Mindless Junque

It's official

2011-07-20T15:15:00.003-06:00

Right...sooooooo, we're definitely moving back to Colorado. I fought saying that we were moving "back home" for a long time. I really wanted "back home" to be somewhere in the South.

Where Paula Dean and I could live as neighbors the way baby Jesus intended for us to.

PB reads these posts and panics just a little. He's afraid I don't really want to move. He shouldn't worry.

I'm not going to lie and tell you that I won't miss my pool. On gray, snowy Colorado days I will press a picture of it to my bossom and know that it misses me too. BUT, then I will turn to my hot tub, Alfredo, and soak happily while the snow piles up on my head.

Because it's really fun to sit in a hot tub while it snows. At night.

I'm looking forward to fall days and pumpkins that won't rot on my porch in the 90 degree heat. Christmas will be all cold and Christmassy again. I mean, I'll actually be able to drink my hot buttered rum without breaking out into a sweat. Unless I'm drinking a hot buttered rum while sitting in Alfredo, my hot tub.

There won't be any more scorpions.

No more haboobs (an unfortunate term for large sand storms).

No more second degree burns from my van's leather seats.

...I don't think you need a picture of that.

Poolside...

2011-06-19T15:41:00.003-06:00

It's one of the only times you'll see my toes photographed.

This is me sitting by my pool with my iPad2 (Yes, you NEED one) reading Beauty Queens by Libba Bray. It's a perfect summer read.

There happens to be a frosty beverage at my side, but I couldn't get that into the shot.

My Queen Palm trees are swaying above me and music is streaming from my aforementioned Ipad while my children are happily entertained in their very own backyard.

Are we sure we want to move????

Just when you thought I couldn't get flightier

2011-06-16T16:28:00.003-06:00

Oh...look...it's my adorable, forgotten little piece of the universe.

It's my splatter painted comforter in my purple, Michael J. Fox laden corner of the world where I used to sit cross legged and spill my everyday thoughts like the diary of a twelve year old adolescent.

I'm still here. NO worries. I'm not at all sure why I compared my blog to my bedroom circa 1986 because I still maintain that the 80's were the armpit of existence.

*shudder*

We're still living in Arizona, but only for now. In the fine flighty fashion that has made us famous, we're tired of this place and are going back to Colorado.

WHAT??!

Yep. It's true.

Someone misses the mountains and the clean air and the water straight from the tap.

And I might miss those things just a little bit too. Plus, I'm the freak who loves to go house shopping. Remind me to get my real estate license.

However, you won't have to remind me about how much I despise the snow.

No. It's not magical.

But a veritable wardrobe of Uggs IS and I've been plied with the promise of just that. I am easily bought. I never claimed not to be.

Please let this be known to potential advertisers, publishers, and benevolent millionaires. Because I need a really cute house to hide in when it's minus twenty outside.

Pool advice for Martha Stewart

2010-11-02T11:46:00.008-06:00

So the other day, my phone rings and it's Martha. I said, "What's up, Martha Stewart?" After watching Friday Night Lights, I've taken to calling everyone I know by their first AND last names.

She starts going on about swimming pools and tiling and I'm tuning her out because I think she starts these conversations just to hear herself talk.

I mean, we all know she doesn't actually know HOW to do half of the things she claims to know because NO ONE can know all of that stuff and who would want to? But it just so happens that I built a pool this summer and documented some of it.

She was all, "I'm just not sure if I want to go French Chateau or Greco Roman Bath House for the theme of my pool. And then there's the question of grotto or no grotto."

And I was all, "Who cares, Martha Stewart? Don't you live in Massachusetts or something where it's cold most of the time and you can only use this thing for, like, eight weeks out of the year? And you can't have a grotto because Hugh Hefner has a grotto in his pool and then you'd just look like a poser."

She got all defensive and goes, "I plan to use a radiant heating system in my pool for your information and my grotto would be different than Hugh's in that I would have SCONCES in my grotto."

So, just to show her up, I'm including pictures of me tiling my pool this past spring. Here I am installing the tile. I chose a lovely blue ceramic to transition nicely into the water.

I was careful to tile around the filter to keep the unsightly equipment camouflaged. I feel that last statement can be applied to many different things in life.

I also put some travertine tiles as a decking around my pool. I wanted something cool on the feet, but rustic looking as well. Note the herringbone pattern.

I think my pool turned out beautifully and my whole family is always going on and on about how talented of a pool builder I am and my children are very thankful every day.

And here I am enjoying a float. I decided to go blonde for the summer, but am relieved to report I didn't necessarily have more fun. So, I'm back to brunette.

Rock n Roll Fabric

2010-10-20T17:27:00.004-06:00

I checked my email today and found an enthusiastic announcement from a local fabric store franchise heralding the new fabric line by Iman.

As in the wife of David Bowie.

We love us some Bowie. I mean, who else can cross dress with the best of them and then turn around to sing a tender holiday duet with Bing Crosby? I remember vividly when that aired and the collective gasp of WTH? heard 'round the country. You remember it too.

I can also remember waiting anxiously next to the VCR while MTV teased us with the Blue Jean video after every commercial break for an hour and a half.

Ah...remember the days when MTV still played videos? And remember when we waited with our fingers hovered above the "record" and "play" buttons on our VCR's for a chance to record those videos? 1984, people.

I really hate 80's music. That whole decade wasn't good for me.

I will say that his make up in that video was very cool, though.

And I fully admit that the man is a musical legend.

However, his wife's fabric line is just so-so. Kinda boring considering she's married to Ziggy Stardust.

Toxic Mold

2010-10-19T10:30:00.004-06:00

So I woke up to the joyous sound of my child this morning.

As she threw up on the kitchen floor.

I'm the first to admit that I'm really flighty and kind of scared to make any sort of long term PTO/soccer snack/church choir commitment but that's mostly because I know my kids will be sick at any given point. I do see how it looks suspect after a while, though.

And I hesitate to use their lack of health as "convenient" but I admit that sometimes it does come in handy.

"I would love to teach thirteen girl scouts to weave Indian dream catchers while chaperoning the 2010 Jiggity Jamboree Campout in the remote desert but I'm pretty sure at least one of my kids will be sick." And it would be the truth, people.

Personally, I blame toxic mold for all of this. I think toxic mold can be blamed for a great many things in life. Along with Mel Gibson.

This one's for Ken from Arkansas.

2010-10-18T09:53:00.007-06:00

I fell into a blogging pit. Otherwise known as a blogging pitfall.

I think.

I fell into the trap of wanting my blog to make me money and, honestly, it's not as easy as all that. Do I think you can make money blogging? Yes. Yes, I do. But it's hard. And crazy competitive.

I'm just not good as schmoozing and selling myself and competing with other women who want to help support their families just as much as I do. I'd rather just go get a job at Starbucks and listen to good music and make latte's.

Of course, having four little girls isn't particularly conducive to a barista career quite yet. Or is it spelled barrista?

The point is I thought it was this great opportunity to make money doing something I love. But here's the thing...it became something I hated. I hated it because it turned my love of verbal spewage into something I had to market.

I had to pimp my blog. So unsavory. And so not my forte'.

So, now I'm back to doing what I love. Just blogging. And listening to angry music while I do it. I say we celebrate our ADHD.

I want to thank Ken from Arkansas, Carolina Girl, and my friend Amy for checking on me. You guys inspired me to get over myself.

You loved me through it.

Come back tomorrow for your million dollar idea courtesy of me. You get to pimp it out yourself and all I ask for is a free sample. And a new living room set from Pottery Barn. I don't think that's asking much considering you'll be a millionaire.

To stand where vampires stood.

2010-06-24T12:36:00.011-06:00

A few months ago, my dad lured me down to New Orleans under the guise of "helping them decorate". I knew this was a ruse because his wife is a fine decorator and has awesome taste. Who am I to turn down Cajun food and free latte's, though?

I got to go by myself too.

Don't hate me because I stroll the Garden District without kids.

Let's start with the important stuff. Mint Juleps.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking..."Heather, honey, please tell me you also visited the beauty shop while you were down there because...you're hair." Alas, I did not. I'm growing it out. Love me, please.

We visited Oak Alley (a very old plantation on the Mississippi river). It, indeed, is very grand and historic and chock full of delicious decorating ideas. We had to work the theme into the trip somehow.

Many famous movies are filmed here including Interview With A Vampire.

Here I am swooning next to the very tree where Tom Cruise, in his role as LeStat, snuck away from a swanky party and attacked a young man who thought something else was going to happen. All while Brad Pitt hid nearby and ate a Pomeranian. We certainly don't hold that against him.

No centuries old plantation is complete without a few random, creepy but strangely intriguing, windows. Look at how only one has the shutters shut. I asked our tour guide who told me that those were attic windows and no one was allowed into the attic anymore as it was used as storage.

Of course.

I stared at them for a long time figuring I'd see a ghost peeking out.

No such luck.

They wouldn't let us take pictures inside, much to my dismay. However, they did let me take a picture of my lunch.

Crawfish etouffee.

I suppose that this may look unappetizing depending on the time of day you're reading it. It's noon here, and I'm really hungry so it looks amazing. It was amazing.

We had alligator tail for our appetizer. It tastes like chicken. No. For real. It does.

And so I sound like I was paying attention to the tour guide (with her Cajun accent that was killing me softly, and I mean that in a good way) and what she was teaching me I am including a picture of the sugar bowls used to boil the sugar cane grown on the plantation. Or something like that.

Look at the pretty flowers!!

And historic golf cart!

And look at this list of slaves that worked on the plantation and how much they cost. I love their names. Hyacinthe was a cook. Of course she was. Are you getting the mental image? I love her. And Antoinette was the laundress. I can picture her too.

Lula put it perfectly when she said that the South is a place where you want to stick your nose in the dirt and inhale deeply.

It's true. It's like going home or something. I was born there, so it's my roots. Maybe that's it.

Okay, that's all for today. I'll write more about my trip another day.

It's history and you'll like it!!

2010-06-16T21:55:00.010-06:00

Awesome. I haven't blogged since May 14th. I feel so good about myself right now.

The thing is...I actually have alot to blog about.

Life in Arizona is good. It's hot, but we have a pool now so that keeps us cool.

That, and my official drink of summer '10...Pina Coladas with Chambord floaters. Delightful. Thanks to Lula and Fred The Bartender at the Desert Grill in Scottsdale. Not to be confused with the Dessert Grill which doesn't exist. But maybe should.

When it's not so hot we like to hike.

Look at that sense of adventure and readiness to tackle the trail!

PB has them enraptured. "Now, girls, this trail is known as The Dutchman's Lost Mine. They say he wanders this very path late at night moaning for his gold. I think this might be one of his spectral footprints right here."

We haven't slept in a week.

Here we have a little trail guide warning of the "pokey cactus". It's very important not to trip on a rock and fall onto said "pokey cactus". Which I believe in Latin is "pokius cactius".

Our troops began losing steam and whining in earnest approximately five minutes into our trek. Granted, we WERE making them hike through the desert in June but there was shade intermittently, so we really couldn't grasp what the big deal was.

Finally! We get to the 800 year old Indian Heiroglyphs. It's very neat to be able to touch something that was carved so long ago.

Clearly, aliens do exist. Why else would Indians 800 years ago depict them in stone if they didn't?

They also used these cliffs as make-shift hairstyle magazines. Here we have two different styling options. Shave it all off, or grow it into an afro. I think either one would work well in the desert.

