V is for very dumb ideas

Welp it is officially that time of year again when I spend weeks preparing at least six million valentines over the course of three weeks. The payoff of is that they are destroyed and forgotten exactly thirty two seconds after they have been received but those seconds in between are magical. I made the  mistake this year of watching videos on YouTube of people who are really really fast at their jobs. There was one woman who could wind spindles faster then a machine and another who could package playing cards at head spinning speeds. This led me to feel severely inadequate when it came time for me to fill bags with jelly beans. At one point I began to be discouraged over the thought that my slow tying skills would never be featured on a highlight real. After all who wants to watch a slightly advanced chimpanzee woman make valentines. It was then that I realized that I may have become a little delusional which is bound to happen when this is what you are looking at for hours on end.

That and my super incredible mother had just dropped off my super fancy table top that she refurbished out of wood she salvaged. I am still not exactly sure if it is even legal to take said wood but either way I got a new table. The varnish on it is still very fragrant so between the latex and the fumes  it is no wonder I had small visions of grandeur.
So even though I won't be featured in any videos any time soon I still finished these puppies up

It was only after amassing that giant pile above that I realized that perhaps giving a whoopee cushion to a grown adult who is in charge of educating my child was not going to win me any points so I spent a few more minutes creating special valentines for them.

I figured since I had won all sorts of mom points that I could do no wrong so today when the boys asked if they could get there bikes down to try them out I was like watch this not only am I going to create boss valentines I am also going to be a boss mom and allow it.
In my defense the snow has melted off the streets and has been replaced by puddles that are more akin to lake Wobegon then to snow waste and the wind advisory had been lifted. So away we went in thirty three degree weather. Things were going along just fine until we hit a bridge covered with slush and several inches of snow. I took the high road, literally,  the boy howdy's must have missed that little fact and before I knew it both of them were precariously navigating the obstacle. I would have like to have been a more attentive cheerleader but the aforementioned road was actually main street which has shrunk by a third by very ironical snow mounds so cars were whizzing by at incredibly close margins.

The crew, observe this stretch of road had zero snow, this is called vindication.

We made it to the grocer where I figured that I deserved some sort of reward for being a negligent mother and set out to buy some beloved Cadbury mini eggs. The only problem is they were asking way too much money and whilst I may not have been able to feel my face fingers or lower extremities I still have my principles so I left them on the shelf.
The ride home was pretty uneventful minus Myers almost catapulting over his handlebars when he got stuck between railroad tracks and severe mud. Thing One nearly lost control of his bike and carened into a snow bank at neck braking speeds which he later stated was the most terrifying thing that has ever happened to him. And Thing Two fish tailed into no less then 3 cars who luckily have more common sense then I have and were able to avoid him. Like I said uneventful.
It was only after we were safely tucked back into our neighborhood that I realized that the eggs were only fifty cents more then what they were on sale for. Turns out my logic is as good as my parenting skills.
Maybe I can find a few stray jelly beans. Fingers crossed.

Ice Cold

A few weeks ago we made a new addition to our house. After a whole lot of thought we decided that if we were ever going to increase our mileage the boys were going to need an upgrade in bikes. Especially since Thing One's upgrade was a massive mistake. We bought a K-mart mongoose which I believe is one of the fiercest animals in the wild kingdom. What we got was the fiercest piece of crap on the market.
So while other people were driving around with weather appropriate gear strapped to the tops of their roofs we were driving around with this.

I really thought that perhaps this was going to be the year that I would FINALLY be nominated for mother of the year but then I go ahead and buy bikes in the middle of the winter. The boys got to ride to the end of the parking lot and back and that was it. Thing Two got a little extra time whilst I was trying to coax my frozen fingers into actually tightening Thing One's down onto the racks which only broke his little boy heart wider open when he was forced to hand it over to me.
For a few days he kept asking if he could just put on his helmet and ride to the end of the driveway and back up but since out yard currently looks like this I was forced to say no.

