May 17, 2008
Saturday
Today we …
Played Monopoly …
went for donuts …
did a puzzle …
and had cocktails.
Not a bad Saturday, really.
Archive for the 'home sweet home' Category
May 14, 2008
Happy Mother’s Day, by Henry
My mom’s name is Susan.
She is 8 feet tall and weighs 26 pounds.
She is 40 years old.
When I’m at school my mom works at home.
Her favorite store is Target.
Her favorite food is peas.
Her favorite TV show is basketball.
The thing my mom likes to do the most is cooking.
The thing my mom likes to do the least is listen to me and my brother being loud.
My favorite food my mom cooks is chicken nuggets.
My mom’s favorite color is pink.
I love her because she loves me.
May 1, 2008
we have a flashlight, but if the power goes out how will we watch TV?!?
[Tornado sirens sound, and then stop.]
Wade: I’m going outside.
Me: To look for the tornado?
Wade: No, to pull some weeds in the yard.
Me: Okaaaaay …
Wade: That way the yard will look nice when the tornado takes the house.
Me: Oh, right.
April 6, 2008
how was my trip? well …
This morning, while I was brunching at Rockerfeller Center and listening to HeatherB lament the stupidity of liquor laws prohibiting the sale of alcohol before noon on Sunday, Charlie was falling off the retaining wall in our back yard and breaking his arm.
This afternoon while I was waiting in the Newark airport and making a to-do list for tomorrow, Charlie was waiting at the ER to have his arm X-rayed.
And this evening, as I was making my peaceful way back to the house, Charlie was throwing up on the new sofa because the Lortab doesn’t agree with his stomach.
He’s broken both bones in his right arm, above the wrist. Tomorrow we have to get it set, which should be a hell of a lot of fun.
When I go out of town, which isn’t all that often, people inevitably ask if I worry about leaving the kids with Wade, and I say of course not! Because never once have I returned to a child with a severed limb. Technically, that’s still true. Tonight, after Charlie said, “Mama, I missed you when I was at the hospital” and my heart exploded into forty million pieces, Wade said, “I was glad you weren’t here to see the arm.”
“Was it bad?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “it was BROKEN.”
Welcome home.
March 25, 2008
I love EVERYONE (mostly)
All day long I thought it was Wednesday
This morning, after I got my hair recut (hello, PRINCESS!) I decided that I would go get a new driver’s license. We moved in June; I’m still using the one with our old address on it. When the very nice police officer came to investigate our larceny, I had to show him my license and admit that the address was wrong.
He did not look happy.
I also needed to change my voter registration because I have been voting in my old precinct, which is probably not legal, although I do feel like it is my duty to bring just a little bit of liberalism to my otherwise totally conservative former neighborhood.
Oh, wait, this is Oklahoma — I can do the same thing in my NEW neighborhood! Yay me.
So I zip over to the tag agency and pat myself on the back because for ONCE I will have Good Hair for my license photo; I fill out the forms and smile for the camera and designate myself an organ donor and provide my finger prints (what the hell is that for, anyway?) and then realize that all I have is a debit card.
Which I can’t use at the tag agency.
I tell the very nice tag agency manager that I just live around the corner and will run RIGHT HOME and get a check (all the while hoping I’m not pulled over on the way because OF COURSE she’s going to hold my license hostage, right?). And she says, “Oh honey, don’t do that — we’re here til six, just bring it by whenever.”
God bless Oklahoma.
She also complimented me for writing OK on the line where it asked for my state in the voter registration papers. “You would be surprised how many people write USA there,” she said. Which kind of lowered my opinion of my fellow Okies just a little
Okay a lot.
Unrelated, but since I’m here I might as well tell you …
Thank you for being so nice about my hair — I love each and every one of you. Sadly, I do NOT love my stylist, although he’s very nice. I DO however love the woman who did my color (highlights! yes!) and who recut both the bangs AND the totally lopsided back for me today. I’m mostly happy with it now, or at least happy enough to not be weeping. Which I have been known to do.
The sparkly bobby pins came from Nordstrom, I think, about ten years ago; they were Liz Claiborne (I don’t have ANY IDEA why I remember that) and I love them because they are super tight and actually STAY in my very fine hair. Good luck finding them again, though — anyone have a suggestion for a good alternative?
The blouse is from the Gap, maybe two (three?) years ago — and honest to god I think there are three hundred photos of me wearing it. In fact, you can see it here! And here! I really do think that shirt deserves its own Flickr set. I’ll get on that.
Also someone asked how much hair I had cut off — probably two inches. Seriously. I hadn’t had a real haircut since early December (when I was mulletized, thankyouverymuch) and I had been taking Biotin supplements, at Miguelina’s suggestion (OMG you all my NAILS look FABULOUS). My hair was growing at a pretty shocking rate. Unfortunately, it looked like crap and thus had to go. But the fast growing has made me less disappointed in this meh cut, because at this rate, it will be down to my elbows in four weeks anyway.
Sort of.
Speaking of fabulous …
I am currently TOTALLY in love with Stephanie from A Year of Crock Potting, for two reasons. First of all she is funny funny funny (she emailed me about antiperspirant and business cards the other day and my stomach hurt from the funny) and SECOND of all, she is cooking dinner every single day for a year in her CROCK POT.
And posting the recipes!
God I love that.
Today’s recipe: walnut and sage potatoes au gratin. IN THE CROCK POT. I have seriously been drooling on my monitor all afternoon. And if I weren’t going to Knit Night tonight to drink margaritas gossip eat food someone else prepared make a nice scarf for my niece, I might have made these potatoes.
Maybe tomorrow.
