Here Comes The Bride!

Lovely.

*photo credit
Ben Stansall/AFP, Getty Images

Thoughts on House-Hunting, Home Staging, Short Sales and Other Trials

I stepped inside the house
and could smell chocolate chip cookies.
Finally! I thought, this homeowner really wants to sell their house!

The main floor was clean and tidy.

I went downstairs to the basement--
to find

nothing
but

carpet tack boards sans carpet,
a drop-in ceiling with brown-ish water-stained  tiles,
holes in the drywall, exposed plumbing,
and a stinkin' mess everywhere.

Ugh.

This house is NOT ready to sell.
Cookies or no.

I'm even dreaming about house-hunting these days.
Where, O where is my perfect house??

Yesterday, another house.
I was crossing my fingers all the way there,
that my house-hunting would end!
It's exactly the area I want to live in,
and the price is right for the square footage.
But sheesh.
Another disappointment.
What is it with homeowners and their realtors
thinking they can sell a house
without lifting a finger to clean it up
and make it beautiful?

Truly, I started giggling when I drove up--
lawn art.
Everywhere.
Gnomes, squirrels, signs, toads, decorative flags,
fake flowers next to real ones--
all cluttering up the yard--
and the yard was a great yard!
It has tall pines and aspens
that frame it nicely--
but oh my hex,
the lawn art was distracting.
There was a fake arm hanging out of a window.
Not kidding.
My realtor, Cathy, just sighed and shook her head.
"What are they thinking?"

I couldn't help but think the neighbors are probably
crossing their fingers that this house sells quickly
and someone comes and cleans it up.

Inside the house was just as chaotic:
Did you know that "Victorian-Style" is a pseudonym
for "clutter"?
Lace and roses, lace and roses
everywhere.
And cherubs.
tea pots and tea cups.
doilies,
and the colors burgundy and evergreen,
with just a dash of ivory.
ugh. ugh. UGH!
And cats.
Tho' I didn't see a real live cat,
there were signs about cats,
food bags and cans for catfood,
climbing towers,
and pictures of cats.
Hand-written signs begging
"Don't let the cats out!"

Ugh.

I don't like Victorian stuff, can you tell?
Especially when it's done a la Walmart.


In fact, I don't like "themed houses" at all.
Put away your 65 roosters, your 600 porcelain dolls,
your African zebra/cheetah/giraffe/monkey collectibles,
your lacy doilies and animal trophies,
I don't wanna know that you {heart}green frogs or gargoyles.
Pack that stuff up and save it for your next home,
I beg of you.

And your collection of 347 clay pots
all over the yard and porch--
empty or full,
is toooooooo much!
Fill one or two, even three
with lush real plants,
or don't have them at all,
Please.
I can't see your house
past your stuff.

Berber carpet is a cruel joke
that the carpet industry played
on innocent homeowners in the 90's.
That's all I'm gonna say about that.

Alot--nearly 3/4's of the homes I've been looking at,
are "Short Sales or Pre-foreclosures".
Obviously, I'm looking for a deal in this economy, right?

A Short Sale means that this is the last-ditch effort to sell a home
and come out of it without complete financial devastation.
Why not put all you can into presenting it at it's best??
Yes, this is a difficult experience--
to have to sell under these conditions,
but if you wanna get every stinkin' dime outta the house
you possibly can,
take advantage of the opportunity and STEP UP!

Too many people are letting the situation beat them up
and define the moment.
Job loss, health issues, divorce--
that's typically what brings a home into a Short Sale.
However, trials pass oh yes they do!

Bring out your competitive spirit and get in the game!

Show your kids that you don't give in to tough times,
that you step up and give your best.
They're going to go thru trials in their lives,
guaranteed--
so show them how to deal.

I'm not kidding.
Stage your home.
It takes all I have to not stop being a "home buyer"
and ask if I can help and be a "home stager"
when I walk thru houses that so clearly need help.
Seriously, I would do it gladly.
But how do you do that without being asked and not sound like a
conceited jerk?

Anyway, to home sellers, I say:

Spruce up the house
 like you love it.
Your love for your home shows
in how you live in it.
Let the memories you've made within those walls,
motivate you to clean it up
and show it at it's *Best*!


I have two more homes to view tomorrow.
Two more possibilities
that my search will be over.
Cross your fingers
n' say a little prayer for me,
will ya?



On a totally different note, I have to share this blog I found:
Favorite Paint Colors
You will love it!
Promise Promise.

Wordless Wednesday

When Lucy and Ethel Staged a House to Sell....the missing episode

Yesterday morning I went to a house I recently staged
to help the homeowner (Hi W.!) get ready for a showing.

