Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Hard to Resist

These two faces.

It's crazy and wonderful that these two get closer and closer. It used to be that George would have nothing to do with the cat. But Calvin is definitely growing on him.

He grew on us so it was bound to happen.

I have no excuse for this post. Pup says I have a classic empty-nest thing going on. I have entirely replaced being a mom for being a pet-mom.

I'm alarmed! I laugh! I'm sooooo very annoying.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Blog Keeping Today

You know how it is.

There are dust bunnies all over the place around Fashion Plate (yes, I realize that dust bunnies are not bunnies, but actually our skin, but I prefer to not think about that. YUCK!) and thought I'd drag out that lovely Riccar and clean up the place for me and you!

I'm on it!

Sunday, November 27, 2011

What Are You Doing Today?

I'm going to Ikea with my Bella to scope out utility room thingys. Wish me luck because WAH? We're going to Ikea on a SUNDAY? We must have a screw loose.

But we're going early, going to fuel up on their $1 breakfast (or whatever it costs), drink lots of their awesome Swedish coffee, and hit the ground running, elbows flying.

Not really. There will be no elbows. Or pepper spray for that matter. Did y'all hear about the pepper spray all over the country? I'm embarrassed to be part of the human race at times. I like a bargain, but I'm not going to risk getting shot over an Xbox. I'll buy my damn flatscreens at Costco thank you very much.

So, I'm drinking my coffee (yes!) and trying to pick out a white for my utility room. Can you believe this damn Benjamin Moore? How many whites are there?
I'm excited to go to Ikea, I can't lie. I love that place with a passion that is a little unnatural. Or maybe it is natural. To me anyway.

It's early - I'm rambling - I'm going to put on some jeans and wait for Bella.

What are you doing today?

Friday, November 25, 2011

You're Supposed to Thaw It?

Thanksgiving at my Bella's house.

Her very first Thanksgiving and she was excited to cook.

I headed over to her house with some helpful items she doesn't have, ready for a day of cookin' and later, a day of eatin' with the family. I was really looking forward to hanging out with her and making the meal together.

"Where's the turkey sweetie?" I ask.

"What Momma? Don't you have it?"

"Didn't Pup bring it over Monday?" I ask again.

"No! I thought you guys were bringing it over thawed today!"

We stare at each other for a minute.

A minute longer.

We start laughing our asses off.

I call Pup. "Hey babe, didn't you bring the turkey over to Bella earlier this week like we talked about?"

"Oh no!" I hear.

Turkey is frozen solid.

Pup brings it over anyway. Bella and I hunker down at her and B's laptop, frantically seeing what we can do.

Guess what? You can cook a frozen turkey. No problem. We followed the instructions from the Mayo Clinic and the Minnesota Department of Health and threw that bad boy into the oven.

Six hours later, we're eating that 11 pound beauty.

Wine, turkey, stuffing, corn pudding, my awesome gravy, Lorenzo's green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, and some wii Jeopardy.

Life is good. Even when it starts out frozen.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Chez Emerson - More Projects

If bad decorating was a hanging offense, there'd be bodies hanging from every tree!
~Sylvester Stallone

We're into a mini-project here at the Chez Emerson. We finished The Big Room many months ago (photos will be coming - I'm promising myself even more than promising you), but recently had Pup's nephew, El Pintor, come to paint the trim around the windows (yes, we are slow as you might guess) and we found a couple of other things we needed done.

We had a mishap in The Den over the summer (a window air conditioner leaked upstairs and ran down into the ceiling - wah!) and the ceiling needs fixing. Then there is the ceiling in the one and only bathroom that needed some fixing. And then there is the ceiling in The Utility Room that needed some fixing. Lots of stuff needed fixing. And El Pintor is the man for the job.

And, I have to say, I feel badly for poor El Pintor having to deal with us! Pup is not the best communicator in the world (huh!) and I never know what's going on or when El Pintor is coming.

Cut to Saturday morning. I've been having super bad insomnia (old story yes?) and hadn't slept but three hours the previous night. So when Pup got up he came into the big room to hang out with me and we wound up watching Lars and the Real Girl (good movie). We were looking pretty fumpy and still in our jammies. Suddenly we heard the back door open and there is El Pintor! I screamed and ran for cover shooting Pup a death stare.

Pup had told El Pintor to come and had promised we'd have The Utility room emptied and ready for him. I did not know any of this. :)

Put El Pintor is such a nice boy he totally worked around our ball-dropping. He's a good boy. And a very hard worker. The ceilings everywhere will be lovely!

