Good News, Bad News

The good news is I made time for sewing.

The bad news is I forgot I wanted to wash this floor this morning.

Yesterday we put IQ issue 2 to bed at the printers. Hooray! And life returns, a little, to normal. But the beat goes on, and we want to keep ahead so each issue is not a frenzy to the finish line. It will get easier with some hard days interpersed so to keep real.

This quilt is traditional. I've gone back to my roots: scrapping. A little boy was born in September and I'm aching to do a quilt for him--and then I heard his Christianing is happening on Sunday. Here we go again.

In case you can't tell, this is a color wash--I'm hoping it turns out that way. The center is very light blue, in fact blue shirting (bits of blue on white) the next section is darker light blue, and the outside rows are dark blue. The border or binding will take a nearly black blue.

Love the look of color wash. Let's hope it comes out that way.

Last night I went to my sewing group, another, hooray! I missed them all last fall. But before that I did my WW weigh in--I'm chumming along with Cathi on our weight loss program. I lost 2 lbs, thankfully.

I hope you all saw in my last post that we did not forget you at Christmas. The cards never did appear; but Vistaprint did give me a refund. Now I have to mail the dozen or so gifts who were waiting for the cards. Party happened, but their date never showed for them!

Oh, the best news in this sewing post is AM over here is doing a sewing retreat. Big hooray for her. I cannot wait. No, I, CANNOT, wait! One of my friends from sewing group last night is going, and she said bought new pjs for that weekend. Of course! I can't remember when I last had new pjs, so I'm off to snag me a pair.

Hope you all have a great day!

There Is Such A Thing As Too Late

This was our family Christmas 2008 greeting. But it never arrived.

Drat.

Granted, I ordered my cards Dec 12, knowing full well that once I recieved, addressed and mailed them, our family and friends would receive theirs late...um, ah, meaning the week after Christmas. What I didn't bank on was receiving it so late myself. Or , um, ah never receiving it!

Last week, VistaPrint said they had issues with delivery and that the order would arrive in two days. Today I threw in the towel and cancelled the order. What I'd really like to do now is reorder new cards with with this greeting:

We wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas, but VistaPrint thought otherwise.

Now, we wish you a Happy Valentine's Day.

So if you think I forgot you on our Christmas list, I didn't.

Lost Already

For three years now, DH has wanted to join the nearby leisure centre (hotel with gym). I, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the gym.

Sure, when I was in my twenties with work hours stretching into midnight, I held a membership with 24 Hour Fitness. It seemed to come automatic with living in San Francisco amid four roommates and eating Top Ramen soup in between happy hours and frivolous dates.

Now living in Ireland with a growing and restless brood, dishing up meals between school runs and bathtime, the only thing I stand to earn from a gym membership are lots more towels and kit to wash.

But alas, Santa was generous this year. Each girl received a dolly, one teething and the other crying. We are just thankful neither include, fake but still gross, poop or pee.

We took a chance with the crying baby, as all parents do with toys and sound. Its whimper is as realistic as a newborn, pleasantly reminding us why we chose against a baby #3. This doll cries and our [Dr.] Babydoll, inserts plastic medicine needle, and per the instructions, baby feels better in two minutes and stops crying. Ah, just like in real life. If you believe that, allow me to give you loan of my husband, he does all the dishes and the housecleaning. Ha.

Under the tree was a Wii, coincidently, also atop DH’s wishlist. So while I’ve been dreaming of piecing nine patches and machine mastering quilting swirls, really I’m finessing my hip action with hula hoops and other self humiliating movements all for the sake of fitness. Not only do I now have more laundry, I have more remotes to tidy and consoles to dust.

And what Santa doesn’t give, godmutters make up for. Both Twirly and Colleen sent me my beloved Reese’s Cups. I used to find them at a petrol station near our Wexford house, but since we’ve moved, they’ve stopped stocking them. Could it be I was the only one buying them?

Twirly’s candies arrived a few days before Christmas. A few careless moves among the Christmas wrapping and Babydoll spied the bag. Gone. Long. Before. Christmas.

Colleen’s package came the day after Christmas. I quickly detected RCs, gift wrapped and all.
Keeping them wrapped, I gently opened one end only to sparingly, and secretly, help myself to chocolately peanut butter goodness. Until.

New Year’s Eve.
Last I saw them: DH with the still-conspicuously wrapped xmas love cups and other goodies in one arm and two wine bottles in the other arm. We proceeded to count down the last 102 minutes of 2008 with wine sips and TV remote clicks.