W. has a beautiful home--
six bedrooms,
five bathrooms,
thousands of square feet so noone's standing
in front of the theater screen
across the room.
Ever.
Gleaming wood floors,
granite countertops,
winding staircase,
huge landscaped lot--
seriously,
this home is a great one!
The only thing standing in the way
of my purchasing her home
is that her asking price is above what I can afford by
$250,000.00
give or take.

I showed up just a little bit before the showing
to see W.'s hard work--
and lemme say,
that Momma W. done worked her bum off!
Everything shines like a new penny.
Bedrooms are perfect,
bathrooms are spotless.
We turned on the lights,
cued up the music,
and
the final touch:
chocolate chip cookies
and water with fresh lemons.
It looked great!

Just as I was about to slip on my shoes
and head out the front door,
the doorbell rang--
ACK!
it was the Realtor and her clients
seven minutes early FCOL!
W. took off for the backdoor to the garage,
as I greeted the guests as I made my Ethel-like getaway:
"Hi there. I'm not the homeowner. Nice to meet you.
The house is beautiful. Have a nice day."--
wondering if W. was gonna get out before being noticed.

I jumped in my big honkin' Sub and went home--
thinkin' that W. had also jumped into her big honkin' sub
and left her house.

Only she didn't.

She got in her car, intending to leave--
but realized she didn't know where the Realtor parked--
was it in the driveway or on the street?
If it's in the driveway,
there was no way she was going back into the house
and ask them to move their car.
Why?
Because she didn't want to make any sort of impression
on the buyers.
And,
she'd been too busy to fix her hair and make-up!


So channeling Lucy,
W. did what any awesome-house-selling-momma would do--
she got into her car and hid inside there
until the Realtor and buyers left her house.

While in there,
she remembered that a breaker switch had flipped,
so she waited until she could hear them going upstairs
and jumped out of the car to flip the switch
(I'm guessing it was in the garage!)
and jumped back into her hiding place.

She heard them come into the garage,
and hid under a big coat of her husband's--
and held her breath for dear life
until they left.

****

And this, dear people, is one of the many many reasons,
Mothers like W. have secured their place in heaven.
Lucy woulda been proud.
I know I am.

Ramblin' Away

Easter Dress Shopping:

Took the Caboose and hit the mall.
We went to our favorite go-to-store for fancy dresses-
Burlington Coat Factory.
but couldn't find one in her size.
B-T-W, I have never bought a coat there.
In fact,
their coat aisle is like 6 rows deep,
and I've never even walked down it.
Have you ever bought a coat at Burlington Coat Factory?

Then we went to JCPenneys, Dillards,
and even Sears!-- and were about to give up looking
altogether for an Easter dress--
when Ari pointed at Macy's in the parking lot.
Macys! Yes! (crossed fingers)
Thank goodness for Macy's!

It's not that the other store didn't have dresses--
they did.
But I don't want my ten year old wearing a dress
with slits up to there,
revealing necklines,
or that awful full-body rouching with glitter and bling all over it
as though she is a float in the Easter Parade.

And yes, we did have a few moments where she liked a dress
and I didn't.
Even my go-to-phrase of "I think we can do better" got old for me.
Ari said, "You keep saying that, and we haven't found anything better, Mom."
We were both tired of looking.
But like I said, thank goodness for Macy's.
We found her special dress--the one that she twirled around in front of the dressing room mirror
and her face lit up in approval.
Just what we wanted...a girl hasta have some twirling-action, ya know?
And it was 40% off, so that sealed the deal.

Then we went in search of a pair of white easter shoes.
I was thinking ballet flats or sandals.
We went to a few stores, and our night concluded at Payless--
whereupon finding out that a girls' size 5 is that same as a women's size 6
stopped our search altogether as Ari's eyes focused on
a pair of women's white, high-heeled sandals.
"I feel pretty in these, Mom. Can I have them? They fit perfect."

That was hard.
They were cute.
They did fit.

But she is ten.

I went back and forth to the girls' shoes,
offering up different styles,
but she wasn't budging.
She wanted the grown-up shoes.
Badly.
Everytime I rejected them, we both felt bad.
In the end,
I told her that she has good taste,
and those sandals are very cute and all,
but she's just ten years old
and there will be time for high heels in her future.
We agreed to keep looking,
though not without some tears on her part.

Drawing lines.
Sometimes that's a full-time job as a parent.
The stores will keep selling adult-themed/styled clothing
as long as parents buy them.
And from what I see,
alot of parents don't mind dressing their little ones
up like small adults.
Why rush youth?

Anyway, as Arianna and I were heading home,
the topic of the womens' sandals was very fresh
and so were the tears...
I had drawn the line and she didn't like it.
I pulled rank and that was no fun either.
But about halfway home,
she offered an apology and to lighten-up she said,
and I quote:
"I can't help it if I'm hot. I come from a hot family."
Me: "You mean regliar hot or sexy hot?"
Ari, laughing: "Sexy hot. You know my sisters, right?"

