Spring Stack

These super cute and affordable recycled silver stacking rings are made by a California artist, $88. 

Gardens & Geese

I am in the middle of really nerdy television viewing on PBS.  "P. Allen Smith's Garden Home" to be exact.  I fancy myself a gardener but I have a few requirements before I go out to the garden.  

#1 - It must be warm but not too hot and definitely not cold.  A moderate 75 degrees is fine.  

#2 - Nothing can be wet.  Slightly damp is fine.  

#3 - It should be a bright and sunny day but not too sunny.  I don't want to squint or damage my odd beige/yellow toned skin.

From my three very minor rules you can see that I am an avid gardener.  Nature and I are one.  I am Mother Nature.

Anyhow, P. Allen Smith is giving a tour of his garden home which includes a pond. He has the most  beautiful geese.  They are called Sebastopol geese and are completely white with long, curly feathers.  Very Swan Princess.   

I have decided my little dream cottage should have two of these geese. Of course having geese is contingent on their very special ability not to poop.  This final requirement is obviously not based in reality, which is why the geese reside at my dream cottage.

 

The Bitter Side of the Bed

I didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed. I woke up on the bitter side.  I was sleeping, one of my most favorite things.  Only to be stirred awake by the sound of cartoons downstairs and my dog staring me down. (Yes, staring does have a sound.  She is a mastiff and when she stares she huffs and flaps her wing-like lips.) One would think that the person who turned on the cartoons downstairs could have let the dog out on their way to the television, but this is all theoretical and my imagination gone wild.  So, I get up and let the dog out.  On my way downstairs, in the glow of the morning sun I  see EVERYTHING.  The shoes on the floor, the crumbs and dust on all the flat surfaces, the permanent impression of a butt on the sofa, a collection of dog hair, dust bunnies, twist ties, ends of straw wrappers, etc. on the floor.  You see where I am going with this.  

I went back to work about 8 months ago, after staying home with my children the previous 7 years.  I would like to come back home and be a preventative measure against all the atrocities listed above. (I did enjoy staying home with "them", volunteering , etc.)  Maybe that will happen soon.  Since returning to work my two children (of adult size and food consumption level) and husband have been taking care of the house.  I regularly hear about things being washed, wiped and mopped. Yet what I saw this morning disputes these reports.  Clearly their proclomations are also theoretical and their imaginations gone wild.  

Long story long......I went on a mini sweeping and cleaning spree.  Got myself all wound up.  Fantasized about sleep and living in a small cottage where I would be able to put something down, return to the same spot and find it exactly where I left it, food would be consumed at a normal rate, television shows that I have set to record actually record, a place where the messes I clean up are only my own.  A place that is comfy and fluffy with books and only wonderful odors.  A place where I could have as many shoes, body scrubs and eyeshadows as I want and not be mocked.  This is clearly a fantasy.  Maybe I will go back to sleep for a bit and try getting up on the better side of the bed. We'll see.

L.O.L. Really?

Some phrases said are said so often, everyone in the world should agree never to utter again.  "L.O.L." is one of those things.  It is beyond irritating, old people say it, middle aged people say it, teenagers, children say it and if small rodents could use their little digits to type would also say it.

If people were really "laughing out loud" as often as I have seen it pop up on my computer screen and in text messages nearly every person I know would be on a psychiatric hold because they were delusional and a possible threat to themselves and others.  Every time I read it I picture the writer sitting in a silent environment (their office,  on a bench , walking on a sidewalk, etc.) typing away, then out of nowhere, without any clear cause they burst in to laughter.  Uncontrollable and drawn-out laughter; usually when people start to "l.o.l." it lasts a good amount of time.  Some might say that it is a sign on mental illness......I'm just saying.

Bedtime Fantasy

I realize that this post might make me seem quite sloth like.....I don't care.  I love to sleep.  LOVE IT.  I love to sleep so much I should marry Sleep. The only thing standing in the way of my marriage to sleep is my husband and laws against bigamy .  Ahhhhhh, sweet, sweet sleep.  