I remember thinking I can’t waste these RCs on a drunken anti-climactic NYE, pushing them to one side. What side? I don’t remember. And now, they’re gone. I’ve looked everywhere. In a fright, I think, someone’s mistaken them for trash, and they’ve been thrown out! Then I remember I’m the only one who cleans in this house.

There is nothing worse than losing something you care dearly for, so much so, life becomes uncertain. Once, after a party in our apartment, Colleen lost her sunglasses. The two of us looked high and low, but they were nowhere. Our parties were the type that required sunglasses the day after. That, or you didn’t bother to leave the comfort or darkness of your bedcovers. Oh yes, they were great parties, but even bigger clean-up sessions followed; and this time it was at the demise of the shades.

Several days—or weeks—later we were headed to the gym. (Just because we had memberships didn’t mean we exercised regularly.) As Colleen went to pull on her gym shoes, she found her sunglasses tucked deep within. Dumbfounded we quickly learned Roommate#3, during a silly party moment, or in a cleaning-up stupor, stashed the sunglasses in Colleen’s shoes. So when something goes missing, check the shoes. I do.

You can imagine how hard it is to ask a 5yo if she’s seen candy that she is not allowed to know exists, and worse, have, if she finds.

I’ve backtracked the last 48 hours. Before DH’s grand appearance on NYE, I gleefully was cutting pieces from my stash to make my new year project. So I checked my stash, thinking I stashed my goods with my stash. Sounds smart to me.

No such luck. Meanwhile, the girls think Mommy’s gone bonkers.

Especially, after I insisted on inspecting everyone’s shoes.

PS. Before you start blaming the DH, know he hates RCs. Many Irish aren’t hip on peanut butter; I blame a childhood without President Jimmy Carter.

Visualizing 2009

The other day I phoned my sister...she’s finished her last round of chemo so we're thinking positive thoughts. Thanks everyone for your well wishes. She’s scheduled for mid-January surgery and we’re hoping for a non-radiation recovery.

Our last few calls we’ve focused on the positive. The year 2008 was a positive one for me, where the good outweighed the bad. Even despite my sister’s illness, we focus on the present and a positive outlook. And, people? It works. Some of you who know me outside this blog, know what I mean. And if you don’t, just drop me an email and I will share my *secret*.


Tonight my sister told me she did her visionary board to back up all her positive thoughts and to drive them forward into 2009. Visionary boards are a visual confirmation of your positive thoughts—a board with pictures of concepts, things and words that convey your affirmations, your desires and your positive thinking. What you want, what you deserve and what you’ll get!


After a week of hanging with lozenges and lemsip (think Theraflu), I decided it was time to reclaim my girls. Together we spent a few hours cutting up glossy magazines into insightful mementos, enlightening and inspiring in pictures and in words. Here’s mine.
Allow me to clarify:

New Home, kitchen, study, bedroom: while we live in a gorgeous area, our house is old and we either need to build or buy...Rock on


Mind Over Matter: need I say more?


Sleek and slim: more so, free and happy with your bod, baby!


Flowers: natural beauty


France: from the girls, home of previous au pair and Euro Disney, need I say more?


Love: for all and to all


Sandy Beach: for DH, he’s craving a vacation hotspot


Movies: more free time to catch my matinees, me myself and I


Flowers: more natural beauty


Mascara wand: from the girls, the only off-limits tool in my makeup kit


Irish Quilting: need I say more?


Shampoo: from the girls, I'm not sure, but I'm all for clean hair


Baby sleeping: from the girls, I had a startling moment with this one, but ahh, it's the sleeping! more ZZZZzzzzzz.


So there you go, a preview of this verry new year for 2009.


What’s in store for you?
Happy New Year!

I Blame the Sneezes

All last week my girls were sick. Coughs, fevers and runny noses. Oh my.

This week I’m sick. Feverish, stuffy and sneezing. Oh my.

At least I have that. I am sick. So when social services come to ask why my kids aren’t in school, I have an excuse. Buried under three pounds of Kleenex, I ask you, is anyone else afraid to drive during an attack of the sneezes?

I kid. Not about thoughts of sneezing into a roadside ditch, but rather the excuse. The truth be told I had no excuse.

Yesterday DH called to ask why Babydoll was home when he saw other kids in the school grounds. Really? The fridge calendar says ‘School Holidays’ on Monday, Dec 22—whoops! Must have meant after school on Monday.

