Banned From The Laundry Room...Yet Again

Oh OCD, you serve me well. You help me make my home cleaner, my children cleaner and full of manners, and recently, my planet healthier. My kids are totally into the whole recycle thing. Vader has been much more reluctant. He's not ashamed to admit it's because recycling takes way more work either. He's coming around though, it takes me a lot of time training him and I feel like a broken record, but the rules are finally seeming to make a difference and he's really learning.

With the recycling anyway.

With my new Better The Planet Compulsion, I figure out new ways to help out the planet and save money. I don't want to use my dryer and really haven't for about 2 years. I figure I use my dryer about 2 times a month right now. This doesn't please Vader, thus he's been banned from the laundry room for a couple of years now. Not that it stops him. He always tries to sneak in there when I'm away and do a load or 4 of clothes. I come home and see what he's done and flames come out of my eyes and smoke from my nose while I curse him with infinite abstinence. Then he gets all pouty when I'm not proud that he's just finished all the laundry and thank him for it. What? I know I don't get a thanks for doing laundry and I save money and the environment at the same time. He claims then, that I must not like doing laundry, ipso facto I don't like to work, and so that's why I've chosen to do it this way. Oh hell...no he didn't. I have to do laundry every single day because I don't use the dryer and it's way more labor intensive. So I calm down, tell him once again that he's banned, don't even talk to me another word about it, end of story.

Until the next time.

Yesterday was the next time, Readers. I came home and he was actually hanging laundry on the clothes line. WHAT? I was shocked. It was all his clothes, cause that's how he rolls, but at least he was trying to turn over a new leaf. Until I stopped and thought for a moment. I ask him, "Vader, what did you do with the laundry that I washed this morning?" (It was waiting for me to put it on the clothes bars.) Vader says, "Oh, there was a whole bunch of small kids stuff in there and everything. I didn't want to mess with that so I put it in the dryer." At which point my head spun off my neck, flew around 360 degrees, landed back in place just in time for my eyes to shoot out flames like Cookin' Mama's. It's my own fault though, I knew I should've called to check on him. He just can't be left home alone without proper supervision. Next time I'm hiring a babysitter. I think the 9 year old girl across the street will work out perfectly.

A Memorial Day Full Of Tacky Memories

O. M. G. The flea market....it was not a disappointment, Readers. All I can say, you should've been there. I'll do my best to narrate the finer moments for you, but it's really best appreciated in person. If you haven't been to a large, outdoor flea/antique market recently, I say find one, race to it, and frequent it. Not only will you get a few good laughs, you'll also just feel better about yourself. Nothing like an ego boost on the backs of those too clueless to not only not properly dress themselves, some just don't get dressed in general.

This was one of the most scantily dressed crowds I've come across in many years. We're talking about huge boobs allowed out to roam free and relish the fresh air with only a thin tank to keep them from completely escaping. I suppose it would be appreciated by some if said boobs belonged to a fit, 20 year old woman....probably not so much on the overweight, 50-somethings with their girls hanging to their belly buttons that I witnessed. The shorts were not much better. Now don't think I'm exaggerating when I describe this....there were women wearing shorts that had cellulite that had gone all the way down to their ankles. Please understand, not just dimples, full on lumps everywhere. This may not be so bad except that they were wearing elastic-waist banded short shorts that literally gave them camel-toe. Readers, it's awful, you have to look away because it's so horrible, but how can you not look? There is a huge, bare, mass of flesh moving on it's own toward you and nowhere to avert your eyes but a scrap of fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination. And when they turn around...butt crack. Here's the good news, I didn't see anyone's underwear. Bad news, it's because they weren't wearing any.

Please don't think that I didn't hear my share of sexually charged jokes and comments this year. The men, though better clothed than women this year, made no attempt to hide the fact that they would prefer women to be unclothed completely. Don't think they care who overhears them either. Don't think they care that they have no teeth and are running around in a Member's Only jacket (unzipped because it won't close around the belly) trying to soften a donut between their gums, cause they don't, Readers. I'm sure the women are flocking to them.