I have Sleep fantasies.  I have begun to arrange my rendezvous with Sleep.  I have a location selected, an outfit picked out, etc.  

 I think that hotels should be rated by the comfort level of their beds. I like the look of the beds at The Orchid Inn located in Santa Barbara.  (If all else fails I could make the drive to the most comfortable bed I have ever slept at The Palazzo Hotel in Las Vegas.)  Just to sleep, watch girl movies, read, get a facial and massage, eat and sleep some more.   My tryst with sleep will only last three days and two nights.  No cleaning, no laundry, no cooking, no PTA, no work, nobody telling me that they are hungry. "They" can all survive.

Now to put my plan into action, to cover my tracks, no paper trail.  I am toying with the idea of sanding the fingerprints off my hands.....whatever it takes! 

Hungry Eyes

There are (many) times that I sit, watching television, hungry (note: hungry is in bold which means that this is serious business).  At times such as these, my favorite thing to watch is The Food Network.  Giada , although a bit smiley, always makes really tasty looking treats (and all of her recipes that I have made have always been really good) OR Bobby Flay's Throwdown OR Barefoot Contesssa OR Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives (The bonus with DD&D is that I can plan the best road trip in the history of America.) OR.........you see where this is going.    

I have to say, on a related but different note, I just can't trust a skinny cook.  I can't.  Shifty and Sketchy.  I need to see that the cook LOVES food to the point that they can't eat it in a moderate fashion.  If you are passionate about something are you really able to restrain yourself?  (Sorry Sandra Lee.)  You don't have to be a contestant on the Biggest Loser but a little fluff goes a long way.  My other Food Network irritation is Rachel Ray, she seems like a sweet lady but everytime she tastes something she must close her eyes as she says "MMMmmmmmmmmmm......."  Yes, it really does go on that long.  I CAN'T TAKE IT.  Also, just say extra virgin olive oil. Please.  For the love of all that is good and kind in this world. Saying "EVOO" doesn't save that much time.

Anyhow, after having sushi for dinner which isn't as delicious when you eat it at home.  Then what I have named, "Hungry Eyes" set in.......Bobby Flay...... Throwdown.....Fried Chicken and Waffles.  What!  So Yummy!  I can almost, very nearly, taste all the wonderfulness.  So wonderful, just ask everyone crammed in to the dining room.  I must have this magical fried chicken.  I hear that this chicken is spicy and the flavored syrup that is poured over it takes it to a whole new level.  Yummmm....   (Bobby made Fried Chicken and Wild Rice Waffles with Pink Peppercorn Butter and Maple-Horseradish Syrup .) 

Cute & Cheap Shoes

This picture doesn't do these shoes justice.  A comfy and cute option with jeans and grey wrap sweater.  Both are from Target, the shoes are $12.99 and the sweater is $17.49 (on clearance now).  It is a great alternative to a sweatsuit and you can't beat the price for the style.

How did I get here?

"How did I get here?"  This has been a recurring question for the last few years.  At 18 I had my daughter and was a married (to her father) homeowner with a second child by 22.  My focus has been to make sure that my children don't become part of the teenage mother statistic. My husband and I have accomplished just that; our children are kind, compassionate, well-mannered and get good grades.  

Don't get me wrong I love my husband and children.  I am thankful for everything that we have and all our blessings. But, now that I am here I wonder....How did I get here? What is my calling? What is my passion? If I ignored everyone's expectations of me, who and what would I be?  As the oldest child I was expected to be a good example and helpful. As the oldest child of "old school" parents I was expected to be perfect.  I needed to be nice, kind and polite.  I needed to do whatever possible to make others comfortable and happy.  That means making myself invisible, quiet and dependable.  Like a robot.  I am tired of being a robot.  Robots don't require anything but routine maintenance, like a lawnmower.

My plan is to merge everything that I am now and was before together. My thought is that by blogging my random thoughts and interests I will be able to see things in "black & white" and figure things out.  Any feedback (be nice) is welcome.