under there, back there, around here

Only a couple small-ish mold colonies were destroyed in yesterday's biannual Cleansing of the Fridge.  What always stymies me, however, is how on earth BENEATH the fridge gets so gross.  I mean, it's a giant, heavy appliance that never moves.  We have radiant heat, no indoor pets and a central vac system.  Our house is about as dust-free as outer space.  Yet when I roll the fridge back from its spot (surrounded on 3 sides by walls and cupboards), there are spills, stains and huge piles of dust and hair and dirt and crumbs.  Also Lego pieces, broken glass, coffee beans and a screw.  I know for a fact the floor beneath that fridge was spotless less then 6 months ago when I had the kitchen painted.  It's so dang weird how it gets so filthy under there.

We're down to ONE shovel at Chez Green Girl.  It's currently residing in a trailer on the Back Forty.  I'm at a stalemate in my yard work until I hike back there to get it.  We used to have at least THREE shovels once upon a time.  TB broke one this summer, I suspect Team Testosterone lost/destroyed the other one. 

Mr. T had his third cross country meet last night.  He ran a better time yet again (1.75 miles in 13:02 minutes), this time in a downpour.  Made us all very proud.

Mr. G took two baths last night.  He explained to us that "I'll get double-clean, that way I don't have to take another bath for at least a week."  I can think of about 20 situations where I'd like to apply his logic.

The Team was wicked late for the bus this morning, and at least 5 cars waited behind the school bus while they ran down the driveway.  I felt bad for those drivers.  I kind of wish they'd have started honking, just to drive it home and embarrass those dang kids.  I shouted at them for at least 15 minutes to MOVE IT!  YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!   If I were stuck behind a school bus watching 3 kids fly down the driveway towards it, would I honk?  Probably not. 

Happy weekend, reader.  May it be free of gross smells and unwelcome guests.  I'm off to the woods.

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Sons, into exile, I must go. Failed, I have.

Scene: Green Girl arrives home after her evening out at book club, full of residual good vibes from fun conversation, Korean food and a couple of chocolate martinis. She walks through the kitchen and sees dishes stacked beside the sink. Crumbs all over the counter and table.

Another dish lies directly above...

that damn household appliance no one else in the household seems to be able to master. Green Girl opens the door and sure enough, there is plenty of room. She has tried to train them, teach them the secrets, unlock the mystery of its power. She bows her head and concedes failure.

Team Testosterone: But tell us why we can't...
Green Girl: No, no, there is no why. Nothing more will I teach you today. Clear your mind of questions.

Her disappointment in the young Jedi overwhelms her.






(with special thanks to George Lucas)

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so close to being rednecks around here

Feeling like I'm all that with a brilliantly conceived mantel and all the rest of the Christmas frou-frou set out. Mr. B and I cut a wheelbarrow full of boughs, branches and berries and they're all strategically hung, wired, laid and placed. Let the festivities begin!

I thought I'd get the Momvan washed today. My MIL lives on a dirt road, so that Thanksgiving trip to Iowa left it extra-dirty. Then I remembered we're stuffing a tree into the back of the Momvan tonight. Probably best to wait until after that, no?

Smashed a bunch of my best gourds and pumpkins so I could harvest the seeds and dry them out for next spring's planting. I labeled each pile with really precise descriptions. "Small White Bumpy Gourd." "Orange Yellow Striped Gourd. Some Bumps." My favorite pumpkin, a gorgeous bumpy one with great color had a super-thick shell. I ended up banging it against the floor, muttering Give up your seeds, bitch. It took a lot of tries and coercing (cursing), but I finally cracked her open.

Mr. D let loose about 20 pheasants on our property last night. We'll see how they do. This is our 4th attempt at planting pheasants around here. One year we got so hopeful, a couple made it through the winter and had babies. Then they all disappeared. Eaten by foxes? Hit by cars? We'll never know. The first time we let pheasants go, one flew directly into the side of our neighbor's shed and killed itself. I swear, pheasants are about the dumbest birds ever (and that's saying something, because really? We're talking birds.) Within days we found 2 more dead in the road. Mind you, we live on 60 acres with a bit of development to the south and nothing but wetlands, woods and farm fields to the north for over a mile between us and the next intersection. Turkeys do really well out here, we have a huge flock thriving on the other side of the creek. Hopefully these pheasants are smarter than the last few batches, but I doubt it. I didn't take photos of the release because it was too dark.

Anyway, the master plan is for Mr. D and Team Testosterone to be able to hunt pheasants some day--they'll be that prolific around here. I despise pheasant. It's too gamey, a heavy tasting meat that grosses me out. I confess to not minding if the pheasants never get to huntable numbers around here, but it is cool to watch them fly up when you're walking around the field and prairie.