We saw this colorful lizard on the hike back to the minivan. Some in our party felt that it's awesomeness surpassed that of the ancient artifacts we'd seen and made it all "worth hiking through the stinkin' desert" to see.

Lizards are a cultural priority to some in our family.

Happy Meals on the way home are a priority to others as is jumping in our pool to cool off.

Why do we ever leave home?

Styleboards. Who knew?

2010-05-14T13:41:00.003-06:00

I love to decorate. I have entire notebooks plastered with pictures I've cut from magazines as inspiration. So, the last time my mom visited, we sat looking at some magazines and started talking about her bedroom and how she wanted a change.

I love a challenge and so I got myself onto Kaboodle and made her a styleboard for her bedroom.

Behold...

Mom's country... by heatheroo

And because that was so much fun, I made one for my dad and his wife.

Dad and Linda's... by heatheroo

Social Media goosebumps.

2010-05-13T14:23:00.009-06:00

A buffet of blog fodder

2010-04-26T07:33:00.008-06:00

Life is screaming by at lightening speed.

Lightening, I tell ya.

And it doesn't look like it's going to slow down anytime soon.

I have some pictures to show you...but I've put my little camera download cable in my super special place with my two other mail keys and retainer from high school.

Le sigh.

So in the meantime, because this is how I roll lately and it's in keeping with my Mindless Junque theme, I have some topics to discuss.

Brett Michaels in intensive care due to a brain hemorrhage:

As COMPLETELY inappropriate as it is to make any sort of light of this situation, I'm finding it hard to hold myself back. It's not that I think it's funny at all. It's actually really, very sad. I had better move on quickly.

I finally saw Avatar:

The special effects were very cool and the colors were pretty. And I feel awesome about being a self serving consumer who, according to James Cameron, delights in annihilating indigenous flora and fauna. I could get VERY controversial here, so we'll move on from that too.

And in keeping with the science fiction/fact news, Steven Hawking says aliens are bad for us:

He says they will be yellow with horrible stingers (no lie) and will rape our planet of all it's natural resources. Who's killing indigenous species now, HUH Mr. Cameron??

And speaking of yellow aliens with stingers:

Yeah, this was on my front porch as I opened the door to a guy who just happened to be in the area spraying for scorpions. Do you think he was planted there? Perhaps.

I'm building a pool for my children.

2010-04-12T10:59:00.006-06:00

The weather here is already getting pretty hot. So, I'm building a pool. Well, not all by myself of course. I have some help (my crew is standing against the wall).

First, I rented me a bobcat.

Here, the girls are watching as I tear up the grass. In the desert, grass is overrated anyway and tends to be pokey on the feet. You can see my crew standing against the wall, watching my kick-booty bobcatting skills with awe and admiration.

Next, I rented me a very large back hoe. And proceeded to pronounce it with emphasis on the word "hoe" because that's just funny stuff. I don't care who you are.

Here, a hard working member of my crew is doing something important with a shovel. I took a quick sweet tea break from the "hoe", as we affectionately referred to it, and snapped this picture.

I'm also going to add here that the duct tape upholstery job on the seat was NOT my idea of a good time and I insisted that it cut the backs of my legs with it's duct tapiness.

And then I made a note to start a business making back hoe seat covers. I think it'll do really well in this industry.

The twinfants were so pleased that I had also provided them with a big pile of dirt. However, being girls, they weren't quite sure what to do with a big pile of dirt aside from kind of posing around it.

I even bought them some trucks to play with in the dirt, but the trucks got "dirty" and kept having to be washed. With lavender scented soap.

Again, my hard working helper in the background is still shoveling despite me telling him that I'd rented the back hoe for good reason.

I'll leave you with one last picture of the ADORABLE steps I carved out of the dirt using the back hoe.

It was no easy task, but I think I did a passable job. The larger step is called a "baja" step and is specifically for mothers to lounge on whilst reading their summer novels and sipping their pina coladas. I'm always thinking about my friends and their comfort that way.

I've actually completed the pool all the way to the concrete stage, and will cover that in another post. My faux finish effect was very tricky. I call it "industrial chic", but it totally works in this space.

*While we are, in fact, building a pool, I did not do any of this work myself. I was just trying to be witty.

An indulgent song choice.

2010-03-24T09:42:00.003-06:00

As Simon often tells the AI contestants in his British accent, "I think that was a rathah indullllgent song choice."

I am going to write a rathah indulllllgent post today.

Because my head will explode if I don't.

And no one wants to see that.

There is so much going on and while it's exciting, my brain starts going a mile a minute and it just. won't. stop.

It's not condusive at all to getting any laundry done. To his credit, PB hasn't said a word. So, let's start with laundry.

Then there's...

floors to mop

kids on spring break to entertain

breakfasts, lunches, and dinners to make

groceries to be bought

menus to be made

budgets to revise

walls to paint

furniture to paint

curtains to make

moms to pick up at airports

sheets to change

snuggles to give

books to write

blogs to write

blogs to read

proposals to go over

pools to build

weeds to spray

bushes to prune

wreaths to make

cut-off shorts to hem

hairs to cut

passports to apply for

closets to clean out

pictures to take

carpets to vacuum

kitchens to redecorate

scorpions to kill

weights to lift

water to drink

Bible studies to attend

doctors to visit

Easter eggs to dye

toes to pedicure

Keurig's to bring back to life

paperworks to fill out

boo boo's to kiss

not enough coffee on the planet

The thing is. I'm happy. Sometimes it makes me crazy, but right now it's all good. It's all happy and the weather here is in the 80's. The birds are chirping and things are blooming and flip flops have been purchased.

The trick is to keep it all organized and not let it get crazy.

Hence the rambling post about things I have to do.

"Better out than in, I always say." ~Shrek

Very indullllgent post, indeed.

Thank you.

A musing on dogs.

2010-03-23T09:40:00.008-06:00

Do you all remember Boudreaux?

Yeah, he was my crazy cute gay dog.

He earned the nickname Sir Peesalotinthehouse. This dog would go outside and bark incessantly to be let back in at which point he would promptly pee on the floor.

People had warned me that Yorkies were notoriously hard to house break and while I believed them, I figured that after a couple of weeks of hard work we'd have an adorable fluff ball that would romp playfully in the backyard where he would also do his business like a normal dog should.

Uhm....no. Not so much.

Although, he did lay under my desk with his plunder and chew peacefully on his mint green, chiffon negligee in an adorable fashion (there will be no judging here, people), it wasn't enough.

Even this delicious level of eccentricity could not save Boudreaux from living down the street with the neighborhood dog whisperer six months after we got him. She still has to crate him when he's in the house because even she can't house break him.

All this to say, I kinda miss Boudreaux today. Sometimes I still wish for a dog. Not a puppy this time, but a full grown lap dog.

I like Pugs. I grew up with Pugs. PB and I had one shortly after we got married. Her name was Maggie. She was the best dog ever and a cinch to house break.

Some days I miss having a dog. But then I look at my nice clean carpet and I'm over it.

Insert your own life analogy....

2010-03-17T15:53:00.004-06:00

Several weeks ago, something strange caught my eye in one of our windows high above our foyer.

I had to look at it several times because I wasn't sure it could be what I thought it was.

After a conference with PB, we decided that yes, indeed, a bird had careened into the window and left his splat mark.

He obviously didn't die because we looked for a little dead body, but couldn't find one.

"No worries." PB told me, "The next big rain will wash it away."

That was about fifteen big rain storms ago. The bird splat won't wash away.

From my office, I can see this window and stare at that bird splat. Not because it's particularly disturbing, but because it's such great blog fodder.

I thought about all the different ways I could make a bird flying into my window interesting or funny, but ultimately I decided it was pretty deep...in a bird hitting the glass metaphor kind of way.

Which part speaks to you? The bird flying into the window? His futile attempt to get inside? His obvious blindness? His super powerful feather dust clinging to the window? The multiple rainstorms that are impervious to his obvious attempt at sanctuary? My dirty window?

You get to insert your own life analogy here because there are way too many for me to choose from.

The New York Times Article on Mommy Bloggers (and Bloggy Boot Camp)

2010-03-14T22:34:00.004-06:00

I have blogged for four years.

FOUR.

I began blogging because I love to write. Just write. For two years it didn't even dawn on me to care that no one commented on my blog.

Twitter hadn't been invented yet.

SEO didn't exist.

"Social Media" wasn't in anyone's vocabulary.

I HATE controversy with the intensity of a thousand white hot suns, but I can't ignore this article in the New York Times. Honey, Don't Bother Mommy. I'm Too Busy Building My Brand

I found it to be a bit sarcastic, and I'm on the defensive.

Tiffany and I work sooooo hard to balance our blogging and our families.

I do resent the implication that we're putting "our brand' ahead of our families. Or that any of us is.

It's an awfully big generalization to insinuate that if you blog, you must be sacrificing time with your family to do it.

SITS is for making people happy. It always has been.

Bloggy Boot Camp is about encouraging women in their passion. Why do I have to feel like that is silly?

Mindless Junque is my hobby. My respite. Am I not entitled to that? (I ask as I write this post at 11:11 PM with my children long since fed, bathed, and tucked safely to bed after a fun day at the Ostrich Festival to celebrate the beginning of Spring Break).

And if one day I can help my family in this scary economy with money I make through social media, I won't feel guilty about it.

I don't have the TIME to feel guilty about it. I'm too busy keeping the balance...well, the balance the best I know how while drinking my POM Wonderful pomegranate juice and wearing my Sanita clogs that are so super comfy for a busy mom with foot issues.

Uhm...yeah, I just said that.

Because I'm worth a brand. And by 11:30 at night, I've earned the right to build it.

It's a Lord of The Rings Miracle

2010-03-03T07:15:00.003-07:00

Several weeks ago, we woke to find that a fairy had moved into our home.

In her letter to us, she asked us to name her.

We named her an ancient, Gaelic name you'd totally think to name a fairy.

Madison.

Tolkien would be proud.

Religion in a grocery bag.

2010-03-01T20:56:00.003-07:00

Look at how the lady bagged my groceries today.

I felt it blog-worthy and, yet, in need of very little explanation.

It speaks for itself. No?

I was never good with numbers.

2010-02-17T22:56:00.003-07:00

If I look on my dashboard, I see that I "manage" twelve different blogs.

Ten of them aren't even active.

But they're there. Reminding me of my crazy, jumbled up brain.

My life feels a little like my dashboard.

I have all these things going at once and only about one sixth of them actually functioning.

And only half of that one sixth is functioning with any regularity.

A love story, the closet and advice to famous people.

2010-02-07T20:55:00.007-07:00

Hello there, girls! Welcome to my blog.

I could never have imagined that just a couple of short years ago, Tiffany and I would have taken SITS as far as it has come. It's been so exciting to see it grow and watch all of our hard work pay off in such a rewarding way.

So, thank you for each and every one of your comments. It's a passion for blogging and connecting that started this and what continues to make it so rewarding.

As far as my little corner of the world goes...

I'm a mom to four little girls. No one is over the age of nine.

Busy is an understatement.

Blogging is an outlet, as it is for many of you. I never really thought of it as a way to connect but that's become one of my favorite reasons for blogging.

That, and my love of writing.

I hope to write the next great love story one day soon.

I have a pretty amazing real life love story here.

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Part Seven
Part Eight
Part Nine
Part Ten
Part Eleven
Part Twelve
Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen

I often hide from my children in the closet and vlog here.

