Oh The Treasure!

My faith in the summer yard saling has been restored. I went up north for the weekend and proceeded to fill my van with finds not once, but 3 times. One time for each day that I went searching. As you can imagine, I'm quite impressed with myself. As you can further imagine, my husband, and father (whose house I was staying at), were not so impressed. In fact, my mom and I decided at one point to hide some of our stuff from our first trip out, in a closet. We completely forgot about it until I was about to leave 3 days later. Well, we started to remember the stuff we had lost, but we didn't even remember where it was. After a couple hours of searching, phone calls to my husband blaming him for losing it, and sitting on the couch completely befuddled, we opened the closet and it was like Christmas with all the stuff I pulled out.

And yes, Readers, it was stuff I needed. Don't even tell me that I don't need a Vera Bradley purse for 50 cents. Don't tell me that I shouldn't own a vintage Barbie that someone literally gave me at a yard sale. How about my vintage Trolls in the boxes that I picked up for 30 cents at a church sale, you know I need those. And I laugh at the person who suggests I don't need a vintage 1950s paper lampshade for $1.

While my goal is to clean out my office, I simpy cannot pass up these wonderful finds. The cleaning out of stuff will have to wait, I can't pass up a treasure at a great price. So, today my goal is to clean out my van so that I can fill it with more treasure next weekend.

So what? I've been on vacation. Gimme a break, it's summer after all.

A Simple Request

I have one tiny little request from my readers. Please sign up with Google or whatever other accounts you can use through Blogspot. Then either leave a comment someday or become a follower for me. I keep getting little surprises of people who've been reading my blog and I didn't know it. Really people! How am I supposed to know who it's safe to talk about? How can I tell all of your embarrassing stories (with completely anonymous names of course) if you're someday going to read it and then never speak to me again? Geez. A little consideration....

I'm Home For Just A Minute

School is out and I'm busier than ever. I've been home a total of two days in the week since school got out. Please, don't anyone think they can make plans with me, apparently the plans are made and I'll be too busy to even feed myself. I'll just take 5 minutes and have a feeding tube inserted so that I don't have to worry about that for the rest of the summer.

I did get to go yard saling a couple of days this week. That was a good time. I won't joke, with the economy being what it is, yard saling is harder work than it ever was before. No one is getting rid of anything and if they do, it's because there is no use left in it anymore. The thrift stores are so busy, you have to wait in lines that are as long as Meijer on a Saturday. All of it is hard work. But sometimes, it pays to go out. This week I picked up a $200 doll for $4. That will be a pretty nice return on my money. Here's the kicker though, I have to list some stuff on ebay (and I loathe ebay), but I'm never ever home. Instead what happens is that I go out, find some stuff after much work, stack it in my office (or family room, sorry family), and then leave for like 5 days. I come back with a bunch more and the stacking continues. I'm supposed to be cleaning the crap out of my house and de-cluttering so I can sell it. Basically, I'm going to have to stop the buying, but let's face it, that's never going to happen. Something in my brain makes me go. There are deals out there and I'm genetically bound to go out looking for them.

I Just Can't Deal

I wish I could, but I can't. There is too much to do and not only am I not able to do it all, 2 more things come up with each one that I finish until I'm literally wallowing in accumulated "so-much-shit-to-do".

At this point, I'm beside myself with with shit-to-do, and so I'm just giving it up for the night, probably for the week. Clearly it's making no difference. My thinking is, by not working on something, I won't find another 2 chores to work on. If you do the math, by the end of the week, I'll be better off.

I need a nice large garage sale, with loads of cheap crap to cheer me up and make me feel like the world is good again.

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?

It's On

That's right, Readers, the time is now! Yard sale season is upon us and life as we know it will never be the same. I'm talking early mornings, standing in line at every denomination of church in the city, digging through bins boxes and sometimes trash cans, and finding the most phenomenal deals EVER! Can you stand it? The excitement is almost overwhelming isn't it?!

Dragging every bargain home, whether it's from a sale or the curb (know what I'm sayin' V?) is my obsession. Hell, it's what haunts me, a possible missed treasure is the stuff my nightmares are made of. (And I'm totally serious, I have recurring nightmares about missing out on fabulous finds, it's just not right.)

He Never Runs Out Of Jokes...Cause He Doesn't Know Any

I've noticed a trend in age 5-7 year old boys. They don't get the knock-knock joke. I believe I've met one or two that did, but for the most part the concept is completely lost on them. Example of standard joke telling by DJ:

DJ: Knock-knock!
AJ: Who's there?
DJ: TREE-CAR!
AJ: Tree-car who?
DJ: .............

Example 2:

DJ: Knock-knock!
AJ: *sigh* Who's there?
DJ: BASKET-HOUSE!
AJ: Basket-house who?
DJ: Ummm, I forgot.
DJ: Oh wait! I know! KNOCK-A-DOODLE!!

Yes, I know, these are stellar jokes, when's his book coming out, right? Would you believe me if I told you makes them up entirely by himself? He was even so kind as to entertain his cousin with them during spring break 2 weeks ago. She was completely perplexed, but was happy to laugh at him when he would manically break down after completing one of his "jokes". That's the other thing I've noticed. The less sense they make, the funnier they are. Clearly, a knock-knock joke is at it's best when there is one made up word, and at least one nonsense word. All I can do really is roll my eyes and go with it. They say laughing at yourself is good for you and my kid laughs insanely and often. He's sure to be the healthiest person in the family.