Still no sign of that cat.

Birdfeeders are full, but we haven't had any visitors yet.

Snow is in the forecast.

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nooks & crannies

Yesterday Jax and I tooled around the yard, scooping up the rotten pumpkins and jack o' lanterns and piling them in the field. One benefit of waiting until after it gets cold out is that the puddles of pumpkin mush freezes into easy-to-pick-up patties. Pumpkinsicles if you will. So now we have only Christmas greenery and lights decorating Chez Green Girl.

Inside Chez Green Girl is another story. Team Testosterone woke up today wondering where the advent calendars were. I had one hanging and made promises to get in the basement today and dig out other holiday things. And now I feel compelled to collect the gourds and squashes and pumpkins inside the house, too. I like to strip (the shelves, not myself) and dust well before putting out Christmas things. Time to get ready, no more putting it off.

In other news, the Underwear Superheroes have been duking it out in our living room.

Yes, he's wearing underpants on his head. I wouldn't mess with him, either.

Mr. D is test driving a hybrid. I cannot get over how quiet it is.

Last night when we returned home from karate class/baseball clinic, a cat ran out of our garage. A tiger-striped cat with the cutest white paws. My heart leapt with hope and I realized at that moment how much I'd like another cat. Jax either wasn't aware of the cat or didn't mind it, because he just ran up to us, tongue out and happy. Mr. T and Mr. G chased around the corner of the house to try to find the cat, but it was dark and we couldn't call it back. I'm keeping my eyes open, though.

The library is still clean and tidy.

Look--bare corners!

Books in order, each where they belong according to Dewey's classification and alphabetical order.

You bet I'm a bit Type A.

The damn piano is still here. Mr. G brought home a Christmas song (The Christmas Beasts, Old French Melody) he's learning for his school concert. He asked me to teach him how to play the notes, so I wrote the letters on strips of masking tape and stuck them to the keys. Then I labeled the notes with the letters and Mr. G plays the piano in a tuneful way. Makes it tough to unload this albatross when someone's finally learning how to play it.



I love these chairs. My grandma bought them shortly before she died, so they were practically new when I got them. No one else wanted them, this house hadn't been built yet, but I took the chairs because it made me sad to think of them abandoned and they turned out perfect for this spot. The hutch in the background was also hers, she and grandpa bought it on their first anniversary. No one wanted that, either, and my father strong-armed me into taking it. I'm glad I did. This room is mostly full of the old things, the clock above the hutch belonged to Mr. D's mother, the Wedgwood to my other grandma, and, of course, Jan (the retired bowling ball) rests peacefully, keeping me company.

Just that one corner and my desk are messy. I'm not going to lie to you, the desk will never get cleaned up. But there it is, my library. My sacred space.

Spill it, reader. What nook & cranny looks tidy in your world?

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of a handyman and ceiling fans

First, I told you all a big lie Friday. I have no photographs of my Halloween costume to show you. As lame as it sounds to say I forgot the camera, it's the truth. (Yes, I know there's a camera on my phone, but I have a crappy flip phone and don't know what to do with the photo after I take it.) People took pictures of me and Mr. D but none have sent those images along to me. It's okay, though. Our costume stunk. I'm not terribly creative and Mr. D doesn't like to dress up so we went as ceiling fans. I painted t-shirts that said clever things like "Go Ceiling" and "Gimme A C" and added beads, face paint and pom-poms in coordinating colors (green and gold--of course! Conveniently the same colors as our local school district AND the Packers).

Coincidentally, my bowling stunk as bad as my costume. But that's behind us now, so I shan't dwell on it.

I handed Mr. D's big fake fur coat over to Mr. T and told him to go scare the children back in the woods. He gave Mr. B and Mr. G's buddies a little thrill, but I think they were too primed (see: Oooh--I bet we see the yeti today! Wait--is that the yeti over there?) to be truly terrified by Mr. T's growls. Drat.

But all is not lost. Mr. B wanted to go as a werewolf and when he puts on that huge coat with his mask, he looks totally beastly. Plus he'll be plenty warm wearing that thing while he canvases the old neighborhood tonight.

It's a dank day, Team Testosterone woke up irritated that school didn't get canceled for a major holiday like Halloween. I'm trapped at home with our handyman all morning (who I love-- he's a stout Dutchman who laughs after every other sentence and smells like Swisher Sweets--and he plays catch with Team Testosterone when he sees them at the park). On today's agenda:

1) Fix the broken window which resulted when Mr. D drove over Jax's bone with the lawnmower.
2) Fix the doorbell.
3) Fix broken closet doors upstairs.
4) Put a flap over the entrance to Jax's doghouse.
5) Prepare a plan to install a wood-burning stove on the back screen porch (we have two dust-covered wood-burning stoves in a corner of our garage right now, a strange but potentially useful inheritance from my grandma).
6) Balance the ceiling fan in the boys' bedroom (broken because they launch stuff through the air).