And I'm constantly being asked advice from very famous people. Here's what I tell them.

Thanks for coming over. I'll see you all in roll call!!

This is the post in which I keep it real.

2010-02-03T18:40:00.004-07:00

I've never had an eating disorder. However, as a woman, I can completely understand how it happens.

I work out almost every day.

I live on Greek yogurt.

And yet I still can't understand why my body won't look like this.

Photo courtesy Victoria's Secret

This isn't where I confess to anything other than wanting something that's completely unrealistic.

And airbrushed.

I do the exact same thing with my house.

I paint.

I fluff.

I stress.

Because I think it should look like this...

Photo courtesy Candice Olson via the blog Design Happens on HGTV.com

Ecclesiastes 2

²⁴ A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, ²⁵ for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment? ²⁶ To the man who pleases him, God gives wisdom, knowledge and happiness, but to the sinner he gives the task of gathering and storing up wealth to hand it over to the one who pleases God. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

I can't pretend to not care about perfection and working towards something unattainable and wordly. I'm human.

But I CAN strive towards the perfection that is doing all things for the glory of God. Namely, quit worrying so much about things I can't change and enjoy what I've been given.

My body will go away one day and I'll want to redecorate in a year anyway.

In the meantime, the girls just want me to play Go Fish with them.

I'm hungry.

2010-02-01T22:32:00.003-07:00

I'm so hungry right now.

It's 10:30, though, and I really shouldn't eat anything.

Things have been crazier than usual around here lately. Explains the muchies. I'm an emotional eater. I'll also eat when I'm bored.

I guess that means I don't really stand a chance.

All I know is that I could really stand a nice, fluffy piece of cheesecake with big, fat strawberries on top. And a cup of decaf. That last part should be no surprise. I have a problem. At least I'm honest about it.

That's all for now.

And the car goes to...

2010-01-28T08:48:00.004-07:00

I've decided that if I'm ever as rich as Oprah, there are some people in my life that I'd like to buy cars for.

Emma's teacher this year would definitely get a car. She's funny and laughs with the kids ALOT and yet she strikes a great balance between fun and strict. I love a teacher that is comfortable with being tough. I have an entire post on the slipping standards we put on our kids' behavior...but I'm too chicken to hit the publish button.

That could be an entire post in and of itself. Publish Button Phobia. I do think it's warranted sometimes. We shouldn't always hit the publish button just because it's our blog and we can say what we want to.

Moving on...

I would also buy a car for the twins Sunday School teacher. She hugs them with a genuine joy at seeing them every Sunday. She sends them their lessons if they miss a week. She sends them birthday cards and books for Christmas. She had us fill out an information sheet telling her a little bit about our children. She's amazing.

I would've bought Sara's preschool teachers cars. Both of them. They were so patient and kind and organized. It's the only time Sara's really loved school. And they did crazy kid crafts like painting with dead fish. Yeah, it was as gross as it sounded but the kids thought it was cool. They had to paint the fish and then press their paper down on it. I'm sorry...but you rock as a preschool teacher if you are willing to touch a dead fish and deal with 17 screaming four year olds just to introduce them to an ancient Japanese art form. You deserve a car, man.

And although she probably wouldn't need me to buy her a car, I would've offered one to the girls' pediatrician in Colorado. When we'd come in and I'd have whatever the girls were in for, she'd prescribe me medicine too so I wouldn't have to go to the doctor myself. If any of you try to report her to any sort of medical board for doing so, I'll deny everything. You've obviously never been a sick mother with multiple sick children and I will not look at you.

The following list of people may or may not need me to buy them a car, but I would like to show them my appreciation:

Whomever invented epidurals

Keurig coffee makers

Julia

My mom

My 11th grade English teacher

The paint guys at Home Depot

Our babysitter

Myself

I'm sure I could sit here and think of people all day. So, if you get a car in your driveway with a big red bow on it...it's from me and I've won the lottery.

Paula's Taco Soup recipe

2010-01-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

This is Paula's Taco Soup recipe. It's comfort food for sure, but I cut the recipe in half. It makes ALOT!!

Taco Soup

Recipe courtesy Paula Deen

Prep Time:: 15 min
Inactive Prep Time:: --
Cook Time:: 6 hr 0 min

Level:: Easy

Serves:: 12 to 16 servings

Ingredients

2 pounds ground beef
2 cups diced onions
2 (15 1/2-ounce) cans pinto beans
1 (15 1/2-ounce) can pink kidney beans
1 (15 1/4-ounce) can whole kernel corn, drained
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can Mexican-style stewed tomatoes
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 (14 1/2-ounce) can tomatoes with chiles
2 (4 1/2-ounce) cans diced green chiles
1 (4.6-ounce) can black olives, drained and sliced, optional
1/2 cup green olives, sliced, optional
1 (1 1/4-ounce) package taco seasoning mix
1 (1-ounce) package ranch salad dressing mix
Corn chips, for serving
Sour cream, for garnish
Grated cheese, for garnish
Chopped green onions, for garnish
Pickled jalapenos, for garnish

Directions

Brown the ground beef and onions in a large skillet; drain the excess fat, then transfer the browned beef and onions to a large slow cooker or a stockpot. Add the beans, corn, tomatoes, green chiles, black olives, green olives, taco seasoning, and ranch dressing mix, and cook in a slow cooker on low for 6 to 8 hours or simmer over low heat for about 1 hour in a pot on the stove. To serve, place a few corn chips in each bowl and ladle soup over them. Top with sour cream, cheese, green onions and jalapenos.

Because I've always loved Conan...

2010-01-21T13:00:00.002-07:00

O'Brien, not The Barbarian.

Several years ago, when he called to ask my advice on taking over the Tonight Show I unequivocally said YES. For years I've thought the Conan was the funniest man on late night tv and I was thrilled that he was being handed the preverbal torch, as it were.

So I said to him, "Conan, you run with this. Don't change who you are though. The dry wit really works and you shouldn't change yourself to be just another Jay Leno. I like Jay and all, but his voice bugs me a little. And when he's not in a suit, he wears a denim button up shirt with jeans. Nobody does that, Conan. And that's all he wears when not in his suit. How many denim shirts can one man have?"

Conan replied, "Maybe he spent all of his money on all of those cars."

I said, "Even so...there are other colors of shirts. Are you saying he's wearing the SAME shirt over and over again? Because if you are, I'm going to hide in a corner and hit myself repeatedly in the head."

The conversation launched into a discussion about Jay Leno's fashion sense, or lack thereof, and the whereabouts of his wife or publicist or anyone that could suggest he wear something other than a denim shirt with jeans (which just SHOULDN'T be done).

It all concluded with the obvious. Conan took the job and I was overjoyed at the prospect of those of us who appreciate a dry, sarcastic sense of humor finally being entertained and The Tonight Show changing gears.

And right about now you're wondering why I care so much or why you're still reading instead of hiding in a corner abusing yourself because I lost my funny about a year ago.

Not that it's worth anything at this point, but Jay really should've stepped down and let Conan have his day.

Really. He should have.

I doubt Conan is crying over his 35 million dollar kiss off, but it's the principle of the thing.

Scorpions, one...mommy, zero.

2010-01-19T21:49:00.003-07:00

Well, it's happened. The precious twinfant I posted about just yesterday got stung...by a SCORPION!!!

Yes. You read that right.

I know. It's January. I know. I thought scorpions went away during the winter too, but there she was...being a puppy crawling around on the floor and she put her little finger down right in it's path.

It lurked just under the couch and she popped up and tried to be such a big girl. We didn't quite know what happened at first. I thought a staple or something had been poking out of the couch and maybe had caught her finger.

But she was crying too hard.

All in one sentence she said, "It bit me. It electrocuted me. It STUNG me!!"

PB rushed over and pulled up the couch and there it sat.

I can't be funny and make jokes about what the scorpion would've said because it broke my heart.

And she said through her tears, "I TOLD you I didn't want to move to Awizona!!"

We washed her little finger and PB tried sucking some of the venom out per the internet instructions on what to do if you're stung by a scorpion. I dosed her up with Benadryl and Ibuprofen and stuck her in bed with me and watched her sleep all night.

And felt guilty for making her move to Awizona where scorpions ruin a perfectly good game of puppies.

Let the royal rumpusses begin...

2010-01-19T08:51:00.003-07:00

My babies turned five this weekend.

FIVE!!

They were just born.

They still let me snuggle them and bite their cute little toes, but they also like to watch iCarly and put on "nake-up". They wander around the house listening to their playlists on my iPod and no longer want to be called Fashion Girl and Barbie Princess.

Now it's Lilly and Natasha.

Such sophistication.

And when I ask them if they want to read the story about the "unihorn" they correct me with great enunciation..."mom, it's uniCORN."

Thank goodness we still hear the "boice" of God in the back seat of the van sometimes.

As a mother grieving the last vestiges of babyhood, I'd be lost without it.

Movie Night in the Closet with Heather

2010-01-10T22:37:00.001-07:00

A summery little tune

2010-01-07T19:22:00.002-07:00

I'm the only dork in this valley who is ready for summer.

I'm thoroughly enjoying January in Phoenix, but I have to admit that I'm ready for some flip flop weather. For us, it's just around the corner.

I think this song sounds like summertime and so this one goes out to all of my friends and family freezing their pieces parts off.

Stay warm.

I realize the lyrics have nothing to do with summer. I just think the tune is summery sounding.

Christmas is DONE, man.

2009-12-27T21:38:00.002-07:00

Christmas is over and I am one of those people that would take the tree down on Christmas day if I felt like it wasn't offensive to the little baby Jesus and His birthday. I feel it's really the least I can do to celebrate His special day the ENTIRE day, but the morning of the 26th is no holds barred.

As I write this post, all of the decorations in my house are boxed up and back in their closet.

D-U-N. Done.

We start decorating and celebrating around here on Thanksgiving, so I feel like we've given Christmas it's due.

But I'm always so relieved to get on with life after Christmas is over. No more worrying about gifts and baking and Christmas dresses.

Now I can get back to mothering and wife-ing and soccer, gymnastics, dance, piano, laundry, menu planning, etc.

And I don't do New Year's resolutions, as I've stated in the past. I think they just set me up for failure. Maybe I'll do a post of New Year's resolutions in reverse. Like...I resolve to GAIN ten pounds, obtain as many wrinkles as humanly possible, continue my quest towards extreme unorganization, add twenty new unfinished projects to the fifteen I have sitting around my house...

You get the idea.

That way, when I actually accomplish these goals I feel very successful and fulfilled.

And the...

2009-12-22T06:21:00.003-07:00

It's 6:21 in the A.M.

I've been up since 4:00.

It happens on occasion and, actually, I kinda like it. It gives me at least a couple of hours to myself. I've watched "He's Just Not That Into You" and it was, surprisingly, pretty cute. I love a good romantic comedy at 5 in the morning.

I know I haven't blogged much lately. This is such a busy time of year with the decorating and the baking and the planning and the shopping and the wrapping and the kids. Not to mention the cleaning and the laundry and the cooking and the kids and the trying to make Christmas as magical as possible with the crafting and the memories and the special mommy days and the movies and the precious moments. And then, of course, there are the kids and the bathing and the germs and the fighting and the whining and the pictures and the Costco and the cookie making and the trips to the craft store to get something that will occupy them while I shave my legs.

Do you think Starbucks is open yet?

It probably is, but unlike Colorado, Arizona doesn't have any drive thru Starbucks. This makes things awkward when you go in your pj's.