We both laughed.
She thanked me for her dress and we agreed to look again
for the perfect shoes next time we go shopping.
Yesterday, she wore a pair of flats to church with her dress without complaint.

*****

Joseph has decided he is a "pre-teen"...
he requested "Axe" deodorant and hair gel.
He's showering everyday without a battle.
I know, right?
Could be a phase for all I know,
so I'll take it while I can.

Arianna and he were discussing her status as a "pre-teen" this morning,
and he asked me if she's a "pre-teen" like him.
Of course I said yes...taking my place on this slippery slope once more.

*****

Since the Easter bunny secret is out in the open this year,
I was thrilled to go to bed and let the kids dish out the candy,
n' hide the eggs for baby Garrett's big hunt.
I've been the resident Easter bunny for 27 years
and plan on enjoying my retirement.

Because Dani & Brad were down over the weekend,
we decided to have the big dinner on Saturday instead of Sunday.
Best Decision Ever.
Highly recommend it.
Mr W and Dani prepared it while I was at work--
which isn't why it was the B.D.E.--
nope--
it was the B.D.E. because we had leftovers yesterday
and it was easy-peasy.
We're thinking we'd like to make that a tradition.
The Easter bunny comes on Friday night,
why not have Easter dinner on Saturday
and really rest on Sunday?
****
Daisie and I went to a baptism of a co-worker's son last night.
It was held at New Life church.
Being raised a Baptist,
I was quite comfortable and familiar with the services.
For Daisie, it was a new experience altogether.
The contrasts were stark.
Whereas in the LDS faith,
baptism is a reverent, quiet experience,
at New Life it is quite a production of loud worship music,
complete with drums, guitars and synthesizers,
dancing, cheering, clapping and a lightshow.
In the LDS faith,
participants all wear special white clothing,
and at New Life it was a "come-as-you-are" deal--
jeans, shorts, bathing suits, dresses, fatigues--
very casual.
Noone asks the "baptizee" (pretty sure that's not a word, but you know who I'm referring to)
anything beyond their name,
and then they're dunked underwater and that's that.
We saw one man get baptized,
and then promptly baptize 4 family members.
It was a joyful party for everyone involved,
and I was happy to share it with my co-worker and her family.

It was a good learning experience for Daisie.
I want her to understand other faiths and how they worship,
and just as important as understanding their faith,
I want her to respect them and their traditions for what they are,
and on the flipside, be able to examine her own faith with clarity.
The experience provided the topic for some great conversation
last night with the family.

****
House-hunting.

I haven't been to a single home that's been staged yet.
Which means, I am still looking.

*****
It snowed Friday night.
April in Colorado makes me happy.

So that was my weekend.
What about yours was different, unique and happy?

Derodiant

The Caboose, lifting up her arm: Hey, smell my armpit!

Momza: Uh, no. I don't think so.

The Caboose: It smells good! I'm wearing my new dee-ro-dee-ant!

Momza, smelling from a distance:  Mmmm, spring flowers!

Dear Mr. Easter Bunny 2.0

Dear Mr. Easter Bunny,

I wanted to do this personally,
but seeing as how you tend to show up to our house
in the middle of the night with your goodie-laden basket,
this will have to do.

Mr. Bunny, you and I go way back...
since I was just a little chick--
that's what?--like 400 years in bunny years?
I've always delighted in your arrival and have truly appreciated
your accommodations for our family's celebration of Spring
by coming to our house Friday night instead of Saturday.
That alone,
saved many threads of the yahoos' new easter clothing
as well as my sanity,
since I didn't have to take children
hopped-up on sugar
to Church come Sunday morning.
So thank you for that.

Remember last year,
when my letter to you was all about the 15 year old?
Thanks for the tranquilizer dart-gun.
Totally worked.
She slept for three whole days,
which meant peace and quiet for me.
I owe you for that one!

I have a new and different situation this year--
ever since The Caboose turned 10 last month,
she has become a whiny, pouty girl.
She stomps her feet and raises her voice in anger,
n' oh heaven help us if she doesn't get what she wants!
It's as though someone pushed an "ornery" button
on my little Caboose!
I'm nearly outta patience over here--
and I'm sure you can relate--
seeing as how we all know that bunnies
have large families too.
You get me?
So, I'll get to the point here,
because I do have one--
can you perhaps mix a "chillax"-flavored jellybelly
in with the rest?

Just one.
For me.
Maybe two.
Okay, thanks.
Be sure to grab some organic carrots on your way out.

With love,
Momza

P.S. Look for me in the easter parade. I'll be standing next to her:

House Hunting With a Slingshot

We've been house-hunting the last week.

And I just gotta say,
some people have no freaking clue
how to sell a house!

I have a method to finding a home,
much like everyone else's--
I look at homes online,
forward the MLS's to my realtor
so she can make the appointments,
and I show up expecting to be
"AWED" by the experience.

