With my extraordinary family.

I’m not using many words today and that’s more difficult than it sounds.  I’m simply trying to chronicle a day in photos, only I fell off the picture-taking bandwagon.  I should have snapped a photo of my dashboard for all the running around I did, a photo of piano lessons and the grocery store, a picture of the ladies at Bible study last night, and a picture of dirty dishes…definitely dirty dishes.

Well, you get the point.

I’m linking to Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop.

P.S. Yesterday afternoon I put up a little post about reviving Fiction Friday, at least for this week.  If you like to write or even if you don’t, you’re invited to post a snippet of fiction to your blog and then link it over here on Friday (tomorrow).  You can click here for yesterday’s example.  I shared a (very rough) page from my WIP Not My Life.

Sorry love.  Black and denim look good on you, except when accented with camouflage, but I understand your need to blend into the foliage at a moment’s notice.  It’s a guy thing.  It’s why I enjoy What I Wore Wednesday, the meme I love from a distance.

Oh, I’ve shown you a few outfits, and as I recall, I bored you all to death really wowed the crowds.  I just cannot photograph my outfit every single day.  I mean, you’d get tired of seeing my pink fluffy bathrobe.

That was a joke.

I do change out of my robe and into normal clothes on most days.  Now you don’t believe me though.  I know.  I did this to myself.

So to prove that I get dressed, and because I have nothing else to blog about today, I submit to you a photo titled Dork Dressing – How to Look Like Your Home Decor.

My daughter snapped this picture and then quickly pointed out that I match our couch pillow exactly.

Sadly, she’s right.  Maybe I should go get my fluffy pink robe.

What about you?  Will you admit to stalking WIWW?  Or are you normal? As in, you don’t care what other people wore this Wednesday.

Oh, and I am supposed to tell you where my clothes came from.  Let’s see…

Jeans – Kohl’s, Long-sleeved t-shirt – Gap, Sweater – Express (I think…maybe Limited), Bracelet – Francesca’s, Boots & necklace – Target, Socks…naaah, you don’t care about those.

For other girls and their clothes, visit WIWW here.

I think it’s pretty safe to say my family hated every one of my gifts.  They didn’t even pretend with me…no putting out my lamps when I visited or filling my baskets with junk and stashing them in a corner.  Nada.

I’ve long since come to my senses and stopped gifting handmade, unless I purchase my handmade on Etsy; however, when it comes to the world of arts and crafts, I tried my best.

I scrapbooked through the early days of nursing and two, four, and six o’clock feedings.  I stamped a handful of cards that were never signed, sealed, and delivered, and I sewed my daughter cute dresses when she was little.  I even made my son funny cartoon themed pants that lasted him through pre-school.

Once I stenciled a chair.

Through the years, I’ve released so much bad art into the world, it’s a wonder I keep trying.  I think I must have inherited a randomly tenacious gene.

I wasted, in total, an entire semester of college on art classes.  Now, don’t misunderstand, I wasn’t naive enough to think I harbored any talent.  I just loved to make something out of nothing.  I was the worst student in my drawing class.  I think my professor broke out into a sweat when he saw me registering for Introduction to Graphic Design.  I only passed my classes because someone had to get a C.  The other students were way too talented to be considered mediocre.

My aunt, the one who has a shrine to her son, did not even save the portrait I drew of her beloved offspring.

That ought to tell you something.

Despite rejection, sneers, and a bundle of extra worthless college credits, I continued in my pursuit of creative genius.  I have a six-foot long, 2 foot wide afghan.  My husband says it belongs in a Mexican restaurant.  The colors do suit a quesadilla, but who can use a blanket that’s only two feet wide, if that?  Tacos and beans generally don’t make a person skinny enough to stay warm under my blanket-ette.

And now, I’m certain my children inherited this tenacious gene.  Did you see our chickens?  Or worse, the cows?  My international cow??

When will the madness end?

Not anytime soon if my son can help it.

He’s officially creating practical and very usable duck tape art.

At least they make pretty duck tape nowadays, because he’s in the wallet making business.

Can’t beat something made in the U.S.A.

They are durable, large enough to fit quite the money roll, and water-resistant…not to mention the lovely color that matches my nail-polish almost perfectly.

What more can you want or need in a wallet?

He asked if he can get a credit card to go in his designated card slot.  I told him he has a library card and he’s already overdue on that bill.  There will be no credit cards for many, many years to come.

