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You know the saying, “Put your foot in your mouth,” right? Well, I’d like to emphasise No Hands in Mouth instead. I can see this idea spreading like wildfire; just about as fast as the latest germ-infested illness.

Yes, wah wah wah, I was sick so I’m whining. Now that I’m at the absolute tail end of the sick (cold, cough, sore throat, flu, fever, crud in my chest) but now my neck is cricked. CRICKED! Ugh. Before the three weeks of sick I had a stomach ache for a couple of weeks (and to the tune of $125 found out it was just heartburn; yet I’m pleased to find it wasn’t worse, just wish it was a cheaper visit), and now my neck is busted.

You’d think three plus weeks of lying around I would’ve exhausted all Netflix, Hulu and DVD options but I found some more Cake Boss to watch today while I rested my neck. I’ve never felt so useless. Maybe I should be reading educational material and getting smarter (which means I think I’m pretty smart in the first place or I would’ve just said “smart.”) But I didn’t think of that until AFTER I was done being sick. I also didn’t think to pull out the laptop and catch up on reading blogs (boy howdy do I have a lot of blogs to catch up on).

So my goal is No Hands in Mouth (or eyes; I rub my eyes too much) to steer clear of illnesses so I can stop feeling like a loser (I also realized I got this same sickness last year at the same time). Or, whenever I AM sickly, I shall remember this post and catch up on my blog reading…

…maybe.

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Remember the days when midnight felt like 9pm? Well, these days 9pm feels like midnight. I don’t know what it is about aging, but I’m worn OUT. Next you’ll see me in orthopedic shoes (hope not). Night, all. I want to blog daily, but this sleep is coming on heavy.

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Not really, but I played one yesterday for an out-of-town friend.

We started with a REALLY good Thai dinner at a white house converted restaurant on W 45th just off I-5, Djan’s. Their tableware is lovely (hefty silverware) and ambiance cozy. Reminds me of Thai Village in American Fork, UT (same layout). He had Cashew Chicken; said it was extremely delicious but I didn’t try it (because he said he doesn’t share). My Panang with chicken was the best I’ve had; silky, creamy, right blend of seasoning with a mini kick of spice (I’ve succumbed to the fact that I am not able to eat more than 2 star spicy… nor toasted sandwiches or Capt’n Crunch).

Molly Moon’s Gourmet Ice Cream (down further on 45th in Wallingford) didn’t have too bad of a wait (usually the line is at least 15 people out the door; there were 4ish) so I finally got to go. I tried the Salted Caramel and Honey Lavendar, was in heaven with the latter. It. Was. Scrumptious.

Cruised down to Freemont to unveil the legendary Freemont Troll. At night the thing is quite awesome, especially if you come UP the road to it instead of from the side. The grafitti has been covered with cement, finally.

Next was a swing by Golden Gardens Beach before dropping him off at his hwy 99 hotel (that was in the boondocks; next time he’s checking with me on location). There was NO wind, it was dark with enough light by the full moon filtering through the night fog and a handful of groups were huddled around their fires, thankfully behaving.

{written from my iPhone in bed}

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Plans changed today, so it worked out that My Lisa could come over with her yummy baby, Jordan.

Usually, I’m not a fan of babies (or kids, I’m very finicky). They are too demanding, can’t take care of themselves, won’t just say what they need and cry like babies. Hmph. Buuuuuut, sometimes I find myself liking one or two, here or there. And this one is a keeper.

Even though I made her think we were having lunch (brie, foccacia, grapes, roasted turkey), I spent my time snacking on her son. A little nibble here and there and voila! He’s gone. Except then she reminded me that he doesn’t sleep through the night, meaning a max of two hours of sleep at one time, and I don’t have breast milk to keep him alive.

So I gave him back.

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Woah.

I just spent some time going into detail about last night’s local photographer get together and realized I was saying too much. I want to get straight to the point so I deleted it all.

If you want something done,
you have to DO IT.

It won’t do itself. Waiting/procrastinating makes things worse: you feel bad for taking so long, someone else may be waiting on you so you make them wait, someone else may beat you to it and you’ll do less things because they take so long.

That kicked me into gear and I finally hung some wall stuff (wasn’t so much the actual hanging that I was putting off, it was deciding what and where… for THREE years). My 7-year-old’s room got moved around and stuff on the walls, my 10-year-old now has a mini-shelf for a few mini-things, and our bedroom finally gets the collage of my hubby that was at our wedding 12 years ago.

P.S. I also vacuumed the dust bunnies, pine needles and, oops, that little black rubber thing that came off the hanger the other day.

P.S.S. Can you spy the witch and skeleton in the wall hangings picture? Happy Halloween :)

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Soap drama in my house is kind of like TV Soap Operas. When you think you’ve solved one problem, another is created and sleeps with his wife’s sister who has amnesia.

We have two bathrooms and each has a liquid soap dispenser. One bathroom has a clear glass container, revealing the inside soap color. The other bathroom has the ceramic variety that you cannot see through.

The drama? Our master bathroom gets the liquid “gold” (Yardley’s Lavender Liquid yumminess) because that stuff is EXPENSIVE and I don’t want it wasted on people who won’t appreciate it. If you come to my house and promise to appreciate its glory, I will welcome you to use the master bathroom.

The hall bathroom clear liquid soap was all out and the next in line is the The Body Shop Satsuma. It’s BRIGHT ORANGE! That bathroom is not decorated with bright orange (white, muted yellow and light sage), so it clashed and drove me mad. The solution… exchange the containers.

DO YOU KNOW HOW ANNOYING IT IS TO SWAP LIQUID SOAPS? Lots and lots and lots of rinsing and rinsing and rinsing. Eventually, the continual bubble flow subsided and I transferred the soaps to their proper place.

Luckily, both styles of soap dispenser will work in either bathroom (design genius, you say? Perhaps. But totally by accident.)

{the universe is in order… for now}

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Usually my post office only has one or two patrons and the line moves very fast. (Like that? I’m going to start using “patrons” in my sentences when applicable.)

That’s why I left the house today unshowered, unbrushed, unsupported (I’m a girl that’s usually supported in public), and uncoordinated (black t-shirt with pink “pub & pool” writing; gray, paint-stained, home-only sweats; and brown jersey zip up with frozen-in-time orange miniature crab bobby pin in my unkempt hair). Oh, and I didn’t bother to change into shoes so I wore red house slippers (I, personally, think it’s a fashion faux pas to wear house slippers and/or pajamas in public… unless it’s part of your Halloween costume ON Halloween or you’re going to a slumber party).

Thinking that I’d see MAYBE three people at all, and very quickly so they won’t remember what I looked/smelled like. Of course, Murphy’s Law, the line was to the door and it was moving slowly (thankfully the lady who’s difficult to understand because of her super heavy accent wasn’t working or it would’ve been slower). I couldn’t turn back. I told the recipients of these parcels that they’d go in the mail TO-DAY. So I sucked it up (whatever IT is) and pictured myself staying after school at the chalkboard, Bart Simpsonesque (click the link)…

• “I will brush my stuff, wear a bra, dress for public and put on shoes before I leave the house.”
• “I will brush my stuff, wear a bra, dress for public and put on shoes before I leave the house.”
• “I will brush my stuff, wear a bra, dress for public and put on shoes before I leave the house.”

Moral of the story: When you think you’re safe, you’re not.

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