Most home buyers WANT to be "awed"
every time they pull up to a potential home sale.
They're crossing their fingers and toes
that the house they're pulling up to
is
the house.


If you're selling a house,
you have the ability to AWE someone!
All you really have to do,
is exceed their expectations.
And believe me,
it's not impossible to do that
even in this home market.

For example,
we looked at a home,
that, when I saw it online looked really nice--
backs up to a natural preserve
with walking trails--
already this home had something special going for it--
location.
BUT, upon pulling up to the house,
I realized within the first 7 seconds
that it wasn't going to awe my senses
in the slightest:
the yard was overgrown,
and mostly weeds.
It got no better inside:
a rug-cleaner at the entry,
worn-out, old, entry rug,
laundry on the staircase,
and a haggard homeowner saying,
"We're still doing projects to clean-up the house."

I walked around each corner,
hoping to see evidence of a finished "project"
somewhere--
but only found more clutter and mess.
The floors especially concerned me--
three different kinds of (dirty) carpet on the mainlevel--
even Berber (ack!) in the family room.
Wallpaper borders in the kitchen and bathrooms--
which basically screams "out-dated".
Countless dead or half-dead plants lined the windows.
All of the woodwork was in need of a fresh coat of
polyurethane,
the walls were also dirty.
A bedroom painted Navy Blue.
Sloppily painted navy blue.
Each room took only one step inside
to discover it wasn't a room you wanted to go inside of,
without at least a slingshot.

I could go on and on,
but the point is obvious:
The house was NOT ready to sell;
not for their asking price at least.
I was definitely not "awed"...
more like "ewwww-ed".

As we left,
my "home staging" instinct was to turn around
and go back to the homeowner with some major counsel
to take the sign out of the yard
until
the house is cleaned up,
painted,
and updated
120%.

Home sellers can "awe" potential home buyers
by just exerting some 'awesome' efforts--
your hard work really will pay off.
Go the extra mile, Do the extra stuff--
clean the yard up,
update the fixtures,
make the house shine like a new penny,
get rid of the clutter,
open the windows and blinds,
have cookies or home made treats waiting for each showing.
Remember, the realtors are your partners too!
They want your house to AWE their clients--
and if your house shows great,
it will get alot more traffic!

Too many home sellers have a defeatist attitude--
"it's a buyer's market", blah blah blah...
All that means is you have to bring your best game on!
Get competitive!
Showcase your home like your rich Aunt Milda's coming over--
spit-shine the flowerpots,
make every room pass the white-glove test,
and treat every potential home buyer
like a welcomed guest
not a Wildlife Ranger.

Your Welcome Mat should translate into:
"Welcome Home".

Mom Interrupted

I write my blogs early in the morning--
usually just after Mr. Wonderful leaves for work,
before the yahoos and the dog get up,
but just before Daisie leaves for Seminary.

One day this week however,
I lost my mind and was trying to pluck out a few lines
while the yahoos were getting ready for school.
Normally, it's not that big of a deal--
I let them watch TV until 7:30-ish,
then I start coaching them along--
"eat breakfast"
"practice piano/clarinet/violin"
"feed Kota"
"take Kota out"
"brush your teeth"
etc...
Mornings are non-events for the most part.
Hey, I'm down to three yahoos at home now.
I've earned whatever peace and quiet,
harmony and melody I can get these days.
I even told my doctor that since I'm down to three,
I'm considering taking up drinking now--
I was sober for seven,
I can do three, drunk.

Anyway--back to the other morning--
from the loft/study I heard
the youngest two going at it
loud and strong--
Boofus: No! You Don't!
Caboose: "Yes! I Do!"
There was awhole lotta weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth!

Momza: "Hey! Hey! Guys! What's going on?"

Come to find out, they're fussing over who loves the dog MORE.

So I put on my "Wise Mother" hat,
and offer:
"Guys, you're getting ready to leave our house and go to school.
It's going to be a long day. 
School can be tough. 
Don't you think you'd feel better if you're kind
to each other and make up before you walk out into the world? 
I love you both so much. 
It hurts my feelings when you're mean to each other. 
AND, you're both good pet owners. 
Kota loves you both. 
Can you think of something kind to say to each other 
before you leave the house?"

The Boofus and Caboose, in unison: "NO!"
They walked out the door
and down the street
together.

Set 'em up, Joe.

Rambling...what I do best!

Rest. Freedom. Joy!
That's what's just around the corner for me
as the store is readying to hire another gal.
I am so excited I'm thinking of personally
escorting her
to the store tomorrow!

I have been working every day all day
for weeks--
and I'm sorry,
but it's totally cutting into my life.
I have people to see,
things to do,
places to go
and I just need a little more time
to do it.
And all of my family and friends are getting onto me
to slow down.
So I am!