I wish John’s Wallet Co., Made in the U.S.A., much success – more than even my mason jar lamps.

FringeBoy declined a photo shoot with his wallet.

What about you and your family?  Do you too share this tenacious creative gene?

BTW here is the nail polish FringeKid and I are loving.

There’s nothing like having disco-ball nails on a dreary winter day.  They turn SAD to G-L-A-D.

Write that down.

via Pinterest, from Goodstuff

It gets dull.

I could tell you that my son had the stomach virus for 3 days last week, or that my daughter spent all of Sunday violently vomiting, or that I’ve taken to hanging a Clorox wipe from my belt loop and swiping everything/everyone within arm’s reach.

I just don’t want to relive those moments in detail.  And I suspect, neither do you.

I planned on mentioning that we escaped the sick house for a few hours on Saturday night and went to the mall.  It was cold, snowing like mad, and it was the only place we could let my newly healed son get some of his bugs out.  When a twelve year-old spends three days in the house, he has bugs he needs to free.  Before the snow came, he and his friend went on a cold bike ride, but that wasn’t enough.

You know times were desperate, because FringeMan suggested walking around the mall.  He’s allergic to malls.  More specifically, he’s allergic to my spending money in malls.

I was going to show you my two great deals of the day, but then I thought this old blog was experiencing too long a shallow slump, so I scrapped the idea.  Until I read this post.  Finally, I found validation for my red clearance sticker.

I snagged the most adorable pair of pink patent shoes for my daughter.  They will look delightful this spring.

I’m really digging the orange strap.  For $7.48, they were a must buy.  My children go through an awful lot of shoes, especially considering they only have two feet each.  It’s like wild monkeys chew on their shoes all day.  That’s what it looks and smells like.

Then I was browsing through the clearance rack in the Gap, and I spotted this t-shirt.

I thought it as a good deal at $5 dollars and change, but it rang up at $2 dollars and change.

I know it’s a teensy-bit neon, but I figured I could exercise in it.

Ha!

I know.

It just sounded really noble in the moment.

Do you shop between seasons?

Buy last year’s almost outdated goods at a fraction of the price?

Share your recent find in the comments.

And if you forgot to suggest something ridiculous for me to try, go HERE.

Via Pinterest by weheartit.com

I’ve been commissioned to try something new and then write an article about my experience with this new thing.

Easy, right?

Well, not so much.

It’s the “new thing” that can get tricky.

via Pinterest by quickmeme.com

I have an idea.  I’ve even started work on it, but I thought I should broaden my horizons.  Just in case.  You know?  I’d hate for my “one thing” to turn into a total flop.  Then all I’ll have to write about is a one-flop failure.  No fun!

So here’s where you come in.

I’m asking you nicely.

Please suggest something “new” for me to learn to do.

If your suggestion makes the cut, I will…I’m not sure yet, but you can at least know you’ve saved a girl from failure.  That’s enough reward, isn’t it?

I love you guys.  Be kind with your suggestions.

I’m no expert when it comes to “What to Wear;”  however, I do generally know what I like, and I have fun shopping.  I just don’t shop as often as I would like, but this weekend was an exception.  It was my birthday.

I know you’re all tired of me bringing up the birthday thing, but I promise today is the last time I’ll mention it until next February.  For my birthday I went on a crazy shopping spree.  I bought this bag, these shoes, and a dress.

The dress called to me when I was in H&M looking for a telephone.  I won’t embarrass myself further by retelling the story.  Today is all about the dress.

Here is the dress, only mine is greige (gray/beige combo).

Since I’m a good six inches shorter than the shortest super-model, the dress is longer on me.  It hits somewhere within an inch of my knee.

I like this dress because it is cotton, super-comfy, and it has pockets.  It’s a win-win in my spring/summer fashion book.  Here’s my question – Since the skirt is so flowy and full (much more than in this photo), and since it’s super windy where I live, can I wear legging underneath?

I’ve never tried this look before, but I think it might work.  Picture black leggings and cute shoes, maybe a cardigan.  Would that be too 2010?  Am I crossing style boundaries?

I told you, it’s like nuclear fission.

On the shoe front, these little lovelies should be delivered tomorrow.  I cannot wait.

Seychelles Asterisk Tan/Red

I really like the Seychelles brand.  (No they’re not paying me to say that.)  They have some very trendy, almost retro, styles.  The best part is that they have a blog…Seychelles Mise En Scène.  So fun.