The port-a-potties are always one of my biggest issues with going to a flea or antique market. I never thought I was alone in this feeling of disgust, but this particular show always surprises me. Over the years we've noticed that many of the pottie occupants have no idea if the pottie has hand sanitizer and show no aptitude for even understanding what sanitizer is. This year we were blown away with the comfort that people showed in the potties by emerging from them with their paperback novels. I fear, by next year, management will replace all the hand sanitizer dispensers with magazine racks.

I did have a marriage proposal. Not because I'm hot, no, because I was seen carrying furniture through the aisles to my vehicle. (Clearly I've toned my muscles from dragging all my curb-age found/purchased furniture to V's house.) Potential Suitor thought I looked tough and strong so he wanted to marry a woman who was a "worker". Potential Suitor wasn't all bad, he was completely clothed, but he was about 75, I told him to keep looking. Sadly, he was probably senile too, he'd forgotten who I was by the following day.

Now I'd like to take a quick moment to note some of the things I've noticed over the years about the Amish that frequent this show....and compare them to the Mennonites that also frequent the show. (P.C. Disclaimer: Only the people I know from this show, I'm not trying to make a general comparison of all Amish and Mennonites.) The Amish just do their own thing, but the Mennonites seem determined to set themselves apart from the Amish for whatever reason. Perhaps this is not a good thing.
Amish- kick ass baked goods
Mennonites- okay baked goods, appear to be stingy on the sugar, this is not okay with me
Amish- funny and sarcastic, will totally joke around with you
Mennonites- prefer you don't talk to them at all, will set the evil eye upon you if you try
Amish- children sit/stand quietly and wait for their parents without making a sound
Mennonites- allow little ones to wander alone & touch/destroy everything not belonging to them
Amish- women wear unfashionable, professional looking dark solid color dresses
Mennonites- women wear unfashionable, tacky calico print dresses
Amish- men wear unfashionable, professional looking dark solid color pants & shirts
Mennonites- men wear whatever the hell they want, they're men dammit

Well, I've completely emptied my memory for today. When I think of more fun times I'll be sure to fill you in. Let me just tell you if you didn't attend, you missed a good time, clearly. I'll be happy to let you know when the next show is if you want to partake in all the fun as well. There's no reason that you should neglect yourself and have to live vicariously through me. There's enough butt-crack to be seen by all, but only enough Amish-made pumpkin roll for me.

If You Need Me, I'll Be Treasure Hunting

'Tis the season! Next weekend is Memorial weekend, the unofficial start of summer! That means it's time to brush up on your hooters jokes, dust off your belly shirts (or for the men, just your belly), throw your cash in your bra, and head to the flea markets! Life is good. And it's going to be even better this year because once again, I'm going to be selling at them. And no, Readers, it's not just for fodder for this blog. Don't be silly, it's for the cash too. And the early shopping, don't forget that part. Oh, I can hardly stand the anticipation, I know that there is treasure just waiting for me. And any of you that know me, know that I'm short on treasures, I definitely need more treasures to drag into my home. Definitely.

Newly Added To My OCD List

As you may have ascertained from my posts, I have some obsessive compulsive tendencies. Since the birth of my children, I have shifted those tendencies....a tiny bit. I don't have to vacuum everyday anymore, they can have some mess in their rooms. I still like things picked up and in their place, but I can put up with them making a mess and even playing with toys in the living room...for a short period of time. Assuming they are fully picked up at the end of the day....even if I have to do it. The OCD has in fact become more focused on them. I want them to have polite manners, excellent table manners, they need to be clean and neat, with teeth brushed, in an outfit that actually matches. And is cute. And appropriate. And stylish. Did I want to pull out my hair when D would have his cute little shorts outfits on with his rubber rain boots..in 95 degree weather? Why, yes Readers, I did. He was so little that you could barely see the outfit over the boots. And rain boots just aren't appropriate when it feels like 120 degrees with humidity and there isn't a cloud in the sky. But, we'll save a discussion on D's obsession with rain boots for another post. More than that though, I worry constantly about forgetting certain memories so I'm forever writing cute things down, taking loads of pictures, and taking video when I can. I have a pile of crap on my scrapbook table so deep, that I couldn't possibly hope to get through it in my lifetime and they haven't even reached the teen years yet. Now you'd think my everyday OCD, combined with my OCD I've created for myself by birthing children would be enough for me, but it clearly isn't as I've added a new one.