Happy Halloween! Spill it, reader. What candy do you reach for first out of the pile?

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sometimes you need to hire a professional

First up, our neighbors had their third child yesterday--a boy to add to the fray! We're so happy for everyone, mom and son are healthy and we can't wait to meet the new kid on the block.

For several months now I get the occasional whiff--more of a "whaft" of something foul and rotten. I have an exceptionally sensitive nose, so I ignored it for a while. It wasn't until Mr. D began complaining that I became concerned. Initially there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the smell, but after further sniffing around, I determined it was definitely coming from upstairs, more precisely, somewhere around two bedrooms and in my library.

Now you and I both realize Team Testosterone's capacity for mess-making, forbidden snacking in restricted areas and inventive chemistry experiments (most notably one involving a test tube and samples of pee and what might happen if you added various foodstuffs to it and let it sit for a long, long time. At least it sits until Mom discovers it in the corner of the bedroom and dumps the works into the nearest toilet while doling out a lecture on Gross! Unhygienic! Smells! Freaking DISGUSTING!). Naturally I blamed the Team and did a thorough cleaning of every nook and cranny to find the cause. I came up with a huge load of random crappe to drag to the dumpster or the thrift shop and I found several missing items of clothing, but nothing smelled unusually bad.

The smell continued to linger, sometimes a faint scent like that of phlox brought across the yard on a summer breeze, sometimes an overpowering stench like a room full of sweaty seventh graders. I kept the windows open to ventilate after ruling out the possibility of the garbage dumpster beside the garage being the root of the odor.

I then ascertained that the smell seemed prevalent in carpeted rooms--the rooms with tile floor seemed fine. It occurred to me that when I cleaned the carpets this summer, perhaps I had inadvertently created the smell--had I used too much soap? Maybe I should've hired professionals to clean the rugs. I considered calling a cleaning service, but on a whim opened the closet containing the furnace upstairs (we have a small furnace, an auxiliary heat source to assist our radiant heating system). PHEW!

I'd already made an appointment for a guy to come check the thermostats before it gets super-cold and decided I'd consult with him first before hiring carpet cleaners. Yesterday he arrived, agreed that we need to replace 2 thermostats and then I opened the closet door for him.

"Dead mouse," he proclaimed after inhaling once.

"Can you do anything about it?" I prodded.

"Nope. You gotta call somebody who cleans ducts."

Now it makes sense--all that odor is getting vented through the ducts that coincidentally lead to rooms with carpet. Somewhere inside the duct work some varmint is decaying and decomposing. I unscrewed a few vent grills to poke around but found nothing. The verdict is in: I need professional help.

(And I'm secretly glad I didn't find the varmint when I unscrewed those grills.)

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nuts, nutless and nutty

Since I'm "acting" president of Happyland Elementary PTA for one more meeting, I had to concoct some sort of agenda. Apparently the school went nut-free this year, which caused me to laugh out loud while I contemplated how to phrase this in the agenda. "Nutless?" That sounded about right to me. "Happyland Elementary is nutless." Heh. A day later I got the first phone call from an angry parent--Why did the school go nut-free? How many kids does this affect? My daughter will not eat meat, nuts are a major part of her diet. And while I agreed that no, I've never read of anyone keeling over of a nut reaction, I do know other districts have gone nut-free, but gee, lady, this isn't my issue because I've pulled Team Testosterone and am sending them to the parochial school down the road. Talk about nuts, right?



Meanwhile, I got an email from my friend Lauren, in Baltimore. Her power finally went on post-Irene. I reflected on the damn inconvenience of no power and went ahead making big plans for Day 2 of school. I had laundry running, tomatoes simmering, the laptop booted up and then this mom called me. Forty minutes later I hung up (finally!) to wrap up the mess in my kitchen so I could tackle the rest of my list. That's when the alert sounded on the radio. I pulled in my wash, kenneled Jax and battened down the hatches. I'd just returned to the kitchen when everything went black.



Day 2 of school and there I sat until 1:30 without power, all of my plans down the toilet. Only now I couldn't even flush my toilet. No electricity. No internet. No stove. No washing machine. The wind raged, the rain poured, the dog howled a little. I watched my sunflowers crash flat to the ground, crushing the tomato plants. I watched the pergola slide across the patio and topple into the pool. I tried to read by candlelight and worried about the poor teachers stuck in their classrooms with all of those children but no lights. I felt whole new empathy for those folks on the east coast whose power went out for days. My inconvenience really seems paltry by comparison.