Ah well.

I should start doing laundry anyway. Because I probably only have 20 minutes more to myself before the kids start getting up and we have to do the errands and the mopping and grocery shopping and the hair cutting and the back patio washing and the dusting and the merry making...

MERRY SITSMAS!!!!

2009-12-07T21:56:00.004-07:00

Today is the big day!! SITSmas is finally here!! So, from my family to yours...

Have a very, Merry SITSmas (and Christmas)!

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Wal Mart Christmas Dresses

2009-12-03T23:03:00.006-07:00

We went to visit the big man today. Sat on his lap and all that jazz. He was jovial and fostered some light conversation. It was lovely.

The girls had a half day of school, so after they got home I got a wild hair to run out and get our Santa visitin' done. In fact, I got many wild hairs. I CURLED all four little heads of hair. Then, I fell under a self imposed impression that it was an emergency to run to Wal Mart and buy everyone matching Christmas dresses.

Wal Mart.

Why on EARTH did I think the Wal Mart was where I needed to go for Christmas dresses???? Would that be the first place you'd look for fluffy holiday frocks? No. Of course not. But in my ~~crack~~ Starbucks induced haze I found the idea of Christmas dress shopping at Wal Mart refreshing and brilliant.

I. have. so. fallen. off. the. edge.

We found matching dresses. We found white tights.

We changed in the Wal Mart bathroom handicap stall.

It's probably not politically correct to call it a "handicap stall" anymore but somehow "germ infested cess pool of filth" doesn't seem quite right either. I wouldn't want to hurt Wal Mart's feelings.

After gambling with our immune systems, we emerged ready to go visit Santa in full Christmas regalia.

JOY TO THE WORLD!!

It worked out well and the picture will don our family Christmas card.

I can tell you that I learned a few things today.

1.) I am certifiable

2.) Wal Mart does have Christmas dresses...and possibly feelings

3.) I have got to quit eating so much sugar and drinking so much ~~crack~~ Starbucks

4.) Almost-nine-year-olds are too cool for Santa

5.) I foam at the mouth when my almost-nine-year-old rolls her eyes at me

The swine flu, Glee, and paint

2009-12-02T07:20:00.003-07:00

I'm not vlogging today for several important reasons. All of them stem from the fact that I have no make up on. In fact, I haven't worn make up for about a week now. And while this may seem trivial to some of you, others know that I must've had a child with the swine flu (not capitalized on purpose) in my home to have gone make-upless for a full seven days. Which I, in fact, did.

Bit of randomness...you should go buy the Glee Soundtrack on iTunes, by the way. It's really good. So is the show. So is Puck.

This one is for you Lula.

See, if you aren't watching Glee then you're missing Puck. We don't want that to happen.

Moving on...thanks to Tamiflu, we made it through Thanksgiving without a plague upon this house. We cancelled our family plans and stayed at home in our pj's and ate from paper plates. I still made a turkey with all the fixin's, but we kept it casual.

I, did, however make everyone sit at the table with a lit candle to eat from the paper plates. There was no need to be uncivilized just because we were dealing with a virus named after a farm animal.

After the H1N1 triumph, the twins got colds. And then one got a stomach bug.

When it rains, it pours.

I've been busy stress eating and stress decorating. I'm obsessing over projects I haven't even started yet. PB is insisting I finish one before I start another. I suppose that is wise counsel. I'll finish painting our bathroom before moving onto the guest room. "Poopy Diaper" is not a color I choose for my guests to room in. I love painting anyway. It makes me happy. I just get too happy and tend to jump from one room to another before fully finishing the first.

I never said I wasn't ADD.

Now, go download that Glee soundtrack. You'll thank me. I'll be waiting.

She's back in the closet again.

2009-11-15T22:42:00.002-07:00

Tuesdays with Heather...in the closet.

2009-10-29T09:00:00.001-06:00

It WAS Wednesday yesterday when I recorded this. I do realize that it is, in fact, Thursday now.

Let's talk about the elephant in the room...

2009-10-28T09:48:00.002-06:00

Hulk Hogan.

He's long been reveared by many a little boy as the greatest WWF wrestler of all time. PB remembers vividly when this blond haired beast of a man came crashing into "sports".

Okay, PB totally doesn't remember. He was busy hunting squirrels in the mid-80's.

I was playing with Barbies and listening to my Laura Brannigan record. Of course I played with Barbies well into the fifth grade. Through therapy, I am free to admit that now.

But we KNEW who Hulk Hogan was and to that extent, haven't really thought about him since then.

Oh, sure, I watched his reality show a few times. No. It wasn't particularly entertaining. He always looked kind of tired. I kept thinking..."Why do his wife and daughter keep trying to give him make-overs?" and "Why isn't his son taller? It seems like Brooke got all of Hulk's genes. The poor boy is aaaaallll his momma."

I think we all thought those things.

And then his wife filed for divorce and let the pool boy move in. He was Brooke's age. Have you seen Hulk's ex-wife????

I don't think any more needs to be said on that.

When Hulk's ex allowed the pool boy to move into the house that Hulk, himself, had bought her and let the pool boy drive the car that Hulk's money had paid for, the Hulk admitted how he could see why OJ got so crazy mad.

PB and I have commented on more than one occasion that the Hulk kept it classy.

Here's his interview with Meredith Viera on the Today Show yesterday.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I'm so glad that Laila Ali called him at such a critical moment. I can't imagine the poor Hulk in so much pain. I kinda like having the big guy around. His blond hair makes him a big 'ol ray of sunshine.

Even I can't tell at this point if I'm being sarcastic or not.

Things that make me happy...

2009-10-27T11:00:00.000-06:00

...not necessarily in this order:

When little girls sing with "vibrato" after watching a Barbie movie.

Designer jeans.

Sitting in the waves on the beach.

Old Christmas songs.

The weather in Arizona.

Crab legs and sweet tea.

My husband.

Pumpkin spice anything.

Snuggling with freshly bathed kids.

The smell of Coppertone in the spring.

Roly poly babies with chubby thighs.

Lying under the Christmas tree in the dark and looking up at the Christmas lights.

A two hour nap.

Camping in the Fall.

An amazing book that I can't put down.

Easter dresses.

Your Song by Elton John.

Pug puppies.

The French Quarter.

What makes you happy?

Questions from famous people.

2009-10-26T09:56:00.004-06:00

I often receive emails from celebrities asking me various questions. Often times, they are searching for answers and find me a no-nonsense alternative to the people that surround them.

Britney Spears wants to know: "Hi Heather. Long time fan, first time commenter. I have two small boys and wondered: what is the secret to being a good mother?"

A: I'm asked this alot. Just the other day Tori Spelling and I had a long conversation about the pros and cons of having giant paper mache mushrooms at a one-year-old's birthday party. Common sense. That's the secret. OH, and wearing underwear.

Elvis asks: "I love your blog. I've been reading it forever and find your writing style both witty and engaging. Keep up the good work. Now, to my question: Do you believe in ghosts?"

A: Despite that fact that you are logged onto the internet from the "great beyond", no I don't. If I did believe in ghosts it would give them some sort of legitimacy and then everyone would want to haunt me. I feel like I would be very 'haunt-able'. I do, however, believe in aliens.

David Duchovny writes: "Hey, Heather. You rock my world and I've heard that you believe in aliens. I happen to have first hand experience with many different types of unexplained phenomena. Maybe I could share my findings with you sometime."

A: You seem slightly confused, Mr. Duchovny. You don't, in fact, have first hand experience with aliens. You were just acting on a tv show. Or high on cocaine during an "encounter". You are gross. Don't email me again.

Martha Stewart invites: "Hello, dear friend. I see that you enjoy decorating as much as I do. I feel as if we could be assets to one another and would love to have a meeting of sorts, a symposium if you will, to trade ideas. It could be a good thing."

A: Martha, are you asking me on a date!?? I had no idea you played for that team. I'm flattered but I'm afraid I am not available for a "symposium". You are super sweet for thinking of me though. And by the way, windex does NOT clean shower doors. Or stainless steel for that matter. Martha, I'd like you to meet my friend Reality. Reality, this is Martha.

Paula Deen graciously offers: "Hey, girl! We heard Martha asked you out on a date. I have a proposition for you too. Lafayette from True Blood along with Kurt from Glee and I want to know if you would be our best friend. We have a little club that meets at my house on Wednesdays. I cook and Lafayette gives us all makeovers. Kurt teaches us dance routines. Are you in?"

A: Is the Pope religious??? Uhm...yeah!! I'm so there. And I'll provide the fingernail polish and clove cigarettes. I may or may not be squealing like a little girl right now.

So, that is just a sprinkling of the questions (and various offers) I get regularly. Thought you might like seeing the inner-workings of what goes on here behind Mindless Junque.

Vegas and my dining room

2009-10-22T20:11:00.013-06:00

Just so you all don't get freaked out that I've been taken by South American drug lords to be their hostaged "mule"...

I am here.

SITScation was a roaring success, but if you're reading this you're also probably reading the blogs of other SITScation attendees and know by now that it was amazing.

They probably also have pictures to prove it's amazingness. I do not because I am not only the world's worst picture taker, but I always forget my camera.

And now that SITScation is done, I'm focusing my energies on getting ready for the holidays. My dad and his wife are coming into town for Thanksgiving and so there are some things that need to be taken care of.

Like dining room chairs.

Tufts are nice. I'm thinking these might work.

Photo courtesy of Sears

And I need a light. What about this?

Photo courtesy of Horchow

I'd like a foofy rug.

Photo courtesy of Layla Grace

I like the mix of traditional but with a little fluff. Maybe a mirror for some sparkle?

Photo courtesy of Ballard Designs

I don't know...the mirror is not quite right. It might be a little too Tuscan and I'm going for more French Country-ish. No, wait, French Apartment?

Maybe some South American drug lords could help me out. I'm sure they have French connections.

And I wonder what sort of internet havoc I am wreaking by continuously mentioning terrifying felons.

2009-10-14T08:14:00.003-06:00

Can a blog run it's course? Do you think that sometimes the delete button can be cathartic? What started for my girls turned into a quest for comments. I judged my wit, my creativity, and my writing skills by the number of comments I got after ever post.

I averaged a fairly high number there for a while, but then some things changed and what started as a hobby became a chore.

I look back and still don't know how I wrote a post a day. I think maybe it was because the twins were still so little that they didn't realize how much time I spent on the computer. They're older now, though, and demand more of my undivided attention.

All of my girls do. I thought it would get easier as they got older, but it just kind of gets busier. There's talk of soccer in the spring and ballet lessons for Christmas. Some are showing a certain aptitude for piano playing and that means my chauffeur season of life begins.

I'm too busy to be funny lately.

I don't think I'm going anywhere, but I think things need to evolve. This blog needs to evolve. I'm exploring some other platforms that streamline the process. I'm trying them on and checking them out.

I'll let you know what happens.

In the meantime, let's enjoy Mr. Paul Wesley from The Vampire Diaries (aka: The Hotness That SHOULD Have Been Edward Cullen)

Momma Needs a New Kitchen Faucet

2009-10-11T22:13:00.003-06:00

Kate over at Centsational Girl is having a giveaway for a new Price Pfister faucet.

I would LOVE to win a new kitchen faucet. I really need a new kitchen faucet.

So, to earn an extra entry I am posting about her giveaway here.

Now begins the praying and fasting that I win.

Well, the praying for sure...

