Tabled

12 years ago we bought a table.
Big, sturdy,bright and cheerful.
Through the years we put it to task.
It’s been an ironing board, a bar, a buffet, an art table, a crafting table, a homework dump, and occasionally a place we eat our meals.
It’s…weathered. Distressed.
For the last 5 years my husband has hated that table.
Hated. A table. Like a normal person hates war or poverty.
He obsessed the dings, the scratches, the peeling paint, and the permanent mosaic of stains.
For the last two years I’ve covered the offending table with a tablecloth or place mat.
But it still bothered him.
I didn’t love it either. But I get over stuff quicker.
So last weekend we found out that a lovely family had moved into our community and into the country after years of saving up.
They proudly bought their first home but were short on furniture.
Are you thinking what I thought?
Do good and stop the hate?
Done.
Things moved quickly after that.
The family picked up the table and seemed thrilled.
My husband and I went out and we bought a brand new table.
The heavens rejoiced – or atleast my husband did.
It was delivered yesterday afternoon.
By dinner there was a scratch on it.
It was never the table. It was us.

Old scratched beauty and new scratched beauty.

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Awkward.

That moment after you lay everything out to make Christmas cookies and you think to yourself… I coulda been watching a cheesy holiday movie. Sigh.

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Our table runneth over

I don’t stress Thanksgiving anymore. Mainly because I do the exact same things year after year. I don’t experiment, I don’t jump at new fangled trends. I’ll never deep fry a turkey. I’m sure it’s great but it took me years to figure out how to cook it the normal way. You want your stuffing gluten free and made with kale? Sorry, no can do. Anyway – I’m good. I’ve got people bringing things – which is a huge help, and the past two years our youngest cousin has taken over the ricing of 20 pounds of potatoes! Done!
My point is. I don’t stress. Except when figuring out how to fit everyone at the table.
Here’s where I’m stuck. 15 people at one table is what I’m aiming for. But I have all the wrong tables and all the wrong chairs to make it happen.

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This is my original table. Isn’t it beautiful? Beautifully unfit for 15 people. But the other table is oddly shaped. And the chairs are too big.

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It’ll all work out.
As I was whining about the chairs and the table and the mismatch-hotmess of it all – I realized something and immediately stopped. I don’t ever want to have enough seats. I hope that every year our table gets bigger and bigger.

You say procrastination, I say inspiration!

I got a new cleaning product. I am very excited. Excited enough to finally clean.
Happy Friday!

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It’s like a slap in Thanksgiving’s face

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It’s sad when you pine for a blow-up turkey on the lawn. This is a house in a nearby ‘hood.
Can we take it one holiday at a time people? Can we? Please? Put up a light of two, but don’t break out snowmen.

I’m riding my pumpkins out until the very last day of November. Whether my pumpkins like it or not.

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Damn Yankee

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I’ve been proven wrong.
I thought I hated Yankee Candles . All those insanely strong cinnamon chemical scents make my eyes burn.
I went to their outlet store once and walked out gasping for air.
I’m a baby. But in my defense, I have a particularly strong nose. It’s Olympic, my nose. I can’t run marathons but I can sniff out the faintest scent. I’ve been known to abandon cabs, walk out of stores, or beg for a new airplane seat if things get….stinky.
On the other side, some smells can make me swoon with happiness. Orange peels, brownies cooking, the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel, I could go on. And there are some scented candles that I adore.
But Yankee Candles? I just can’t. Or couldn’t.
Until I found this. “Beach Walk”
And it really is. Light, breezy. Doesn’t burn your nostrils. It’s nice.
Thought you should know.

Comedy of Errors without the Comedy

It was a simple plan.

Friday night my son had soccer practice at 6:30. I was going to drop him off, watch a bit of practice and leave.

My daughter and a friend had to go to a dance at 7:00. And by had to I mean they would have LITERALLY died without going to this dance.

My husband planned to get home from work by 6:30, join me at the soccer field so I could take off and he could take him home.

We were meeting some friends for dinner at 7:30.

We can do this. We’ve done this before, like, a million times. I’ll drop off the boy. My husband will pick him up, buy him dinner, bring him to a friend’s for a sleepover, and go straight to the restaurant. I will drop off the girls  (another mom was doing pick-up) and meet at the restaurant. All’s well.

Then here’s what happened.

When I got to the soccer field I couldn’t find our team. I know that sounds insane – but it’s a sea of 9 year boys running around a football field. And they don’t wear their uniforms for practice – thanks for asking. It also turned out that they moved from our usual spot to the back field. Anyhoo, we didn’t get there till 6:45.