New Trend: Plastic Grass

What's my newest hobby, you ask. Why it's pulling multitudes of dandelions and violets from my lawn...by hand. I can't spray anything on them, I'm currently in the midst of my last desperate attempt at reseeding. So, daily, I'm off to look and see what the rain has spawned fresh in my lawn. It's a losing battle and it's getting more hopeless hourly as the leaves are just about to pop, forever shading the little seeds making it impossible for them to open. My house is destined to be the only one on the block with the small patchy clumps of grass and lots of blowing dirt. I mean, Vader and I busted our butts on our anniversary last year trying to smooth out the lawn, getting it ready for seeding, to no avail. We changed tactics and thought we'd wait until early spring to try again, when the sun can actually touch the lawn, but the tree is not cooperating with my grand plan. Right now, I'm really liking the idea of the fake grass like they use in Arizona. Actually, real grass is bad for our air and water, in the spirit of Earth Day today, I'm completely advocating fake grass. It might have just a little something to do with the fact that I can't grow any, but inspiration takes many forms.

I Don't Sleep On The Job, Even On Vacation

Consistent. On vacation, at home, at least we can say, I'm consistent. It's just I don't want to let anybody down, don't want my kids to think I'd lay down on the job of getting what's right and fair.

What's my daughter's favorite thing?
"When mommy has a conniption fit."
Why?
"Because she always gets her way."
Damn straight.

In Arizona, we had a little issue at the Ikea eatery. We went for a quick dinner in their cafeteria as a family. Involved were my parents, my sister and her family, and then myself and the kids. There was a bit of a misunderstanding between the lovely greeter downstairs who gave us dinner coupons, the cafeteria server, the cafeteria cashier, and me. Of course as fate would have it, I was in line first. The misunderstanding was going to cost me a whole lot more money than I was willing to spend. After much gesturing, waving around of my hands, exclaiming about fine details being ignored by staff and etc, I was given my way. This in turn positively affected my parents and sister, who were also given my way. And a supervisor never even had to be called.

"What did you say to her?", my dad wanted to know. I don't even know what to say about that, apparently he hasn't talked to my daughter who could tell him that I always get my way when I have a conniption. Or it could be that waving my hands up to the heavens was enough to scare the poor cashier into thinking that I had some contract with God and He would strike her blind if she didn't find a way to get rid of me. Overall, it was a pretty minor conniption, very easily executed and I wish someone had videotaped it so that I could learn from it. Then I can apply those same techniques to my next conniption to perhaps shorten the time from explaining whatever random problem is on my mind to having said problem ultimately fixed.

The other issue I have, that I just couldn't get away from even on vacation 2000 miles away, the need to Swiffer. I really didn't have enough time for it, but I did take one afternoon where I put some real quality time into Swiffering the tile at my sister's house. I went through like 5 or 6 Swiffer cloths and eradicated lots of pet hair and major dust bunnies. I wished I could've done more, but I can't tell you the joy I felt every single time I would then walk past the knickknacks in the corners knowing that dust bunnies were no longer making their homes there. Swiffering....it's good for the soul.

Just Let Me Use My Words!

Here's another little burr in my side. I'm not even sure if it's politically correct, I haven't discussed this with my homosexual friends yet, but I don't appreciate the new commercials about "It's wrong to say things are gay."

I love words, I think I've made that perfectly clear in more than one of my posts here. Love them. One word I happen to like the sound of and like the feel of it when I say it is queer. I think it's so quaint, and reading it in books, like, "She gave him a queer look, he wasn't sure if she was angry with him or had just ate a bad clam.", makes me want to go out and use the word. Sadly, queer is associated with being a homosexual and saying to someone, "I love that little picture, it's queer, but I think it'd be cute in the hallway.", could be misinterpreted by people to think that I think it looks to be homosexual. Homosexual is the proper term. Not gay, queer, or other less desirable terms that I won't mention. These are all words that had actual meanings before they were re-interpreted as meaning homosexual. It ticks me off that people are spending money telling people to not use the word gay, when it's not being used in it's original meaning for their purposes either. You're darn right I see things that I would term gay. Things that are so bright and cheery that often times it borders on insipid. Like gaggingly happy. You know, blindingly bright flowered pants, my kids on a bike ride on their way to get ice cream, the Dick and Jane stories, Hello Kitty. Now, do I think any of these things are homosexual? Um, no, but I would love to be able to use the word gay about them, without being attacked as being some politically incorrect snob.

I certainly don't like any put downs for any group of people and I don't want my friends put down ever, so I agree gay shouldn't be used in a way that is inappropriate. I also have no problem with my homosexual friends being called gay, or calling them gay if this is what is preferable. I just don't like that gay has been so fully ingrained in our society as being a word with a single definition, that I can't even use the word in it's original form so that I can fully emphasize and detail my feelings about something in the most descriptive way possible. For godsakes, all I want to do is tell the world that my husband's left calf is queer. I certainly don't mean it's a homosexual calf....it's just so much skinnier than the other one, it's an oddity, truly the definition of queer if I ever saw one.

Such Disappointments

I generally try to be a positive person. I'm happy, I love life, I enjoy good humor and love sassy sarcasm. Some weeks just give you more than you can take though. Here is a short list of things that are currently ruining my life.

1. Lying Liars who lie.
2. Teachers who insist your child can't read, yet admittedly aren't personally involved in teaching them said skill.
3. The dissolving of the best church sale ever.
4. The gradual increased suckiness of the 2nd best church sale ever.
5. The most gorgeous, softest, thickest, bake sale sugar cookies ever...tasting like mouse turds.
6. My lawn.

Don't feel better about yourselves Liars, just because you're in a list of six things vexing me. You're still at the top of the list and won't be leaving anytime soon, like ever.

Late addition:
How in the hell did I forget number 7??
7. Hover Moms

That's just bullshit.