Friday

tip-o-day

You don't need a tip today... go have some fun.
The year is almost over.

Go on.

JOY!

Friday

tip-o-day

Are you wrapping gifts this holiday season?
Will your significant other person be wrapping them with you?

Here are some tips for just such an occasion:

• set the mood,
  - put on some happy holiday music
  - start a fire*
  - pour a glass of something you love - wine, a cold lager, eggnog...
  
  
• create some space
  - clear off the kitchen or dining table
  - use the chairs to hold unwrapped gifts or supplies
  
  and most importantly
• duplicate your wrapping supplies,
  this will make for a truly harmonious wrapping experience.
  - 2 pairs of scissors
  - 2 rolls of tape
  

*for safety weese suggests only starting fires if you have a fireplace or wood burning stove.

The Classics

I was out running errands on lunch today and uncharacteristically flipped on the radio.
I happened upon Peter and the Wolf – an updated narration by David Bowie. While not the classic, I was very pleased. Motoring around town reminiscing of my childhood… cold winter afternoons in feety pj’s listing to scratchy recordings and conjuring up fantastical images in my head.

I started to imagine how my grand wife and I might snuggle up with our children’s children, perhaps in front of the fire and listening to and participating in this wonderful musical tale – learning about the instruments and how their sounds make us feel the action and the emotion of each scene.
Then …

“And if one would listen very carefully, he would hear the duck
quacking inside the wolf, because the wolf, in his hurry, had swallowed her alive.”

Ah yes.. I had forgotten what a dark little tale Prokofiev can weave.
Hmm, perhaps we should start with something by the Brothers Grimm? ;)

Gift? cards

I am probably about to piss off a bunch of people.
So… Merry Christmas.

I keep seeing these advertisements… there is one for Home Depot – where this pathetic fellow wanders around the store with one of the sales folks looking for the perfect gift for his wife - first, unless his wife is a lesbian, he’s probably in the wrong store – anyway, he finally picks up a gift card and they both concur that this IS the perfect gift.
Huh.

Macy’s has this online popup ad of a young, handsome couple hugging. She is holding up a Macy’s gift card. She looks extremely pleased.

Sorry people. I cannot fathom any reason to give any working* adult a gift card.
Even more RIDICULOUS is giving your spouse a gift card.

‘Here honey, please take some of OUR money and go shop at THIS store.’
Huh
‘I mean.. I love you so much… that I give you permission to spend this exact amount of money on yourself. Hope you can find something you like.’
Huh.
‘What I am trying to say is I really don’t know that much about you, and I don’t really want to invest any effort or time learning anything about you.. but I want you to be happy, because our lives are so much easier when you are happy and clearly I don’t know how to make you happy, but I saw an advertisement that said you would be happy to have this little card.’

If you must buy a gift card – buy one from Target or Stop and Shop and give it to someone who needs it – to someone who is hungry or cold. And if you absolutely insist on buying your spouse a gift for the holiday – get a puppy… I mean really, who doesn’t love puppies.


* by ‘working’ I refer to being employed at a position which provides enough money to live by. There are many ‘working’ adults who don’t make enough to feed and clothe their families, despite their earnest efforts.

winter projects

We are making great progress on our bedroom redecorating project, in fact we are ahead of schedule. The walls and ceilings are painted, leaving only the trim to finish up.
My hard-working wife put the final coat of poly on the newly stripped wood floor on Sunday.

We were sitting in the living room enjoying a cocktail after our days work on the project when Ferris yells down the stairs...
"Mom, why is this floor all sticky?"

Lets do lunch.

We had lunch this weekend with dear people.
So dear in fact that when we called at the last minute to change our dinner plans to lunch plans they happily adjusted.
We had requested the time change because Ferris was rolling in from his last final of the semester Saturday evening. A sophomore still needs to be coddled after his finals are over. So we needed to be home... to coddle.

On the ride home from our delicious lunch with delightful company - we realized just how nice it is to be heading home before dark on a cold winter day.
Summers are meant for long, lingering nights on the patio over cool cocktails. Winter seems well suited for lunch mimosa's and afternoon chatter.

I think we may be starting a new seasonal shift in our social schedule.

casualty

good as new by noon

Friday

tip-o-day





did you want a tip?
welp, I'm busy... come back later.

A load of laundry a day keeps... weese happy.

I used to do laundry everyday.
It was by choice.
I was never one of those people to wait and do several loads over the course of the weekend. I didn’t want my weekends filled with laundry.
One load each night(ok… maybe sometimes two and sometimes I would skip…).
Simple.
Wash/dry …then two minutes to fold and right upstairs to be put away and your done!

