I'm On Mrs. G's Open House Tour!

Mrs. G. of Derfwad Manor had a great idea. Let's everyone

post photos and write about the heart of our homes.

So, come on in . . . or as the little sign in my

mom's kitchen said,

"Come in, sit down, relax, converse.

Our house doesn't always look like this.

Sometimes it's even worse!"

Don't trip over the dust kittens.

The two most expensive window seats in the state of WA.
I had to have 'em.

Aforementioned window seats, the piano,
and the fireplace. Comfy chairs for reading,
plenty of room for people and animals to lay around.
We spend a lot of time here, listening to D. play the
piano. He can play ANYTHING. Dog.

One view of the kitchen. Not quite the
heart of the home. More like the elbow.



I do love my new pot rack.


OMG. The cutest fur family EVER! This is Elica's bed
and the stuffed animals are hers. The real ones are ours.

Summer evening in the Pacific Northwest. Chilly, cloudy.

Flowers trying desperately to conjure up some show.

The good thing about our weather? There's
never a bad time for a nice hot bath.

That's it, folks. A tour from the front door to the back deck. Do come again.

And next time, bring some wine!

High Tea It’s Not

Overheard at the breakfast table:

“Get off the dining room table!”

“Meow.”

“Get your ass out of my breakfast! I don’t put my ass in your breakfast!”

“Meow.”


Mad class in my house.

Oh God, Not MORE New Year’s Resolutions?!!? Yup.

Monday night, we had a gathering of friends and family (will it EVER end??) at our house. It was lovely, my carpets are unscathed and nobody revealed any naked body parts, intentionally or not. At some point while I was still semi-coherent (the last guests left at about 2:30 am), we went around the table answering the venerable, quintessential New Year’s Eve question: “What are your New Year’s Resolutions?” One by one, we professed a goal or two. Until it was my cousin’s turn. His answer? “I never make resolutions.” His tone? And don’t ask me again next year. We moved on to the next guest.

I’ve been thinking about this—probably too much—but hey, there’s nothing of terrible importance going on right now (as in, no meals to plan). I just don’t get this hard line that folks like my cousin have against New Year’s Resolutions.

To me, the non-believers fall into one or more of three categories:

1. They believe they need no improvement (and that right there is a fat clue);

2. They know they won’t keep their resolutions, so they don’t bother to make them (have they given up on themselves?)

3. They think it’s a silly clichéd tradition, like wearing funny hats and blowing through noisemakers at midnight (awesome!).

Well yes, we all know that it’s cliché, that resolutions are as are easy to make as a bowl of cereal—and as hard to keep as a mammogram appointment. (Two bad similes in one sentence! How does she do it?) And how many of us remember—much less keep—our sincerely made resolutions by April when all we can think about are taxes, not diets or quitting smoking or going to the gym three times a week no matter what?

I love how bloggers are writing about their resolutions, and I’ve decided to join in the fun. My list will be lurking out there in black and white forever. How convenient for beating myself up referring back to when I need reminding of what the hell it was I said I would do in the bask of a golden champagne-induced personal breakdown holiday glow.

To me, there’s no harm in taking stock of myself, blowing through an entire box of Kleenex and bottle of good Syrah, then dealing realistically with my shortcomings (unlike my cousin, the rest of us have them), and vowing to do better.

So here we go. Here’s what I need to improve, and I solemnly vow that I resolve to do so:

1. Be more patient with my husband. As in, no rolling eyes when he asks if we have any butter. This is a tough one because it involves a DNA transplant. Might need help. I reserve the right to silently say, "Have you LOOKED in the refrigerator, by chance?????"
   
   
2. Scoop the cats’ litter boxes every day. This will be an easy one: if I do it each morning after I feed them, it will only take a minute, max. Maybe it will cure the phantom pooper, too. I don’t know any cats who get scooped every day, but I’m sure they’re happier than mine, who deserve a cleaner environment in which to poo.
   


3. Be kinder. I am not completely unkind, mind you, and I will never be one of those annoying public-sweet-closet-bitchy women. I keep it real. But at times, that realness lands on others with a thud, or worse—with a smack. It’s not what I say, it’s how I say it, they say. I’ve heard it enough to know I need to work on it.
   


4. Write. I have two novels in the works. I need to get back to them.
   


5. Get organized. Since we moved into this house in April, I have never felt completely unpacked. There are still two unfinished rooms where boxes are shoved into corners, the closets are jammed full of crap, and nothing hangs on the walls—because we haven’t painted them yet. My mind is not at rest, and every time I walk into those rooms I feel stressed. I will pick out the paint and get started. Hang the pictures and clean out the closets. Breathe easier.
   