I'm looking at homes
as we are moving this summer.
In 78 days, actually.
I would like it to be asap though.
Cuz I hate moving in July...
something that we've done every time we've moved!

I also want to do more than just think about moving--
I want to do some crafts,
plant a garden,
go camping and hiking,
travel,
write more,
learn to watercolor,
take more pictures,
read more books,
spend time with friends,
stage more houses,
coach more births,
and the list goes on and on.

I've got livin' to do, peeps!

In other wonderful news,
Kota aka Oprah,
is turning into a real dog!
After many trial runs of "alone time"
in the house
while I'm at home,
I finally got the courage to leave Kota alone
this morning while I went to work.
That means, in the house, out of the kennel,
full reign of the premises.
I told her this was a test and I hoped she would pass it!

I usually come home for lunch at noon-to just after,
but was so busy at the store,
I didn't get home until after one.
I held my breath as I pulled into the drive,
unlocked the door,
and greeted a wiggly Kota.

I walked around the main floor
and everything looked exactly as I'd left it!
YEA!!!
She did it!!!
She's a real dog!!
I'm going to let her stay out of her kennel overnight
tonight and see how she does.
Cross your fingers!
She's really a good lab,
just two years old,
and if I could just figure out how to get her
to
"COME"
when I call her outside as she is off her leash,
she'd be dang-near perfect.
Right now though,
she runs down the street like her bum is on fire!
And I just hate that.
One night, I let her out to do her business--
she was having tummy problems at 4:00 AM,
so I got up with her and just let her out--
she was GONE for 30 minutes.
And I swear, if she hadn't had on her collar
with our contact information on it,
I'd have just let her run wild and free forever.
But she had it on,
and I had to wait until she got a wild hair to come home.
I hated that dog that morning and the thought did come to mind
to put her on Craigslist for one dollar.

Okay lastly,
as you know, Dani's IUD magically disappeared,
and at Christmas we found out she's expecting
Baby Numero Dos...
this week, she had an ultrasound
and know that she is carrying a little bambino.
A boy!
So the Ninja Baby will have a buddy!
The Boofus is thrilled because there's gonna be another
boy in the family--he already adores being the Ninja Baby's uncle--
and he's really good at it too.

So that's the latest.

Fantasywood: Where Famous People Would Fit Nicely in My Reality

Lisalulu got me thinking this morning
when she hallucinated Kevin Costner...
and got me thinking...

Where could I fit famous people into my life,
ya know,
if I was in charge of the Universe and all?

I made my list...

 Martha Stewart 

+

 Paula Deen 

=

Visiting Teachers

 Donny

=

 Dentist!

Kevin, 

well Kevin could fit in just about anywhere.

But wouldn't it be great if he were my doctor:

"Take two aspirin and call me in the morning."

Yeah, that's one call I would not forget to make.

Heck, I'd tattoo his number on my hand.

*Mr. Wonderful is totally aware of my strange fascination with Mr. Costner--

I think he may have realized that after watching "Dancing with Wolves",

"The Bodyguard", "Field of Dreams", "For Love of the Game",

"Tin Cup", "The Untouchables", "Wyatt Earp" and the rest of Kevin's 

thirty-three movies

every 

stinkin' 

time 

they're on TV.

If I'm channel surfing and come across a "Kevin-movie",

my little pointer finger has to click that channel.

My favorite one?

"Field of Dreams" of course.

Runner-up? 

"For Love of the Game"--

I'm a sucker for baseball movies.

Anywho,

if you were in charge of the Universe

who would fill your leading roles?

I'm a Kindness Copycat, Are You?

Yesterday at work,
I overheard another co-worker--
"Thank you so much!", she said.

It wasn't to me.
In fact, I'm not sure whom the expression
was expressed to,
because I was helping a customer--
but I smiled and got the warm fuzzies.
I commented to the customer,
whod' also heard--
and we both agreed that
gratitude
is contagious.

You know those "Liberty Mutual" commercials
where they show the domino-effect
of kindness?




There's also the commercials from
Foundation for A Better Life
at Values.com...
love those too
as they sweetly inspire me to be my best self
out in the world.

The truth is,
I confess, I am a
Kindness Copycatter.
Really, I'm not very original at all,
but lemme see with my own two eyes
an act of kindness, generosity, graciousness and the like,
and the next thing I know,
I'm doing it too!
I'm at peace with my copycat ways--
you know what they say,
"if you can't Be,
then you Teach."--
totally cool with that.

Kindness Copycat-ness.
Pass It On.


And this one-- for Kristina P.--
just because.

How To Get Your Kids to Try New Foods

Hi, My Name Is Momza
and I'm a Foodie
and the mother of many foodies.

