Moving On

Helloooooooo!
Anybody Home?
Have I dropped from every one's feed?

Much has been happening in our lives and a large part of those "happenings" finds us moving across the pond. As in the UK. As in England. Though only temporary, we are looking forward to our adventure in our new home.

Precious Oldest was quick to point out that when other parents have a mid-life crisis they do something ordinary, like buy a sports car, so why in God's name do her parents have to move to a different country?

The answer to this, and other questions, can be found here on the blog a started mere days ago.

I hope to catch up with my old bloggy pals and see what you and your families are up to!

Cheers,
Fannie

Color Blind

When we bought our house in 1996 we took the kitchen back to the studs. The only thing that remained from the original kitchen when we were done was the dishwasher.

At about the ten year mark I was really ready for a change. We also travelled to Italy that same year and I started dreaming of a warm Tuscan kitchen. I poured over magazine. I picked out new counter tops. I brought paint samples home at a rate of three a week.

Two years ago we had the wall paper stripped and painted the walls a nice neutral color and replaced the pulls on the cabinets. This was meant to get me through until the kitchen facelift rose to the top of the “financial priorities” list.

Finally this spring we said fuck it and I went full bore into picking out back splash and floor tile, faucet and sink. (And OMG the grout. Do you have any idea the number of colors of grout that exist? I didn't)I hired a contractor and over a few weeks’ time it was out with the old and in with the new.

But a problem remains. In all this time, over five years’ time, I have been envisioning yellow walls. Beautiful warm, yellow walls. Not the exact SHADE of yellow, (I currently have splotched of paint here, there and everywhere) but certainly yellow. The thing is? In the one place I painted a large swathe of what I thought was my top choice I just….wasn’t…sure. You know that feeling?

I had neighbors come over and render opinions. I had family come over and render opinions. I had had very nearly every guest at my daughter’s graduation party render an opinion.

Samples of backsplash and countertop in tow, I consulted with professionals at three different paint stores. I brought more paint chips home.

Now, more confused than ever, I consulted Precious Oldest. She surveyed the choices, looked me square in the eye and said, “Mom, why are you over thinking this? You want yellow walls; you’ve always wanted yellow walls. And I’ve never known to care what anyone else thinks about ANYTHING, why would you start now?”

I think I’m going to paint my kitchen walls this weekend. YELLOW.

Summa Cum Laude

Radio Silence

Since my last post:

• Audit at work – stress and madness ensue
  
• Vacation – lovely blur because
  
• FIL fell while we were gone sustaining grave injury
  
• IT conversion at work – stress and madness ensue
  
• FIL not progressing, bring in hospice
  
• Struggle to continue on with major fundraising event
  
• Funeral
  
• Put on huge fundraising event
  
• Spend time with Precious Oldest, home for spring break
  
• Spend time with Precious Youngest, home for spring break
  
• Shake fists at the heavens that their spring breaks were different weeks
  
• Go to the doctor and find out stress has caused weight loss. Go figure
  
• Send out resume and get called for interview
  
• Then….Nothing
  
• Start lettuce and carrots, prune and feed roses, beef up perennials
  
• Begin kitchen facelift
  
• Find out that lack of running water/stove/refrigerator render me useless
  
• Realize I would have made a shitty pioneer
  
• Girls home for Easter
  
• Have 70th birthday party for my mother
  
• Get called f or a second interview
  
• Then…Nothing
  
• Get a call from Precious Oldest – SHE HAS A JOB!
  
• Praise sweet baby jesus that kitchen face lift is done save for painting the walls
  
• Realize day after day after day of dreary weather has stopped me from doing any further gardening. Will likely see first tomato around fucking Labor Day
  
• Start researching possibilities for new kitchen table and chairs
  
• The Saint informs me budget is blown
  
• I keep looking for furniture anyway

Oh people I could weep. It has been a ragged few months. I look at this pathetic list and notice a total lack of nuance yet my life is filled day to day with grace notes I can’t put into words. I don’t want to abandon this space. We shall see.

Blizzard 2011

Three below zero. This temperature does not reflect wind chill.



We're nearly dug out.



But in places where the drifts are substantial



who knows when we'll see the ground again?



Fortunately, this time next week I'll be on a beach with The Saint.

Jealous?

*Green Girl inspired me to finish this post about goals/resolutions!

I've talked before about New Year's Resolutions. I typically think long and hard about one concrete goal for the coming year. I ponder the things I’ve really been meaning to do but just haven’t gotten around to actually doing. Nothing earth shattering; just something that with a little bit of effort could not only be accomplished but could perhaps become a good habit.

This year my goal was to cook for the food kitchen every month. Our church has a day a month that we are responsible for. The meal we serve has not changed in the almost twenty five years that we’ve been parishioners. It’s a simple Sloppy Joe recipe and I’ve prepared it for the food kitchen over the years, but sporadically and less and less since I’ve been working.

Every month they publish the recipe in the bulletin the week prior. I have an ancient copy in my recipe box. Meals are delivered to the parish center by 9:30 in the morning and then a group of volunteers transport the food to the facility and serve.

In order to meet my goal I worked out a simple plan. Mid-December I set reminders for myself in Outlook: two weeks prior, one week prior and a day of calendar reminder. I stocked up on the chicken gumbo soup that is part of the recipe but not always easy to find. Then I went out and bought a large, plastic storage container. I figured I could cook the meal ahead and freeze it; particularly helpful on weekdays. All I’d have to do is thaw it the day before, buy the buns, heat it up in the morning and deliver! The plan was taking shape.

I was doing the weekly grocery shopping towards the end of December and saw that ground beef was on sale. Our day to serve was, by this time, right around the corner and I figured why wait until January? I bought four pounds of ground beef, went home and went to town. On our day to serve the Saint dropped my contribution at church on his way to work.

Our day to serve for January is this weekend. My Sloppy Joes are cooked and frozen. The day before I’ll get the buns and thaw the meat. And as it’s a weekend I’ll get to join the other volunteers and go to the food kitchen and serve.

I’m off to a good start and I have great confidence that I can most certainly remember to participate the rest of the year. I assume after twelve months it will become second nature and I won’t need the “reminders”.

It is such a simple thing yet so satisfying

Dress Code Violation

I shed my work day like a snakeskin. Within sixty seconds of hitting the door my work clothes come off. It's not as if my office has some draconian dress code that includes skirts and pantyhose.

(Hell, I pretty much give myself a jeans day every Friday!)

No, for me the shedding has more to do with stripping off the work day. It's a physical letting go and sinking into the comfort and routine of home.



But let's be honest; this time of year usually finds me going from work clothes straight to pajama pants. They're just so comfy.








I mean for the lova’ God it's, cold, dark and snowy. Don't I deserve a little flannel with an elastic waist?






Chances are I'm in for the night and if you happen to stop by? I don't give a rats ass.







However this winter I've taken to entertaining in my PJs.










Hell, I've taken to going to other peoples homes in my PJs.








Last week we were headed to my parents’ house for dinner. I’d been on autopilot when I got home from work and already had my pajamas on. I wondered aloud if my mother would mind my showing up for DINNER in my pajamas. The Saint simply shrugged and said, “You don’t actually SLEEP in them, so they’re not REALLY pajamas, they’re HOUSE PANTS!”

HOUSE PANTS! Is it any wonder I love that man?!