Perfect.

Tonight I was outside in the dark waiting for the dogs to pee. It takes a while because they need to sniff every blade of grass in the yard first.

While outside I looked up at Rebecca's lit window and saw Rebecca and Lily together laughing.

Here's the thing about my kids right now. They are perfect.

There are no more diapers. They sleep through the night and even better, do not wake me up on the weekends. We like a lot of the same books and movies. They still love to snuggle. They play with dolls. They are too young for boys.

As near as I can tell, the ages of seven and ten are perfect.

I am trying to hold onto these moments because I know how good it is and how fleeting it is.

In ten years Rebecca will be grown and Lily won't be far behind.

There won't be small children clamoring into my bed in ten years. They won't be crawling into my lap or making fart jokes.

What will I do when they are grown? When the house in quiet? When I don't trip over their toys?

I know I won't have regrets. I will not regret one moment that I spent holding those people, smelling their skin, feeding them and laughing with them.

When I am an old woman, it is these memories, the picture of them in a window laughing, the sounds of them conspiring, the sweet smell of them, which will carry me from this world to the next.

Today I learned something new about myself.

Today we took the children to a corn maze.

Yep, a maze made out of maize.

It seemed like such a great idea.



The challenge! The adventure!

The maze has an Egyptian theme.


Corn and children.


Our first corn row. So exciting!


And exciting it was...for the first thirty minutes.

After that it was just wandering around in corn.

Guess what? It turns out that I hate corn. Who knew?

There were fake rats.


As if that's supposed to make being lost in corn better.

There were clues too.


But really, it was just being lost in corn.

It took an hour and half but we finally made our way out.



Thank god.

People, there is a lot of post maze chocolate in my future.

In which my unpredictability becomes utterly predictable.

So, some news over here...

I'm homeschooling Lily. I know, I know, I said I was going to keep her in school, but the whole thing started to feel silly. The getting up in the morning, the picking up from school, the homework. Plus, she kept asking to be homeschooled.

So this week I ordered the workbooks and started planning for this weeks lessons.

One of the best parts of taking Lily out of school is how freeing it is. We've started taking an evening walk because we don't have homework and a strict bedtime to adhere to anymore. When we started our walk at about 5:45 tonight, the sun was about half way down. By the time we finished our loop around the reservoir it was solidly dusk. The air had a smoky smell to it. The girls and I swung on the swings as the night grew darker and the first stars came out. It was a treasure of a moment.

Know what other crazy thing I did today? I junked! On a Sunday! Ha! Bet you never would have guessed that!

Here's my haul!



Why yes, that is another Flexible Flyer sled. I found my first for 7.99 a few weeks ago. I just did a little googling about Flexible Flyers. I had no idea that they are so expensive! The first one I found is 60 inches and retails for $99. The one I found today is 48 inches and retails for $79. I found it for 5.99. I can't wait to use these in my winter decorating!

These are gigantic Ralph Lauren pillow shams and they are so soft. I can't wait to get some big pillows to put in them.


The picture doesn't really show it but this tablecloth is an awesome vintage green. I'm going to wash it tomorrow and put it on the table.


My real treasure, something I almost never find while junking is a tin picnic basket. These are super-duper collectible and I love them.


I also have a Spike update for you. He is toying with me. One day he is all spread out on his web begging for attention, the next he hides from me. I spent the day planning to have the girls study him all week by drawing pictures of him and observing him build his web and now he's disappeared.

Don't fall in love with a spider people, he will only break your heart.

Two kinds of people...

Today I was up in the attic looking for a basket when I heard the most awful scream. I did not recognize the voice and since I was in the attic, the sound was quite muffled. We live near a park so I thought that maybe someone at the park had gotten hurt. I got back to looking for the basket when I heard it again, closer. I realized that the screaming, the something-is-horribly wrong screaming, was coming from downstairs. In that moment my mommy adrenaline kicked in and I flew down the attic stairs to find Rebecca shrieking in agony. I took one look at her and realized why. Somehow while rummaging through her sewing supplies she had gotten a needle jammed all the way underneath her thumb nail. It went all the way down, almost to the end of her nail.

"Don't touch it" she screamed!

I ignored her and deftly pulled it out and held her close.

It was horrible, hard core, serious pain. I gave her a motrin, put some ice on her thumb, wiped away her tears and granted her computer time.

Reader, the wailing would not stop.

The pain, the agony, the misery were all expressed. She held nothing back.

Several hours later she was still whimpering about her injury. Loudly.

It's funny, because in so many ways Rebecca is just like me. We are so alike in fact that I find our difference in pain tolerance shocking.

When I get sick or have an injury I am all stoicism. I will mention my ailment, perhaps ask for help, but I do not wail. Nor do I carry on. I suffer in silence. Because that's what the nuns taught me to do.

"Offer it up to Jesus." was the instruction of the meanest nun I ever knew.

So I do. Except I don't offer it up to Jesus. I just suffer quietly.

David had no nuns in his life so no one told him to suffer in quiet dignity. He too expresses his injuries with vigor. About his injuries, he has much to say. His injuries are many, his ailments vast, and so I was positively tickled tonight when I realized the genetic source of Rebecca's style of pain management.