To give you perspective that hill is taller then I am and I fear for our little sapling  in the spring since it has also almost been overtaken.
It is really difficult to try and rationalize with a daredevil and even harder to try to teach the principle of black ice which is what our entire driveway is.
There has been much weeping and wailing and every time we drive into the garage and see this there is more guilt lathered on in hopes that someday soon I will give in and just pay to have heads sewn shut.

The guilt is becoming so great that I am actually thinking about driving to Punxsutawney to punch stinking Phil in the face because punching a fictional rodent seems like the kind of rational decision I would make. You win winter you win.

Not smarter than a fifth grader

January is winding down which can only mean two things. One we are covered in at least six million inches of snow which is sucking my will to live and B it is time to cram and finish Thing Ones monthly book report. I recall being in the fifth grade and believe it or not book reports had in fact been invented by that point. I recall writing several compelling essays about the inner workings of the babysitters club. Even at that tender age I knew that  Kristy sounded like a real jerk. I remember things like this because after reading the stupid book I was required to write a synaopsis of the thing. Another booky word I learned from writing reports. Apparently there is a new consipacy a foot becuase now that my child is in the fifth grade writing a book report is not good enough. Nope now we have to spend an ungodly amount of time creating visual learning aids or some other pretend word that they use to trick me into believing that it is valid.
The process is always the same however.

• The genre  is issued at the first of the month and Thing One tries to convince both of us that instead of getting a grade appropriate book he is going to shoot for the moon and get a thousand pager. We have a minor melt down in the public library and try to avert prying eyes away from our circus. Do you know how hard it is to freak out in a quiet voice? Turns out it is impossible don't worry Thing one has demonstrated it month after month
• By the 5th of the month Myers is reminding Thing one to read. This leads to another melt down about how insert what ever subject matter is really stupid and he already knows everything about it blah blah blah
• The 15th comes and we again ask how the book reading is coming along. The response is equal in pain and punishment to chasing a badger down a hole. 

• The 27th rolls around and then it is crunch time. This usually results in the table being covered in all manor of craft supplies, thirteen emergency trips to the Walmart for some vague supply that we have to have, a lot of tears and door slamming and finally Myers and myself staying up way past our bedtimes to finish our Thing ones report. 

This months "report" was a five player game that did not include anything about the plot, theme or anything else that would elude to its purpose.
This is how Thing One handled it

This is what we were doing

After some inspired crafting on my end and a lot of erasing on Myers end we pulled it all off with exactly zero help from the student.

To add insult to injury when it was all said and done he came up to Myers and asked him the following question.
So Dad exactly when was it that you went through puberty?
I don't think he would have time to formulate these questions if he was instead focusing on subplot. Thanks for nothing fifth grade!

I am the whiz!

I am fully aware that I am not the best house keeper in the world. I have closets that could work as home security devices ifin' I could get the criminals to open them whilst robbing me since they are stacked so precariously. One of the items I don't skimp on however is bathroom cleaning. It takes me a good hour to scrub the boys bathroom and I use a toothbrush to ensure that no crevice is left unscrubbed. The last few weeks despite my best efforts there has been a constant stench of urine in their cave and it was driving me crazy!

My last cleaning  effort resulted in me using not one, not two, but three different chemicals and still the stupid thing reeked. I then removed the toliet seat from its home and great googly moogly I thought that I was going to retch. Still the smell persisted. I then had Myers reset the toilet and scraped the old silicone seal out and scrubbed under the throne and still the smell persisted. I was all set to pick out my suite at the loony bin when I noticed that the base board was warped so before Myers could tell me to be rational I wedged a screwdriver behind it and yanked it out. Then to verify my suspisions I sniffed the board and holy crow it was in fact the culprit. I felt vindicated until I realized that I now had expossed dry wall in my bathroom. It really squashed the mood so away I went to the home depot. After much debate I came up with the idea to install a tile wall that would look like a plank wall. Given that it was ceramic it would be impervious to the never ending weedle stream that the boy howdys create. Myers was not on board but no matter I went forward with my plans. While I was add it I decided to repaint and redecorate because why not.
I did get paint in my eye while painting the ceiling  and I did swear about it and it did result in me crying paint tears which was as  painful as it sounded but not as painful as the fact that I had to use the bathroom where Myers was eradicating his bowels to flush out my eye. But other than that it was pain free so without further ado here is our new bathroom!

