Tuesday, March 31

Random Happenings

--The boy twisted his ankle today and sprained it while playing on his gymnastics mat. He had to hop to dinner. Lie on the couch. Moan. We did the RICE treatment, so I had him stick his leg on the arm of the sofa and put an ice pack on it. He got a couple of shows. Adam carried him to bed. And then I asked, "Can you twirl your foot?"

The boy: Ow, ow, ow! [he twirls his foot] It hurts!

Me: Are you sure? Because when you were laying on the couch, it was the other foot was the twisted one.

The boy: Oh. Which ankle did I sprain?

--I promised my b'nai mitzvah class that I'd have a rough draft of our dvar written in two weeks. That was one week and six days ago. It's a very dry parsha. Jubilee years and all sorts of fun stuff. But no worries. I have a couple hours tomorrow after volunteering in the kindergarten to get it done. Oh, whoops! What's that? Pie has a fever? No school tomorrow? I've had how much wine? Should be an interesting Torah talk...

--The boxes are pretty much unpacked. But in order to get those boxes unpacked, I had to put the stuff somewhere. So the floor is now covered with stuff that had been neatly put away in boxes. I have one week to get it all put away because...

--In one week I host my first social event of the year. Sure, some might call it a solemn religious occasion, but why split hairs? I'm hosting a Passover seder, which will call for full use of my beautiful new stove. I can't wait. Including my family, there will be 18 of us. I've already made two huge batches of chicken soup, farfel kugel, and I've bought enough matzah and gefilte fish to get us through at least a few days, so at this point I know no one will starve. I'm plotting out what to cook next.

--So the contractor handed back his key today. Sad, sad day for me. No more, "Could you just..." "Would you mind..." "Hey, maybe we should..." Now it's just me and Adam. The trailer's out of the front yard, the garbage is off the front porch, and the mailbox has even been returned to its rightful place on the house. All that's left is for me to get my crap off the floor.

--Random link: I love this site. Everyone go save a word. I haven't officially adopted a word yet. I haven't found the one yet. I'm waiting for my beshert. Although I'm sure you'll be able to tell on this blog when I've chosen my one. I'm also into the Very Short List. Best e-mails I get.

--When I was a wee girl, I had three stuffed animals: Beady Bear (named for the book of the same name), Snoopy, and Elly Belly Elephant. I will come out and say that Elly Belly Elephant was a disputed animal: The Tweedle Twirp seemed to think that Elly Belly was hers. Let me set the record straight here: The Tweedle Twirp was wrong. I still own Beady Bear. He's a little worn, but still recognizable. Tweeds had custody of the other two.

Tweeds decided it was time to pass the two on to my children. I took the two creatures, which were recognizable. That is, if by recognizable you think of a homeless, strung out, Avenue Q-version of Snoopy and Elly. Those two have never been washed. I'm pretty sure not ever. Those animals are about 38 or so years old, and untouched by water. So I took those animals in the name of my children. And I decided it was high time they were introduced to the pleasures of cleanliness. Into the washer they went.

It is with great regret that I have to inform you that they didn't make it back out and they have gone to the great playroom in the sky.

RIP Snoopy and Elly. You were well loved.

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Wednesday, March 25

Oh, Pork You!

This link here is just for Adam. See, I think about you!


Monday, March 23

On Our Own Again

We've got separation anxiety going on here. Serious, serious separation anxiety. The kind that keeps you up at night and leaves you in cold sweats. Because we are about a week away from the contractors being done. And leaving. Us. Me. No more, "Hey, I can't quite reach that. Can you put in that light bulb?" Or, "What do you say? Should we hang that mirror there?" Or what about, "This shelf is sticking. Could you get it in the proper place for me?" Forget live-in maid or cook. I want a live-in contractor. Every time we've had any oddity ("Is that supposed to do that? Is that making a funny noise? I wish we had an outlet there"), it's been a simple matter of "Oh, Leo will be here in the morning. We can ask him."

But it will end. The punch list is just about punched. The shingles are shingled. We've got a single stair rail to go up outside. We've got gutters to go up. But that's really about it. We've got just mere days of "ask Leo."

And I'm not sure I can handle it.

But it's time. Time to let go. Time to grow up and enjoy my brand-new grown-up house all on our own. And speaking of brand-new house, I believe I've been delinquent on photos. Today I give you the kitchen. I was going to wait until it was nice and clean and everything put away, but I thought you'd want photos sometime this year, so here it is in all it's everyday-use glory.

The old kitchen:

See those expanses of counter space? The beautiful cabinets? The aisles of storage space?

Note, here, the oven hood that Adam installed that prevents the cabinet next to it from opening all the way:

The new kitchen. Not the best pictures because you can't truly see my beautiful 36-inch stove, but I'm too lazy to take more photos:

We couldn't get a proper mud room into the house, so we now have a new side entrance and cubbies for each of us:

With Adam's master Elfa pantry. I haven't mastered the wide shot of the small space, so you can't really see it in all it's true glory, complete with my lovely drawer labels. There's a whole wall on the right with more shelves and drawers:

(And I have a secret: we'll need to replace our front windows and front door soon. Leo may not have seen the last of us yet!)