So that’s my shopping spree.  Pretty good, huh?

Till next year…

Be sure to weigh in on the legging issue.  I need honest opinions before I go spend twenty-bucks on a pair of leggings.

Have you ever attempted the Legging + Dress look?  How did it work for you?

I thank each one of you fashion-lovely people.  Have a great weekend!

Don’t worry about the cell phone.  My son found it for me.  I think children are hard-wired to locate items of modern technology.  It’s a skill similar to radar devices that detect heat-seeking missiles.

But, on Saturday, my phone was lost.

I wasn’t worried.  You see, I haven’t spent money on a phone in years.  Oh, I pay for the service, just not the telephone.  It’s my dirty little secret.  I collect, some say hoard, old cell phones and chargers.  I take all the reject phones from friends and family and put them to good use.  I like to think of myself as a recycler rather than a techno-moocher.

Saturday was my big birthday shopping excursion and I found myself in a mall that makes a football stadium seem small.  I took FringeKid and told my husband and son I’d give them a call later and we could meet up for a bite to eat in the food court.  I discovered my missing phone when hunger pangs struck.

Since I was near H&M, I figured I’d browse and then ask a clerk to use the phone.  The young men behind the counter broke out into laughter when I inquired about a phone.  Apparently a person without a cell phone is a like a person without ears, only more hysterical.

So I set out in search of an older, wiser, hopefully more helpful sales clerk.  Lord & Taylor was nearby.  Generally when I go into a store like Lord & Taylor, I am ignored.  Maybe they recognize the Target clothes on me.   I guess I look like I cannot afford their merchandise, and it’s mostly true.  My daughter usually gives us away when she picks up a price-tag and yells $298 dollars!  It’s all awe and wonder for her.  She’s only familiar with $19.99.

So I found a lovely clerk at the makeup counter, mustered my courage and asked.

“Excuse me.  I have a crazy request for you.  I seem to have misplaced my cell phone, and I am wondering if I can borrow the store phone for a quick call?”

“That’s not too crazy.”  She said.  “Believe me, I’ve had people ask for worse things.”

“Really?  Worse than asking for a store phone, because the guy with the eight inch gauged earlobes in H&M thought that was a request from some time in space, like way back in the 90′s or something.”

Stuck in an aging gloom that wrinkle cream couldn’t help, I considered all the outdated things I cling to.  I mean, I still have a VCR in my house.  I felt technologically stunted, deficient in the new ways of an ever-changing world.  I felt like my cell-phone came with an antenna.

I was aging right in front of my ten year-old baby girl, and feeling older than my usual twenty-nine until a women in Macy’s stopped me and asked for my help.

“Excuse me dear.  Do you know how to work a cell phone?”  She asked.

“Well the nineteen year-old in H&M doesn’t think so, but let me give it a try.”

She explained how she was trying to take a picture of some leopard-print stilettos for her daughter, but couldn’t get her cell-phone to cooperate.  I grabbed the phone, scrolled through the options, flipped it over in my hand and said, “I’m so sorry, but your phone doesn’t have a camera.”

In that moment, all the pieces of my old-fashioned world fell into place.  I knew there was hope for me and my outdated technology, because my lost cell-phone has a camera.  I wanted to hug that woman with the antique cell phone.  She gave me the greatest gift of all – my youth.

Photo via Facebook

If any of you ever visit the old blog and don’t picture me with a thousand tiny marbles rolling all helter-skelter in my head, it’s because I have a fabulous family.

I mean it.

I am so blessed.

I don’t just feel love on Valentine’s Day, although that’s nice, I get to enjoy their love every single day.

Why just this week…

FringeBoy had two small bags of m&m’s and hand-made birthday card waiting for me at the breakfast table.

FringeKid made me one of her famous queen cards.

FringeMan came home for lunch and took me out to Subway – Eat Fresh & Love Your Wife – should be their new slogan.

FringeKid bought her brother a book from the school book fair.  With her own money.

FringeMan chopped me a bunch of wood and did not complain about how often I feed the stove.

FringeBoy looked for and found my lost cell phone.

This Valentine’s Day, I’m thinking about all the people who make my life wonderful.  It doesn’t matter if you’re married, single, widowed, divorced, or too young/old to care, you can celebrate Valentine’s Day.  I know there’s someone who could use an extra-special I Love You from you.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

XOXOXO

P.S.  If you need a laugh, my son said THIS last Valentine’s Day.

