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.