Afterall, who doesn't love
pizza, lasagna, fettucine, bechamel, and the smells out of an Italian kitchen?
Or
the delicioso-ness of pollo-fundido, fajitas, guacamole, burritos, enchiladas,
and all the warm cheesy goodness wafting from a hispanic cocina?
And even though I'll be hungry an hour later,
I love me some sweet n' sour chicken, fried rice, eggrolls and wonton soup!
Those are everyday kinda foods in our house--
to get us really going
offer up something different like
Haitian creole
Tandoori Chicken
Chicken Curry or Tika Masala
Pad Thai Noodles,
Vietnamese Spring rolls--
anything with a little kick to it
and we're IN!

And I do mean ALL of us!
We try it all...
one of the best ways to get your yahoos to eat a bigger variety
of foods
is to introduce them while they are young!

Take them to an All -You-Can-Eat lunch buffet
at a Chinese restaurant or an Indian food restaurant
and let the kids try whatever they want.
Make it fun by trying new things yourself!

Don't snub your nose at new things--
instead of saying words like "gross" when your tastebuds aren't delighted--
say,
"That wasn't my favorite. But wow! isn't it fun to try?!"

Food from other cultures helps kids make a connection with those cultures
and that's always good.

Birthdays are all about the food in our house--
when it's your bday,
you can pick the menu on your special day.
Daisie just turned 16 over Conference Weekend,
and her requests were:
crepes for breakfast
and
sushi for dinner.
I forgot to take pics of breakfast--
but boy! was it delish!
We did have a spread of homemade sushi though--

 Complete with the sushi dishes and chopsticks!

 And look at the Ninja Baby...

 Not his first time eating sushi...

n' definitely not his last!

So that's how I got my yahoos to try new foods,

what about your yahoos?

Any tricks or traditions you wanna share?

Random-awesity: Bald headed, non-budgering, talking belly-buttons, and goats

Random: 
without pattern: done, chosen, or occuring 
without an identifiable 
pattern, plan, system, or connection.

The Boofus accused me of wanting to make him bald this morning,

on account of my suggestion that he needs a haircut.

And I quote:

"You just want me to be bald!!"

Yes, yes I do. That is my ultimate goal right there. Spot on.

I want my 5th grader's noggin to shine like a bowling ball.

I was accused of being a "Non-budger" yesterday by the new 16 year old

when she asked if her BFF could come over after church to

"work on personal progress and seminary make-up"--

which, to the unknowing, would sound almost ethereal

or other-worldly--heavenly, almost--

but to the experienced ears on the sides of my head

sounded alot like "hanging out".

When I responded 12 times with the word "NO",

I was labelled a "Non-budger", followed with a 

"Nobody likes a Non-budger, Mom."

Add that to list and take a number, Sister.

Sundays are for family. 

Unless you're in a leadership position,

then Sundays are for meetings.

What about me says I'm a novice here?

IN news related to the sad-sack body I am currently sporting,

blood tests revealed that my blood is poor in iron--

whereas iron is charted in the ranges of 15 to 55,

my score is a 7.

Seven.

So I'm downing little red iron pills,

mushy prunes {shudder}

and adding fresh spinach to everything I can think of

to transform my ghetto-poor iron into Fort Knox of Iron.

No wonder I've been so stinkin' tired.

Seriously, check your iron levels once in awhile--

like as often as you check the air in your tires

or the bars on your cellphone service.

The Caboose lifted her t-shirt yesterday

to reveal an eyeball drawn in blue ink

just above her bellybutton,

and using her best ventriloquism talents

made her bellybutton sing 

"I like to move it, move it"
and
"oink" like a pig

then proclaimed it is

"completely normal."

I'm thinking of sending an audition tape to

"America's Got Talent"...

for purely blackmail purposes when she

turns sixteen.

Okay lastly,

did you hear about this 

April Fool's prank?

At a high school in Montana, 
a group of students played a prank--
they let three goats loose in the school.
But, before turning them loose, 
they painted numbers on the sides of the goats: 
1,2, and 4.  

School administrators spent most of the day 
looking for number 3.

I'd be so proud if I were their mom. totally.

President Obama, Have You Seen My Sock?

It's Saturday morning.
I slept in until my old woman bladder
made me get out of my warm bed,
where I noticed as my feet hit the floor,
that I had "lost" one sock overnight--
probably down at the end of my covers.

Yes. I sleep with socks on.
That's what old women do--
our feet get cold
because the circulation train is slower these days.

My bladder didn't care to look for the lost sock--
and that was how my day started.

I don't know if you've noticed,
but my blogging mo-jo up and died this last week.
I have had nothing to say--
really.
My days have been dictated by
my job--I've been working more than I've wanted
because we're down to 3 employees
and for reasons out of my control,
we cannot seem to hire anyone to work
for peanuts at a design store.
I think peanuts has something to do with it.
You'd have to have a complete passion
for design to want to work for peanuts--
or be like me and live 16 houses down from the store.
Which makes the morning commute a big honkin' peanut.