“No.  It’s ok.  I’m wearing flip-flops today.”

“It’s F-E-B-R-U-A-R-Y in New York.”  I cautioned.

“I wanna wear them.”

So I let her wear them.  I don’t know if I’m the kind of parent who understands a girl simply has to make her own fashion choices, or if I know that sometimes a ten year-old only learns to wear shoes after getting frostbite on her toes, or if I just didn’t feel like arguing over flip-flops on my birthday.  I suspect it’s the latter.  At any rate, FringeKid wore flip-flops on Saturday.   It was snowing by two o’clock in the afternoon, and it did not stop snowing until the wee hours of Monday morning.

As a surprise for my birthday, FringeMan took me to a great big wonderful mall in Syracuse and got us a hotel room for the night.  Now before your mind goes and gets all romantic, we took the children, the flip-flop wearing children.  It was a little like being on vacation, only we were still in our dreary home state.

I generally don’t vacation in places with snow, at least not while it’s on the ground, but I’m glad this weekend was an exception.  I needed nothing more than a shopping trip and a night away from the laundry and dishes.

Despite my swollen foot and the ugly paint-spattered sneakers I was forced to wear, FringeKid and I must have walked five miles.  My mission was to find a great bag.

I wanted a good bag.  I wanted leather, but I soon found out that I could only afford a tissue size purse in leather.  My internal radar zoned in on every single purse bound to the display racks with a chain.   Needless to say I didn’t walk away with one of those bags; however, I did find a lovely purse in my price range.  It’s not leather, but as a consolation, it came with a free umbrella.

So without further ado, I present to you The Yellow Bag.

Yes, I like big bags.  I carry a lot of junk.

I noticed the color in these photos is very different.  The true color is a mustard yellow.

To make my birthday complete, I found my shoes on Amazon for $20 dollars cheaper than I originally planned.  I love a bargain.

So tell me, do you like to carry a large bag filled with everything but the kitchen sink, or a small, tidy purse with only the essentials?

In the quest to accept another number and a few more gray hairs while keeping my sanity dignity intact, I hosted a Pampered Chef party on Friday night.  There’s nothing like kitchen-ware to make a woman feel young.

So not true, but it was fun to host a little party and watch as another woman cooked white chicken chili in my house.  For a moment, I knew how it would feel to have my own personal chef – Pure Unadulterated Bliss.  I could handle not having to scrounge through the cabinets at five-thirty wondering what in the world I’m going to create for dinner.

After everyone went home and  FringeMan and I finished consuming the leftover strawberries, I sat down to remove my sock and slipper.  Yes, I did wear slippers to my party, but in my bad-fashion defense, my foot tried to put me in one of those motorized scooters before my thirty-seventh birthday.  It swelled up like a plump tomato ready to burst through its skin on a sunny day in August.  It was hot and it hurt.  Did I mention the pain I ignored until ten o’clock at night?

A lump seemed to be forming on the bone about a half-inch under my toe, but it was hard to tell.  The swelling camouflaged any specific cause.  After elevating my foot with a bag of frozen vegetables on top, FringeMan thought I should go get it get it checked out.  You see, we had plans to go away on a little overnight the next day.  For my BIRTHDAY!

So I went.

Holding my foot in his hand, the doctor ran through a list of diseases that ranged from allergic reactions to a cyst that may need to be drained.  I stopped him briefly at flesh-eating disease.  You don’t utter words that may cause my skin to drip off my bones twenty-four hours before my birthday.  I think there’s an oath about that.

In the end, the doctor said, “I don’t know what it is, but your foot seems pretty pissed off.”

A pissed off foot – my official diagnosis.  So I went home armed with ice-packs, Advil, and a prescription for antibiotics in case my flesh began melting, or eating, or any other devilish pre-birthday verb.

I know you’re wondering what my foot looks like now…the swelling is gone, but I’m left with a hard knot on the top of my foot and it still hurts.  I’ll have to call and make a doctor’s appointment, but for a few more minutes, I’m going to hope that it disappears as quickly as it came to dash my hope of buying cute shoes for my birthday.

Remember these?

Seychellis Asterisk Tan/Red

I didn’t buy them.  Yet.  I’m waiting on my foot before I send $67.99 sailing through the internet.

On Saturday, I did manage to find something fabulous though, but alas, I’ve used too many words.  You’ll have to wait for My Birthday Saga, Part II.

Thank you for all the warm birthday wishes.  I am blessed.