This entire process has motivated a redo of The Utility Room. It's horrible and a dumping-ground for anything that doesn't have a real home.

I'm gathering inspiration everywhere.
This is what I'm dealing with!

Friday, November 18, 2011

Hot Men Friday

Travis Stork

I work varied hours so I'm home at different times throughout the week.

And while working in my office I do like to turn on the television and sometimes I turn on The Doctors. The show kinda annoys me because I don't appreciate the "Doctor in a Box" type of show and the little doctor-bits they hand out are small and often old-science (really? you guys are still yapping low-fat? I thought we threw that away quite a while ago agreeing this is what helped make America fat? Or is it just me? heh!), but I enjoy looking at this tall, handsome guy and am quite relieved that someone this good looking is not my doctor. I couldn't handle that. Who wants someone this handsome checking out all of your lady-bits while laying there in not so flattering light in a not so flattering pose?

Not me!

Thursday, November 17, 2011

I Have a Theory

With the holidays coming fast I'm thinking about my family. Not just my amazing family of my husband, daughters, son-in-law, and newly added boyfriend of Lorenzos, but the rest of my family.

My dad, my step-mom, my sister, her husband, and my brother. And their children, my niece and two nephews. And two of them have children. My brother's two children have kids; nearly four from what I'm hearing. His lovely daughter has two children and his son is having child number two.

My brother and I don't talk. It's a long and multi-faceted story; most of which is old family drama and not worth your reading, but some of it is relevant to everyone. How we got to this exact place is something I do think about. But, sorry my adorable sister, I don't think about him that much.

What I do think about is our, and by that I do mean my, childhood and the way we were brought up to think about family.

My momma and dad were pretty typical 60s parents. My mom ruled the roost and my dad would come home from work, sit in his chair reading the paper, and wait for supper. That my mom prepared. We had many many aunts and uncles from both sides of the family, but most of my life we weren't talking or seeing my dad's side of the family much for reasons long forgotten.

And there were times when we weren't talking to certain members of my momma's family. Also for reasons long forgotten.

Reasons long forgotten.

That's the saddest part of any family story of dissension. The original reason for the disagreement is long lost against the passion of the reactions.

I've often said that while I do not make too much drama, I am totally comfortable with it because of our family life while growing up. No blame there, just a realization I came to long long ago.

So . . . my brother and I don't talk. He has his reasons - spewed out to me in a phone conversation a couple of years ago - reasons I was rather stunned to hear, but they are his reasons. I can't change how he feels, but I did decide to change what I'll brave. I made a decision to no longer seek out any connection to him. It sounds horribly harsh, but he has no desire to take my hand so I'll no longer stretch it out. This breaks my sister's heart and makes for some tough holidays since I've asked to not be included in any celebrations that include him.

I knew that when I wrote this out it would cement in my mind what this means. And after reading what I've just written I can't believe this is what it's come to. Breaks my heart as well.

My little family is not perfect. But it will be a cold, dark day in hell before I'll be a part of anything like I experienced when growing up. I try my damnedest to stay out of any fray. I'm not saying I don't put my foot in it. I have big feet. Where else are they going to go for the cryin' out loud? But I am saying that I keep an open mind. Admit my errors. Try to make amends. And love as hard as I can.

Love as hard as I can.

That's all we got peeps. Love them until they can't stand it.

Smooches my hooches.

Family quarrels are bitter things. They don't go by any rules. They're not like aches or wounds; they're more like splits in the skin that won't heal because there's not enough material. 
~F. Scott Fitzgerald

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Blue November

Pup is showering.

I'm shaking off the morning's fog, red mug tightly clenched in right hand, warning anyone to try to take it. Take it and it won't be pretty. Take it and I just might bite you.

It's early, but not too early. I listen as both of the cats, the visiting one and the one that lives here, are scampering all over like their little arses are on fire. The scampering makes me laugh. I think to myself how I wish I were a scamperer like they are. It would be awesome to wake up and have that energy to scamper.

I check my calendar to see what is going on in my day. Several appointments. Spaced nicely. I must have been on my game that day, I think to myself. Usually I overbook, or forget the bookings, or wish I didn't have any. I love having calendar items, but love the days that are blank. Blank as my brain in the morning. Blank as my brain in the evening.