I had to tape off the whole shower to do the ceiling. It is perhaps the best tape job ever and I am thinking about hiring out my skills

The bottom tiles wouldn't stick and we didn't have a jack so we used the shower curtain rod with the curtain still attached this is called classy resourcefulness

Myers setting the wall in place

The wall before we put the grout in

My mom who is the only reason this whole project got done suggested ripping the old Formica out

The tile finished

The finished room

I got rid of the towel bar and instead added personalized hooks

The wall in all its glory

So now when you stop by you can skip to the loo with out the smell of my boys. Winning!

And then there was one

Fun fact I am not dead all though my lack of posting would lead someone to believe the opposite. I may look like I have been drug in the dirt for no less then 50 miles and I am so tired I am thinking about asking Rip Van Winkle if I can become his adopted daughter but I am still kicking. I seem to forget every year how bad the holiday season really is and this year was no exception. But now that the turkeys have not only been stuffed and consumed and the stockings are all hanging with various amounts of care I am on the downhill slope and I can almost taste freedom.
I took a couple of pictures and someday I might post them but I am not even going to try to recap the various activities instead we will forge ahead to the real reason for this post.
Over Three years ago by some random fluke I was offered a job at a religious institution. I am still not sure if this was because the Good Lord was trying to save my soul or if I am just really good at interviewing. Either way I have had to learn how to cook without swearing and I have had to learn to tell clean jokes which ironically feels dirty to me. Along the way I was blessed with a crew that was second to none and today I said good bye to the last one.
First to go was Magic Mike who was in search of sunshine. We reminised about the guy and all his shenanigans for months. Our very favorite was the frosting debacle.

I was sad to see him go but I was more excited about all the adventures that that kid would have since I am always pro stories.
Redi took off next but not really since he just moved departments and managed to find his way back to the bakery everyday. I could count on his thick accent to tell me good bye forever like clock work and in fact started timing my breakfast around him but I missed him every time I wanted to race somebody since he was the only one who thought he could win then blame his loss on my giant hands, since that is somehow an advantage.

Old lady Jessica left us on Friday to actually serve Jesus and I am not going to lie I almost cried but then I remembered that my credibility would go right out the window so I held it together. We used to make her read the blog posts out loud because it instantly made it funnier since she could only read one word before melting into fits of laughter.  Now it looks like I am going to have to step up my game since now I am not going to be guaranteed laughter every time. Dang

Today was the hardest though because today I had to say goodbye to Minon who also is in search of the sun. Seriously California if you could stop your siren song that is seducing my people that would be great! He is the very one who pushed me to write this blog telling me all along that he would be the editor. He apparently is not completely sure what an editor does because he never actually reads the blog but that is a minor detail really. He and I spent all day everyday together and it will be so bizarre to walk into the shop tomorrow and not have him show up. He got me organized, never laughed at my jokes, and often told me my music was lame now that I think about it I am not sure why I will miss him....
But here I sit hovering between tears and total gratitude for the last three years with my peeps.  I always figured I would be the first to leave but sometimes life is a giant jerk and instead you get left behind. So tonight before my grinch heart kicks in I want to say thank you to everyone of them for everything. I am in fact the luckiest human being on the Earth.