But I used to do laundry for more people.
These days we don’t have enough for a load every night. But old habits die hard.
So I had to chuckle last night as I was hanging my freshly laundered shirt… that I had just worn to work.

Friday

tip-o-day

We’ll be knee deep in our bedroom makeover project this weekend. Perhaps I will post some pictures as we go.

So here are some painting tips for you.
After opening the can of paint – take a hammer and nail and put some holes in the lid gutter. Then after pouring from the can to the paint tray excess paint will drain right back into the can.

Also – I am always sure to pour with the directions side up. That way when paint dribbles down the can I don’t worry about not being able to re-read important information such as drying or recoating times.

Perhaps my hardworking wife will offer some floor stripping tips in her sidebar ->
like...how to grow back cilia.

She picked me

It's important in a relationship to celebrate your differences... or at least learn to laugh about them.

Whenever I get particularly neurotic - I simply remind my fraught wife that she picked me.

And I of course ...picked her.

~~

We have decided to redecorate our bedroom.
Let me give you some background on the project.

A dozen years or so ago we enlarged our room by creating an opening into an adjoining bedroom. That room had been Ferris'. We moved him to the ever so slightly smaller back bedroom. He was not particularly pleased... but I image now that he lives in a dorm room he has probably gotten over it, or perhaps he can begin therapy early... anywhoo...
When we took up the rug in there the wood floors underneath were in a sorry state of shellac and paint and who knows what.
We decided it would be very 'Pottery Barn' to paint the floors black. We were such Pottery Barn lesbians. The floor came out good and it was a striking look with our dark sage walls with crisp cream trim. When the black paint started to chip and show the reddened shellac underneath we considered it rustic... cool.

It finally got to a point where 'cool' got old.
That point was sometime last week.
So we knew we needed to address the floor as part of this makeover. Refinishing the oak floors would be the right thing to do - but really it would mean refinishing the entire second floor and, while you've got the mess going, the stairs should be done too.
This would mean moving all the furniture off the second floor and sleeping else where for a week or so - not to mention the cost.
That option was nixed early on.
Our next idea was to simply repaint the floor, perhaps a happier color.

We thought before we bought any floor paint - just for giggles we would try a little bit of stripping solution we had left over on a small inconspicuous area. Just to see.
In steps my adorable wife.

I walk into the room Saturday afternoon and there is a smallish stripped area of the floor.
Where?
Inconspicuously in the middle of the room.

by the time I grabbed the camera she had already started removing baseboards and stripping more floor

She cracks me up.
She has about 1/4 of the floor done now.
The floor underneath has a ... lets call it a distressed look.
People pay big money for distressed these days.
It's very Pottery Barn.

Brrrrrrr

Did I complain... just last week...
about raking in 34 degree weather?

Friday

tip-o-day

The holidays are fast approaching. So I suppose today's tip should be holiday-ish.
I should tell you to gather twigs from your yard and spray paint them silver and gold for a festive center piece. Perhaps how to make a wreath out of wine corks, or bottle caps or used tampon wrappers. Maybe even how best to set your holiday table.
But no. Martha I am not.

My tip for you this holiday season is to conserve. Conserve your energy, conserve your resources, conserve your finances.
Make this the year that you make a holiday budget. Don't overbuy. We all already have too much stuff. Getting presents becomes numbing rather than a treat. The whole concept of returns...just makes me cringe. What is the point of all of it.
Buy a bottle of wine for someone ..then share it with them. Bring a baked good - or if you're coming to my house, a dish of raw vegetables.
I am not condemning a little gift exchange - just be reasonable. Think it through. If you have to give Aunt Elsy a gift receipt for the purple flowered turtle neck... then perhaps you should re-think.

Let's all buy less. Drink more.

My Artistic Wife

I am sure I have mentioned before that my adorable wife is an artist.
She draws and paints. Watercolors, oils... sometimes pencil - she's wicked with a box of crayolas.
I marvel at her talent. She is very good. Really. I am not just saying that because ...well you know.

Lucky for her she picked me. You see, where she excels at the creative with her fine eye and keen color sense - she sorta lacks in areas of ... well, common sense.
Not a problem, because I am filled with sound judgement. I brim with it.

For example, she would think nothing of sending an original watercolor postcard all the way across the country via the trusty United States Postal Service - without even putting it in an envelope.

It is at these times that I try to impress upon my blithe wife some prudence. Sometimes she listens, sometimes she simply wanders away.
I have long since learned to let her wander happily off.