Seriously,
I can make a tank of gas last for three weeks.
Which is a big deal if you know that I drive a 2002 Suburban--
the beast that Obama wants me to trade in because of gas prices.
And I think he's right--
if you don't need a 9 passenger vehicle,
trade it in for a small little rice burner like the one Mr W bought last month--
he gets 35 mpg and loves it like a rock.
Or move 16 houses down from your job.

But, (here's where I make my personal plea to the ruler of the Free World)--
Mr. President Obama--I need my Suburban. Need it.  I have a huge family
and even when it's not full of immediate family,
we have little friends filling those seats--
so it's great for carpooling.
See what I mean? So in a way,
America needs ME to have this Suburban.
You're Welcome.


Okay. I feel better.

The other blasted thing that has stolen my blogging mojo is
my health.
I'm in my fiftieth year and lemme tell you,
the warranty is expired on this ol' body.
I'm goin' to h*ll in a hand-basket.
First it was my brain-- the memory rolodex wasn't flipping like it should.
Then, my awesomely fun night at the ER
with those shooting pains in my left arm...
which started the longest run on the medical treadmill
I've ever been on!
I wish blood had the exact exchange rate for money.
Because if it did,
then I wouldn't have to keep paying co-pays
everytime I go to the doctor.
They're taking my blood AND my money.
Something about that just doesn't seem fair.
Speaking of treadmills--
I get to go see a cardiologist and do a stress-test--
you know that's where they hook you up
and watch you run forever to see how badly in shape
you really are.
I'm thinking of calling the doc and seeing if they can just bring
their equipment to the YMCA
and hook me up in a Zumba class.
I think the overall experience would be much more fun
for everyone involved.
Heck, they could even get the nightly news channel 5 out there
and it could become a "thing"--
like Barney's "lemon law" from "How I Met Your Mother"--
it seemed unlikely,
but hey, it did, in fact, become a "thing".
I'll let you know how the doc takes my suggestion when I call them next week.
And believe me,
I'll take pictures!
The YMCA will love that.

Mr. Wonderful is doing his Saturday job--
the smell of bacon is wafting up to the loft right now.
I hope my girls find a man who loves to cook on Saturday morning,
because I'm pretty sure Mr W has spoiled them.
He makes us all individual omelets to order.
Cheese, ham, green peppers and onions. Yum.
Of course, I had to introduce him to cheese grits--
the ambrosia of my southern roots.
Don't tell my cardiologist about the Velveeeta aka plasti-cheese,
tho, kthankx.
My dad adds tabasco sauce to his grits.
Actually, my dad adds tabasco sauce to everything
but his coffee.
Hmmm.  Something ain't right about that.

Anywho,
between my job and my health,
I've been sitting on the sidelines here--
reading blogs I love and being inspired and feeling all
warm-fuzzy-ish this week,
even when I had no ambition to write my own.
Sometimes life is just like that--yeah?
Either we're in the race
or we're on the sidelines.

I'm looking for my running shoes,
but first,
I gotta find that missing sock.

Happy Weekend Everyone.

Mostly Lately Mostly

Mostly
tired 
and a little fuddled.


Lately
slowing down
and just being.


Mostly 
grateful
and thoughtful.


Lately,
a little home staging
a little cooking
a tiny bit of cleaning
a lot of planning
but not too much.


Mostly
patient.

The rest of the story

First, I'm not certain what happened,
but I'm pretty sure I did not have a heart attack.
Altho' I had, what the docs and nurses are calling,
"classic symptoms of a heart attack in women."

Details:
Monday night,
as I was going to sleep,
I turned to my Mr. W and said,
"I'm not doing so well."
He asked if he could do anything,
and I just said 'no'.
I was really tired,
but I couldn't sleep--
my arm was hurting,
so I got up and stayed up
until around 1am.
Tuesday:
Worked all day at the showroom,
then went to a friend's house (hi Wendy!)
to give her some home staging tips,
as their family is preparing to move.
THEN,
took all the yahoos to Church
for mid-week activities.
Mr. W and I were sitting in the lobby
chatting about our day,
when there began shooting pains
up and down my left arm.
I tried rubbing my arm,
and even commented to Mr W that
my arm really hurt and I had no idea why.
Just at that exact moment,
we overheard the Scout leader in the other room
tell his scouts
"pain down the left arm is a common symptom of a heart attack."

Now, I'm thinkin' no way this is a heart attack,
because I'm not feeling like it is--
I'm not anxious,
my chest is not pounding,
I'm not sweating like a stuck pig in Mississippi in July--
I'm just sitting
and my arm is killing me.

I overheard the Scout leader tell his audience
that the first aid thing to do is take an aspirin.
Mr W and I look at each other,
and since there's a Walgreens literally across the street,
he goes over and buys some aspirin.
Just in case.