At 6:50 my husband called to say there is terrible traffic. He’s not making it to the field by 7:15.

No worries, I say. I’ll stay at the field and take him back, you (I’m looking at you husband), take the girls to the dance.

Small caveat that I had to fill him in on. On the way to the dance, you have to stop by another kid’s house and pick him up too.

Another small caveat I had to fill him in on. The dance was in the next town over.

As every wife and mother out there knows, there are certain details of how we get our day done which are on a “Need to Know” basis.

“Why didn’t I know that this dance wasn’t in our town?” he asks.

“What? Who are we picking up? Where?” he shouts.

Need to know baby. As in up until now, you didn’t need to know.

I’ll spare you the “spirited” discussion and “colorful” language that flowed like water from both of us. Did I mention that we never remembered to call our friends and say we’d be late?

We did make it to dinner – at 7:45. Not bad for a total breakdown of plans and routine.

Thankfully our dinner companions laughed off the lateness when we told them our tale of woe. You see, they have grown kids, and I’m sure they were thinking,” you think it’s bad now…wait until next year.”

But they didn’t tell us that. It’s on a “Need to Know” basis.

 

 

 

Planking?

Looks like someone’s been taking (blurry) pictures with my camera.

This is called planking I think. 20/20 did a report on how it’s all the rage. Do you still watch 20/20? I do, even though I don’t think it’s called that anymore. Apparently you are supposed to snap shots of yourself planking in all kinds of different places.

It looks like excercise to me.

Here’s what my two lunatics were up to – not sure where my husband and I were, but I’m sure we weren’t planking, ahem.

Please note – there are photos below with my kid’s faces on a stove top. No children were harmed in this silliness. Please don’t call anybody.

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UPDATE:  my son told me this morning, after I’d written the post, that planking is OVER. This was last year and they do not do it anymore. Just so ya know.

Pinned

It’s 10:38pm and I’m finally done with work. I’m not complaining. Just giving you the facts.

I’m a little fried. Lots of balls in the air – a few dropped here or there.

Sometimes I end these crappy days with a reality show, or a glass of wine, or by just crawling into bed early. Other days I surf the net randomly for things I think are interesting. Like – the perfect flat sandal (a little ethnic and a little modern), or I ask the great internet Gods the big questions – what’s really the difference between flan and panna cotta? Is it possible to eat carbs and still go to heaven?

But on some really exhausting days when I cannot even muster the energy to google something, I go to my all time favorite respite. The site that is more picture than words.

It starts with a P but it does not end in “orn”.

Pinterest.

Which I called PinINterest for almost a year.

I haven’t figured out how to post cool things yet. Note to self, do or own cool things to post.

But I love going on and typing things like – funky desserts, DIY paint projects, DIY furniture. Anything you can imagine is on there. It’s magic.

Tonight I typed in my go-to. My standard. But the genius of Pinterest is that you could type in the same subject every day and get different connections.

Here’s what I’ll be forgetting my sorrows with tonight: home decor.

http://pinterest.com/search/pins/?q=home%20decor

It keeps me off the streets.

Happy Birthday WMEP

I’m one.

Just a baby blog. Not even a toddler yet.

I started the blog to get me through my first year of 40. I decided I needed a hobby (that wasn’t watching TV).

I thought I’d write about family, work, life. Nothing heavy. Maybe write about my travels, maybe write about food. No real rules.

I graduated college with an English Ed degree. There were several years of my childhood where I was convinced I’d be a writer. But then I wasn’t.

I wanted to write a post a day. That did not happen.

I wanted to write about my family. I have to get back to that.

I wanted to write about my husband’s family. I still plan to do that.

Some days I dreaded the empty post page, other days I couldn’t wait to get to it.

One of my blogger buddies told me not to sweat it. If I only wanted to write a line or two – that’s what I should do. And some days that’s what I did.

I love photographs – so I posted many.

I haven’t upgraded the site. There’s no jazzy pages or plug-ins. Maybe when I’m a tween.

I told you all that I started the blog because I’m nosey and I hoped that you were all nosey too. Turns out, you are. Lucky me.

I’m not sure if I should even be celebrating turning 1. I should be cooler than that and just move on. Pretend like it’s any other day.

But I’m not cool. I’m excited to make it this far. 269 posts and counting.

Thanks so much for tuning in. Let’s see what the terrible twos bring!

 

 

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