I am going to try to do better, LDs. I really will.
Even if it means that I'll have to leave an open postbox at all times so I can write what I'm thinking so that you don't get too bored with me.
Even if it means that you send me ideas via email or facebook or twits, tumbls, or pony express, I'll try to do something every other day.
Even if it means just a hello and howareya.
I'm working on 2012 being The Year of the Comfortable. Meaning in my own home (cleaning out); my own space (the War Room WILL get done this year); my own body.
This may turn part fatshion blog. So if you don't like hearing about clothes or the like, just don't read those posts (I'll try to warn you *grin*).
This may turn part crafty blog. If knitting or pinterest-inspired craftiness doesn't "do" it for you, just ignore those.
But this will still always be a blog where I can hash out ideas about characters and plot lines...which doesn't seem like I've done much there, either.
Sigh.
But I'm going to try.
Have happy and safe New Year celebrations.
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Showing posts with label house. Show all posts
Friday, December 30, 2011
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Please Forgive Me
Please don't think less of me, LDs, seeing as how I haven't posted a frackin' thing in over a week!
So here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, listening to the sounds of Super Mario Bros 3 coming from the Wii, and pondering the finer points of ... well ... anything!
Mr Realist, Aunt & Uncle & Cousin Dreamer were all down at Camp last weekend (Heepwah!), and had a blast, as usual. Mumsy Dreamer and I are going down for Mother/Daughter Weekend the second weekend in October (can't wait, seeing as how Mumsy has never seen Camp. Boo.).
We were on vacation all week last week. It was a staycation since we're saving up to go to Phoenix in February to watch Brother Realist graduate from MMS (motorcycle mechanic school). Looking forward to warmth right around my birthday! We did get some things accomplished, however. Our living room has a new floor - well, new to us.
See, someone in their wrong mind put carpet in the living room. Don't get me wrong - I like the warmth it gave during the winter, and it was a really pretty blue. It would have gone beautifully with the navy curtains and the yellow walls (curtains exist, wall color is still in process). But there were a couple of rather large stains that just were not coming out. We decided that we were going to pull up a corner and see what it looked like. Much to our surprise, we found some really nice hardwood. Not laminate, but actual wood! There are a few spots that need to be filled, and there's paint splotches around the edge of the room from where they painted the walls white, but once it's sanded, cleaned, and sealed, it's going to be awesome.
Mowed and cleaned the bathroom and living room and Mr Realist cut some low-lying tree branches and played wiffle ball yesterday. Mostly, the rest of the week was much-needed relaxation.
O, Mr Realist and I celebrated our 5th anniversary as a married couple on Friday the 24th! I loves me some hubsand!
My most sincere apologies, again, for not posting for the last week. I've been in kind of a rut, and I'm determined to dig myself out!
Heepwah, and be safe out there.
Your 'really doesn't want to go back to work tomorrow because she will have a week's worth of shit to catch up on and doesn't want to do it. At. All.'
Ms Dreamer
PS~I've got a couple things in mind for Bitch and Moan Monday tomorrow :)
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thanksgiving
The other day at work, I heard someone talk about ordering pies for their Thanksgiving dinner. At first, I was confused. Why would someone order pies? And then I was amused. Heh. She's ordering pies. And that kind of made me sad. Wow...ordering pies. I don't know how to make pie, at least from scratch. I'd just as soon buy a crust and the fillings and follow a recipe and 'make' a pie.
You see, Dear Readers, Tom and I seem to find ourselves caught in a trap. Not a bad one, mind you.
Tom (Mr Realist) is an old soul caught in a young man's body. He thinks he would have been perfectly happy being his age in the '40s and '50s - going to work, coming home to a wife who had dinner made and children playing - essentially Ward and June Cleaver. I think he might have married part of the wrong girl for that.
See, I (Mrs Dreamer) am both a young soul and an old soul, trapped in the same body. I see the simplicity of being June Cleaver (don't get me wrong, each time has it's own problems and issues and faults and suckiness) - making breakfast and lunches to pack the kids off to school and hubs off to work, clean the house, grocery shop, laundry, dinner, help kids with homework. Total June Cleaver.
But the young soul in me screams out for 'equality!' A marriage is an equal partnership. We both came into it with the same fears and hopes and dreams - why should he 'get away from the house and go to work' while I'm here all day long and all my friends are at work and are you serious? you helped dirty this house, you can help clean it!
Sigh.