I look out the window on the November morning. I love the sky in the fall. That particular shade of blue is hard to pin down. Hard to remember in the cold of the winter and hard to appreciate in the smothering heat of the summer. The fall is the best blue. Trees reaching up towards that blue like they want just a little bit more of the sun. Just a bit more of that warmth. They know what's approaching.

No complaining though, I'm not! It's been glorious for the past few weeks. Sweater Weather we here in the north call it. Not cold enough for the damn winter coats we'll be wearing for months and months. I put off coat-wearing for as long as possible. Sometimes longer than I should. I just can't bear the thought of putting on that coat.

I look out the window again and see that the sun is coming up over our house and spotlighting leaves and bare trees and driveways out in my world.

Pup comes in the office to kiss me goodbye as he heads out to his seminar.

I take a huge drink of my coffee and think to myself, today is the best day.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

I'm a Believer

I went to a women's party Friday night.

You know the kind. The hostess gets a present and the larger the sales the larger her bonus.

Pampered Chef

My best friend was having it. One of her friends is a new sales consultant for Pampered Chef and my friend Reechie wanted to help her out since she's been having a rough go in her personal life. I generally would rather poke out my eyes with hot sticks before going to one of these parties, but I love my friend and applauded her desire to help her friend so I wanted to go.

What would I buy I pondered? I don't cook anymore. I have that husband that only eats four things and half of them don't need to be cooked. I thought there wouldn't be anything I would want or need.

But after a glass or two of pinot noir the need changed. I needed everything in the catalog.

Oh! Look at this cute as hell avocado peeler? I sooooo need that.
Hey! Is that a pizza stone? I know I have sworn off of wheat for the most part, but I can learn how to make gluten-free pizza!

Look at these adorable and tiny little glass cups with the pour spouts. There must be something small in ounces that I need to pour. SOMETHING!

I managed to spend over $100 on stuff I will enjoy. Don't judge. Sisters need to support each other!
I mean, who doesn't need a $40 glass bowl to put on her dining table?

BTW - I booked a party. The distributor was a darling girl and I want to help as well. I'm certain I'll be getting out hot sticks when the time comes so I can poke out my own eyes.


Friday, November 4, 2011

Hot Men Friday

 Jason Ritter

He looks a little bit like The Frito Bandito.

He's young - waaaay too young.

I had a similar crush on his DAD for crying out loud. Actually, I had a crush on all three of these guys. I wanted the hair on the right! And the ability to wear the shorts on the left.

But I find myself looking forward to watching Parenthood now and then to get a glimpse of him.

If I could find an 180 from the dark broody types I usually love to showcase here I'd like to see him!

But he's rather adorable and I'll look at him and stuff down the inappropriate thoughts. Ha!

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

No Static at All

Think about poor Georgie today.

He slipped a while back and ripped out his knee. We've been monitoring it along with his vet and came to the decision that he needed surgery. He had it on Monday and, of course, when the surgeon got in there it was discovered to be entirely snapped like an old rubber band poor little dude.

They actually had to put a huge piece of hardware in his leg. He has a lengthy rehab ahead of him (Pup and I will be the therapists - aaah!).

He's such a sweet boy that even the surgeon loved him. Although when Pup brought him into The Turnstyle last week Shelly-Belly's* eyes got huge as silver dollars. I'm not surprised because I think she weighs about five pounds more than George does (she is teeny-tiny) and she told Nicolina* that George is "a scary f-ing dog." Wah?? lol

Pup has been a WRECK since this all started. He's a bad, indulgent parent. But it's kinda cute he's so concerned about George. He even asked me how I could stand it when the girls were young and sick.

Yeah . . . do you have hours to listen to stories? hehehe

I'm not a worrier. Not much anyway. I usually fall apart after everything is over. During the crisis/trouble/sickness I'm there. Ministering, nursing, swabbing, cleaning up. Then I crumble - just a bit.

Ask my first Wasband - one time Lorenzo flipped her car on a winter highway. She flipped it over into a snow-filled ditch. While we were driving to get her I turned to my finger-pointing Wasband and said, "If you say one bad word about Lorenzo right now I will punch you out. Don't play with me. I don't want to hear an f-ing word." And to his credit, for once, he said nothing accusatory.

Pup can't stand all of this. Not only did I wake up to see him sleeping on the floor with George (he said George was crying in his sleep) I even caught him letting George be on the sofa.

Nope - he cannot be on the sofa.

So Pup is getting Georgie a new bed today and that's all good.

Smooches all my hooches and do think about Georgie today.

*Shelly-Belly and Nicolina are two of the women I work with.