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11 Nov

Laundry is the bane of my existence. There is always something to be machine-washed or hand-washed or spot-treated or something. I tend to view laundry as having 3 discrete steps: washing, folding and the dreaded putting away. I guess I could throw a 4th step in there: gathering the laundry – which can be a challenge here, since dirty clothes must spend the evening hours making their way onto floors, so they might creep under beds and sofas.

socksEspecially the socks. You could walk into any room of my house right now, and be almost certain to find a stray sock. It drives me nuts. If I dislike laundry in general, I loathe washing underwear. For the obvious reason – hello, it’s underwear! Also because there are so many things to fold and sort and match up, and how can you get any closure when they don’t match up?!

Paired socks

I keep those irritating unmatched socks in their own little basket and when it’s overflowing I can’t stand it anymore, I match and purge. Today was Sockmageddon. It was a bright spot in a day spent making this:

Laundry Room: Before

look like this:

Laundry Room

Laundry Room: After

That’s right – I kicked laundry’s ass today.

And it felt good.

How do you manage your unmatched socks?


Isn’t There a “P” in Privacy?

7 Nov

Would you like to know when I am at my most fascinating and interesting? When I’m on the toilet. That must be true, because I’m fairly certain that every time my butt so much as grazes that seat, there is a knock – or a paw – at the door. It’s never for anything earth-shattering, no. For the record, if the house is on fire or you’re bleeding or Colin Firth is at the front door – you have my permission to knock. Any of you. Mostly, it’s “what are you doing?’ (DUH!) or “have you seen my favorite socks – no, not those the other ones?” or – my all time favorite – “I just wanted to know where you were.”

The dogs will actually come in. Nikki can open the door with her paw (damn those harp handles) and plop herself at my feet. It’s nice to be loved and all – but geez, can’t a mom pee in peace?! Have you ever tried to fit 225 pounds of dog in a 4′ square bathroom? Let’s just say it takes the “rest” right out of the restroom.

In the interest of full disclosure (I’m talking about the potty now, so we’re pretty much there, right?), I will admit that I do take my phone into the bathroom with me so I can squeeze in a few satisfying moments of Words with Friends or Yahtzee – so occasionally I’m just sitting there. Is that so wrong? Don’t tell me I’m the only who knows how hot that laptop can get when it’s sitting on your real-life lap.

Even if I am engaged in bathroom…activities, shall we say, that create a less than desirable aroma in the restroom – my kids will still let themselves in, if only to comment on the atmosphere and make helpful suggestions on what I may or may not have eaten. WHY??

I thought I was in the clear when my children were past the age when you had to have them in the bathroom with you for fear they would kill or seriously injure themselves unsupervised for 3 minutes. Evidently not. Maybe the tables have turned. Maybe they think I can’t be left unsupervised for more than a few minutes at a time.

Can I be electrocuted if I drop my phone in the toilet?

Am I the only one this happens to?

Lazy Sundays and the Mayans

31 Oct

Autumn Sky

In my world, a typical autumn day would be exactly like the ones we had this weekend – crisp, cool and sunny. It’s the ideal weather in which to get things done outside – so that’s exactly what we did. We raked, we cut down the gardens and cleared out the cuttings, pulled up the last remaining annuals and prepared the perennials for next year. We even scavenged the remaining survivors from the vegetable garden. I might be the only one, but I find something so enjoyable in working as a family to accomplish something. And get this – there was almost no complaining from the troops! What the heck is going on here?

Garden Work

The weather here was in such stark contrast to much of the northeast, where many of my friends remained without power (and therefore heat) after a crazy snowstorm. Generally, we’re the ones getting 24″ of snow, while my brother sees a mere dusting in his neck of the woods downstate. That’s just proof that something fishy is going on.


You want more proof? Kitty and Flap played together yesterday. Without fighting. Seriously, maybe those Mayans were on to something.

In our typical “wait until the last-minute” approach to things – we set out yesterday afternoon in search of pumpkins to carve. Guess what? There aren’t too many pumpkins left out there at 4:30pm the night before Halloween. Who’d a thunk it?

The Last Pumpkins in Town

Against all odds, we managed to find 3 suitable pumpkins at a local market about 10 minutes before he was set to close. More proof. We hardly ever get lucky like that.

We headed home, prepared to carve our way to Halloween bliss. And then Flap threw up all over the stairs.

Just like that, life was back to normal.

How was your weekend?

*I’ve been noticing that the pictures I’ve taken with my Nikon DSLR¬†lately are a little blurry – which is weird. Maybe dropping her that last time damaged something. So, no, your eyes aren’t going. I’ll be using my point and shoot until I can get to the bottom of this. Any tips?