The hour passes,
the pain stays the same,
only it travelled up to my neck and jaw.
Still,
I'm able to talk and walk around,
so I'm not too concerned.
After classes are all over
and we're leaving,
I caught the Scout leader
and told him what's going on
and ask him what are the other symptoms of
a heart attack.
He looks at me very seriously and tells me to go to the ER.

I'm still thinking I'll just go home and take an ALEVE
and go to bed.
We pack up the yahoos into the car
and just before we get home,
my arm is hurting so much,
I can't ignore it,
and can't talk or think over it.

So we dropped the yahoos off at home,
and headed over to the ER.

Did you know that when you present at the ER desk
with the words:
"I have shooting pains down my left arm,
and into my neck and jaw."--
that they whisk you right into the triage
and you are inducted right then into the
"hospital army of patients".
No kidding.
There's no turning back.
The powers that BE
sorta own you for the next few hours of your life.

EKG, Catscan, Chest x-ray, blood work.
I was really wishing for an ALEVE and a nap.
At 10 pm I looked at the clock and thought,
"Darn, I missed NCIS."

Morphine.

Morphine is crazy stuff.

I was a morphine virgin...
I told the nurse that I'm super-sensitive to drugs.
But she didn't really understand how sensitive--
and to her credit,
how could she, right?
When she told me the doc had prescribed 4-8 units,
I suggested two. or less.
She said we'd try two.

An hour and a half later,
I was told to never never never
allow that to be given to me
ever ever ever
again.
I was given just 1/4 of one unit
and I was rendered completely incapacitated--
but I could still hear the people in the room.
Weird.
Couldn't talk,
or move
or open my eyes,
but I could hear people
saying,
"Are you still with us?"
"Dawn! Don't you leave!"
And in my head I was thinking,
"I hear ya knockin' but you can't come in..."
Totally weird.
You know how they say comatose patients can possibly hear,
I totally get it now.

Anywho, after all the tests were done,
turns out my heart is fine.
I still have to see a Cardiologist,
and have to slow down (yeah right),
but we don't know what caused my body
to express those symptoms.
I do get to take a baby aspirin every day.
There's a plus.
I like the orange-flavored kind.
But Mr W bought the kind you swallow,
300-count,
so NEXT year,
I'm buying them my self.


The fall-out at home was interesting.
While we were very calm about going to the ER,
the Boofus was not calm at all.
He called Nana in Provo--
though his details were sketchy:
"Dad took Mom to the ER."
Nana: "Why? What's wrong?"
Boofus: "I don't know."
Nana: "Let me speak to Daisie."
Daisie: "Yeah? Oh yeah, nuthin'. Her arm hurt. She's fine."
Nana: "Let me speak to Bee."
Bee: "Mom had pain shooting up her left arm. Brother S. told her she could be having a heart-attack and to go to the ER to check it out."

In the words of the oldest girls, our ten year old is smarter than the rest of 'em.
I've been saying that a long time.

Anyway,
we got a ration of cr*p the next day,
when the oldest kids heard what had happened
and had gotten no phone calls:

Dani: "I can't believe I had to find out Mom was in the Er with a possible heart attack on FACEBOOK!
What's wrong with you people? I'm an hour away!Why would the kids call Nana--she's 8 hours away!"
--and other ramblings of her concerns about communication.

The truth is, we didn't know what was going on so there was nothing to tell.

I did get a blessing from Mr W and our Home Teacher while in the ER, and I was good.
Maybe that's what kept me from going towards the light
when I had too much morphine? who knows.

Wednesday was a blur.

I stayed in bed all day long.
I think I had a morphine hangover.

I went to work for a few hours yesterday.
And I was super tired last night.
I think it's due to all the hospital-induced adrenalin,
ya know?
That is one wild ride.

My visiting teachers brought over dinner last night,
for which I am so so so grateful.
And you know what else they brought me?
A beautiful hand-made quilt.
For me.
I bawled when I saw it the first time.
A loving gesture that I will not ever forget.

Thanks to everyone who expressed
concern and good thoughts.

Also,
if you ever have to go to the ER for say,
something like the flu
a sprained ankle
or the like,
here's a suggestion:
Present your self there and say,
"I feel lousy--my head is stuffy, my throat is on fire AND
I have shooting pains down my left arm
that's radiating up to my jaw."
They'll get you right in,
they won't even let you sit down
in the waiting room.
No kidding.
No really, I'm kidding.
Don't do that.
That would be wrong on so many levels.
But wow! if you do have those symptoms,
lemme tell you,
those ER people move their bahooeys
STAT!


Okay, so that's over with,
here's what's really important:
PUH- LEEZ don't forget to enter the giveaways
for the Josh Wright cd
or the Hilary Weeks' book and cd.
They are really wonderful!