas stuff, boxes of happy meal toys I had secreted away, hoping to stealthily dispose of, and which the kids have found and have strewn about.
4. A thorough house-clean.
I also want to go for a hike, laze about, finish some writing projects, and who knows, perhaps invent a cure for cancer. Also organize the tupperware cabinet. Part of me knows it's silly to think that life as I know it will end when I go back to work--but part of me doesn't think it's silly at all. The last time I felt like I had to organize the tupperware cabinet was just before Helen was born, and that's a lot what I feel like now: like I'm nesting. Life will still go on, with beautiful sunrises (of which I will get to see QUITE A FEW during my morning commute) and good meals and whiny evenings--I'll just have a lot less energy to spare for upkeep. Also, I sort of want to have a home space that is restful, vs one that is nagging me to do something about that empty suitcase in the middle of the bedroom floor or the pile of papers on the sideboard.
How about you? Last time you started a job, what did you have to finish up/ square away?
Here's what I want to finish up before I start work:
1. Painting the kitchen and laundry room. People, the hardest thing about painting walls is the prep, and these rooms, with their windows, cabinets, shelves, appliances, et cetera et cetera and so on, have MASSIVE amounts of prep. To the point where I stand in front of the wall that will definitely be prepped today and start to get headachey just thinking about it.
2. Trimming up the bushes on the sides of the house. The folks we bought the house from basically stopped trimming bushes about five years ago. The house is being smothered.
3. Organizing the basement. Right now it's just heaps and heaps of stuff that doesn't fit anywhere else. Kitchen stuff, camping stuff, fishing stuff, Christmas stuff, boxes of happy meal toys I had secreted away, hoping to stealthily dispose of, and which the kids have found and have strewn about.
4. A thorough house-clean.
I also want to go for a hike, laze about, finish some writing projects, and who knows, perhaps invent a cure for cancer. Also organize the tupperware cabinet. Part of me knows it's silly to think that life as I know it will end when I go back to work--but part of me doesn't think it's silly at all. The last time I felt like I had to organize the tupperware cabinet was just before Helen was born, and that's a lot what I feel like now: like I'm nesting. Life will still go on, with beautiful sunrises (of which I will get to see QUITE A FEW during my morning commute) and good meals and whiny evenings--I'll just have a lot less energy to spare for upkeep. Also, I sort of want to have a home space that is restful, vs one that is nagging me to do something about that empty suitcase in the middle of the bedroom floor or the pile of papers on the sideboard.
How about you? Last time you started a job, what did you have to finish up/ square away?
Friday, August 14, 2009
Friday Favorites
1. Favorite pet: our dog (sorry, birdies. Also, sorry, Gerbie. If you're still alive.)
2. Favorite plastico crap toy now littering the house: the Playmobil Cabin. People, it comes with a tree, and on that tree is a woodpecker. With approximately the right markings. It warms my birdgeekophile heart.
3. Favorite boat: the sunfish. Not that given the chance to commandeer one, I'd be able to pilot it. I just like to see them, floating about on whatever body of water we happen to pass.
4. Favorite gross thing: baby poo. Specifically, nursing-baby poo. Which thing is made significantly less gross and more endearing in that I won't have to actually encounter it until such time as my kids have kids themselves. Or I get some more nieces and nephews. No pressure or anything, siblings.
5. Favorite kid's book: Mickey and the Night Kitchen.
6. Favorite child: whichever one will let me read them Mickey and the Night Kitchen again. Oh, it's on, kiddoes!
2. Favorite plastico crap toy now littering the house: the Playmobil Cabin. People, it comes with a tree, and on that tree is a woodpecker. With approximately the right markings. It warms my birdgeekophile heart.
3. Favorite boat: the sunfish. Not that given the chance to commandeer one, I'd be able to pilot it. I just like to see them, floating about on whatever body of water we happen to pass.
4. Favorite gross thing: baby poo. Specifically, nursing-baby poo. Which thing is made significantly less gross and more endearing in that I won't have to actually encounter it until such time as my kids have kids themselves. Or I get some more nieces and nephews. No pressure or anything, siblings.
5. Favorite kid's book: Mickey and the Night Kitchen.
6. Favorite child: whichever one will let me read them Mickey and the Night Kitchen again. Oh, it's on, kiddoes!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Random Conversations; Also, Bathroom Pix
Three random conversations around the house:
1. Me: Silas! Is there a more respectful way to ask Helen to stop talking to you than shouting STOP?
Silas: No!
