Sep 29, 2009 | This Life
One last moment on the porch. It’s officially fall.
Autumn has officially arrived. It’s cold and dreary and sun-breaks only lead to highs of 60 degrees. It’s hard to complain when just a week ago, on the “official” start of the season it was a balmy 91 degrees here on the coast.
Ok, actually, it’s pretty easy to complain. Especially when you find yourself about a half mile into your workout only to have the heavens open up and dump icy rain your direction. Yeah, and your sweatshirt is one of those, “HEY, WATER. Let’s absorb!” kinds and you’re little hands are turning purple from the cold.
I did not turn back, I got the full circuit in–but not before I made the Universe blush. Seminary taught me to swear and I put my education to good use this afternoon.
So, yes, I’ll complain. Vociferously.
I knew fall was coming— but you know that didn’t stop me from procrastinating. I’ve neglected to take our woolens in to be cleaned for ages. Like, since when we took them off at the beginning of summer. What, TMI? So, today I ran IZ’s wool sweaters into the Dry Cleaners and the woman behind the counter said, “You don’t need these right away, do you.” Notice that wasn’t a question? I swear, she tried to use the force on me. (considering where I live, this is to be expected!) I am impervious and I answered, “Uh, actually I do want them back quickly. Have you noticed the weather?”
Apparently, it’s their practice to have your dry-cleaning take a week. If you want it sooner, you have to ask. No extra fee is involved, but you have to be in the know. I have no idea if this is a standard practice elsewhere since I gave up wearing clothing worth dry-cleaning when I started sporting Eau du Baby Spit-up 12 years ago. So, for the past four years I’ve been shivering my bootookus off waiting a week for my wool coat to come home. My wool coat being the one dryclean only thing I refuse to give up. That will teach me to not  procrastinate wear wool. I lie. No it won’t. But I might try to convince IZ that he really doesn’t look so great in his j.crew woolies and shrink them down for the kid.
Dang I’m lazy.
Hey, you would be too if the heavens opened up and dumped ice down your backside. Â Like my bootookus wasn’t cold enough already!
Anyhow, it’s  been a week of deaths. I dumped the red hair for less red hair. We covered that yesterday. Thanks so much for all the lovely comments about the new color. You sure know how to flatter a girl. I’m liking the darker color and the red highlights are probably a good thing considering my complexion. I hope y’all got that I was being sarcastic about wearing my hair half covering my face. I mean, I would do it, except I have a hard enough time walking with both eyes exposed. I probably need a disclaimer on this blog, “Yo, Wende is about to get sarcastic on your *beeeeeeep*”
I’m also going to have to dump our dead microwave. The thing just UP AND DIED during the morning mocha ritual. Yeah, jokes on the appliance tho—cause my uber sophisticated, kinda professional, ITALIAN espresso machine will be here on Friday (It’s coming UPS, so feel free to interpret Friday as Tuesday) and I won’t need no stinkin microwave to heat my milk. I hope.
And then I killed the tiny little video player I use to watch scary things like True Blood and Gossip Girl. I blame netflix for this. They have started adding a sticker on their discs. This makes the disc thicker  and that requires more pressure to get the disc to sync up on the machine when you put it in to play.  Evidently, the constant pressure has built to a stress fracture and the whole turning unit dohicky just went “thud.”  And I have half a mind to include a little note in my returning Envelope that reads, “DEAR Netflix, you broke my tiny little video machine with your thicker sticker. Now, I must watch sappy movies with no swearing or gratuitous sex because  I can’t watch scary things on the big screen. Thanks for that. Thanks alot. Love, yours truly. Wende”
So, it’s official. Summer has left and fall has arrived. Let the whining and ridiculously long blog posts commence.
You’re wishing it was still summer, aren’t you? Join the club.
Sep 17, 2009 | This Life
I’ve got Joey from Friends stuck in my head, “How you doin’?”
I know I’ve been a bit absent around here. I’ve been playing catch-up with Mireio after that doozy of a head-cold and I’ve been struggling with migraines. Oh, and did I mention school started?
Anyhow, for the last few weeks I’ve been attempting to adjust to our new school schedule. It has me teaching 4 days a week and that’s a bump up from last year. It’s going very well, it just doesn’t leave a lot of time for all the other things on my to-do post-its list. (note to self: buy more post-its) I’m sure, given a few more weeks, I will have this all mastered—but for the moment, I’m finding it hard to get everything one. Â And then you add migraines into the mix and this blog and my laundry pile gets neglected. (Note to self: Underwear isn’t an option.)
