Apr 30, 2010

Gardening and Other Things No One Cares About

Recently we visited with some of Richard's family in Nevada and his aunt told me she has been reading my blog. I was touched. Then she said "You are a very interesting person." Which I am not at all sure was a compliment. But really, can I blame her? Based on what I have written, what else could she think?

So it is time to show the world that I am not only "interesting", but smart and special. And. . . . . . . . I don't have the slightest idea how to do that. . . . . . . I give up. Here is a story instead.

A few years ago I made a clock for my dad. He was always wishing out loud for a great big clock you could see all over the house. So my darling husband and I decided to make him one. I bought a clock mechanism and hands on ebay and got to work. I'm pretty sure the design was Richard's idea. Something square and manly. We took a piece of plywood and covered it with some small sheets of copper that came from who knows where (my house is full of crap of unknown origin), and then I very carefully measured out a circle and added rivets for my minutes and hours. Perfect!

See anything wrong with it? (It really is kind of cool in person. I think.)

Neither did I. Not for a long time. In my defense, nobody else did either, until it was hung on the wall. Until we actually tried to tell time with it. Can you tell what time the picture was taken?

So now it is a big ol' joke. It is still hanging on my parents wall, and people are always saying "I can't tell time on that thing!" Which just makes me laugh and laugh. It's not like I rushed headlong into my project without giving it any thought (though it was Christmas Eve when I made it). I thought carefully, counted carefully and executed my plan carefully. I was just wrong. Very, very wrong, and there is a great big, hard-to-read clock on my parents wall reminding the world of that fact.

Boy I sure learned my lesson!

This year I planted a garden. My very first. It is so very fun and exciting. I made several plans and then found a book on Square Foot Gardening, fell desperately in love with it, adjusted my plans just a little and started building. I built a box that would sit above ground to fill with top notch soil. We have lots of spare lumber, so I grabbed some 2x8's and carefully measured and cut them and made myself a box that is 2 feet wide and 14 feet long. All on my own. I was pretty pleased with myself. Until Richard and I started laying out the grid (which is the Square Foot Gardening way) and realized that something was wrong. My grid was not working out. I finally measured it all again and found that the front is 14 feet wide, but the back is 14 feet 2 inches. I am such an amazing genius. How do I always do stuff like that? I measured. Then I cut one so it would be the same length as the other. And yet here I am. My rhombus garden a testament to my idiocy.

So now, the one person I was most excited to show my garden to, the one who would have been the most interested in it, is the one person who can never be allowed to see it. My Dad. Things being out of square give him hives under the best of circumstances. This might give him a heart attack. Cuz it was already full of soil when I realized my mistake, and Richard convinced me it wasn't worth it to try to fix. So we just fudged the grid to sort look straight and left it at that.

So, there you go. And here you are. At the end. Goodbye.

Apr 9, 2010

So I just changed Harrison's diaper. It was stinky and poopy and more than a little gross, so I changed him and then took the diaper straight out to the garbage can and then wandered off to find my calculator and started thinking about my vegetable garden again. I was sitting at my desk trying my darndest to figure out what equation I would use to figure out how many square feet of soil I need and I could hear Harrison in the other room yelling "Mom! Mom! Mom!" And I didn't pay much attention cuz he yells all the time and he can come and get me if he needs me. So I was still working on my math problem, looking online to see if someone out there knew the answer to my question and all the while he was yelling away "Mom! Mom! Mom!" but I paid him no mind. I was focused on the problem at hand. And it didn't sound urgent. It is the same way he yells at me when he wants chocolate milk. But after about 5 minutes, since he never stopped yelling, I finally thought maybe he had got himself stuck somehow and might actually need something, so I went back into the living room to find him lying on the floor with his pants around his ankles, bum as bare as can be. I said something like "What the?" I then asked where his diaper was and if he took it off. He didn't answer. I said "Did I forget to put your diaper on" and he said "Yes!" and I vaguely remember setting an unused diaper on the table and wondering absentmindedly why I had taken two diapers with me to change him. Turns out I just forgot to put it on.

And the crazy kid just stayed there, waiting for me to come and finish the job. I laughed and kissed him and diapered him up so he could finally run off and play. I still can't believe he stayed there. What kind of a kid does that?

Man, I am so smart some times. I can't stop laughing about it.

Apr 8, 2010

Some things I learned this year.

I am 32 now. Last year I turned 31 and the year before that I turned 30. Will it never end?? The older I get, the more often I think about why it is that everyone hates and fears aging so much. I'm still working on some theories.

