robot•jumping•rope

how very much i love you, flickr, how i CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, flickr, until the day all the new photos of my dear contacts were hidden from me.

must. have. new. photos. from. contacts. daily.

how else will i know who has a new haircut?

or who is sewing her little heart right out?

or who took a trip on a train? in the snow?

who paints dreams?

who found the coolest fabric EVER,

who had potatoes for dinner,

who kisses hippos,

who creates designs this beautiful?

who is busy making the days a little brighter?

who is busy just having fun?

who is made of ham? who else?

who likes the decade of disco?

who is awesome?

who loves you?

which reminds me, if you’re on flickr and comment or just lurk around over here, you should really be on my contact list. get to that right away. please.

’cause if you are one of my flickr friends, you get to share in my thrifty-find joy (and see lots more blurry photos of my blondes):

happy weekending

xoxo

me

i would have thought he was cute back then, too. but i was many miles away, and busily folding all my monogrammed sweaters after polishing the pennies for my loafers.

happy birthday, baby; you’re still younger than me, and you’ve still got the cool.

i’m eating toasted almonds and leftover orzo with parmesan while drinking Coke zero yes i know it’s scary stuff don’t send me any links. it’s 10a.m.

this is what happens when the dishwasher dies:

’tis true, i was unable to work my appliance-whisperer magic on the 20+ year old dishwasher. yes, it really is so old it could have attended my high school reunion last year (like i was gonna go), and i quote the electrician/handyman friend who came over to peer into and under the thing, “wow, i’ve never seen one this old. wow, this thing is ANCIENT. wow, i didn’t know these STILL EXISTED.” heartening, to be sure.

in its defense, the hideous, REALLY LOUD thing works like a charm, still, cause it’s a commercial Hobart, and if you google the model number you’d be shocked (like me) to find that people are snatching up its late 80’s twins like paula abdul her false eyelashes, willingly paying more than the price of a new dishwasher. even though all the parts are discontinued (kicks fabulous old thing in the panel.) so there. and yes, i know more about kitchen appliances than i should.

okay, so two weekends past we went to st. louis and stayed downtown in all our priceline’d splendor (although i’ve yet to be forgiven by the family for landing us a steal without a pool. please don’t mention it when we run into you at costco). we looked at replacement cars (they were crap! don’t mention that either! and if you’re selling a well-treated honda van with lowish miles and live within a 150 mile radius you should email me immediately!) and visited the City Museum, aka The Scariest Place Ever I’ve Ever Been That Exists Solely For Children. i still can’t talk about it.

we also visited the stunning, surreal Arch. can you believe i’m a missouri native and hadn’t seen this thing? no i didn’t go to the top. i’m not insane. there was a wind advisory.

this is what happens when you try to take a family picture at the top of a windy, cold hill and your youngest has a serious grudge going against the paparazzi:

as you can see, i’ve already endured The Museum and might want to go home.

nothing much else going on here. been listening to neil young’s on the beach and bob marley, because when i hear bob marley i can almost feel the sun on my face.

oh oh oh, look what i found in an old book. dude, i am so crazy in love with these weird guys. how should i do them up? mat them big? simple black-around-the-very-outside-edge-only frames? some old distressed fake-gold frames in slightly different sizes with matte glass? i though they might even work with this wall color. i realize it would be a lot going on but you know me: if there’s gonna be color, just go ahead and EMBRACE THE COLOR.

so this is what might happen if you dig to the very, very bottom of the free box:

well hello there.

to those of you under your winter rock: tanning beds are The Answer. just sharing my joy with you, as she shared with me. cause when the choices are melanoma or semi-inebriated crying jags under a down comforter watching sad netflixes while wallowing in valentine caramel wrappers, i think we both know which one will result in the least amount of long-term damage. to the children. and the spouse. and the cat.

to those of you with warm climes and/or cheery temperaments: i have nothing to say, really. i love you, envy you, ask you kindly for cash to defer my tanning expenses (the good beds are not cheap).

and here we go:

• I write this to the background noise of salt trucks barreling up and down my (steep) street…

forecast for the next 3 days: Occasional snow…sleet…patchy freezing drizzle late in the morning…then snow…light sleet likely and patchy freezing drizzle in the afternoon.

(…what’s with all the elipses, weatherman…?)

• i’ve sneaked half a bag of Cheetos® today while the kids were in other parts of the house. o orange fingers of clandestine delectability!

• this still does it for me. just sing what you feel, don’t let anyone say it’s wrong, baby. especially if you sound a lot like dylan doing it.

• Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles is very good. okay, so it’s one of the only shows on with new eps, and who can stomach all those crazy game nightmares passing themselves off as watchable t.v.? but Lena Heady was a perfect spartan wife and she’s a perfect gun-toting butt-kicking vitamin-popping feathered-hair heroine out to save the world. i’m just waiting for the writers to get bored and have too many margaritas at lunch and mess everything up like those idiots who screwed with LOST last year (that’s a lot of time i’ll never get back.  jj abrams we are so OVER). stupid writers.

• daughter had her first piano lesson today. her teacher has 2 shelties who nap under the piano the entire time and a decorative plate obsession. she’s very nice.

• can you believe none of the birds in my yard are eating the pricey black nyjer seed we bought for the feeders? i filled the feeder in my jammies and it was TEN DEGREES. stupid birds.

• my son has FINALLY FINALLY i say again FINALLY memorized all the addition/subtraction facts. potty-training and math-comprehending in the same month.  there’s one for the books, ladies.

• made some deliciously soft gingersnaps earlier, because i heard shortening and sugar are really good for you in winter don’t look at me like that. there’s no shame in using shortening. my mother is from New Orleans. how do you fry your chicken? that’s what i thought.

here’s the recipe:

soft gingerbread cookies

3/4 shortening, or substitute the same amount of butter that’s the consistency of shortening. if you don’t know the consistency of shortening i’m not sure we can still be friends on the internets.

1 egg

1 c. brown sugar

1/4 c. molasses

2 - 2 1/4 c. flour (you might need more, esp. if you use butter that’s too soft, but you hafta eyeball it because this is my neighbor fern’s recipe and she is not exactly exact on the flour amount. basically just past sticky so they’ll chill nicely and roll into balls easily.)

1/2 t. cloves

1/2 t. ginger

1/4 t. salt

1 t cinnamon

2 t. baking soda

beat shortening/butter, sugar, egg and molasses until creamy. sift dry ingredients together, add to first mixture. chill. roll into no larger than 1″ balls, then in white sugar. place on cookie sheet (about 16 will fit on mine) and put one drop of water in the center of each cookie (i dip my finger in a cup of water and drip onto the cookie balls ). bake at 350 for 10 minutes or less. do not overbake, fern says, though you’ll be tempted to.

good with milk, better with a latté, magnificent a day later with sweet iced tea.

• wheatgrass grows freakishly fast. this we planted last friday:

I KNOW.

but doesn’t it make you feel kinda good? look at those freaky, happy little roots. this speedy green goodness is almost as helpful to my winter psyche as a tanning bed. and definitely cheaper.

happy thursday-almost-friday, to all of us.

xoxo

me

the sun?

we have underwear.

you cannot imagine my delight at having the last child out of diapers. or perhaps you can.

celebrating with a half ‘n half-spiked espresso, the best banana bread i’ve ever eaten, and new-to-me mags from Half Price Books. they have the latest issues of Dwell for $1, people, and you get .50/ea when you turn them back in. plus a nice little homeschool/librarian/teacher discount. you can’t beat that with a stick. or perhaps you can.

happy weekending from this (diaperless) household to yours.

xoxo