So, I hope you’ll stay with me as I adjust to being “busier”. I don’t like that term, busy. In fact, I tend to bristle at it and really don’t permit it as an excuse. We’re ALL busy, right? My being busy is no more important than your being busy. But there is something about adjusting to change that makes the busy feel a bit frantic. I think that’s what been getting to me. I’m just not getting as much done (or more done, depending on your view!) as I’d like. I do appreciate the few of you who have stuck around during this time and left comments. Y’all are GOLD, I tell you!
What I’ve neglected besides the laundry:
Getting the boy to his “stylist”. Yeah, I looked at my calender and realized my long-haired boy hadn’t had his locks trimmed since June. The beginning of June. That long hair of his was more a sign of neglect than his choice of fashion. After a month of, “Mom, does my hair look greasy?” I realized I might need to address the situation. Â So, we trotted off to get a cut.
He’s now channeling his inner Kings of Leon and I’m cracking up laughing at how much of a rock-star this kid is becoming. Rock Star-Rocket Scientist. It has a nice ring to it, no? And yet, the boy refuses to see the beauty that is The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai. (Note to you: Don’t make me explain the glory that is TAOBB to you. Seriously. If you haven’t seen this movie, you haven’t lived. And if you have and don’t like it… PIPE DOWN. Ahem)
I’ve also neglected to tell you that I’m being featured over on Lillyella. That’s not a big deal, (unless you want to read more about me!) except that it also includes a GIVEAWAY. Â A nice one, too. So, if you’re a fan of Mireio go enter and win. If not for you, the holidays are coming up!
Ok, so I’m hoping the migraines are over and we’ll cross our fingers that I get with the program and start blogging more often. You people are such optimists. I love that about you!
Sep 4, 2009 | This Life
Taika in Blue, Klaus Haapaniemi for Iitala
It’s still tomorrow, today. At least by my clock.
Where did my day go? There is something about recovering from a cold. I find myself racing to catch-up on everything  that piled up while I sat on the couch sipping Diet Coke with lime and declaring my imminent death.
Diet Coke with lime. Two things on that. First, it really can cure the common cold. And second, how cool is my husband for keeping me supplied while I languished on the couch? A girl gets parched declaring her imminent death! You really have to speak up around here, cause, no one’s paying much attention to the hypochondriac  couch potato with a head-cold.
Speaking of my adorable husband, he really rocked my world today. But more on that in a bit. I just want to put this sentence here so I don’t forget to tell you. He’s AWESOME!
Anyhow, I woke up this morning feeling like, just perhaps, I wouldn’t die today. I managed a work-out, a dash to the fabric store for thread, grocery shopping, finishing an order (sale #199!), plus I downed a lot of  water so you know, potty breaks.  I even found time to be distracted by a window display downtown on my way to buy cupcakes. This china was in the window so of course I went in!
I’ll confess I loitered a bit in that store. It’s full of all these Scandinavian housewares. They have Marimekko and chocolate. And really nice women working there. (As opposed to Joann’s where the people are RUDE!) And it felt good to talk to people and not have to mention my imminent death. *snif snif*
I still haven’t caught up with the laundry, though. But I’m convinced that if the gods had been drinking Diet Coke with lime they would have been smarter and Sisyphus would have been doing laundry, not pushing some dumb rock. It’s never-ending. No point in getting to the top of the  hill, people, it’s just going to pile up again.
That’s not to say you shouldn’t do your laundry. Clean underwear is next to godliness.
Me: “Uh, putting your dirty laundry basket in the middle of the laundry room floor is NOT the same as doing laundry, G!”
BW: “It is in my world!”
That child is a sassmouth!
Two things on this child. The first is, I’m actually doing ok with this transition of his. Before I got sick I meant to tell you all that. If I’m writing about it, then I’ve worked through whatever issues I might have had. “In process” stuff doesn’t make the blog. It goes to therapy or spiritual direction or coffee time with IZ. But, of course, I got sick and couldn’t reassure you that I’m really very excited to be moving into the next phase of our relationship.
Which leads me to the second thing about that child. He’s the reason I’m sick. Â The kid got this stoopid head-cold from his friend last week—but he kept on turning on the light to the downstairs movie room with his mouth.
