The Quiet Door

Several years ago Dave and I got a new microwave. It was pretty. It was just the right size. It cooked food just fine. And we hated it.

For some reason this microwave was not designed with teenagers in mind. Yes, teenagers. You see, teenagers tend to want to eat at all times of the night on the weekends and of course this involves microwaving. Well, our microwave was impossible to close quietly. No matter what you did, there was always a very loud "CLUNK!" when it closed. And this woke us up. Every. Time.

So when this loud closing microwave expired in the middle of the night this weekend, in a very stinky/smoky way I might add, my only requirement for our next microwave was that it close quietly.


And the very next day Dave came home with a brand spankin' new microwave. It is pretty. It cooks food just fine. It closes quietly. And we love it.

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An Early Morning Scare

Sometimes when you think you're not alone, but it turns out you are, that ends up being a good thing.

Case in point:  This morning I got in my car.  I closed my door and saw something out of the corner of my eye.  I turned my head, saw nothing, turned my head...AND THERE IT WAS AGAIN!  My heartbeat accelerated.  I started to perspire just a tad.  I even reached over to lock all of the car doors.  But being me, I accidentally opened my window instead, which nearly gave me a heart attack. 

I got the window back up, managed to lock all the doors, held my breath, and turned my head.  I saw nothing, then turned my head back...and then I figured it out. 

Yes, I was scared of my own reflection. 

My little guy often manages to hit my driver's side mirror as he walks his bike to the back yard through the carport. 


And then slightly sweaty and much relieved me headed off to work.

This is part of my Hallway Project.

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Hammer Time

So it turns out that if the guys are out hammering in the back yard it's absolutely, positively not received well when I break out into song with "Hammer Time".

Furthermore, it's absolutely, positively, without a doubt not received well when I break out into dance to go along with it.

And now I'm consumed by the urge to get some bloomy pants.

This painting has been donated to the Carver Museum as part of a benefit for them.

It will be auctioned off to benefit the museum.

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My Inner Slob Lives Here

I'm a slob.  I absolutely, positively cannot get through the day without getting some sort of muck (food, paint, beverage, mud, etc.) on what I'm wearing.  So when I decided to have spaghetti for dinner tonight, I changed out my black and white striped shirt I'd worn to work for a little T-shirt I'd picked up at a thrift shop.  As I was walking back to the kitchen it occurred to me that I was now wearing a white shirt, albeit a cheap one. 

So I sat down to eat, grabbed one of our cloth napkins, i.e. a bandanna, tucked it into the neck of my shirt, and proceeded to down my delicious spaghetti.  And I must say that basically wearing a baby bib was absolutely fabulous.  I think it might just be my new thing.

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