Phew!

It's not like nothing to write about has been happening!

A visit from my brother and his family, a trip to close out the family cottage, a first snow storm with snow that has stuck (for now. They're forcasting rain for Tuesday) and a short week with CUs 1 and 2 rolled up the week.

There was also the commando baking that I did for the church bazzar and a day trip with a girl friend.

It's been a good week full of stories that need to be digested and spit out.

While you wait, here's something you may wish to consider: http://www.geist.com/contest.php only five more days to go! (And yes, I'm hoping to enter a story into this one if I can get motivated to get it out of my head.)

It's starting to look a lot like a tacky Christmas!

We've just had our first snow (it didn't stick though) and have had a beatiful, warmer then average weekend which motivated me to work outside again.


While not nearly as creative as this display, my DH and I are working towards achieving a spectacular vision this year; as one neighbor delicately described our attempts
"It's ah, er, a layered look."

Each week DH and I assess what we've done and the type of reaction (or lack their of) that we received the previous week. Saturday morning we page through the hardware store sales and discuss strategy for the weekend. This was the best yet!

Proof

I love my digtal camera!

Finally, I have evidence on Baby Picasson.

Book 'em Dano!

Cartharthis (and Pavlovian responses)

WARNING: this is an official rant. It's sad and may make some readers very uncomfortable. For me, I think it's an attempt to exercise my demons at last, I hope.

* * *

My birthday is more or less around this time of year. Too close to Christmas is what I frequently heard.

For many years, and two husbands later, I've held the firm position that I don't want to celebrate my birthday. It really has nothing to do with being hard to shop for (which I am, I guess), or dealing with getting older (a fluke this year [bad math on my part] had me celebrating a year older than I really am. I get a year back woo hoo! But I digress). While walking home the other day I figured it out. I have consistently had a bad birthday, so I think I've come to the realization, why bother to try and celebrate it?

* * *

I was turning seven or eight and the Mothership and my sister planned a party for me where I could invite school friends. I guess I was oblivious to my world around me and invited boys to my party as well as girls. A handful of girls came, as did one boy; the one I had a serious crush on. (The one I learned to like root beer for.) He was mocked. I felt bad. It was not a good scene.

This did nothing for my social ineptness.
* * *

For my 9th birthday my mothership and I had gone shopping for a new winter coat. We found one at Buster Brown's. This wasn't just any winter coat. It was a camel colored dress coat with a rabbit fur collar. The kind of coat you only wore to church on Sundays. The kind of coat that would make you feels like a princess. My mother saw how much I loved the coat, but tactfully told me that the family couldn't afford the price. I knew that. (Perhaps that's why I'm still price conscious.) We walked out of the store with my mother suggesting she'd talk to my father.

Many weeks later, my sister and I were having a joint birthday party. It was a great day for her. I think she was turning 16. I was eight. I was so excited for my sister when she received an enormous, oversized box. With much anticipation, she opened it. I was stunned. My jaw dropped. I think I screamed, and then I ran away in tears. She got the coat. THE COAT. My nine-year old mind processed the whole picture in seconds. She's too big. I had tried on the coat. I would never have fitted her. This was a mistake.

Well, yah. It was a mistake of sorts. Some one in my family wanted to play a joke on me. I didn't take it well.

* * *

My sister and her boyfriend were home to celebrate her birthday. Tradition was that the birthday girl got to pick-out one of the roses on her cake. I got one because my birthday was next.

I'd carefully eaten away all the cake around the rose and excused myself to go to the bathroom so that I could fully appreciate the experience of the sugar rush without interruptions. When I got back to the table, the candied rose was gone.

Some one had convinced my sister's boyfriend to hide it in a napkin on his knee.

I felt betrayed.

* * *

Sweet sixteen. Bah. I was in Washington, D. C. for my 16th birthday. I had to write mid-term exams all that week. My Mom's friend tried to make it an event by taking me to see Cats. I didn't enjoy the outing as much as I could have because I had an English and Math exam the next day.

I remember listening to the radio thinking that maybe one of my siblings would call me to wish me a happy birthday. Nope. Not even a card.