Dear Readers, if I were to be a SAH-? (since I'm not a mother, I can't be a SAHM), I might be tempted to paint the house pink with blue shutters; move our bedroom to the living room and vice versa; have imaginary friends that only I and the dogs can see. All of my friends work, whether they are single, married, or have kids. I'd go batshit crazy if I stayed in the house all the time (grocery shopping does not count). I'd have to work part time or even volunteer somewhere to take my mind off of the house and hubs and all kinds of stuff. Our house isn't that big. It was built in the 1880s as housing for the mine employees here in our town (when the mine existed, that is). I stumbled across this interesting fact several weeks ago in the coffee shop. The local paper was sitting on a table, and I happened to walk past it with a glance.
Then another.
Then a "Holy fudge, that's OUR house!" Tom looked at it, and I pointed it out. "See? That's our house, that's Granny's house, and that's the Hoosiers' house!" Turns out, it was a copy of the front cover of the pamphlet that was hand drawn in the 1890s about the mine housing. The original is on display at some museum in Springfield. We need to take a picture from approximately the same angle as the drawing and take it up to the museum and get a picture of us with the original. How cool would that be?
He he he...tangent. Sorry. Where was I?
Oh, yes. June Cleaver.
See, there are days I swear I'm MPD (multiple personality disorder) that has integrated. Stephanie is the one in charge. Stevie's the eight year old who wants her stories heard, but is afraid to because one jackass stepfather told her she'd never amount to anything. June (since she didn't have a name before now) is the throwback, apron-wearing, making-sure-everyone's-happy, 1950s housewife. And then there's Helen - brash, modern, 'I can do anything you can do better' woman who doesn't take much shit from anyone. Sometimes June and Helen want to kill each other...and then, over coffee liberally dosed with straight up Jack Daniel's, they find common ground: they both want Stevie to be happy.
I just looked at the title I had picked out for this post... "Thanksgiving". Are you kidding me? The only thing I talked about was pie.
Fine.
Next one.
Be safe out there, and heepwah.
You see, Dear Readers, Tom and I seem to find ourselves caught in a trap. Not a bad one, mind you.
Tom (Mr Realist) is an old soul caught in a young man's body. He thinks he would have been perfectly happy being his age in the '40s and '50s - going to work, coming home to a wife who had dinner made and children playing - essentially Ward and June Cleaver. I think he might have married part of the wrong girl for that.
See, I (Mrs Dreamer) am both a young soul and an old soul, trapped in the same body. I see the simplicity of being June Cleaver (don't get me wrong, each time has it's own problems and issues and faults and suckiness) - making breakfast and lunches to pack the kids off to school and hubs off to work, clean the house, grocery shop, laundry, dinner, help kids with homework. Total June Cleaver.
But the young soul in me screams out for 'equality!' A marriage is an equal partnership. We both came into it with the same fears and hopes and dreams - why should he 'get away from the house and go to work' while I'm here all day long and all my friends are at work and are you serious? you helped dirty this house, you can help clean it!
Sigh.
Dear Readers, if I were to be a SAH-? (since I'm not a mother, I can't be a SAHM), I might be tempted to paint the house pink with blue shutters; move our bedroom to the living room and vice versa; have imaginary friends that only I and the dogs can see. All of my friends work, whether they are single, married, or have kids. I'd go batshit crazy if I stayed in the house all the time (grocery shopping does not count). I'd have to work part time or even volunteer somewhere to take my mind off of the house and hubs and all kinds of stuff. Our house isn't that big. It was built in the 1880s as housing for the mine employees here in our town (when the mine existed, that is). I stumbled across this interesting fact several weeks ago in the coffee shop. The local paper was sitting on a table, and I happened to walk past it with a glance.
Then another.
Then a "Holy fudge, that's OUR house!" Tom looked at it, and I pointed it out. "See? That's our house, that's Granny's house, and that's the Hoosiers' house!" Turns out, it was a copy of the front cover of the pamphlet that was hand drawn in the 1890s about the mine housing. The original is on display at some museum in Springfield. We need to take a picture from approximately the same angle as the drawing and take it up to the museum and get a picture of us with the original. How cool would that be?
He he he...tangent. Sorry. Where was I?
Oh, yes. June Cleaver.
See, there are days I swear I'm MPD (multiple personality disorder) that has integrated. Stephanie is the one in charge. Stevie's the eight year old who wants her stories heard, but is afraid to because one jackass stepfather told her she'd never amount to anything. June (since she didn't have a name before now) is the throwback, apron-wearing, making-sure-everyone's-happy, 1950s housewife. And then there's Helen - brash, modern, 'I can do anything you can do better' woman who doesn't take much shit from anyone. Sometimes June and Helen want to kill each other...and then, over coffee liberally dosed with straight up Jack Daniel's, they find common ground: they both want Stevie to be happy.
