Today was our first snow.  Oh, it wasn’t the first time it was snowing, but it was the first morning I woke to the sound of a plow truck.  I knew it wasn’t a good sign, but then I untangled myself from my web of covers and looked out the window.  It was white.  And beautiful.  The snow clung to everything in sight and it felt a little like Christmas, but that’s probably because my son has been playing “I’m not dreaming of a white Christmas…”

The record player in my mind (Yes, there’s a record player up there.  I am that old, but barely.) keeps getting its needle stuck and that line just plays over and over again.

I stole a tiny piece of Halloween candy from my son’s room.  He hides it from me, but I’m a pretty awesome snooper.  If you have any presents you want to find, call me.  I’ll come over and put my skills to work.  Anyway, I actually pondered what it means that my son hides his candy from me?  Am I now an addict?  Did Hershey give me a problem?  Do they have AA for chocolate?

So many questions.

I went to school with FringeKid this morning.  She had to bring in her longhouse and didn’t want to risk a ride on the bus with it.  Children tend to morph into wild little beasts when they get on the bus.  God bless those bus drivers.  They have a patience I’ve never had (nor do I care to acquire).

FringeMan outdid himself on this longhouse.  About a week ago I assigned him to this longhouse project.  I gave him the glue gun, a hand sketched photo, and FringeKid.  He picked up my glue gun and laughed in the face of every art project I’ve ever done.  Then he went to Lowe’s and bought a man’s glue gun.  I could build a bridge with this glue gun.  The glue sticks are three feet long.

I think he deserves an honorary doctorate in American History for this masterpiece.

Martha Stewart, eat your heart out!  FringeMan is good with a gun.

I felt the creative spark myself this week.   I didn’t use glue, but I definitely should have, because this project nearly brought me to my knees.   I just couldn’t let a trash pile wooden box get the best of me.  I have a house full of soft wood.  If you counted the scratches, grooves, and nicks you’d reach numbers with so many commas I couldn’t read them.  BUT.  The one piece of wood I decide to screw cup hooks into is hard as a rock.  Since FringeMan worked extremely late every night, I didn’t have a drill or screw gun handy, so I used a mallet (yes, a mallet) and a screw.  I pounded my holes with the screw, wiggled the screw back out and then (and only then) could I screw my little cup hook into the wood.  It was tedious.  I woke the kids up twice, but I love the finished product.

All FringeMan said was, “Did you take that off the wall first and then put all the hooks in?”

No!  Of course not.  I stood on a chair and used a mallet.   I did it the hard way.  Isn’t that how I do everything?

He chuckled a little at the mallet, but a girl must follow her creative whim.

In other news, I’m in love with an appliance and he’s not even mine yet.  Is it ok that my appliance is a ‘him’?  He is promised to me.  Ordered.  He should arrive today.  He will wash all my dishes from now until death do us part.  I’m just not certain what I should name him.  FringeMan may get jealous if I start talking about him in public, but I tend to name my appliances.  Fiona needs a companion.  Help me pick a name for my new dishwasher please.

And that’s the end.

I hope you all have lovely weekends.