I ate Nutella on bread (no toaster) and wished I could have hot coffee (oh, the hardship!). I read. I texted with my BFF Sarah who was stuck in her classroom while snow plows cleared the roads of downed trees and power lines. I took a little nap and read a lot. Bored on the second day of the school year. That's a new record. That's nuts.

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chemical meltdown

Mr. T was a trooper of the very best sort, going to school with his head wrapped in gauze and wires poking out the back of his neck. He didn't want to go to school, his head itched and he felt miserable about how the whole thing looked, but it ended up being a good day. People treated him with kindness and understanding, which was a good lesson in how we can expose our flaws and failings and accept the gift of other people's compassion. He looked a lot like this, only without the blue skin and soul patch:

Now we remain hopeful, pray and wait. He's back to school now with a regular sized head covered by normal hair recently cut, shampooed and styled.

The temperatures plummeted 30 degrees last night, which sucks (or blows, depending).

In the middle of dinner prep, I tried to heat up a hot dog for Mr. G last night in the microwave. A toxic fog of smoke began to roll out of the machine, prompting me to abort the hot dog project and wipe down the interior. Everything looked fine, the display gave no indication we had problems. I placed a Pyrex cup of water into the microwave and tried to cook it for 1 minute. You know the smell of burning plastic? (I know because when Mr. T was 2 he put his toy dishes in the oven and without checking first, I turned it on to preheat and melted it into a nasty chemical stew.) That's what my entire house reeks of right now. Eau de burnt Barbie doll. I've tried to get the stench out, but it's chemical and I can't seem to move it. It's adhered to the walls, ceiling and furniture. We opened doors, turned on fans, set out bowls of white vinegar and yet it lingers.

Consequently, I've purchased a new microwave. I'm no fool--I could try to get it fixed, but I've been jerked around by American enough to know that'll cost me more than buying a new unit. The really nice guy at the small appliance store next to our dojo has me all set up for delivery and installation tomorrow.

Besides, any machine smoking and spewing out odors like my microwave is probably beyond repair. What on earth would cause an appliance to self-destruct this way?

I am so ready for my vacation! (3 more days--by this time Friday I'll be sitting in an airport waiting for my connecting flight, reading The Hunger Games and drinking a latte from Starbucks!)

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screening

Before rumors start that I hopped on the back of a Harley Davidson roaring through my po-dunk farm town in a leather-clad moment of Bridges of Madison County desperation to follow my heart's desire of romance and excitement and passion, I figured I better post something.

"Something."

*Collective groan*

No, the truth is much more boring than that. I didn't meet a scruffy, muscle-bound, charming stranger with haunting blue eyes. Instead I've racked up over 7 hours of volunteer time this week and I've still got 5 to go--namely, I agreed to help replant a garden at Happyland Elementary. I'd grossly underestimated how much time that project would take. You'd think that I, of all people, would know better, wouldn't you?

I've learned a few other things this week. This morning I discovered that applying hand lotion before practicing yoga is a Very Bad Idea. Particularly when moving into Downward Dog. With slippery hands on a yoga mat that position quickly becomes Face Plant.

Ahem.

I've also been researching various topics for a New! Top-Secret Book Project! Did you know that according to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and the U.S. National Resources Defense Council (NRDC) there is no such thing as a safe air freshener or spray? Not only did I discover ALL! CAPITALIZED! WARNINGS! telling pregnant women to avoid these products, there's consensus that they're quite dangerous. Whether you're using a Glade Plug-In, Ferbreeze or some store-brand can of spray in your bathroom, they're all made with the same chemicals used in paints, paint thinner, fuel and varnish--terrifying things like formaldehyde and phthalates. The chemicals in these products are linked to cancer, respiratory and cardiovascular problems, hormone disruption and dizziness. Pretty darn scary if you ask me. Reader, I'm begging you to rid your house of these products STAT. For your health and for your family's. Here's a link to one of the articles if you'd like to read more.

I've never bought any of these products because a) they're unnecessary, and b) I've always been suspicious of their effectiveness. I've got asthma and I'm sensitive to smells and airborne particles, so I avoid fragrances, chemicals, sprays and cheap perfumes as a general rule. But it's astonishing that these products are even allowed to be manufactured and sold.

Now it's your turn to share some information with me. I finally finished washing all my windows and screens and I'm keeping the screens off the windows this winter until springtime. I figure I can mend the holes more easily over the winter months, they'll stay cleaner, it'll make it easier to wash the storm windows again come springtime if they're off, and without the screens we'll have less obstructed daylight coming in--especially with the long winter ahead. I've never done this before, so I'm asking seasoned window-washers what is the established screen protocol.