I just looked at the title I had picked out for this post... "Thanksgiving". Are you kidding me? The only thing I talked about was pie.
Fine.
Next one.
Be safe out there, and heepwah.
Monday, November 9, 2009
4th Annual Party & Bonfire
This year was a 100% Success Rate! WOO HOO! Everyone showed up in costume - Tom and I were Fred and Wilma Flintstone (cost of our costumes together? Less than $20). There was Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo, the King and Priscilla, White Rapper (complete with tighty whities...) and his bootylicious girl, House, Mistress Natasha, and Jay (who comes as himself, just more dressed up, every year).
The Scavenger Hunt was a blast as well. 25 items to find in 90 minutes. For the third year running, the guys won (boo). Of course, I was called the 'Hunt Nazi' three times when I was checking the guys' cameras :) Hey, there are some things that you just can't cheat on!
Definitely having some ground rules set next year - no using stores (IGA, Dollar General, gas stations, video store, etc.) to get your items, and NO using the internet on your phone :) The guys thought they'd pull one over on me and looked up 'roadkill' on his iPhone, and they took a picture of that. I ix-nay'd that one.
You wouldn't think it'd be hard to find a street sign with no directionals (N, E, S, W) or no type (St, Ln, etc.). I'd only found one in the Boro. Of course, afterwards, there's four or five. Guess I can't use that one next year! The guys technically got theirs...it was in a bar, though. Not on the street. It was either accept that or accept the roadkill. I took the sign.
I did have a request to not do anything with graveyards next year. I only put one on there (this year's was 'find a headstone with the last name of someone in your group')...it's a Halloween party, yos. Some things are supposed to be a little scary!
Chili was a big hit this year (last year, we made Belly Bombers - which essentially are a heart attack on a bun: ground beef, pulled pork and beef, brats, beer, sauerkraut, hot sauce, seasonings, all left in a crock pot aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll day. I'm salivating just thinking about it). I like mine thick; no chunky tomatoes or loads of veggies. Meat, onions, garlic, beans, seasonings, and tomato soup. Throw in a handful of oyster crackers in your bowl, and it's heavenly!
Party wrapped up about 10.30 or so, which is a good time. Tom, Jeremy, Jay and I all sat out by the fire until almost one.
You know, I'm already thinking about next year's party: hunt list, costumes, prizes, decorations, and food. Since it's the 5th, I might do something special. Any ideas?
Mrs. Dreamer
(either going to be a skeleton or I'm going to start working on my 1850's dress)
The Scavenger Hunt was a blast as well. 25 items to find in 90 minutes. For the third year running, the guys won (boo). Of course, I was called the 'Hunt Nazi' three times when I was checking the guys' cameras :) Hey, there are some things that you just can't cheat on!
Definitely having some ground rules set next year - no using stores (IGA, Dollar General, gas stations, video store, etc.) to get your items, and NO using the internet on your phone :) The guys thought they'd pull one over on me and looked up 'roadkill' on his iPhone, and they took a picture of that. I ix-nay'd that one.
You wouldn't think it'd be hard to find a street sign with no directionals (N, E, S, W) or no type (St, Ln, etc.). I'd only found one in the Boro. Of course, afterwards, there's four or five. Guess I can't use that one next year! The guys technically got theirs...it was in a bar, though. Not on the street. It was either accept that or accept the roadkill. I took the sign.
I did have a request to not do anything with graveyards next year. I only put one on there (this year's was 'find a headstone with the last name of someone in your group')...it's a Halloween party, yos. Some things are supposed to be a little scary!
Chili was a big hit this year (last year, we made Belly Bombers - which essentially are a heart attack on a bun: ground beef, pulled pork and beef, brats, beer, sauerkraut, hot sauce, seasonings, all left in a crock pot aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllll day. I'm salivating just thinking about it). I like mine thick; no chunky tomatoes or loads of veggies. Meat, onions, garlic, beans, seasonings, and tomato soup. Throw in a handful of oyster crackers in your bowl, and it's heavenly!
Party wrapped up about 10.30 or so, which is a good time. Tom, Jeremy, Jay and I all sat out by the fire until almost one.
You know, I'm already thinking about next year's party: hunt list, costumes, prizes, decorations, and food. Since it's the 5th, I might do something special. Any ideas?
Mrs. Dreamer
(either going to be a skeleton or I'm going to start working on my 1850's dress)
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