Wasn’t this just us?

Dear Julie, 

I was driving somewhere yesterday, and saw these two ladies walking in the neighborhood.

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You know what I thought about right? Us, circa 2004, walking our neighborhood in upstate NY with our babies in tow. Thank goodness for those walks and for you. I would have gone crazy. Actually I did go crazy but you were just my kind of crazy, so it all worked out. Our boys rode along as we hiked the ‘hood. They heard us talking and laughing and being totally relieved to be with each other. I hope these gals are doing the same. I hope they are talking about politics and religion and racial/gender equality, because we did. After days and nights spent with kids and husbands, whom we loved, it was so nice not to talk about homework, dinner or family. I imagine these ladies feeling like we did, like we were in college again with our best pal – except with a baby or two in tow. Those were such happy days! 

Now we live in different states and see each other less often – but often enough to stay on the same path. I was a bit jealous when I saw these gals, wishing to have some of this back, but then I realized it’s only gotten better. The boys we pushed around together act like brothers and we can still talk the talk, even though we don’t walk the walk. 

xoxo

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.

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