Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

I get really excited about taking care of 'to do' stuff on my list of, well, stuff. For example, I need to buy batteries to go into all of Connor's toys that have died or sound like Elmo on a week-long drinking spree. I need to sweet talk my husband into putting a ceiling fan in Connor's bedroom. (and the way you do that is you go to Lowe's, you pick out and purchase the fan you want, stop by the liquor store and buy Bombay Saphire gin, some tonic and limes. Then you bring it all home and say..."Honey, I made you a drink. Oh by the way...") I really need to fix the seal on the door to our shower too, but that is on another day and more of the beer caliber. My most recent accomplishment is replacing the toilet seat on our throne. But that was all me. I got one of those 'fancy' ones that has a silent lid that slowly closes. (which is really nice except I forget about it when I am using someone else's bathroom and throw down that lid like I'm closing the door on a 1973 Ford LTD) It also has pop-off hinges so that you can take the entire toilet seat off for cleaning. I am pretty grossed out about this in some ways because you know that some senile person out there is probably cleaning theirs by throwing it into the dishwasher.

Anyway, I did that one by myself. It is amazing how much pride you can take in the most menial of jobs. That is when you realize that you have arrived at stay-at-home-motherhood, which is a lot like Hotel California, without the pink champagne on ice.

Time to 'Fess Up

Some of you know, and some of you don't. I decided to go ahead and get myself pregnant again. Really, we had been trying for a few years, so we were not so shocked, and at the same time shocked all at once. I am almost through my 4th month and will hit the half-way mark in a few weeks. I decided to wait to tell a lot of people for a few months, not because of my age, but because it is really frowned upon when 'crazy' folks have children. K. I am kidding. I am 35 now and will be 36 by the time the crying starts (for both the baby and me), so I had to keep my trap shut for a while.

I am due January 20. There. Now you know. I won't be talking too much about it on the blog, only because I still have one or two things I hold sacred for quilting. One is my quilting room, the other is my quilting friends. When I blog or quilt (which hasn't been too often, right gals?) I like to forget for a moment that I can almost balance a Pepsi can on my tank. It is my happy place, you know. The only frequent urination on my blog shall be reserved for laughing only.

So, although I do not mind questions and comments on the pregnancy thing, I just love my 15 minute breaks from it all where I can sit and read what other bloggers are making, write what I had going on that day, and forget that my son is still not potty trained.

Green Thumb? Ha!

Calling all botanical geniuses...I really would like to know what kind of flowers these are. I figure anything that can grow with virtually no water and tons of sun, needs to be in my yard; plus they are a heck of a lot purtier than cacti. click on the picture to get a close-up.

Then I think I should get a landscaper to rethink our front yard design. any volunteers?

Imperfection in Perfection

I am putting the binding on a baby quilt for donation. Some of my quilts; I have to admit, are just thrown together without using pins to piece, no walking foot to quilt, no 100 percent cotton requirements. It can be very liberating to make a quilt top that has chopped off points, and intersections that, well, don't quite intersect. The problem is that when I make these quilts, they come out looking like some of the utilitarian quilts that I grew up knowing. I start falling in love with this imperfect thing and want really badly to keep it for myself. I have decided to still give this quilt away to charity, like I had intended to begin with. But the next one that turns out like this I will keep...but I will put one of my friends names on the label as the maker so that no one knows that I made the crappy thing!

When ever Connor wears this Nike shirt, People inevitably ask him what letter is on his t-shirt. (maybe because of his age?) His response never changes. He looks down and says "it's a 'u'".

Wow, I Feel Better Now

I have a real problem. A problem that no one can help me with. I have an 'acquaintance' that thinks that she is smarter than all authority. She has a G.E.D. (not that people with G.E.D.'s are stupid people...but let's just say that this particular person is definitely not advanced diploma-type material). She gets angry about a subject, then spouts off about it, saying how unfair it is that she is being treated this way. She pays to get advice from doctors, then she totally ignores everything they have to say. (what do they know?...) Then, she asks every one's opinion about it. Let me be the first to tell anyone reading this...if you ask for an opinion or advice, you better damn well be prepared to hear the answer. Well this is also the kind of person who only wants to hear your opinion if it is exactly the same as hers. If she would only take peoples advice (not even counting mine here) her quality of life would improve well beyond her means. But alas, she is so stubborn and has no chance in the near future to enjoy a happy life.

Now, I could be the kind of person who only tells people what they want to hear; but that would only make me a hypocrite. I take comfort in the fact that if a friend or relative or acquaintance wants or needs advice from me, I will give my honest feedback to them. I would want that in return. It may not always be the sweetest smell, but constructive criticism never is.

well, there you go.

I was just telling one of my commenters that I need to find my camera cord for downloading pictures so that I can post again. Then I realized that this one was a pretty lame excuse and I was getting to the bottom of the barrel any good ones. Pretty soon I will write that my dog ate my computer and now every time I rub his belly, he logs off...but I don't have a dog; not even a bird or fish. I have a soon to be 3-year old (yay) that wouldn't think twice about eating my computer if he could just get his hands on it. I have a few great posts in mind for the near future, but I really need to show in order to tell. So, instead I just affixed one that I already had on my computer. This is my son, Connor climbing on the alter at...no, not a wedding...a funeral. My grandmother is probably chuckling from heaven on that one. As you can see from the picture, he is a yoga instructor; and I must be a ballerina because he keeps me on my toes.