Momma's Christmas list

2009-10-07T09:06:00.007-06:00

I think it's fun (or a little depressing...depending on your state of mind) to think about my dream Christmas list every year.

The rules are simple:

There is no dollar limit

That's it. Those are the rules. The sky's the limit. Now, of course some of the things on the list are very do-able. Some are impossible, but that's the fun of it.

1. Fossil Pink Dial Multifunction Boyfriend Watch

2. Tiffany & Co. Heart Tag Necklace (PB has instruction to win enough at the Blackjack tables to buy me this in Vegas).

3. A Kindle

4. A beach house that looks like this:

With a golf cart to drive down to the beach like this:

5. A Macbook Pro

Ok, so now YOU try it. No limits...what do you want for Christmas? And you can't ask for world peace. That's just silly.

Dame Edna Couture

2009-10-06T21:47:00.003-06:00

It's starting to feel like fall here. I know some of you scoff that 89 is hardly cool enough for fall, but it's pretty cool for here.

Yes...of course I made pumpkin crisp.

I've also been eating granny smith apples like my very life depends on it. I'm so freaky when it comes to seasonal fruit. I eat it in ridiculous quantities. Like, I have at least two apples a day.

WHO eats that many apples?

I guess I do.

We also scoped out the Goodwill for Halloween costumes. It's tradition. The twins are going to be fairy princesses. Hey...we're three years running!! All they ever want to be is fairy princesses.

At least they're predictable.

We ended up finding them some over the top frilly dresses as "costumes". You know...the ones from the flea market that hang on the outside of the permanent booths? The ones that are made entirely of satin? I swear these things still smell like funnel cakes.

Whatever. For $6.99 my kids can wear frocks from the Dame Edna's Miniatures collection and smell like walking carnival food and I'm all good. Stick a pair of wings on them and they're ready to go.

Short n' sweet

2009-10-02T12:30:00.002-06:00

I've got blogger's block.

My last post was reeeeally whiney. I don't have to color my own hair. I have saved the allotted funds to go get that done. PB loves me. I love him too.

That is all.

The post where I sound like a cat that's been duct taped

2009-09-29T08:00:00.000-06:00

Ah, it is with great horror that I tell you my recession hair has reared it's ugly head (pun intended) yet again. I am stooped to the level of drug store color in a box. It's a sad day, indeed. Will Beyonce' lull me in with promises of prisms casting brilliant rainbows from my silken locks? Perhaps Sarah Jessica Parker herself will whisper from the shelf, "You're worth it."

She does that alot.

I make no apologies for being a hair snob. Nope. And I won't start now. For years, the only dye that has recolored my tresses could only be bought in an exclusive salon by someone toting a license. I do not feel ashamed of that.

I've never asked if I needed ash or golden because there are only numbers that correspond to my color. We speak in "blues" or "coppers" and that doesn't refer to my hair being blue or orange. It refers to the undertones and when I speak of vampy red peek-a-boos, I am fully understood.

However, the budget smackdown of aught nine is nigh and I am left standing naked and alone in Walgreens. Shivering over my iPhone texting into the vast nothingness for help that comes with the reply, "It is a dark day, indeed. Do what you must, but be prepared for the outcome."

Because the truth is Beyonce' lies. She lies like a rug. There is no multi-prismatic nano technology housed, waiting to be uncorked, in that box sitting on that putty colored metal shelf.

And SJP doesn't know anything about being worth it because she struts her Milano Blahniks uptown to eat sushi and drink spritzers while Brad delicately foils her hair.

Trust me, they don't go anywhere near fluorescent lights to finger a coil of fake hair stuck under a box.

I am bitter.

And I am kidding...sort of. I may or may not have the cahones to try coloring my own hair. I'm not above it, I just don't want to mess it up because a redo job can be twice as much money as going and getting it done in the first place.

Before I get any unfortunate comments chastising my shallowness while somewhere, somehow, there are cats being duct taped I would like to add that PB pulled through in fine PB fashion and agreed that hair color shouldn't be left to the untrained. Nor should cats be duct taped.

It's just mean.

The Joy of Fabric

2009-09-24T22:13:00.009-06:00

I know I have proclaimed my love for angry music. Perhaps I've clued you in on my obsession with pomegranates. But have I ever told you how much I adore fabric?

Photo courtesy of Calico Corners

I love the smell of the cardboard rolls and the fabric dye. I soak in the rainbow of colors and patterns. I have to touch everything and always unroll things I like just enough to get the full effect of the pattern.

Photo courtesy of Calico Corners

And if I walk into a fabric warehouse, I get downright giddy and say things like: "Oh, this is such a fun texture." or "This color is downright delicious."

Photo courtesy of Calico Corners

Imagine my delight when the new friend that had been so sweet to take me to a couple of her favorite decorator fabric stores turned to me and said, "Couldn't you just eat it?"

Photo courtesy of Calico Corners

And I turned back to her, standing next to a striking raspberry damask with her sparkly headband twinkling under the fluorescent warehouse-y lights and said, "Yes. Yes, I could."

The cheapening of Twilight

2009-09-23T11:13:00.005-06:00

And so my favorite book has been whored out past no return.

Behold...

Yes...that is what you think it is. It's a Burger King crown.

Oh, Stephenie...Stephenie...Stephenie...Mrs. Meyer...

Is this what you envisioned while you wrote/breast fed your baby in the wee hours of the morning? Are you dying right now? I am dying for you.

Harry Potter on a Burger King crown? Of course. Appropriate, even.

EDWARD on a Burger King crown? I have no words. Well, none that I feel comfortable publishing. And for the bottom to declare what "team" the wearer is on?

One moment, please, while I foam at the mouth.

I cringed when the t-shirts surfaced in Hot Topic, I fell down when the perfume came out, but I draw the line at Burger King crowns.

Twilight will always hold a special place in my heart, but I now must officially turn the glow of my literary love to The Hunger Games.

Suzanne...Suzanne...Suzanne...Mrs. Collins. Here me now.

If you allow Katniss and Peeta's love to EVER be screened onto a t-shirt with some quote resembling something like..."Yes, I am a mom, yes I read Hunger Games, of course I love Peeta (don't tell my husband)", create a perfume in the shape of a Mockingjay, or allow Burger King to trailer park your characters by fashioning crowns through which the wearer can announce their devotion to "Team Peeta" or "Team Gale"...Not only will I slap the dollar signs from your eyes, but I will be forced to write a scathing post about the perils of selling your soul to the consumer devil.

Namely the loss of my devotion.

I don't think anyone wants that, now do we.

You don't want to know.

2009-09-19T08:26:00.006-06:00

I'm sure you've been on the edge of your seat waiting for me to tell you about my awesome mommy vacation.

No?

I don't blame you. It was beyond relaxing. Five days of no cooking, cleaning, whining, or responsibility.

Do you really want to hear about how we rarely left the balcony of our suite and, between the three of us, read sixteen books?

You probably don't want to know that we had room service bring us breakfast every morning and that we went to the dining room for five courses every night.

I won't bore you with the tale of docking in Cozumel and spending five hours floating in the azure ocean while Samuel brought our pina coladas and Dos Equis to the shoreline.

And the fact that we laughed ourselves to tears approximately every twenty-five minutes is surely of no interest to you. Get in there Lula!

I hate it when people brag about their vacations.

AHHHHHHH!!!!

2009-09-04T09:48:00.002-06:00

I have many exciting things happening in my life that don't include pull-ups or homework. The absence of both are exciting enough to post about but no.

First of all, I am going to New Orleans for my grandmother's 90th birthday. It'll be just me as it is a silly fortune to fly to the Big Easy. It's not a hub. It should be though, don't you think? Alas, there will be no time for the French Quarter. However, I'll be lounging in my father's pool sipping frosty, adult beverages.

I won't be home for long, though, because then I leave again. I will need my passport. AHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I'm going on a cruise with two dear friends!

We have vowed to read Catching Fire together, sleep, and visit the buffet with wild abandon. Actually getting off the boat is optional. Cozumel is so touristy anyway.

I have no idea who those people are. It's just such a good example of aforementioned touristy-ness. We will NOT be sticking our heads through plywood of any form or fashion. Nor will we be donning sombreros. I don't do that.

I suppose we'll step foot on land if they give us a beach to read on, more food, and more drinks.

I have waited for months for this trip and I can't wait!!

Cat fight!!!

2009-08-30T16:19:00.005-06:00

My girls fight all. the. time.

We've tried "problem solving" and giving them dialogue to try along with some ground rules on how each should try to work out their differences. Taking turns talking, for example, and not accusing the other person but using their 'feeling' words instead.

This did not work.

We instituted a point system in which they gained or lost points specifically for working out differences proactively vs. whining and crying.

This also did not work.

We forbade them to fight. We yelled back. We ignored the fighting.

None of these worked.

The thing about girls is that when they fight, their little voices reach a pitch that only dogs can hear. They cry and whine and roll around on the floor in a dramatic fashion.

I have resorted to wearing my headphones. I find that music stuck in my ears takes care of the fighting because then I can't hear it. They may all be in the other room rolling around together....I have no idea, because I can't hear them.

I'm trusting that if there's blood or fire that they'll actually get up and physically come get me. Or maybe not. They may just do what they always do and lay there calling for me.

Pitifully, calling..."Moooooooommmmaaaaaa!!!"

They're not allowed to lay a hand on each other, and that rule seems to stick. Go figure.

Ah, yes, in between songs I can hear the wailing.

Let's look at a picture of Chris Pine as James Tiberious Kirk while taking some deep breaths...shall we?

Nevermind.

They've moved into my office and now I've got two worlds merging that should just never encounter each other.

Girlfriends

2009-08-25T21:08:00.005-06:00

I've been feeling a little sorry for myself lately and knew that I it had gotten to the point where I needed professional girlfriend-y help.

I am very lucky and have some amazing friends.

Tiffany is who I call when I need someone to tell me that it's time to put on my big girl panties. She's also who I call when I want to go dancing, eat sushi, or go to a fabulous flea market or thrift store. She gets that part of me. She's the business suit and heels to my jeans and skater shoes. She inspires the entrepreneurial side of me. Actually, she inspires lots of sides of me. And we both love to decorate. You should see us in Home Goods or Hobby Lobby.

Julia is who I call when I am pitiful. Or, again, when I need sushi or coffee. If I want to sit at someone's house and have them feed me spice cake (which happens often), I call Julia. She also lets me dress her up when we're at the mall. She is at my complete whim. I make her try on fabulous jeans and boots. She likes boots. She has seen me at my lowest physically and emotionally. We have weathered womanly storms together and that makes her my soul sister. And we love to gamble together. Penny slots are our favorite. Right after the all-you-can-eat crab leg buffet.

Lula is who I call when I have, or want, some reeeeeally juicy gossip. She is my kindred spirit. We talk music and movies for hours on end. We just talk for hours on end period. About everything. She's who I call when I need to run away for a while and forget about laundry and the dishes. She's as freaky about vampires, young adult fiction, and Paula Deen as I am. And her texts make me laugh out loud in the middle of the day.

All three will get tattoos with me (very discreetly), live in a beach house with me as old women, smoke clove cigarettes with me (on special occasions), and be at my side in a moment's notice.

I love them.

Monkey love

2009-08-24T21:40:00.005-06:00

I'm not usually one of those people that is obsessed with baby animals. Kittens don't do a whole lot for me and only certain puppy breeds make me happy.