But I'm sure getting old wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feel so much like I was turning into an old man. Balding, graying, mustached, with hairs pooping out of moles and freckles and out of my ears and nose. Deepening, wobbly voice, chronic gas, polyester pants and a shuffling gait. It is the pits! Though I am a very lovely person.

I decided not to make a "Why it is so darn swell to be 32" list this year, since it really ain't that differnt from being 31. Besides, half of the year I thought that I WAS 32, so I don't feel any older at all. But I am wiser. (wisened?) There is no doubt about that. And I would be honored if you, gentle reader, would let me share just a few of the things I have learned this year with you. Ready..... GO!

1. How to keep my house clean. It is about dang time. But I am still mad about having to clean it EVERY day. Every day! I ask you! Where in the fine print of my marriage license was THAT laid out?

2. The actual meaning of the phrase "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth". I always thought that it was because gift horses are known to bite (Gift Horses, of course, being those mythical creatures that deliver presents on all the holidays besides Christmas and Easter). So I thought the phrase was used today to mean that you accept the gifts you get without question, because if you look too closely at the giver, they might symbolically bite you in the bum.

But Richard told me that the horse is not the giver, the horse is the gift. And if someone gives you a horse as a gift, you don't check its teeth to make sure it is healthy before you accept it. You just accept the gift and say thank you. Because it is a gift. It makes perfect sense, but I think I like my interpretation better.

3. Chocolate is a diuretic. Don't believe me? You clearly haven't eaten enough in one sitting yet.

4. Don't let my husband see what clothes I am getting rid of. I cleaned out my closet recently and got rid of all the stuff I don't wear and gave the decent stuff to my sisters and as Richard watched them go through it he was freaking out inside. Later he said to me"You gave away that sweater? You used to wear that sweater when were dating! And I can't believe you got rid of that necklace. I've always liked that necklace!" Nevermind that I don't wear any of this stuff anymore. If he had his way we would never part with ANYTHING, and my clutter would eventually gain consciousness and attack me in my sleep.

5. Sugar gives me gas. Which actually really explains a lot.

6. Don't mess with Richard when he is cooking. He made a refridgerator sized box full of fudge for Christmas. I tried sweetly suggesting to him that maybe he made just a little too much, and he was like "Rrrrraaaaaar!!"

7. Kids don't listen. For good reason I had to say to Harrison (AGAIN) "Don't eat your boogers, please." And he said "Yes, eat boogers! Chomp!!" I don't know how to spell the chomping sound he made. But I laughed so much that I know he is never going to take me sereiously. And I really need the booger eating to stop!

9. People selling trucks on KSL do not know how to spell. The further they get from Salt Lake, the worse the spelling.

10. Guilt trips don't work on 3 year-olds. When Harrison shoots me--which happens a lot-- and I have to fall down dead, I always try to make him feel bad for killing his poor MOTHER, who loves him and takes care of him and always makes him hot cocoa. But he just laughs and shoots me again.

11. If the person you are trying to kill won't just shut up and die, you can always shoot them again.

12. No matter where you go, in cities large and small nationwide, little old ladies still hang around the house in their muu muus and house coats. Because this is America!

I may not feel much different than last year, but I know I am getting older because I LIKE the clothes in the Chadwicks catalog. Crazy right? Those are clothes for middle aged moms, not a spring chick like me. But I happened to look through a catalog recently and I liked something on every page. What is next? Embroidering my grandkid's names on my Muu Muu?

Apr 2, 2010

Driving Toddlers

The last weekend in March we went out to Nevada to see Richard's grandmother. Richard's parents were there as well, along with an aunt and some cousins who live next door.

It was great. Harrison got to spend time with his second cousins who he was ready to follow just about anywhere. They had this little motorized jeep that I didn't think Harrison would like at all. Whenever we go to Chuck E. Cheese he would get out of the rides if we started them. He only liked them if they were standing still. So I didn't think he would go anywhere in this jeep at all. But he climbed in, and Connor cliimbed in next to him and took off and Harrison was thrilled! He grinned as he hung on and never wanted it to stop.

Here is Harrison with Connor, doing some very nice posing for me:

After a while Connor wanted to teach Harrison how to drive. Harrison couldn't figure out that he had to hold the gas pedal down so it just lurched forward it short little spurts. And over everything I could hear Connor shouting "Steer! Steer! You have to steer!" Watching a 4 year old teach a 3 year old how to drive was so funny I almost fell down.

Apr 1, 2010

And the Winner Is...


Hooray and congratulations! I will contact you to get the info I need. Thanks for playing!!