She has such a gentle way about her. She lets things take on a life of their own.
It will be fine - she says lightly.
But what about the rain - I try to assert.
If the watercolor gets wet (ends up a soupy mess) then that will be art too, she explains to me.

She teaches me to be patient and calm and centered. (she beat me to the post office)
She is my muse.

The watercolor? Well... however it reached its destination - it was exactly as it should be.

It's really quite remarkable how quickly one rakes leaves when its 34 degrees out.

weese is waiting, anticipating.
foot tapping, fingers drumming.
she watches.
days pass. a week slips away.
they remain.
clinging, hopeful, indignant.
they mock her.
they taunt her.
weese is patient.
their time will come.
weese will be ready.
rake in hand.

How old are you?

I am never quite sure how old I am.
I mean… I’m close, just a year off generally. But for some reason I just can’t seem to get a grip on the correct number. If you were to ask me – just flat out “Hey weese, how old are you?” Please don’t be surprised to get a deer-in-the-headlights look.

I am not in any way ashamed or embarrassed about my age. In fact, I revel in it. I wear my gray hairs proudly, never considering a bottled potion to cover them up. I am getting wrinkled, and have certainly noticed gravity’s strong hold.
It’s simply that I get confused about the specific number. Ah… does it really matter? What’s in a number anyway?

There are milestones of course. 1, 16, 18 (or 21 these days). After that we make milestones of the decades - 30, 40, 50 and so on.
Why do we do that? Why is 40 any more important than say… 42, or 38. I suppose it shouldn’t be – perhaps its just a way to pass the time.

I remember the day I turned 30, and I wondered if just by turning from 29 to 30 overnight, would I suddenly feel more like an adult? Would I feel grown up?
We had young kids, our first house, a puppy, new cars… all the things that equate us with actual, tax-payin’ grown ups.
Yet I still felt so … like I was in my 20’s.
Nothing happened that day.
And so I waited.
I waited another decade.
And when I turned 40 – I thought surely now I am an adult. Crap, I am middle aged. But still… I really felt no different. Well… aside from a couple new twinges here or there, and maybe the need for some 2 dollar magnifying glasses. I felt just the same. Just like me. Just like any other day.

I can say some things for certain as I am careening through my 40’s. Lots of things are changing now. My attitude has mellowed from my 30’s and my innards are gearing up for a transition and reminding me about then whenever they can. But at the end of the day – even tho the end of the day is now a few hours earlier than it used to be, I still feel a lot like person who thought they might grow up after 30.
I am still hoping to grow up… maybe when I turn 50.






Happy Birthday Teresa,
do you know how old you are?

Jeep chick

I drove the Jeep to work yesterday.
It's a great responsibility. There is much to do when driving the Jeep.
First, I have to shift. I don't really understand why anyone would actually choose a standard transmission - but my rugged wife always has. So I have learned to drive them.
Then I have to constantly be watching for the 'Jeep wave'.
Evidently, people who drive Wranglers wave at each other.
All the time.
It's like a Jeep code.
So I feel its my responsibility to participate when I am driving her Jeep.
Finally, as if that's not enough,
I snapped a picture of the Knight who says 'Ni'. Jeeps are great for bobble heads, and with oversized tires - there is much bobble action.



This morning on my way to work I waved at someone in a Jeep. I was a bit dismayed they didn't wave back.
Then I realized I was in my Cabrio.

The Universe Speaks

I was complaining Sunday morning about having to go out and rake leaves all day. I procrastinated as long as I could …enjoying morning coffee, circling condos in the real estate section, and calling friends to commiserate.

We finally dragged ourselves out there for an afternoon’s work.
It was 39 degrees, and a breeze was just starting to kick in. Perfect.

We have a lot of leaves. Personally, I think we have more leaves than we do trees to support them. Some people’s leaves get blown away by the wind. Didja ever wonder where they went? … Pretty sure it’s my house.

I was somewhat curious, tho unfazed, when I found the pull cord to the lawn mower cut clean through. My best attempts to knot it and start the engine were foiled.
I moved on. We had a lot to do.
That’s when the tractor died.
It had been running… not 15 minutes earlier. Now… turn the key – nothing. The tractor is a huge part of our leaf removal process. This was not good.
I tried everything I knew. I opened the hood… looked at the engine, fiddled with the wires on the ignition. Got off, got on. Made sure the blades were disengaged. Turned the key several times – because that often works if you just keep trying.
It didn’t.
I am not a mechanic.
I abandoned it in the side yard.

We did as much hand raking and tarp hauling as we could stand… and went back in.
We put on the ball game and I pulled out the real estate section again.