Today DH called to tell me, yet again, he’s seen kids at school. Not again.
Quickly I displace. “Yeah? So why didn’t YOU take Babydoll to school?” After a phone call, it’s confirmed. School holidays began at half day today. Darn! What I wouldn’t give for a quiet, albeit sneeze-induced, morning!

All was better when DH arrived home to nurse me and mind his truant children. A private nurse. Oh yes. This was quickly debated by our 4yo and 5yo unschooled scholars.

Babydoll: Mom, Daddy can’t be your nurse because he is a boy. Boys are doctors and girls are nurses.

Cutiepie: Yes he can, Babydoll!

Babydoll: No, he can’t!

Cutipie: Yes, he can. He’s like, you know, that boy? You know, our godmother in America? You know, her wife! He’s a nurse AND he’s a boy!

Refusing defeat, she turns to me, “Mom! What is Babydoll’s godmother’s wife’s name?”

Me: achoo! uh? achoo! wife? achoo! who?

Cutiepie: You know! What is his name? Babydoll’s godmother’s wife in America?

Me: You mean Steve?

Cutiepie: Yeah! Steve. See? Babydoll, your godmother’s wife Steve, he’s a boy AND a nurse!!

Let’s hear it for gender equality! I think?

I'll Huff and Puff and Eat Your House Down!

Here I sit eating cookies.

Chocolate ginger snaps, chocolate biscuits, chocolate mints. You name it, I eat it.

I'd like to say I don't know what has gotten into me, but I do. Besides cookies, of course.

You see, our au pair has gone home. But before she left, between her and DH, there was more candy, sweets and chocolate in this house than at a grandmother's who's awaiting her grandchildren.

Anyway, I'm trying to empty the house of such evil (and young Ms. Au Pair, I found the stash of chocolate you donated to the cookie jar, thank you very much--NOT a very kind goodbye gesture, if you get my drift, my heavy overweight drift!).

I realize I could just toss the sweet selections in the trash, but really, what challenge would that be?

Besides I have a good friend, here in Ireland, who had just returned to work after many years at home. She's returned to her consulting position with Unislim (Weight Watcher equivalent). So yes, I'm supporting her. Oh yes, I've already signed up for classes in January.

See? I have a plan. And it does reach beyond the cookie jar, I promise.

It doesn't help that I have been housebound with two little sickies for the last five days. We think and hope they are improving, but the sick bug is in deep.

It all started the morning after our gingerbread party. Hmmm? Which by the way are on display here. Mind you, we did remodel several times over in our construction phases.

Babydoll's house actually withstood the building phase--no remodeling required, walls stood firm and roof upheld. I like to say the candies have remained the same. But I can't. Why? Reread post, no sweets are safe from me!


Ah! Here is the entrepreneur of the bunch. While the others experienced remodeling hassles, reinforcing roofs and walls, this little chicky was outwittingly building panel pieces--why fuss with the whole mess, when you can build, decorate and eat as you go?
Here is a happy builder. Hopefully the manor survived his transit home.

ps., sorry for the stretch photos-- it's the seasonal new graphics, they tweak out my photos!

Cause I have nothing better to do at 6 a.m.

This morning I plastered six houses. Yes. Really I did. Take that DH! (aka stucco man among friends)

Well, I joined the walls, and that's paramount to a good house. A gingerbread house.

Afterschool there are six little architects arrriving to create and design masterpieces. It should be good fun.

Yesterday was a more productive day than lately. I only had one errand amid my work and that was depositing money in the bank. A feel-good errand. Until you lose the bank. Can I help it, if all the storefronts on Main Street look alike? So here I was on Main Street, which looks like every other Main Street in every other Irish town, walking to a bank I can't find. Clearly I don't visit the bank enough.

Just when I think I've gone completely bonkers, I spy the bank's colors way over yonder. Apparently the bank moved into shiny new digs, you feel golden just by walking in. I must have missed my housewarming invite.

Tomorrow DH and I brave the cold and crazed as we head out to do our Christmas shopping. A little late for my taste, but sometimes we can't schedule chaos as good as create it. The girls have been good gift-receivers in training. According to how our Santa works, he's bringing a big item (luckily he's on top of that Wii thing), a Man U t shirt (DH influence all the way, or need I say?) and a surprise. So it's surprise time and, honestly, I can handle shopping for a 'surprise' for 5 and 4 yos. That's a walk in a park for me and DH.

Well, that is, if we can convince the other shoppers to stay home.

Do I have something on my nose?