More rooms to come...


Saturday, March 21

Boxes of Boxes

I'm unpacking. Can't you tell? I'm doing the big push of just freakin' emptying the boxes so I now have individual pieces of crap all over the house, but at least the boxes are noticeably dwindling. The kids have more toys than any of us know what to do with and I need to do some stealth thinning. And we have a lot of stuff that I'm getting rid of now (like hooded towels--I had saved all those baby hooded towels and the kids just aren't wrapping themselves in ducky hooded towels any more). Freecycle has been my best friend these past few days.

Adam's best friend has been the Container Store. he is elfa-ing like crazy. At this second, he's knee-deep configuring our pantry (I'll add a picture here when he's done). He's also done the fourth--yes, fourth--Ikea run in the past three weeks (our house is embarrassingly filled with Expedit shelves).

And now I need to find a space for everything. We have lots of room, but a lot of the stuff I have is "display" stuff, and I don't have many surfaces for "display" at the moment. My mom sent me a ton of my grandmother's stuff--about a year ago I went through her house (with the other grandkids) picking out things we wanted. And then she packed it all up and saved it for the year while we did our house remodel. Which is great, but as I'm unpacking, I don't remember what half the stuff is. Some of the stuff is super cool--I have this musical cigarette holder of my grandmother that makes me want to take up smoking (not really, Mom; it's just a joke). And most of the stuff is cute tchotchkes that I want out and about.

Okay, break over. Time for sushi and then more unpacking. No rest till the boxes are gone!


Wednesday, March 18

I'll Think About It...

Pie: Mommy, go like this.
Pie pulls her hair tightly back against her head. I comply.
Pie: Mommy, your hair on the bottom is white!
Me: Yes, it is.
Pie: You need to color it. How about purple? I'll color mine purple, too.


Sunday, March 15

They Couldn't Agree on the Price


Telling It Like It Is

Peter [my father], on the way to the "new" house after picking him up at the T station:
So, Pie, what color is your room!
Pie: Purple! Lily Lavender!
Peter: Oh! And what color is the guest room?
Pie: Um... it's white! Like your hair!

Doodles: Dad, the laundry is really piling up. You need to do it.
Adam: Why don't you tell your mother that?
Doodles: Dad! Mom doesn't do laundry!

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Saturday, March 14

Hockey Boy Finishes the Season

Thursday, March 12

Running Like (Broken) Clockwork

My life revolves around routines. It's what keeps me sane and organized. It's what allows me to bake hamantaschen in time to give to Pie's teachers, to bake hallah every Friday, to take classes here and there, to volunteer at the kindergarten and synagogue. It's what keeps me up-to-date on this blog and on my e-mail. It's what allows me to plan trips to Israel (or New York or Miami). It's what keeps this house together. But most importantly in my little world it's what gives me the freedom to be able to write creatively, to work on my novel. Routine gives me my haus frau extraoridinaire status (is mixing German and French cliches the same as mixing my metaphors?).

Can you guess what's sorely lacking in our lives?

We haven't had family dinners, I didn't get to boot camp class, the Purim preparations were nil (at least I did get the boy his Darth Vader costume and I was able to find it used), and I can't get to evening classes because I'm usually asleep these days by about 9:30 because I've spent the days unpacking and running errands at top speed.

We're slowly getting out from under the boxes but we're missing some basic pieces of furniture essential for getting things away (I don't have a desk--my computer is set up on a card table--nor a shelf or file cabinet...; the kids playroom doesn't have a single piece of storage equipment so it's toys, toys, toys everywhere!), so those things are lingering in boxes. We have no shades yet so we spend our evenings dodging the many open windows (thank goodness it's Beetle and her family who lives across the street, and I don't care if they see us all in our PJs). My running has fallen by the wayside--I basically took two weeks off--figured my body could use a break--but man is it hard to get back to that routine! My first run after two weeks and it was like I hadn't run in years. I barely made it four miles and I was sore the next day.

But that's going to change. It's time to reintroduce the routines! The Nana is here to help out--we'll be hanging artwork, figuring out where to put what, meeting with someone to choose some window coverings, and perhaps even squeeze in a trip to Ikea or the Container Store. The weather is improving just enough that I can no longer use it as an excuse not to run (although I can always use daylight savings, as running in the dark at 6:30 is a total downer). And I'm going to get this office set ASAP so starting next week, when the kids are in school, I can get my writing routine back. I promise (well, I strongly intend) not to desert this blog again for such a long time, as it's as hard getting back on the blog as it is to get back into those running shoes.

Starting now, it'll be business as usual again. Now to catch up on that backlog of e-mails....

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