Spill it, reader. Screens on or off? And do you use air sprays and air fresheners?

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this and that

Perhaps a slight majority of the American public will be happier today, thinking they have some modicum of control over the status quo. I respectfully beg to differ, however, with the candidates claiming that a 53% majority equates a "mandate." That's all I'm going to say about that.

My mailbox is full of catalogs. Sadly, Team Testosterone latched onto the Target toy catalog before I could slam dunk it into the recycling bin and bury it beneath the old newspapers. The barrage of "I want" has begun...

Of course, while they went to bed with dreams of Nerf guns and Wii games and Lego sets in their heads, I settled down with Sundance and Title Nine and Acorn. Just a little window shopping while I watched Sons of Anarchy.

All the necklaces I loved in the Sundance catalog cost $300 or more. My favorite bracelet cost $958. Harumph. There's as much pretty "artisan" jewelry on Etsy for a tenth of that price. But the browsing on Etsy isn't quite as satisfying as paging through the catalogs while cozied up in bed...

Speaking of Sons of Anarchy, some of the show's songs are finally on itunes! The biker rock/disco fusion is complete! (cue evil laughter)

Mr. D and I busted out laughing when Gemma gave Jax the whole "You need to channel your hate so you can kill those Irish pricks" speech. That's the kind of loving advice you don't often hear from most mothers...

And what the WHAT was with the hospital administrator's back tattoo? There's a storyline coming out of that scene. So much could be explained if she's a former biker mama. I'm totally warmed up to her character. And you know that priest is just evil.

The storm doors are up, the screens put away, nothing got broke but I cursed a little. On my way to bed I paused by the door to let the cat in and remembered that she was dead.

And I drained the rain barrels, made applesauce out of 20 pounds of apples, voted, and brought my tribe to church last night. In the spirit of November, I'm thankful for the applesauce turning out perfectly, my AWANA leaders' faithful service every week, Tuesday nights on FX, and sweaters on a chilly morning.

Spill it reader--it's the month of Thanksgiving!

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freedom to hang

You already know about Green Girl's affection for her clotheslines. Besides being handcrafted by her grandpa, who was a welder by trade, she loves that hanging out her family's laundry costs her nothing but a little time. It makes their clothes smell fabulous, it reduces their energy use. Hanging out her wash is totally retro, like how she buys milk in glass bottles. It gets her outside, it slows her down, it's convenient. She can hang out the wash in the morning and leave it until sunset--without worrying about shrinkage or her electric bill.

So when people make a documentary about clotheslines? You know she's interested.




Spill it, reader. Do you hang? Would you consider it?

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preparations

Thanks for all your birthday wishes for Mr. T yesterday. He had a great day. He loves his DXiXL with all his heart--but he has been good with it, putting it away when asked, going swimming after school instead of spending the entire afternoon locked into the screen (93% bigger than the DSi!). He's been respectful of his dad's threats to make it disappear if his grades drop (unlikely at this late stage in the school year).

It's beastly this week in the Badger State. I'm trying to imagine what it will be like in Utah when I arrive Friday. Fortunately I can wear my winter wardrobe in Utah--it's in the 50's there this week! My annual Screw Iowa Writers' Workshop is at Nina's again, there will be wine and cheese and stimulating conversation and a critique of my latest literary attempt: Kicks Like a Girl. I cannot wait.

But before I leave there are lists to make, groceries to buy, clothes to wash, gifts to wrap. I thought it would be easier to go while the boys are still in school. The jury's out on that so far. I kind of forgot about all the end of the year stuff mingled with the second week of summer sports. But this year I won't miss the peonies in full bloom in late June!

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even more luck

At 8:10 the plumber called--can they come in 15 minutes and fix the lift pump? If it was possible to kiss a man over the phone, I would have.

Not my actual plumber, but one I'd be sorely tempted to kiss in person.

No flushing or using a drain for this long has taken it's toll on our psyche. I feel unbelievably lucky to get to flush toilets, run my dishwasher, do laundry, drain water through the sink--soon. We've roughed it "camping style" by peeing outside, brushing teeth off the porch, even doing dishes in a bucket and sluicing the water across the yard when finished--but it's cold outside, especially at night. All the toilets in our house stink with marinating unflushed #2. Will I buy a gallon of bleach when these guys leave? You betcha. Will Mr. D and the gang come home to sparkling clean bathrooms, fresh beds and an empty dishwasher? You betcha.

I had every expectation that a 90# piece of metal would NOT get shipped from Kentucky in a timely manner. I even dragged the boys to D's office last night for showers just in case. I'm so damn happy that I'm jumping for joy--Eurolush has nothing on my ability to spring upwards several feet. Karate has honed my hamstrings and calf muscles into a force to be reckoned with. I could almost pass for a cheerleader with all the pep in my step.