2. Me (to unnamed child): Please, hon, if you want to wipe your boogies on your own bedroom wall, that's your business. But other places in the house it's not okay. Not the car, either.
3. Child: Mom! Mom! Mom?
Me: I'm back here, hon.
Child: Moooomm? MOM! MOM! MOM! MOOOOMMM!!!! MOMMMM!!!
Me: I'm here, hon.
Child: MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! There you are. Why didn't you answer me when I called for you?
Me: What do you want, kiddo?
Child: What? Oh, I forget.
Siigh. I'm ready for school to start, and almost ready for the job to start. I'm frantically trying to get the house ready and my other affairs in order; I'm painting walls, cleaning windows, trimming bushes, organizing stubborn corners of messdom. What I am very glad for is that our bathrooms are completely done. Behold, our bathroom, a year ago:
With a bonus view of our basement crawlspace.
As of three weeks ago, we finally have this:
1. Me: Silas! Is there a more respectful way to ask Helen to stop talking to you than shouting STOP?
Silas: No!
2. Me (to unnamed child): Please, hon, if you want to wipe your boogies on your own bedroom wall, that's your business. But other places in the house it's not okay. Not the car, either.
3. Child: Mom! Mom! Mom?
Me: I'm back here, hon.
Child: Moooomm? MOM! MOM! MOM! MOOOOMMM!!!! MOMMMM!!!
Me: I'm here, hon.
Child: MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! There you are. Why didn't you answer me when I called for you?
Me: What do you want, kiddo?
Child: What? Oh, I forget.
Siigh. I'm ready for school to start, and almost ready for the job to start. I'm frantically trying to get the house ready and my other affairs in order; I'm painting walls, cleaning windows, trimming bushes, organizing stubborn corners of messdom. What I am very glad for is that our bathrooms are completely done. Behold, our bathroom, a year ago:
With a bonus view of our basement crawlspace.
As of three weeks ago, we finally have this:
Monday, August 10, 2009
Life with an Eight-Year-Old
We celebrated the birthday of this guy over the weekend:
The party was at ten in the morning, and he was hoping to wake up at nine so he wouldn't have to wait more than about ten minutes between his wake-up routine (dragging himself to the couch, complaining that he's not hungry, reluctantly eating a bowl of Kix before starting on the morning's business of bossing around Helen) and the arrival of the first guests. Of course this didn't happen and by 8:02 he was flopping about on various chairs wondering WHEN the party would START.
But start the party did, and it was remarkably pleasant. We even led everybody down to the park at the bottom of the street for a game of baseball, and yes, it was a bit chaotic, reining in eight eight year olds and a four-year-old helper (still weepy at being locked first out of the treehouse and then out of Si's room)--two of the boys wanted to take the Long Way, one needed me to carry a complicated piece of home carpentry that he'd whipped up during the free play of the first hour of the party (!), another found a crawdad claw that had to be kept track of--but also, I'm kind of shocked to say, fun. Walking along with two of the cheerfulest little boys on the planet (I took the Long Way too), one of them trying to make sure I knew where the Family Fun Center was and how to get there (just in case, you know), the other telling me about his recent trip to Philadelphia--I can't think of many better ways to spend a pleasant weekend morning.
Because this is the thing about eight year olds, I'm learning: they are pleasant company. They can make themselves juice and sandwiches. They are starting to appreciate humor, even that which does not involve poop, knock knock jokes, or cartoon characters slipping on banana peels (not that any of these forms of humor are NEGLECTED, you understand). They can go off by themselves. They can process. Excitement doesn't totally unhinge them. They can have a birthday party, three fun-size snickers bars and a slice of cake in the morning and still be able to play peacefully with their new toys until bedtime. They remember to add "I had a really fun time at your house!" when writing to grandparents to ask for more stuff.
Thank goodness. We're entering the sweet spot (which will last until he's approximately 12 and then end abruptly, I'm fully aware) (although I'm still hoping this won't happen to us and he'll be a CHEERFUL and PLEASANT teenager) (ha ha ha ha).
The party was at ten in the morning, and he was hoping to wake up at nine so he wouldn't have to wait more than about ten minutes between his wake-up routine (dragging himself to the couch, complaining that he's not hungry, reluctantly eating a bowl of Kix before starting on the morning's business of bossing around Helen) and the arrival of the first guests. Of course this didn't happen and by 8:02 he was flopping about on various chairs wondering WHEN the party would START.