6. Attend Boot Camp faithfully. I have done better than I expected—I have survived two 8-week sessions of Boot Camp, and I’m stronger, my clothes fit better, and I love the class. I’m signing up for round 3 (I need the discipline of a class structure) and I vow to not miss any classes unless I’m sick or out of town. Three hours per week is no big deal. I just have to make myself get dressed and leave the house.
   


7. Be this girl (come warmer weather, of course—I’m not going near the water now).
   


8. And this girl.
   


9. Get myself on one of these, purchased, rented, borrowed—whatever it takes. Because I had nearly forgotten the pure happiness I feel when I’m sailing. I don’t want to forget.
   



10. Take good care of myself, however I define it, each day. Naps, massages, walks, bike rides. Be with people who are good for my soul. Simply put, do more of the stuff I want to do and less of the stuff I do not.

Well, this ought to be enough to set me on the path to self-love, family harmony, and life balance. Who knew it could be SO EASY? Stay tuned.

The Cat Who Won't Shut UP!

I have two cats. Both are adorable, orange, long-haired tabby cats, which are widely known as the best, most mellow and sweet, good-natured, adorable, sweetest, mellowest, chillest, coolest, kindest, smartest, most adorable cats on the Planet Earth.

Except for right now. One of them is walking around the house meowing in his eff'd up way, which sounds like a cross between nails on a chalkboard and a--well, wild cat in heat--not that this one knows anything about that. What sound in creation could be more annoying?? I am absolutely powerless to stop it.

(Just for fun, give a cat a command of your choice and then hold your breath and see who dies first.)

I love all animals; the ones who agree to live in my house and eat my food are my children--I'm a little weird like that. I think animals have more inherent rights than many people deserve and I am a humongous supporter of every animal rights group, yes, including PETA, and some may think it's "because" I don't have children, but god, the animals need SOMEONE on their side who thinks they're as important as people, do they not?? So whether I have spawn or not does not enter into this equation. I know too well how dogs and cats take a back seat when the kids come into the picture.

That said, this particular animal is asking for it, big time.

"Reerrrrawwwaaarrraaaahhhhhh," says he.

"What do you WANT?" says I.

"Mrrreeeeeewaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaahhhhh," says the cat.

"Be quiet! You're NOT going outside!" says the patient and kind animal lover.

Pad, pad, pad go the furry paws; swish, swish, swish go the butt and high-held tail. Around the kitchen, through the hall, in circles around my chair and the dining room table, and back to the hall again.

"Weeeehhhhhhhaaaaaaayyyyoooooouuuuuuuhhhhhh," says he, more forlornly than last time.

"Oh for godssake, what IS it?" says I. I follow him downstairs to the cubby where their food bowls live.

Oops. Empty.

Ok, I'm the bad one.

This cat is up for adoption. His name is Twinkie. He looks exactly like mine. You need this cat. I'm sure he's very quiet.

Some Things I Learned Today

First, I learned what the Zoundz from Zizzle is. My kids (employees) call it the shizzle. It's a toy that makes music with pawns that light up and change the sound. You can record into it and mix the recording into the music you create. Or you can stream your Ipod (or other brand of MP3 player) into it and become a real DJ!

Wow!

And here I was, thinking that I'm not altogether up on the latest toyz for gurlz and boyz, but I know about zoundz, and that makes me very current.


Next, I learned that some sad and aimless individuals, for no apparent reason, simply have NO MEMORY. Zero memorization powers. Ixnay on the emorymay. I thought I was getting bad because I can't remember any of my friends' birthdays or phone numbers (yeah, but just ask me and I'll tell you the phone numbers of the house where I grew up, plus my parents' store, my grandparents' house, and my best friend's childhood home), but I'm officially in my mid-forties (sweet jesus) and have killed an awful lot of brain cells over the years. I have an excuse. I don't know what this guy's problem is, except for a simple case of CRS* syndrome. I tell him something, the next week he asks the same question. A customer calls, they have a long and friendly conversation, and a few days later he cannot remember what they talked about. This happens over and over--and these people WANT TO BUY STUFF FROM US. It's maddening.

I just hope he can remember to leave me off any future former employer reference lists.

*can't remember shit, of course


Finally, I learned where one of my cats (who has remained anonymous thus far) likes to poo when his tummy is upset and he can't make it to the litter box on time.

This is my previously-white bathroom rug. Eww. Stinky.