Recycling. My kids have luckily picked this obsession up so I'm not completely on my own this time. I recycle every single thing that I can. I even go through my parent's garbage and bring things home that they can't recycle. I go to specific stores to buy products that are packaged in recyclable material versus materials like styrofoam that I can't recycle here. I buy meats that are at the meat counter and insist that they are put into the freezer paper. I try not to use plastic baggies, but if I have to use them for cold lunches, I make my kids bring them home so that they can be recycled. I am down to about one garbage bag of trash every 4 weeks, my goal is 5.

Here's an example of what keeps me up at night. Worrying about transferring my videos of the kids onto DVD before the tapes disintegrate, wondering about what happened to the picture of D after his first haircut - it's been lost for 2 years, and figuring out new ways to reduce my trash output. Add that to actually falling asleep and then having nightmares about missing great deals at garage sales and I'm as close to an insomniac as you can get folks.

So Amazing, It's Lickable

I'm working very hard to get some decent curb appeal going on over here. Things are shaping up and I'm going to share my current love with you. Right now, I'm in love with Rust-Oleum Universal spray paint. Universal because it works on everything, Readers. Ev. Ree. Thing. How can you not love that? So, I took my sun bleached, trashed, vinyl pots and turned them into beautiful, expensive-looking, showpieces with some Universal Hammered Brown. I'll get some pictures posted soon, get ready to be impressed. Now it's on to my boring plastic outdoor chairs, I think Universal Crimson Red sounds like a winner. Oh Universal....where have you been all my life?

Happy Birthday Baby Girl

Well, it was a very busy week and this week doesn't look like it's going to get any better. It was AJ's birthday last week. My little charming, chubby, sumo wrestler, baby turned into a 5 foot tall, skinny, ass-kickin' karate master, 11 year old. All of a sudden. Really, it feels like it was practically overnight. Her birthday usually tends to draw out over a matter of days, not just a day. She has to have her special day with us on her birthday, then she has to have a special day with her best friend where I take them to the mall. Then she has to have a special day with her grandparents (and, or my sister & family depending on if they've left the state or not). She didn't get to have the exact meal she wanted on the grandparents party day because we had to switch our plans a little bit, so we'll be finishing that up on a whole other day. She really knows how to drag out a birthday, Readers. It's a talent. All I know is that I'll be telling everyone I meet that she's 9. That's a much more acceptable age for the oldest child of a 29 year old after all. Just because she's a year older, I don't think that means I have to be too. I'm quite comfortable where I have been for the last 6 years.

This Time I Just Forgot About You, Readers

Where have I been? Well Readers, I've been busting my ass on my house. The spring cleaning bug hit me a little late this year, but now it's full on cleaning frenzy around this house. Out with the old, in with the new. Get rid of the dirt and dust, bring on the sparkle and bling. The only problem seems to be that as the cobwebs get cleared from my house, they gather in my head. I had all these things that I was going to write and I can't remember a single one. Little anecdotes and stories from recent days, completely wiped out of my memory. I always was afraid of being one of those scattered people that you can't even hold a full conversation with because they're holding two conversations (one with you, one with themselves), eating a snack, and writing out their will. Despite my best efforts to hold that craziness at bay, I think it's happening. I feel myself starting to and wanting to ramble in this post even. It takes all my effort to keep my brain steady and to even just sit still long enough to get it done. I don't sit still during the day until I've completely worn myself out. I'm sure I'm suffering late onset ADHD. And some stress induced amnesia, that's a real condition....right?