Any other baby animals are mildly cute and I've never owned a calendar or poster featuring baby anythings.

But these monkeys are the cutest things I've ever seen!

Seriously tell me that you don't want to take this face home and kiss it approximately every ten seconds. And I am NOT an animal kisser, people. That's disgusting.

Let's not pretend it wouldn't try to bite your jugular. It's a wild animal. But it's so stinkin' adorable.

In this August 2009 handout photograph provided by The Denver Zoo, emperor tamarin monkey twins Lara and Lucy look on from their home in the zoo's nursery. The twins are being cared for by zookeepers after they were orphaned on July 30 when their mother died from cancer, three weeks after giving birth to the pair.
(AP Photo/HO, The Denver Zoo, Dave Parsons)

Just in case...

2009-08-24T09:35:00.003-06:00

I love the movie "Juno". Aside from the veritable cornucopia of one-liners, I love the entire premise. I cry at the end every. single. time. I start at the part where Jennifer Garner is standing in the hospital nursery and she asks Allison Janney, "I'm a mom. How do I look? Do I look like a mom?" and the water works keep up until the end. Happy ending tears.

If you haven't seen it, it's a must rent.

And the reason why it makes me cry is because with four girls, the likelihood that one of them will come to us and tell us she's pregnant at 17 is four times more likely than a family with no girls.

We're a Christian family (Baptist) very devoted to our faith. That faith includes the belief that we should wait until we're married to have sex. However, I wasn't born yesterday. It was practically impossible when I was a teenager, and that was twenty years ago.

In the movie, her parents are loving and supportive. No yelling, no crying, no shame. Just love. I'm sorry for those of you that don't get to see hulu clips. There was nothing on YouTube.

While I intend to encourage my girls to wait to have sex, I will also be honest with them. I want them to know that my love is unconditional. Once the deed is done, it's done and no amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth is going to change any of it. I want them to be safe and educated. I will never be ashamed of them. I may not be happy about the situation, but we'll work through it together.

Now, ultimately, PB and I will never have to deal with this particular situation. However, I like to be prepared very early on just in case.

Four girls.

Four.

In the clip her stepmom asks her if she's considered "the alternative" which will NEVER be an option in our house. Just for the record.

If you aren't watching True Blood, you should be.

2009-08-16T22:41:00.002-06:00

You have to admit this is kinda creepy. PB thinks it's photoshopped, but it was on Yahoo!'s most emailed photos. Yahoo! says it's legit.

It's 3,000 years old. Remind you of anyone?

Moving on.

Here's some angry music I've been enjoying lately.

And lastly, when the smaller of the twinfants was asked by her big sister what it felt like to be the smallest in the family, her reply was..."...like I have no nose and no mouth."

Yeah, I don't really get it either.

Blogging Without Borders

2009-08-14T07:51:00.003-06:00

As happens periodically throughout ever year that I have blogged, I sit and wonder at it's purpose.

I just finished reading Emily's blog, Chatting At The Sky. She's always so inspirational and thoughtful and uplifting in her writing. I appreciate her quiet spirituality and admission of real-ness.

But I reflect on Mindless Junque and wonder what is so uplifting about dried mangos and angry music. I had a conversation with a new friend just after we moved here that went like this...

New friend: So, I don't know much about blogging. Tell me about it.

Me: Blogging can be anything from a personal diary to instruction on making homemade toothpaste. The sky's the limit. You can write about whatever interests you.

New friend: And people comment on your blog? How do they find you.

Me: (Here's where it starts to fall apart) By commenting on other people's blog, they come to visit your blog through your profile. That's why having a profile picture is so important. It's like the cover to a book.

New friend: So why would I read your blog? What will it teach me? What will it tell me?

*crickets chirping*

After stammering hopelessly and making proud references to SITS, I finally just said, "Well, that's the beauty of my blog. It's Mindless Junque. It's...mindless."

It's made me think and reflect on the purpose of it all. The last time I rode this merry-go-round, I came to the conclusion that I didn't want to be boxed into decorating or child rearing or New Guinea spear throwing. My life isn't so interesting that I can even pretend to write an entire blog about it and my kids are adorable, but I'm guessing you don't want to hear about their antics in every post. I'm not Kathy Lee Gifford (thank goodness) spouting off about Cody to Regis. So, I just write.

This isn't some cry for edification. No. It's just to let you know that at the end of it all I love to blog without boundaries. Oh. my. stars. I think I may have just created a new movement in the blogosphere. Bono will be proud. Blogging Without Borders. Brangelina might adopt me now.

It certainly deepens my respect for those who blog with passion, though. Emily is one of my favorite bloggers because she has such a heart for God. She encourages me to think about my faith and how to become a better person. I love her.

The heart of my blog is still so that one day, my girls can read this and know who I am and what goes through my head at any given moment. But it's for me too. I love to just sit and write. I could do it all day. Sometimes I do.

And that's that. It's mindless, it's a leaf floating on the water, it's naked Barbie and vampires and creepy guys at the gym and pretend interviews with Oprah in my car.

It's a break from doing laundry. The purpose behind Blogging Without Borders is to rest from laundry.

Sa-weet!!!

My soapbox.

2009-08-09T22:39:00.005-06:00

"Jessica. For God's sake," he said. "Allow me to do at least one common courtesy for you. In spite of what 'women's lib' teaches you, chivalry does not imply that women are powerless. On the contrary, chivalry is an admission of women's superiority. An acknowledgment of your power over us." - Beth Fantaskey, Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side

When I came to the above quote, I had to read it a couple of times because it is what every girl (and woman) should realize. Plus, it was being said by a vampire prince named Lucius. Yum. Good summer read. I recommend.

I had a friend once who told me that she hated it when men opened doors for her. She was under the impression that they must think she wasn't capable of doing it on her own. She found it degrading.

Cue my jaw dropping to the floor.

I've never seen chivalry as an indication that a man thought me incapable. I've always seen it as a gesture of respect and quite honestly, I find it sexy as hell.

As a mother to four daughters, I am teaching them (yes, even the 4 year olds) that they deserve to have doors held open for them. Not in a snooty 'I must have it' sort of way, but in an 'I am worthy of it' sort of way.

And mother's of sons, I implore you. Please teach them to be gentlemen. Please know that I am here, teaching my girls to appreciate it. I am teaching my girls to acknowledge your son's respect and truly appreciate the gesture. I swell with pride when my four little girls, following me like ducks through a door held open by a gentleman, echo in their tiny little voices, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you".

I love that my husband still opens the car door for me. I love that he guides me into a room with his hand on the small of my back. I love that he lets me sit down first and that he doesn't let the waitress take his plate until I'm all done. I love that he lets me order first and ALWAYS holds the door open for me.

I always thank him and I never see it as degrading.

I know I sound preachy, but I really think that this is where we've all kind of crumbled. Do not let your girls wear the word 'juicy' on their butts and teach them that they are worth the effort. They are worth being treated like princesses. Teach them to be worthy of chivalry.

And then teach them to never berate a man in public. Please.

But that's another soapbox for another day.

Because my life is so incredibly interesting right now...

2009-08-06T21:59:00.006-06:00

Speaking of Costco, I picked up some dehydrated mangoes (or is it mangos) and have since gotten addicted to them. Although they're very good, they're also really sweet so I can't necessarily say it's the taste. It's the texture.

No, I can't describe it.

But I'm sitting here craving them and they're not exactly sugar free.

Stupid tropical fruit.

It happens to me every year with pomegranates too. My fingers turn purple because I eat so many and don't even get me going on edamame.

And if you go to photobucket and try to find a picture of a mango because you need SOMETHING in this post that's remotely interesting, you find lots of pictures of dogs, cats, babies and Penelope Cruz.

Le sigh.

And this is what my writing has resorted to. A muse on my freaky food cravings.

Good times, people. Good times.

The summer of 2007

2009-08-04T17:30:00.006-06:00

The twinfants and I were in Costco today picking up some bulk lady bid'ness provisions (0' happy day) and passed the book table. Rumor has it that the newest Hunger Games is out already and I was hoping by some freak of chance they might have it.

Freak of chance. I just made that up.

No Hunger Games, but the table was full to the brim with Twilight and subsequent trilogies.

Ah, the summer of 2007. It changed my life.

But, alas, Twilight has been irreparably cheapened for me. First there was the the apple shaped perfume followed by the unfortunateness of the movie. There were no yellow cabinets, people. How film-budget-busting is a can of yellow paint, I ask. I would've flown it to Forks myself.

I'm trying to get on the Rob Pattinson train, but I'm afraid it left the station without me.

This is one of my favorite videos. The guy playing the wolf, Oliver Goodwell (thank you Lula for sussing that out) is how I pictured Edward. Minus the rocker mullet.

And my boyfriend will always be Jacob. ALWAYS.

And Bella? I imagined her as good 'ol Alexis Bledel from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Not the perma-stoned Kristen Stewart we all are forced to know as Bella now.

And why are we rehashing Twilight yet again?

I need another REALLY good love story to get sucked into. The Hunger Games rocked my world and I've since been somewhat entertained by the likes of Graceling and The Forest of Hands and Teeth. I tried to read Tithe by Holly Black but was sorely disappointed. I'm about to finish The Girl Who Could Fly and after taking some time to get into it, I'm enjoying it.

So, Costco didn't hold anything too earth shattering, but I did pick up Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Dark Side. It looks like a quick, cheap read.

When Twilight is your literary true love, all the rest are just book-whores.

Yep. I just said that.

The winners are...

2009-08-01T09:36:00.008-06:00

I'm so sorry I left my jewelry giveaway hanging in the breeze. This summer is biting me in the bootie for sure. Here are the two winners! The first comment (23) will win the necklace set and the second winner (56) will win the bird bracelet.

Here are your random numbers:

56 23

Timestamp: 2009-08-01 15:34:01 UTC

Hooray for Amy from Dawdlebug Diaries and

Lisa Anne from Smell The Coffee, Lisa!

A jewelry give away!

2009-07-25T20:16:00.009-06:00

I love a good give away and I love surprises even more.

Surprise!! I'm having TWO give aways!

My mom is such a talented jewelry maker, and she's here visiting, so we thought it would be a fantastic idea to give away some of her jewelry.

I know. I'm excited too.

So, here are the rules...just leave me a comment on this post.

That's all.

You don't have to follow me, you don't get any additional entries for posting about this on your blog (you're just really sweet if you do so), or wear a sombrero in a goofy fashion.

Our first give away is for this lovely ensemble with beads made from women in Uganda. This is THE coolest story. Go toBead For Life to watch these amazing women at work and learn all about this incredible cause. They're making such a difference for their families and for themselves by making these beads from rolled paper they find. So, these beads have an environmental and social impact. My mom used their beads to make a necklace, bracelet and earrings.

Click to enlarge.

Our next giveaway is a Heather's Mom Original creation. I picked this particular bracelet out myself to give away because I looooove the color of the beads and the sweet little bird charms...even though birds are terrifying and will poke your eyes out. I find them precious on jewelry.

And here is a fine example of my awesome photography prowess. I find the blurriness to really add to the vintage feel of the piece. Work with me here, people.

We will randomly choose two people on this Thursday evening and post the winners on Friday morning.

You can email me with questions, huge commissioned projects for my mom that will render her filthy rich, or unabashed words of admiration.

Good luck everyone!!

Musicals make me cry.

