Tag Archives: totally random


Just hangin’ out

{Oh, look–there I am!}

Whoa, Nellie—what is with the whirlwind of a life thing going on?

Luckily, the week held a hint of celebration midway through. Wednesday evening a friend came over to celebrate Christmas/New Years/her birthday. It was altogether lovely—except maybe for the fact: 1) the day to follow turned out not to be the weekend; 2) the waist of my pants nearly cut off all circulation to my upper half.

Truly, sitting upright made breathing a chore. The situation remedied itself a bit once we retired to the living area, and I had chance to recline. Although that presented a whole new conundrum. Mainly, I felt like Jabba the Hutt.

Needless to say, I best be reeling in the celebratory eating and reeling out activities requiring some sort of movement (I’ll ponder what that might be as I sit here eating a York peppermint patty).

With that, I’ve only this to say . . .

Happy weekend to you, dear friends!


Just a little to-do


Did you have a good weekend—did you stay warm and safe and dry?

You know, any time there’s calamity afoot I feel the need to take roll call, to make certain we’re all present and accounted for.  Sure, I know nary a thing about most of you. I do know, however, you’re represented by a dot on the map–and some of those dots are smack dab in the middle of some crazy shit.

An aside, this will be the day my aunt pops in to read the blog. It actually came up at a family gathering once:

Mom: I really like her blog . . . except when she swears.

Me: I do not swear on my blog.

Uncle: I didn’t know she swears on her blog.

Me: I don’t swear on my blog.

Aunt: Oh yes, she swears on her blog. I’ve seen it.

Please. I utter profanities around these parts maybe twice a year and only when appropriate. And let me tell you, floods and a ‘polar vortex’ are completely appropriate.

But I digress . . .

If only we lived closer–I’d whip us up some hot cocoa, we’d light a roomful of candles, and tell ghost stories. Like the time in the eighties when I had a certain pair of ‘fruit pants’—white, skin-tight pants in a cotton-polyester blend, adorned with giant, brightly colored fruit . . . and I wore them in public. Eek!

Then again, maybe it’s best we live a ways away–you might have a hard time beating that one.


Farewell 2013


Jeepers, creepers—there goes another one . . .

I’ve been soaking in the last few days of 2013 for all I’m worth. You know, eating copious amounts of delectable treats, sipping warm beverages, gazing at what remains of the twinkling lights.

And since I wouldn’t want a brand new year thinking I’m a complete flop, right from the start, I spent some time cleaning and organizing. It was nothing short of amazing all I managed to throw out: Wee toys I’ve been saving for nieces or nephews, in the off chance they move back to the states and want to come stay for a bit with their auntie—gone!  Pink leather purse (and by leather I mean man made materials from China, naturally) barely holding on—distant memory!  Silk pants from the 80s—OK, I actually kept those. You’ve got to draw a line somewhere, and apparently I draw mine with the drawstring of black silk pants from the 80s.

Of course, amidst it all, I’ve been taking stock of the year, as we are wont to do on such occasions. 

Looking back, it seems I’ve become quite smitten with the bare branches of trees and the colors of the sky. From the looks of photos snapped throughout the year, it seems I’ve done a lot of looking up. Not such a bad thing, mind you, especially considering the rest of the goings on of the year . . .

In 2013, family members faced medical crises, I started a new job,  and my cat discovered his cloak of invisbility

Much to my chagrin, 2013 served several helpings of humble pie–including this rather humiliating episode (sadly, I do not make these things up).

But it tempered the humiation with celebrations–2013 was the year of milestone birthdays, and any number of smaller occassions–each uniquely worthy of a raised glass, laughter, and confetti.

And let’s not forget the road trips–or the time travel.

In other words, it was a year much like any other. I’m glad it paid us visit–I hope it offers some good advice to the newbie taking its place . . .


Here me roar

{Lion sewing pattern by Dolls and Daydreams}

How cute is this little lion? He’s not the only one, I might add; Dolls and Daydreams has all sorts of cuteness, from meerkats to dinosaurs (and no, I’m not getting paid to say that, nor do I know the shop owner).

Given that we’re anticipating the arrival of certain wee ones in the coming months (including a couple in December) I do so wish I could sew.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, Well, learn!  If only it were that simple.

In Home Ec (back in the day) we were instructed on the fine art of sewing wind socks–straight forward, simple lines, peace of cake. At least it was a peace of cake for the roughly fifteen other students (including the two guys who signed up for the class to meet girls). Even with much assistance from one exasperated teacher, mine looked as though it had weathered a tornado or two. My mom, bless her heart, tried to act impressed with my efforts. She hung it above the front stoop for all the see . . . though it mysteriously disappeared soon after.

That said, I think it best I stick to buying my gifts.

Of course, you may recall, my lofty goal each and every year is to be completely done with gifts and cards by December 1. Did I finally accomplish this goal? Negatory, good buddy. I am, however, inching my way closer. So, while I may not be crafty, I am organized . . . at least I will be, one of these days.

And you–how are your Christmas preparations coming along?


A matter of taste

Antiquing seems a rather fallish thing to do, a good way to while away hour after rainy hour. This past weekend, you’d have found me on a particular mission. You see my china hutch does spring, summer, and Christmas with great flourish, but tends to flounder in the autumn. So I set out for teacups in hues of orange and chocolate, maybe a deep plum or mustard thrown in for good measure.

Alas, easier said than done.

I happened upon nary a autumnal colored cup. I did, however, stumble upon a large variety of rather disturbing dolls, enough to fuel a decade’s worth of nightmares, at least. Eeh. And let’s not forget the junk–because let’s be serious, sometimes one man’s junk is really just junk. Then there were the “antique dealers” attempting to hock anything old(er) as vintage. I spotted a garden gnome from last year’s Fred Meyer collection. Last year, I tell you . . . from a grocery market. Please.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Perhaps it simply my frame of mind, dampened by elevator music playing ad nauseum in the background. If only I could have jitterbugged my way through the store that table lamp made of Popsicle sticks may have held some allure.

Then again, big band may have done nothing for that lady across the aisle, perusing wares while happily humming to a slow and steady Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.

So, that was the height of my weekend adventures. You?

Also, seeing how it may take me awhile to brave the ‘antiques’ world again, if you happen upon a lovely teacup of the fallish sort, do let me know . . .