She gets it from her daddy and for some reason, probably because I love her daddy so much, I enjoyed noticing their similarity to each other.

They are comrades in complaint, minstrels of misery and they are mine.

It seems unlikely that either will change. Maybe I could hire a nun to come and work them over.

It's probably easier just to offer motrin and some ice cream.

And I always have my ear plugs...

A love story...

I first noticed him a few years ago in September. I was walking up the stairs and passed our landing window.

There he was. I'll be honest with you. He was huge. Giant. He had lots of hair.

I gasped, because really, what else can one be expected to do when confronted with such a startling vision.

I stole one more look before hurrying up the stairs and telling David, "You are going to have to kill that thing!"

Once David got a look at Spike, as we came to call him, he told me that no harm would come to any of Spike's eight furry arachnid legs.



This is not an actual picture of Spike, but this is what he looked like. He was a Garden Orb Weaver Spider and for weeks I hated him.

I'd shudder each time I went past that window. The long hairy legs and beady eyes filled me with revulsion. I considered just killing him, but by now my family had become attached to Spike.

One day as I was headed up the stairs I noticed that Spike was building his web. I was transfixed. It was like watching a ballet of thread. He worked quickly and elegantly and before long his deadly palace of silk was complete.

By now it was late October. I had begun spending quiet hours watching Spike build his web, capture his prey, rebuild his web. It began to get cold. There were fewer bugs being caught in his web. He wasn't rebuilding as often and he seemed to be slowing down.

I tried to bring him some dead bugs from the garden. It didn't really work. The dead bugs wouldn't stick to the web and my efforts just ruined his work.

By November it was obvious that Spike was not doing well. He rarely moved and his web, his beautiful magnificent web, was in tatters.

Then one day I came home to find Spike gone. A nor'easter had blown him away. Even his web had disappeared. It was like he had never been here, had never been my quiet companion.

It was hard getting over Spike. When the next fall rolled around I couldn't help but look for him, but he was gone.

He was gone until this week when I found a new Spike. I noticed him on the back of my house. His web, well, I would describe it as obscene. He's a bit of a showoff. I couldn't help being impressed though when I found him encasing a fly in silk. He's a true craftsman.

I'm trying not to get too attached. I know how this love story ends. The cold comes and each spider leg grows stiff. The dry and brittle leaves become tangled in the once majestic web and then one day he'll be gone, leaving me bereft until the next Spike comes along.

"Oh ye of little faith" or "How I used the buttons".

Today I played with buttons. That sounds a little dirty doesn't it?

First I divided all of the buttons by color. For this project I only used white and black buttons.





Notice how wonderful they look together? Nothing chaotic. Just sweet button color.

Then I took more of those scrabble tiles and put them into a glass soap dish that I found while junking.



Here's my other old typewriter. It's a travel typewriter.


One is not enough. Just so you know.

I put a page of an old dictionary in the typewriter.


I'm sure that no one will need to look anything up on that page.

I added this old black and white hat. It seemed the sensible thing to do.


Lastly, I used scrabble tiles to spell "story".


I love the word "story". It's an eight point word. Is that good or bad? You know I hate scrabble.

Here is the result of my little setup.



It's not quite done. I need to find something soft, maybe a tattered velvet scarf for the bottom of the hat holder.

I'll work on it more tomorrow. There is something about creating these little bits of decorative nonsense that I just adore. I love seeing areas of my home in new ways.

Speaking of something that is neither decorative nor nonsense, I am so proud of David. He slept with his sleep apnea mask for six hours last night. It's sort of like when a baby sleeps for a six hour stretch. There was no snoring and he got to enjoy sleep and oxygen at the same time. Incredible.

Let's hope that once he's no longer stumbling through life in a sleepless fugue he won't suddenly notice the junk and order a dumpster.

In which I put my junk to use.

I know that I may have mentioned it before, but I really have the nicest readers on the planet.

First Valerie said I was pretty, then my mom said I was pretty (though it is in her contract to do so), then my husband said I was pretty (see above comment about contracts), then Michael didn't actually say that I was pretty though I know that he meant it. Then Marisol and Bearly Sane added their declarations of pretty, followed by Mgster, Lisa and Ginger. All of these nice people taking a moment for me. I love you guys, even the ones for whom it's not in my contract.

Now, onto the junk. Several readers, TJIC and Cheryl, cough cough, expressed twitchy horror at my latest pile of junk. I will now demonstrate the uses of junk in the home.

Exhibit A:


Scrabble letters and the nest that Cheryl sent me.

Exhibit B:


Tartan ice chest with flowers.

Exhibit C:


Wide shot of Exhibits A and B.

Exhibit D:


Old typewriter, plaid thermos and scrabble letters.

Exhibit E:


Rest of scrabble letters ready to spell important words. Like chocolate. Or junk.

Exhibit F:


Fall junk in a basket.

Exhibit G:


Love blooms.

There you have it people. Controlled clutter. Junk used divinely. Fear not the junk, for it will be your decorative workhorse in the darkest of hours. It will hold your hand and free you from having a home that looks like every other house on your street.

Of course if the junk doesn't work for you there is always chocolate!