2009-07-23T19:46:00.004-06:00

I am a HUGE Abba fan. I mean, HUGE. My uncle made me my first Abba tape when I was in the fourth grade. I bought the Abba Gold cd when I was twenty-one.

I loved Abba before it was cool to love Abba.

I hadn't seen Mama Mia yet, so when it came on the other day I made the girls sit down to watch it as a right of passage into the wonderful world of Abba.

I cried through the whole stinkin' thing. Musicals make me cry. I can't watch High School Musical without getting all choked up. I don't know what it is. I mean, I know it's not the subject matter.

It's the music.

It's something about the music.

It's not even that it's sad music. Grease is the happiest musical ever, right? But those first glorious strains of "...Grease is the word..." peel from the speakers and those cartoon characters strut across the screen and I'm mush.

I'm so weird.

Forget about taking me to Phantom or CATS. I'm a mess.

My dad sent me this video today and the music with the dancing...well, I bawled like a baby watching it.

Yes, it's a blessed event. Yes, the bride and groom are destined for a happy future. All of that is worthy of mist, but just because they dance...I'm a goner.

Guilt

2009-07-22T22:21:00.002-06:00

I lose friends because I never call. I have a few that understand and love me irregardless, but the fact remains that people are hurt by my lack of communication.

They think I should make the time.

I should. It's true.

But I'm afraid they must see me sitting in my house, twiddling my thumbs, thinking..."I'm just not going to call them." or "They aren't worth the time."

When in all reality, I'm thinking...

"Emma's on a special learning plan for reading in school because I don't ever sit and read with her."

"Sara's little OCD episodes are a cry for attention because she's not getting enough from me."

"The twins whine so much because all I do is whine to them when it takes me two hours to get them to sleep because they want 'one more kiss', 'a book before bed', or 'their skin itches'."

Bath night starts at six and ends at nine. We might or might not get teeth brushed on those nights because making sure four little people have brushed, flossed, and swished properly (so that we don't have another $600 dental bill) takes at least thirty to fourty-five minutes. Everyone's tuck-in routines take at least that long as well.

On top of that, we've had two sets of homework to do, dinner to eat, and have tried to squeeze in some sort of quality family time.

I do AT LEAST three loads of laundry a day, cook three hot meals (well, at least two) and try to keep my house liveable all while trying to keep everyone from pulling each other's hair out.

As I type this, a four year old has come into the study to ask me to rearrange her covers...and it's 9:30 at night.

I am a mother to four girls and the harsh reality is that it's only going to get busier once school starts and everyone wants to do an extra-curricular activity. They only get to choose one, but they all want to try something different.

No, I am not sitting in my house consciously ignoring you. I am not hating you or forgetting you.

I am sitting in my house trying not to feel guilty that I can't do it all.

WHEW! I feel better now...

The After and The Aftermath

2009-07-20T09:58:00.014-06:00

Sorry it took me so long, faithful friends. I got phone calls and emails checking to make sure I hadn't painted myself into any corners or been stung by any giant scorpions. Neither happened, thank goodness.

No, instead, it dawned on me that my girls all start school next week and that I should probably do some things like...get them registered and buy them shoes and such.

So, without further ado, here are the before and afters of my formal living room. Que the trumpets and angelic voices from Heaven:

BEFORE

And AFTER

I still need to hang my pictures and I'm not the best photographer, but you get the idea. I really like the blue. Very Marie Antoinette blue. I promised to do the girls' rooms next, but those probably won't come for a few weeks and I won't be cruel and leave you hanging like I did this time. You'll get the before and afters once I'm done.

And now onto the scorpion hunt. I apologize now for the Blair Witchy-ness of the video, however I do think it adds to the overall spookiness.

Part One - A short lesson:

Part Two - The catch of the day:Part Three - The Cast of characters:

By the end of the hunt, PB had caught 12 scorpions. We like to think we put a hurtin' on the population. Subsequent hunts have not yielded such bounty, so we feel good that we're on top of the situation.

Goin' on a scorpion hunt

2009-07-13T23:50:00.003-06:00

The great scorpion scourge of aught nine is in full swing. We had the house fully sprayed inside and out the day we moved in. And they've been back to spray once again since I called, my voice a full octave above normal.

We have the best exterminators in the state.

They're still finding their way in and so PB and I have begun hours of endless research on what to do.

Apparently the poison doesn't actually KILL them. It drives them out of hiding and eliminates their food source. It also encourages my husband and his four girls to capture one and keep him in a jar that is currently sitting on my coffee table. They have shaken the jar to "see him get mad" and dropped in many dead crickets to "see if he'll eat them".

It's like some bizarre horror film.

So, we go onto YouTube and find bojillions of hilarious videos involving hunting for scorpions. It's quite a sport involving a black lite (which PB is enthusiastic about purchasing tomorrow) because the particular scorpions in this area will glow green under a black lite.

Good times.

So we've watched videos of epic battles set between scorpions and black widows set to a soundtrack of Nine Inch Nails. We've watched Redneck Scorpion Hunting and a scorpion taped to the side of a cardboard box while people take target practice at it. And my favorite...Bob Ross goes hunting for scorpions. Click on this link...

http://www.onefast1.com/movies/SH2006.mov

Tell me his voice is not hilarious. "Let's look here, between these two bricks. Ah, there's one now. This guy will put a world of hurt on you." All narrated in such a soft, soothing voice.

Such calmness, such poise.

I'm SO going to record our scorpion hunt tomorrow night. I'll narrate and post it here for you to enjoy.

Please stand by...

2009-07-13T08:47:00.003-06:00

I started painting as I promised, but I just have a little more to go before I can show you the finished product. I want you to get the full effect. I'll finish this afternoon and have the big reveal tomorrow morning.

But for now, I wanted to do a consumer review of the paint I used. I said I would go to Sherwin Williams, but my mom happened to call and I was telling her that I hoped the paint would help the house smell like mine.

I'm big on house smells. We got rid of the tee tee and so that is gone, but I'm finding the funk is multi-layered. Now it smells pungent, kind of like a mix between bug spray and curry. Weird.

I've even pulled out Tiffany's super secret recipe to her house smell.

Please pause to put "Go smell Tiffany's house" on your life list of things to do before you die. It smells awesome.

Anywho...so my mom says to me, "Honey, go get the paint with the primer in it." Now, KILZ makes paint, but that's not what she was talking about. Behr makes paint with primer in it. I told you that none of the Behr blues were quite right, but desperate to make this house smell like mine, I sent PB down to the Home Depot with color swatch in hand and instructions to get me 2 gallons of satin Behr with the primer already in it.

I was also covering a dark color with a much lighter one. By the way, the green was a nice green just not me.

So, I got to painting and at first was disappointed. Even with the primer in it, I had to do a second coat. I was kind of hoping to avoid this step using the paint with the primer. I actually found it to be a little thinner than regular Behr.

At first I was hating the paint and cursing it. But then I went to eat some lunch and came back and the room smelled HEAVENLY! It smelled like cinammony freshness.

Please accept my smell descriptions.

I am loving the Behr paint with the primer in it now. I am not impressed with the coverage perse', but I do like how it covered up the smell in that particular room. We still have a whole house to deal with (which makes PB fall prostrate to the floor).

A formal living room "before"

2009-07-10T09:22:00.004-06:00

It was your resounding cry for "before" and "after" pictures that has me gleefully skipping to my friendly neighborhood Sherwin Williams store this morning.

I'm usually a Home Depot Behr paint girl, but I'm not loving any of the blues they offer, so Sherwin Williams seems the next logical step.

I'm looking for a lovely, soft, powdery blue for my formal living room. Right now it is army green.

Behold...

A nice enough green, I suppose, but sooooo not my style. I'm trying to be nice here. And we won't speak of the Pergo. I have strong feelings about Pergo. I am a flooring snob as you will see in a later post. I can't help what I like, people.

So, consider this your "before" picture. If all goes as planned, you will soon have an after picture to accompany it.

Heat waves, and boxes, and scorpions...oh my!!

2009-07-09T16:52:00.005-06:00

Good gravy, I've been up to my ears in cardboard the past week.

We got the cat tee tee replaced and thus began the big move in. I don't recommend doing it when it's 110 outside. I must've lost 10 pounds.

We are loving the Valley of the Sun and fully know why they call it that now. It's hot, people. Hot tub hot. I'm not in any way complaining, though. I love the heat. I love the desert.

I did not love the scorpion boldly sitting on my kitchen floor two mornings ago. They are as unpredictable in their movements as birds or mice and have thus earned themselves a personality. They are also very mean.

I swept it into a dust pan that (thankfully) closes once you lift it up off the floor. It thrashed wildly in that dustpan and we all screamed. Well, PB was at work so he didn't scream. He might've though.

And so if mice have a French accent, and birds are clearly British, I must say that scorpions must all have Mexican accents. It's absolutely nothing derogatory, just the way I hear them in my head.

Because I'm weird.

Phoenix

2009-06-29T16:33:00.004-06:00

We're here!! In all of it's 115 degree glory, we cruised into Phoenix and jumped into the pool. No, not the pool at our new house. The pool at the hotel. Remember, we have cat tee-tee to deal with first. Plus, the new house doesn't have a pool quite yet. That's in the grand master plan for the coming year.

The kids aren't quite sure of the heat and PB is putting on a brave face for my sake. I, however, am LOVING it. No cold toes is a beautiful thing.

And I feel at home and settled. We'll get the keys tomorrow and I'm already making painting plans. I finally get to nest again and so all is right with the world.

The house in Colorado is empty (and still on the market if you're looking) and so I don't have to worry about keeping it spotless for surprise showings. Yeee haw!!

So, I'll post when I can over the next few days. I can't wait for life to get back to normal.

A real estate lesson...by Heather

2009-06-25T07:31:00.003-06:00

Such brilliant suggestions all of you had! We do have a hotel reserved for the first week we're there. We figured that until we get in there and see what all needs to be done, we'd better plan on staying in a hotel.

We bought a bank owned home and got an amazing deal. We've had it inspected and it passed with flying colors, but I'm still nervous that we'll find little things.

So many of you asked why anyone would take all the switchplate covers. Trust me...she could've done ALOT worse.

When I went out to look for a house, I told my agent to just show me bank owned homes as they are at rock bottom pricing and there's none of the hassle like with a short sale. I learned alot and thought I'd pass some tips along.

When a person or people decides they can't afford to live in their house anymore, or the market has become so bad that they owe more on their house than it's worth, they go to the bank that financed the home and ask if they can sell it for less than what they owe. This is called a short sale.

A short sale can be veeeeery tricky and I, personally, avoided them.

The bank has to approve the price the owners want to sell the house for. The bank uses a fancy schmancy formula to arrive at a price that the market will bear and the bank can take a loss on.

Here's where it gets tricky...

The people will often list their house BEFORE the bank has approved the price. This is standard and understandable. They'll list it for what the houses around them are listed for hoping to get an offer or multiple offers. That way, they can go to the bank with an offer in hand in hopes that the bank will approve the price and they can sell their house right away.

However, this sometimes doesn't work.

Based on what the people still owe on their house, the bank may not approve the price.

Once the bank has approved (or given them) the sale price of the house, everyone is one step closer to being done. However, getting that bank approved price can take a long time. The banks are in NO hurry to lose any more money.

SO, the next step is where the big game begins. The price on the MLS (listing) of the house may look great. You may be looking at a $300,000 home with a listing price of $98,000. You think it's the deal of a lifetime and you enthusiastically put in your offer and wait for your dreams to come true.