Yes, that's really me--Mr. G took the picture and said, "Got it, Mom. You jump really good!"

Reader, what makes you jump for joy today?

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behold!

What's the best part about my washing machine taking a puke?






Wait for it...









A brand new turbo-charged high-efficiency ultimate Amana!

Yes, I've run FIVE loads of wash since it came--and I've sat in front of the door watching the magic happen as the loads wash, rinse and spin. I'm mesmerized by it's awesomeness, people. I actually did the jazz hands when I showed it to Mr. D--he's bemused by my excitement over a new appliance, but I'm telling you, this machine is sublime.

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this will give you goosebumps

Yesterday the pool guy got the filter pump operating, officially "opening the pool" for the season. My sons have been badgering me to go swimming for two weeks now. (Yes, they know we live in Wisconsin, but they feel that it's summer the instant the last of the snow melts.) I told them they had to let the filter run for at least 12 hours before I'd let them swim. Nevermind that the water is 57 degrees. Nevermind that there are leaves and dead worms and scum all over the pool. At 8:30 this morning they were ready and raring to go. (Think I'm kidding? Look how long Mr. D's shadow is in this picture--and see how most of the leaves still haven't opened on the trees beyond--I took this picture an hour ago.)

I am not making this up. They kept going back in.


After 15 minutes they'd had enough. For now.


One of my favorite bloggers, Suburban Correspondent over at The More, The Messier has started a grand tradition of showcasing her fridge every week when she cleans it out. Her fridge is legendary in the blogosphere--as is her courage to lay the contents of her fridge out for all to see and discuss (I still wonder what makes her save old oatmeal for later). Her fridge is so reknown that last summer when my neighbor and I were discussing blogs we read, she described "This woman with like 6 kids who is so funny." Either the blogosphere is a small place or Suburban Correspondent is just that cool. (She's just that cool.)

Anyway, since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I give you a photo documentary of The Momvan, cleaned out weekly as a public service to my family:

The back of the Momvan has a gigantic wagon left over from hauling 90 Boy Scout geraniums into Mr. D's office for delivery last night. Also, 2 duffel bags with sparring gear, jumper cables, 2 blankets, bungee cords, tire gauge, flower flats and Reese's Peanut Butter Cup wrapper.


Much geranium dirt, a baseball glove, whiffle ball, nunchuckas, thank you note from a teacher, first aid kit and some of Mr. G's artwork.Aaaaaaand--a baseball bat. I'm driving a gym locker on wheels. With enough potting soil to fill one of my potager beds.

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baseball and domesticity

Mr. D's team finally won a baseball game. Sure, they won it 2-1. Yes, there was a terrifying error in the seventh inning where they might have thrown it all away, but it was a happy ending indeed. A good way to start the week--his team plays Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I could not bear for them to lose 4 games in one week.

Got my hair cut yesterday and I'm not 100% sold on it. Lots of layers. We'll see.

Mr. T was all concerned last night about how he'd get calcium, protein and Vitamin D without milk in his diet. This coming from a kid who wants to eat Lucky Charms and donuts for breakfast and Pringles and Lunchables for lunch. (Sheesh, quit looking at me like that--just because he wants to eat those things doesn't mean I let him!) I told the little dietary guru that he'd be just fine--if he'd actually eat his 5 servings of fruits and veg every day like he's supposed to he'd get all the nutrients he needs.
Mr T: Five servings?!? That's more than I eat in like an entire week!
Me: Yeah. So you better start stepping up, my friend.

It's raining buckets today--and one drainspout is emptying perfectly into one of our new rain barrels. I put out my Aunt Till's plants (5 days before Mother's Day) because I'm very optimistic and they really like rainwater. My daffodils and tulips are gloriously open and the phlox has started to bloom too. All that's left is the new contractor showing up with my dirt and his backhoe to level out my new veg garden. Meanwhile, I found a place to buy asparagus roots for when it's ready. And I've got my other new flower bed all planned out--can you tell I've got spring fever?

I'm not prone to spending money on silly things--I do enough damage to D's wallet between bookstores and greenhouses. And I confess to spending extra on Mrs. Meyers Clean Day dishsoap because I love the smell--it makes the chore of washing up less tedious. But gee whiz, are these not the cutest things ever? Gloveables. I do think they're loveable. If some kid were to spend less than $20 on a Mother's Day gift, what would you ask them to buy you?

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the 9 o'clock news

Today in health, Mr. B's ears look more normal today--the on-call doctor suspects it's an allergic reaction to something--but what? A mystery unsolved--we were at 2 strange houses over the weekend, anything could've triggered it. Dr. D recommended Cetirizine and Calamine lotion to ease the heat and itch. Mr. T's continuing to do well as we ramp down his meds--no seizures that we know of and the rest of his system is tolerating the shift. So far, so good!