* * *

I learned to stop setting myself up for something for my birthday. My parental units slowly got the message.

During undergraduate studies, the Mothership gave me a cake first thing in the morning and I had birthday cake for breakfast. That was fun. Then I went to school.

* * *

When I moved into my first family home with my first husband, I tried to have a birthday part for myself and the refrigerator died.

Bad luck, or is the Universe sending me a message?

* * *

Birthday's baa.

All in the family

My DH tells me stories about his brother-in-law who is a member of the military. I heard about the war games that these guys play in order to be hardened for what they may encounter on the field of battle. I also hear about what a fine father this man is to his children. No doubt his miliitary training has provided him with much fodder to draw upon.

I experienced my own kind of parenting boot camp in the last 14 hours. Upon completion of my first tour of duty, I begin my second one at around 5:00 as I complete the loop homeward, picking up CUs 1, 2 and 3.

Besides my regular duties including review of the troops, and CP duty, last night, was extra special in that just as I was turning in CU3 called me up for an extra tour of duty.

...

It had begun earlier that evening, CU3 had begun complaining of a face ache. As I began doing the research to identify who would be open to provide emergency services on November 11, I began to think of other causes. CU2 had a series of ear infections earlier this ear ... it was possible. I knew what to do if it was ...

...

For two hours I did triage and tried to lift the pain. At 2:15 I decided that I needed back-up and took CU3 to the hospital. Two hours later, CU3 was back in his own bed, pain free. I had been up for 21 hours.

Baby piccasso

Who knew that Minties Girl Guide Cookies could have alternative uses.

Grandpa D got conned into supporting CU-3s efforts to support her troop in cookie sales. (He walked away with multiple boxes of cookies - thus the conn.) He made a teenie tiny mistake offering the two-fisted power eater a cookie. (In this house, we never just get one cookie. The house rule is if you've got two hands, you get a cookie for each. Life is just better that way.)

I'm guessing the sugar and caffine kicked in around the third cookie, 'cause her artistic side kicked in and she decided to trick-out the house.

Who knew that Chocloate Minties not only tasted good, but could be used as a replacement for charcoal sticks for drawing.

All creatures great and small

Seems that with Fall and cooler weather arriving, what I had anticipated as a welcome break from outdoor work has been replaced by an increase of indoor work.

With three CUs in our cottage-like home, there is no end to the creative exploits, which they pursue. Currently, to my left, we have a light rapid rail system being rebuilt, to my right the foundation is being dug for the new addition to the former cat house-cat hotel complex. The resident architect has told me that Cat City will be ready for occupation before Christmas.

I ask, where are the building permits? Where were the environmental studies?! Where was the notice to the community? I want to call my councilor!

Tricks and treats

Well Hallowe'en 2005 has come and gone. CU-3 has made the rounds and got a fair load of loot. The neighbors were incredibly generous, having bags set aside for the NCUs.

CU-3 was slow to understand the process of giving and receiving. In the begining she only wanted to give loot to kids. Actually, in the begining, she took my explaination, that we were going to throw candy at kids, quiet literally, beaning a few. She's got a good arm on her.

I was able to wrestle her into the design-modified costume. Instead of the colar design I'd created, it became a tutu, much to the confusion of her fellow trick-or-treaters. She was quite happy with it though. (Grandmas, pictures are coming. They just got dropped off for development today.)

* * *
On the flip side of things. I LOVE HALLOWE'EN. Not for the dressing up, candy and transformation of our neighborhood into something magical for an evening, but for the monogo that gets put out; it being the end of the month and all. This weekend past was especially good. So good that even the DH joined in the fun after a block stroll with the doglet.

Last year I got castle parts (that eventually went to a neighbor for her garden). This year I picked up a metal bucket in excellent condition, to go wtih a bucket of tools, a tacky sculpture of a dog and a boy (CU-1 is going to love this!), a deck box, a wooden high chair (that's pretty low to the ground), a ladder for CU-2's bunk bed, a single futon frame, and various odds and ends that I'll put to use in the garden next year.

For those of you with cable, think Weird Homes!