BUT here's the trick. The real listing price might not be $98,000. It might actually be $220,000 (I'm exaggerating the pricing to make a point). The agent will put an unbelievable price on the MLS to bring in multiple offers and drive the bidding up to what the bank wants.

This. takes. months!! Up to a year sometimes. In the meantime, you're competing for investors who are paying cash for these houses. You have to act fast and be aggressive. You have to do lots and lots of research in public records to see what the original purchase price of the house was to get a sense of what might still be owed on the house. You have to know if they had a second mortgage and if they're short on that too. That means TWO banks have their hands in the pot.

You also have to know how many bids the house has on it when you bid on it. And if you really love the house, you have to bid the very MOST you can afford. You have to ask what the bank approved price is and you often will not know what the highest bid is.

It's like Ebay on steroids.

It's because of all of this that I chose to avoid a short sale. These houses are beautiful and so many of them looked like such good deals and I knew the families living in them were good people. I just didn't have the time or patience to play the short sale game.

Tomorrow...tips and hints on buying a bank owned home.

A relocating stream of consciousness.

2009-06-23T20:32:00.003-06:00

I haven't really come out and said as much, but you probably figured it out. We bought a house out in Arizona and we're moving at the end of this week.

Packing gets harder every time we move.

I'm not a packrat at all. In fact, I throw too much away and will sometimes regret it. I hate clutter. I love to decorate and often will hit garage sales and clearance aisles, but I won't keep stuff we don't need which should make packing easier.

At least you'd think it would make it easier, but the fact remains that we still have soooooo much stuff.

And on top of packing, planning, and getting ready for a huge road trip I have to time things just so in order to prepare the new house to live in. All things considered, it was left in fairly good condition but the previous owner had an animal that wasn't house broken. There's some of the opinion that said pet was a dog. I'm almost positive it was a cat.

Irregardless, all of the carpet needs replacing and the sub floor needs to be Kilz'ed. Yeah...it's bad. Not so bad that we ran away from the house screaming but bad enough that I turned to PB and said, "I love it, but I shan't live in it until the cat tee tee has been dealt with."

The previous owner also took all of the switch plate covers from every. outlet. in. the. house.

Strange, no?

Yes.

So, I am in the process of...

...packing, saying goodbye, figuring out how we're going to rip out the carpet and Kilz the floor without causing the Twinfants (VERY allergic to cats) to break out into two giant walking hives and then live on the subfloor for the 2 weeks it takes to get the carpet in and installed without putting any furniture onto the floors to be carpeted, calling an exterminator, scheduling the vents to be cleaned and a refrigerator to be delivered and planning how we're going to get all new switchplate covers onto the exposed electrical outlets before someone can (inevitably) insert a metal object into any one of them and give themselves a perm.

(deep breath)

And really that's only the tip of the ice berg. I won't prattle on about getting children withdrawn from school here and registered for school there or change of address forms or the episodes of True Blood I might miss.

Or that I do not like the colors she painted on the walls.

I've got two weeks with no carpeting on the floor. What would you do?

Pasture On The Water

2009-06-22T16:56:00.001-06:00

This is quite possibly the coolest art I have ever seen.

The art installation by Bulgarian artist Pavel Koichev 'Pasture on the water' is displayed on the surface of a lake near the village of Osikovica, east of the Bulgarian capital Sofia, Wednesday, June, 3, 2009. The art installation will be at the lake until June, 10.

My lack of artistic understanding (as evidenced by this post) blinds me to the symbolism in most pieces. And I'm sure I have no idea about the meaning behind this art installation, but I like it.

At least I know what I like.

Recession be darned!! I bought a bathing suit.

2009-06-15T18:34:00.003-06:00

So, Saturday was Fiscal Irresponsibility Day per the authority of me. Surprisingly, PB didn't put up much of a fight. He's usually the voice of reason.

I got my hair cut and colored. We are back in the sass, people. Then, when I told him I needed a new bathing suit, he suggested I go to the mall after my hair appointment. The kids were with his parents for the weekend. I didn't argue his suggestion.

Bathing suit shopping by it's very nature is traumatic enough. Throw in four small children and it's like hang gliding from Mt. Everest. You just don't do it.

So, me and my sassy self go to the mall and commence with what will here-fore-to be known as Hell's Gauntlet.

I start at JCPenny. After all, there's a big sale going on and I'm thinking the selection should still be decent. It wasn't decent enough. I tried on a little boy short number that was passable, but not quite what I had in mind.

I moved on to Victoria's Secret. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I am writing a strongly worded letter to the management. Selling bathing suits that would only fit a twelve year old boy is both inappropriate and poor customer service.

With high hopes, I strut my sassy hair down to Nordstrom's. Ah, Nordy's. You can't ever go wrong in that store. The selection...the customer service...the lighting in the dressing rooms!! I don't normally curse so strongly, but I swear to you in the dressing room three way with all of it's flourescent lit glory I looked at my butt and cried out, "Holy Mary, Mother of God!!"

At what point did someone implant my ass with two huge bags of cottage cheese!!??? I mentally noted to call my plastic surgeon post haste and when the sweet sales girl knocked softly on my dressing room to ask me if I needed anything I tearfully answered, "Yes. A valium."

At this point, I have texted various friends asking them to kill me. I texted PB and warned him that not only was I loose in the mall, but I was emotional. I could not be held responsible for what I was about to do.

Sephora called to me like a sea siren and I was a sailor. I pleaded with Travis, my favorite gay, make-up wearing, Sephora sales associate, to make me feel pretty again. Just a bit of trivia, Travis used to do Tiffany's hair.

After my Sephora fix, I pushed on to Dilliard's. I didn't expect much, but after meandering through the shoes I reminded myself of my childless status and pulled up my big girl panties (so to speak).

The selection was surprisingly huge. I found a handful of bathing suits and narrowed it down to two. They just happen to be the two most expensive bathing suits on the planet.

I bought one.

Recession be darned, I bought that bathing suit because it was not a matter of money or of sticking to a budget. No. It was a matter of self esteem. And mostly sanity. And alot cheaper than what my plastic surgeon would have in mind.

Recession Hair

2009-06-11T15:20:00.007-06:00

Non-Recession Hair

Recession Hair

Recession Roots

Non Recession Make-up

Recession Make-up

I was talking to a friend on the phone the other night about needing to get my hair done. We discussed how tricky that can be in this economy as there just doesn't seem to be as much extra money for such luxuries.

I wouldn't have posted these pictures if I thought I were alone in this. Quite the opposite. Recession hair is a big problem nowadays.

Guyliner

2009-06-09T19:54:00.006-06:00

I'm going to come out and admit something. I'm not ashamed. Never have been. Just never thought to blog about it until now. I dig guys in eyeliner. Or guyliner.

The entire Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy was very good for me.

And if they can sing angry music, I'm hooked for sure.

Especially when they hang out with blurry vampires. I'm swooning right now. As are four other people I know.

But this....This is over the top.
Okay. So he's gay (no..are you serious??) but the snake threw me over the edge and, quite frankly, cheapened his guyliner. Made it dirty.

Let's discuss...

Road Trip day 2 continued

2009-06-08T16:41:00.013-06:00

Continuing on with our journey...

We drove past the field of giant windmills.

This picture doesn't do them justice. They're enormous. Those "bushes" in the foreground are actually trees.

We stop in a little town (Heber) for a burger at a biker bar known as The Red Onion, owned by Al and Diane.

Those are green chilis on my burger. I was a happy girl. You can see the kitchen from the bar and there was a young Native American man flipping burgers. Thanks to Stephenie Meyer, I get all twitterpated around them now.

Whomever says the desert isn't beautiful, you haven't ever been here.

Look at the road cutting across...
Yes. It was as hot as it looks. But I didn't mind it one bit. Eventually, the heat does play it's wiley tricks. Case in point. Look at these rocks by the road. We drove through an entire field of rocks like this. Eventually, they began to look like giant rock turds.

The Saguaro began to be rude.

So far no big deal, right? Just some unassuming cactus minding their own business.

But now, hold on a minute. That one there in the right hand corner seems to be getting a little sassy. And before you know it, they're ganging up on you.

An entire forest of Saguaro flipping you the bird everywhere you look. They taunt you in their Spanish accent. Telling you that they're full of water, but you won't ever be able to get to it because of their needles. That if you were lost in the desert, they would not hesitate to mock you. Saguaro are very rude that way. And protected. All along the road they've propped them up with wood to keep them from falling over.

And when the desert runs out of creepy factories, it comes up with a creepy huge fountain of water.

Fascinating.

Once at the hotel, PB makes an ice cream run and you'll never guess what they sell in Arizona.

My beloved Blue Bell. They didn't have any banana pudding, birthday cake, or pralines and cream though. That's okay. I was happy with plain 'ol vanilla. It was the perfect ending to a very long ride.

Road Trip day 2

2009-06-04T21:33:00.018-06:00

Well, we lost our gambling money. The slots on the rez are tight. They sucked up all my pennies faster than you can say 'lint licker'. But it was loads of fun and the buffet was decent.

I would show you pictures, but I don't think they really like people with cameras in casinos. I did manage to snap a blurry shot of my salsbury steak.

Salsbury steak from the buffet and penny slots. I am an 80 year old in a 37 year old body.

So, we were up and on the road early. Oh, look! Hot air balloons. Albuquerque is famous for hot air ballooning.

No, I've never been in a hot air balloon. It's not that I would mind, it's just not on the life list. PB's never been in one either.

We did have an interesting conversation about trains, though.

Me: If I were homeless, I'd be a train hopper.

PB: What would you do with the kids?

Me: I've often thought about that. I mean, would I let them dangle their legs out the door or make them sit back? Would we even have the door open? Where would I hide them if the engineer decided to check the cars?

PB: You're weird.

Me: On some level you have to find it endearing.

PB: I do.

Me: I feel like it's always good to think these things through.

PB: When would you ever have to train hop with the kids?

Me: If the population of the world ever turns into zombies.

PB: I have no words right now.

Me: You're wondering who would run the train. I haven't thought that part through yet.

PB: Wouldn't that mean the kids would be zombies too?

Me: Quite possibly. Again, I haven't played out every scenario just yet.

And it unravelled from there.

More open road stretched out ahead of us.

Who would expect to see lava flows in the desert?

Not me. Here we come to the creepiest town in the desert. No offense to the fine population of Grants, New Mexico.

We stopped there the last time we made this trip with the kids. I thought we were going to die. We stayed in this Holiday Inn right next to the train tracks. The lobby was all dark except for the tv's that were on. And people were sitting there...in the dark...watching FOX news. creep-ie. And the rooms all had doorbells.

I would just really recommend going an hour ahead to Gallup. And I'll be expecting a call from the New Mexico Board of Tourism any moment now for dissing Grants. I'm sure they're all delightful people there in Grants. Delightful people who watch tv in darkened hotel lobbies and have doorbells on their hotel rooms.

Speaking of creepy...

Random factory anyone? And it doesn't end there...

And ambulance in the middle of nowhereville??? Those are government plates, my friends. How close are we to Roswell anyway??!? I smell a top secret alien crash site rescue operation.

And now I'll be expecting a call from the New Mexico Board of Tourism AND the top ranking government officials stationed out at Area 51.

Thank goodness we made it to Arizona. I forgot to take a picture of PB doing his awesome old man stretches in front of Denny's. That is some funny stuff.

Come back tomorrow for my take on disrespectful Saguaro cactus.