In weather & road conditions...Snow continues to fall and our neighbor's tractor blew a head gasket so here we sit drifted in. A quarter mile looks reallyreallyreally long when you're facing it with a snow shovel in hand. Mr. D's using his snowblower, but this might be the year to trick out the ATV with a plow attachment. We had company for dinner last night and they got stuck on the way in. Mr. D had to assist their passage (thank goodness for cell phones or we wouldn't have known they sat in a snowbank within sight of our house). My turkey turned out well, though, and we had a jolly time--and another late night. You know it's bad when even your cat is craving a respectable bedtime.

In business news, UPS didn't come through for us--one of 2 R/C cars came Saturday--the car that arrived on time came broken. I made the executive decision late Christmas Eve that no one would receive an Air Hog Zero Gravity car and I'll deal with the returns when I don't have 3 monkeys constantly underfoot. Happily, they adore their Air Hog Helicopters, new Nerf guns and Magnetix roller coaster so they never missed the cars.

For those of you who wrote in with your questions, a wavemaster looks like this:


The base gets filled with water or sand, weighting it down.

I'm hoping to hunker down with my laptop and catch up on all my blog reading later. The coffee is almost ready and Team Testosterone wants to watch The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl--here's to sloth, gluttony & Christmas vacation!

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Guess who cleaned the upstairs bathroom today?

Dear Research & Development Team at Proctor & Gamble:

You developed many useful household products over the years. I'm a HUGE fan of the disposable diaper, facial tissue and bar soap.

You've also developed many useless household products over the years. Plug-in air fresheners? If I have a nasty stink in my house, opening a window or setting out a dish of vinegar will do. Likewise, if my furniture smells, I can spray it with water and vinegar or water and Borax. I call that "Better Living Through Fewer Toxic Chemicals."

May I recommend you focus your efforts on addressing the following area? Busy parents would love a children's toothpaste that evaporates into the air instead of drying harder than concrete and requiring a pick axe, chisel and hammer to dislodge from a bathroom countertop. I'd be mighty grateful.

Yours Truly,
Green Girl


***
Dear Fisher Price:
I'm a huge fan--I grew up playing with little wooden Little People, a shape sorter and this awesome phone:

You've spent scads of money developing "learning toys" that make learning "fun." By plugging my children into your computer programs, I never need to pull a kid onto my lap and read out loud again to expose them to letters, sounds, and the joy of stories! Your back-seat DVD player alleviates all stress on me to engage in games of "I Spy" or "Count the Cows" or even mother/son conversations. Now my children ride contentedly entertained with DVDs doing the talking for me! You've freed me up to talk on my cell phone or text-message my homegirls while driving across town to Target. You've even come up with an Art Center to make drawing and coloring FUN! Improving on blank paper and crayons or markers was something every mother has yearned for since the dawn of time. I'm not sure how you thought to replace crayons and coloring books with a computer-simulated learning tray, but THANK GOODNESS you did! We can all agree that drawing and coloring using our imaginations, crayons and paper was a real drag.

I have a brilliant suggestion for your next hot new "learning toy": a potty training target practice game that reinforces good aim with musical tunes and bright lights and discourages bad aim with a small electrical charge administered through the child's feet. I envision this colorful "learning toy" made out of rubber matting and plastic, able to hook over any standard sized toilet seat. To activate the game, a little boy must hit the center of the toilet bowl/target with a steady stream of urine. Sensors placed on the floor and around the outside of the toilet bowl's rim will detect dribbling, sprinkling and blatant refusal to take steady aim. These sensors will activate the electrical charge that will "zap" the child's feet, which will be reinforced by Diego's voice telling the child, "Oops! Try again! You want to aim for the center!"

Parents and caregivers of male children will be excited to see their child's improvement as they quickly achieve 100% accuracy while peeing. My market research suggests that this "learning toy" can be used with boy children up to the age of 15! Several versions might be purchased over the years as a child grows in size and ability--I can see a sports-themed potty training game for older boys with Peyton Manning's voice rebuking poor aim. For boys ages 5-10, I envision a Spongebob Squarepants game where the child tries to "soak Spongebob" and make him sink to the ocean floor, and perhaps a racecar themed game similar to carnival games where steady aim and pressure moves a racecar along a track on a screen positioned along the front side of the toilet tank.

I'm looking forward to buying your new line of "Piss and Play Learning Toys" for my sons next Christmas!

Yours Truly,
Green Girl

***
Day 5 of my 29-Day Giving Challenge: Brought neighbors' recycling and garbage barrels up to their house in the pouring rain, saving them the hassle of getting all wet and having to climb into the ditch at the end of the driveway when they got home from work last night.