But start the party did, and it was remarkably pleasant. We even led everybody down to the park at the bottom of the street for a game of baseball, and yes, it was a bit chaotic, reining in eight eight year olds and a four-year-old helper (still weepy at being locked first out of the treehouse and then out of Si's room)--two of the boys wanted to take the Long Way, one needed me to carry a complicated piece of home carpentry that he'd whipped up during the free play of the first hour of the party (!), another found a crawdad claw that had to be kept track of--but also, I'm kind of shocked to say, fun. Walking along with two of the cheerfulest little boys on the planet (I took the Long Way too), one of them trying to make sure I knew where the Family Fun Center was and how to get there (just in case, you know), the other telling me about his recent trip to Philadelphia--I can't think of many better ways to spend a pleasant weekend morning.
Because this is the thing about eight year olds, I'm learning: they are pleasant company. They can make themselves juice and sandwiches. They are starting to appreciate humor, even that which does not involve poop, knock knock jokes, or cartoon characters slipping on banana peels (not that any of these forms of humor are NEGLECTED, you understand). They can go off by themselves. They can process. Excitement doesn't totally unhinge them. They can have a birthday party, three fun-size snickers bars and a slice of cake in the morning and still be able to play peacefully with their new toys until bedtime. They remember to add "I had a really fun time at your house!" when writing to grandparents to ask for more stuff.
Thank goodness. We're entering the sweet spot (which will last until he's approximately 12 and then end abruptly, I'm fully aware) (although I'm still hoping this won't happen to us and he'll be a CHEERFUL and PLEASANT teenager) (ha ha ha ha).
Friday, August 7, 2009
Friday Favorites
1. My favorite national ice cream brand is Breyer's.
2. My favorite temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit, with a slight breeze.
3. My favorite tree is the Limber pine.
4. My favorite state is Wyoming (siiiigh).
5. My favorite movie is Brazil.
6. My favorite child is...ha ha ha ha! Redacted! I love all of my children equally! (Just not the same in every single minute).
2. My favorite temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit, with a slight breeze.
3. My favorite tree is the Limber pine.
4. My favorite state is Wyoming (siiiigh).
5. My favorite movie is Brazil.
6. My favorite child is...ha ha ha ha! Redacted! I love all of my children equally! (Just not the same in every single minute).
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Exit Canyon City
We're back from our camping trip to Canyon City and I believe I have to retract a few statements. The weather, for example, was fine. Not too hot, just rainy enough to give us an excuse to go into town for late-afternoon margaritas, and nowhere near the Federal Supermax Prison. We got a very nice campsite, despite the fact that the campground had a pool, a game room, and evening kid movies. I may have turned up my nose at such accouterments in the past. I may even have been slightly annoyed at how these highlights essentially dictated Si's conversation for the entire 2-day trip ("What time is it? Is it 6:30 yet? How about now? I want to watch Finding Nemo" and "Can we go to the game room now? I'll go by myself. Why not? Will somebody go with me to the game room? I want to spend my quaaaarters. When can we go to the game room?") But the actual campsite location--at the top of a hill with 360 views, backing into pinyon-juniper woodland with plenty of room for exploring (and, thanks to the heated & fully plumbed bathrooms, pleasantly lacking in human feces)--made up for nearly all of this.
Photos:
The Royal Gorge: Biggest Tourist Trap In the West!
It's a big
canyon:
With a bridge!
(Note Helen's clenched fist. She wasn't totally convinced by the bridge's physics)
Under the bridge: the canyon. Yours for only $24 a person (children 4 and older $19)! (HACK)
We also petted the crabby goats, observed the mangy "wildlife" in pens, rode the train, the trolley, the incline railway, and the aerial tram. We had some "homemade" ice cream (cooked up on site from great tubs of ice cream syrup), watched people ride the skycoaster, and got thoroughly tired.
The next day, we did a little wine tasting at the Abbey in town and felt much better.
Photos:
The Royal Gorge: Biggest Tourist Trap In the West!
It's a big
canyon:With a bridge!
(Note Helen's clenched fist. She wasn't totally convinced by the bridge's physics)
Under the bridge: the canyon. Yours for only $24 a person (children 4 and older $19)! (HACK)
We also petted the crabby goats, observed the mangy "wildlife" in pens, rode the train, the trolley, the incline railway, and the aerial tram. We had some "homemade" ice cream (cooked up on site from great tubs of ice cream syrup), watched people ride the skycoaster, and got thoroughly tired.
The next day, we did a little wine tasting at the Abbey in town and felt much better.
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