Drugs are a drag

Years ago before I had fully grown into my beaver teeth I entered a pilot program called D.A.R.E. I was the first graduating class and I suppose it worked because I have stayed away from drugs for years now. Given that they had spent all this money designing a really crappy logo they have continued to educate the youths of America about the dangers of illicit drug use. Thing 1 is currently enrolled and I hear all about officer Scott but zero about the core of the subject.
Apparently this week is red ribbon week at Thing one's school. It used to be that they issued a crappy ribbon that you were required to wear all week that came with a standard micro sized safety pin that was no doubt the culprit in a few tetanus cases. Now it requires dressing up in various things to show your support of the anti movement, mainly because kids are soft and are too delicate to be stabbed on a daily basis.
Today was Disney day with the theory that you should be in your happy place and not use drugs. I really really wanted to tell Thing one that that is the dumbest thing that I have ever heard and then ask for a refund on my tax dollars that paid people to come up with that. Instead I feigned interest whilst he came up with elaborate ideas as to what he should be. The worst part is he is also supposed to come up with a Halloween costume this week as well and there is no way no how I am paying for 2 separate costumes even if it means that I am taking my chances of my kids developing some unsavory habit. When I realized I could procrasitante no more I decided it was time to get off my lazy can and throw something together.
So while he wanted to be the mad hatter which he said was easy and all it would take was spray painting a hat we don't own, wearing a shirt that is not made for general retail and donning a coat that has tails and large buttons I steered him into the direction of being Gaston which would require wait for it, one yellow shirt. Even better one yellow shirt from the DI that cost me five doll hairs. I did call on of my student employees and she graciously provided a belt for the ensemble. It turns out this was a slippery slope that I slide all the way down. In my extensive five minute google search of DYI Gaston costumes it occurred to me that he wears boots.  I figured if he was already wearing a girls belt we might as well commit and wear girl boots as well. I proposed the idea to which he said no way people will make fun of me for wearing girl boots. My come back was don't worry son I have enormous feet and no one will be able to tell that they are made for a girl. I realize now that I am a little ways away from the situation that this logic was in fact not sane since you know men don't wear riding style boots. The wheels were already set in motion so this morning my son left my house clomping around in size 12 lady boots in the name of staying drug free. Ironically this might just be what drives him to use while he is trying to erase the pains of being taunted for his choice in footwear.

So recap- even if you were the same size as a drag queen it does not qualify as men's wear and because of this faux pas my kid is dabbling in the world of cross dressing. Looks like I am going to remove my name from mother of the year ballot- again.

It's Fall Y'all!

Welp it is official. Fall has sprung around our parts which means that by law I am required to wiggle my body into comfy jams and hibernate. I hate to do it but as a law abiding citizen I have no choice.
We tried to squeeze the last few drops of fun out of summer by taking the boy howdys to the drive in. I thought there was a whole post in that little adventure. Turns out not so much.
Shocking since giving a blow by blow account of watching a film sounded like such a rivoiting story. I did learn that I have not lost my Jewish motherly ways and our trunk proved it.

I am not sure what I thought we would encounter but we were prepared. So long as the preparation called for blankets and an ottoman.

We did pack calzones  which Minion informed me first thing is not drive in food. I am not sure what constitutes drive in food or who made him the authority but either way they were delicious.
So that was it for the last hoorah and I thought that it would be enough to tide me over and then the cold hit. It has been raining and cold and the forecast calls for snow before Halloween and suddenly I have found myself wishing I could return to warmth and sun. Somehow, someway my foodie brain has translated tropical climates with butternut ravioli in brown butter sauce. The best food I have ever eaten consumed in sunny California with the likes of y'all. Only problem is my desire to recreate my past is often squashed by my laziness, that and Myers has been keeping the house at 64 degrees. I kid you not I am writing this in a hoodie. Cooking in a hoodie should only happen in extreme cases like camping. Luckily for all of us I am married to the most amazing human I know and while I was konked out on the couch all lady like with my mouth agape he snuck to the grocer and got the stuff for the ravioli and then made the filling.
When I awoke we stuffed the crap out of some pasta and then proceeded to gorge our selves. I also happened to pinterest the crap out of the photos.

Good thing summer is 10 months away as per the Idaho calendar because any dinner that requires a pool of butter on the plate is no doubt bad for the old swimsuit body. That however sounds like a problem for future Chris.