Day 6 of my 29-Day Giving Challenge: Donated toys to a 3rd grade teacher at Happyland Elementary School.

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Pestilence!

Fruit flies, house flies, ants and mosquitoes. 'Tis midsummer and the bugs have hatched out. Between some overripe fruit on the kitchen counter and a bin full of recycling, Enviro-Girl has a serious fruit fly infestation. Her children who were born in a barn refuse to close the door when trekking hither, thither and yon. They've let in swarms of houseflies and mosquitoes. No one is quite sure why the ants have started scurrying around the front entryway, but they've invited all their relatives and friends to the party.

Enviro-Girl took the trash and recycling to the end of the driveway this morning and had dry heaves when she saw the maggots crawling along the inside of the trash bag and barrel. The recycling bin brought a cloud of more fruit flies into the Momvan while she hauled it the quarter-mile to the road.

Everywhere Enviro-Girl looks, pestilence flies or creeps or hovers. Yet she's NOT using RAID or any other over-the-counter-poison. Instead, she's set traps with these charming little half-pint milk bottles she bought at a rummage sale yesterday. They're filled with cider vinegar and topped with a paper funnel--the stupid fruit flies are drawn to the sweet smell of fermentation and once in, they can't get out. Every piece of fresh produce is now in the fridge. Every window screen has been patched. She gave Team Testosterone a tutorial on door closing and killed more flies than the Brave Little Tailor with a rolled up newspaper. Finally, she has sprayed down the ant party with white vinegar and water. That seemed to kill their vibe and now they've moved on to another hot spot. Enviro-Girl doesn't care, so long as they're not in her house.

The trouble with RAID and the rest of the over-the-counter-poisons is that they kill both good AND bad bugs--predators, like spiders, die along with mosquitoes, wasps and flies. This upsets the natural balance of things because predators are fewer in number and take longer to reproduce, unlike mosquitoes or houseflies that are more abundant and fertile species. By spraying poisons around, you kill everything and when the mosquitoes and flies come back, there will be NO predators to help control their populations, making the problem worse in the long run. Bottom line: repel your pests naturally if you can--a few nontoxic household products will save you money and keep everyone safe while killing and destroying those insect invaders. By targeting your prey, you'll keep the predators safe and avoid bigger bug problems in the future.

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I should blame NPR

I was jamming in my kitchen again this morning and I made a pot of coffee because, well, if I don't have my coffee by 9:00 all bets are on that I'll morph into a raging bitch within milliseconds. Swear to God. Caffeine deprivation has that effect on me.

So you know how it is, you've got one ear listening for children waking and the other on NPR's Morning Edition. You measure out the scoops--1,2,3,4,5 and fill to the water line--Good morning, Mr. G. What do you want for breakfast? Sure... pour the cereal and milk, wash the jars for the jam, toss out a few remaining of moldy bread and finish patting the raspberries dry. Measure the sugar--need more sugar. Find the extra bag of sugar in the pantry and pour it in--2 cups--need to add 3 1/4 more. Stir. Good morning, Mr. D. Stir. Stir. Stir. Pour another cup of milk for Mr. B.

Dump the Sure Gel into the pan and measure 3/4 cups of water. Stir and marvel at the people off the coast of Britain who began a literary society to fool the Nazi's during WWII. Add the book to your list of future reads. You need a cup of coffee and head over to the coffeemaker. Huh. The coffee level is at 8 cups but you are certain you added 5 scoops of coffee and while you don't mind strong coffee, Mr. D waters his down so you add a couple cups of water and let it percolate. Come to think of it, you know you only put in 8 cups of water. Note to self: make the same amount of coffee every day so you don't have any more confusion in your life.

Boil the pectin, stir stir stir. Interesting story about how the dude in Maryland is doing a walkthrough to reduce his energy consumption by 15%. Later you should check the basement and make sure that power strip is switched off. Pour the boiling froth into the sugared raspberries. Stirstirstirstirstir. Transfer jam into jars and cap with clean lids. Turn to pour Mr. D a cup of coffee and bring it back to him, surely he's in the bathroom finishing his shower by now. Walking back you discover he's sprawled across the bed. I brought you some coffee. You place it on the nightstand beside him. I already got a cup--it's in the bathroom. So you did put in 10 cups of water and now your morning coffee is all watered down.

Drat. Dagnabbit. Darn it all.

Return to the kitchen and sample your weak-ass cup of coffee. Your Secret True Love and Soul Mate Garrison Keillor is wrapping up The Writer's Almanac with "The Snowy Day" by Elizabeth Spires.

The last time I saw you, we met for coffee on a snowy day.

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