Keep Calm and Shut the F@#! Up.

29 Oct

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve seen the “Keep Calm and Carry On” posters based on a little used British poster from WWII. Unless you’ve been under an even larger rock – you’ve seen what seems like a million variations on that theme. Some are witty and clever and some…not so much.

Either way, like Paris Hilton and the Jonas Brothers, it gets old. The more I see “Keep Calm and Get a Kitten” posters, the less I care about the original. Maybe that’s not fair, but it’s true. And if something is less awesome the second time around, it’s exponentially less cool the fiftieth.

Same thing goes for (Insert Literary Classic Here) and (Insert Scary Thing Here). Once they did Pride and Prejudice and Zombies – I think most of us can figure out what Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters is going to be like. Or Jane Slayre. Or Alice in Zombieland. (For the record, I’m too much of an Austen lover to read that book – I don’t really want to know if Wickham eats one of the Bennett’s girls brains. I don’t even want the visual in my head.)

I know fashion recycles, interior design recycles, movies recycle (let’s not even talk about the potential remake of Dirty Dancing, becasue that is just wrong) – everything comes around again. But there’s recycling and then there’s RECYCLING. Out of courtesy, at least wait a decade before you retread an idea and call it your own.

WIth all this said, imagine my chagrin when I saw an ad for this book:

If You Give A Kid A Cookie, Will He...Image via

They actually had to clarify that it wasn’t by the folks that wrote Go The F@?# to Sleep. If the first line of an ad for your product has to point out that you are NOT another product, you might want to pause a moment – because the rest of us just hear “we didn’t come up with this, but we thought we might be able to make a dime by doing absolutely nothing differently.”

You know why sequels are never as good as the original? Because the schtick – whatever it is – is never as funny, or scary, or original the second time around.

What’s next? Oh, The Places You’ll Go, if You Can Get a F@?#ing Job? Or The Giving Tree is F@?#ing Sick of Your Whining?

I’m over it. How about you?

I’m A Banana.

26 Oct

I would love for you to be reading a totally awesome and witty blog post right now. You’re not. Would you like to know why?

In my house, silence is interpreted as a sign to talk. And bark. And even though you’re 7, edit what I’m trying to write. Or, if you’re 11, insist that I watch an inane You Tube video of a singing banana.

These are the things that have gone on in my house in the last 60 minutes, while I tried to write a brilliant post for you:

1. Flap threw himself off my bed onto the floor and then proceeded to yell at me because he was “really hurt.” This was before his miracle recovery when he discovered his missing Lego book.

2. The Beans pulled out her 3rd tooth in 2 days. I can only assume she’s doing it as some sort of financial planning endeavour.

3. All 3 dogs ran laps through the house that included running up and over my bed – except for Charlie, who requires a stool to get on my bed. Even though he’s big enough to jump on. He just chooses not to.

4. Kitty suddenly “remembered” homework she “forgot” she needed to do.

5. The puppy attempted to eat an Ugg boot, a roll of toilet paper and a hockey puck. Not at the same time.

6. There have been 2 sibling squabbles that resulted in Kitty being excused from the room.

7. I folded a load of towels.

Welcome to my world.

Oh, My Nose – Disaster Math, Chapter 2

24 Oct


Plus this:

Charlie, the labrador retriever from hell

Equals a trip to the Emergency Room, a CT scan and this:

It’s always my nose that gets it. If you’re having trouble with this particular equation, allow me to solve for x. We have those windows that tip in for cleaning. That particular window is pretty low to the ground outside. Charlie was outside with his feet on the sill and I was leaning over asking him if he’d like fries with his order (drive-thru, get it? I crack myself up.) The next thing I know, he must have put his paws against the glass because the window tipped/slammed inwards onto my nose. It was awesome.

So there I am, on my knees on the floor, hands over my nose, blood trickling down my fingers – and what does my lovely middle child do? Ask if she can rent a movie. Seriously – where did I go wrong? I am SO using her toothbrush to clean the toilets later.

My nose is a disaster magnet. The perpetrators are almost always my children – and the worst injury was actually caused by aforementioned daughter when she was about three. Here’s a tip: Jumping kid’s skull vs. nose? Skull wins. That was the moment when I fully understood the expression “seeing stars” – I totally did.

So it’s not broken and I don’t have a concussion but I do have a black eye, a steri-strip and a killer headache. All of which justify a nap in my book.

The moral of our story is this: Don’t be a smart ass to your dog, he will get you back.


Chicken in My China Cabinet – A Haiku

21 Oct

Multi-tasking mom
remembers to buy chicken.
Leaves her brain at store.

– by Sal Monella


This is a pretty good indication of how my day went. Hope yours was better!