That’s right, my uber smart, super sophisticated, really cool but slightly germaphobic kid used his germy mouth to turn on a light-switch. And you know I went downstairs several times before I was told about this nasty habit.
Me: “I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.” Â (sip, sip, mmm, diet coke)
IZ: “So, I have to tell you. Earlier tonight, as we were going downstairs to watch TV, I told the kid, ‘Kid, just go down, I’ll grab the door’ and what does he do? He reaches over and turns on the light in the stairwell with his mouth! I’m like, “KID! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” and he tells me his hands aren’t free and he didn’t want to drop his laptop, so he uses his mouth.”
Me: “Oh. To the hell. NO! He did not!”
IZ: “He did! And I told him, “I had the door, I would have got the light too!”
Me: “Kid, this is so going on my blog!”
Which brings me to my placeholder up there. I needed that because I don’t have a good segue to tell you JUST how awesome my husband.
He’s so awesome, he’s been stalking me. Well, my store. I hit 198 sales about 9 days ago; he’s been quietly watching and waiting for my 199th sale so he could go in, buy a candle for his mom, and be my 200th sale. Â I know, nice, right? Before I could stop him, there was the invoice, paid for—it’s to be sent to his mom when she comes home from her vacation. She’s been spending a lot of time on her own, because his dad has been traveling on business and it’s looking like she’ll be alone again right after they return. So, he thought she might like something nice and he’s just been biding his time to be #200. Two hundred sales! I pretty excited. Especially since, earlier this week, I thought I was going to die.
No, you may not have him. But I might loan you the light-switch licking kid. He kinda does laundry.
And good news, people. I’m going to live. And it’s still tomorrow, today. By my clock, anyhow.
Sep 3, 2009 | This Life
I’m afraid the onset of September also marked the onset of a doozy of a summer cold! I’m just now emerging from my medication induced haze. So, let’s play catch-up tomorrow? Boy do I have stuff to tell you!
Until then, you can just gaze at the pretty cupcake. I’m embarrassed by how many photos I have labeled “cupcake” but that’s another post. Or, you can head over to Mireio and read how I was out-maneuvered by the Post Office before I fell victim of this virus. Your choice!
Either way, see you tomorrow! Be here or be square. (Ok, maybe the meds haven’t worn off just yet!)
Aug 30, 2009 | This Life
Chamois colored roses
It’s been a weird, weird week—in an equally weird month. I miss July.
But it’s all good. Really it is. I’m finding my way, finding inspiration in the resolve. Summer is ending. But September, my friends, September always holds the promise of potential. Cool clean breezes. Dappled sunlight and lingering days. It really is all good.
What made me smile today:
Sitting on the porch with Sophie. She sits on my lap and we look out at the Columbia. I can’t help but breathe in that doggie smell and tell her I love her. “I love you more than I love some people, Sophie. Don’t tell.” Â And sometimes, she looks up and takes a deep breath of me. We were meant for each other.
Chamois colored roses. I’ve never seen this color before and the more I look, the more intrigued I am.
Long conversations, long walks, long coffee breaks. . . lingering with IZ. Sometimes, the Universe gives you exactly what you need. . . or who you need. And that more than makes up for any of life’s deficits.
Oscar, the Welsh Corgi at the top of the hill, barking to greet us as we puffed up, up, up the hill. “He’s barking because he recognizes you,” his person told us. “Just wait.” Sure enough, he began running down the stairs of their second story deck—barking and lumbering at full speed toward us.  Oscar, who usually reigns on his expanse of  lawn, sitting Sphinx like, looking regal and prim, tail swishing in recognition, was happy to see us. “Hi, Oscar,” catching our breath, “We’re so glad to see you too, buddy!”
Explaining hair products to my son. If all goes right, he’ll share my addiction in no time. Aveda here we come.
Listening to the Ting Tings tonight, as I write these lines.
It is all good, my friends.
Aug 18, 2009 | This Life
I’m just a little homesick today. Mostly, for palm trees—and that sensation of being exactly where I belong that I get only when I am home.Â
A palm tree stands in the middle of Rusafa,
Born in the West, far from the land of palms.
I said to it: How like me you are, far away and in exile,
In long separation from family and friends.
You have sprung from soil in which you are a stranger;
And I, like you, am far from home.
 ~~ Abd al-Rahman of Cordoba (731-788 CE) translation: D.F. Ruggles
