OK, now I'm freaking out because we're going to France in March, and my passport expires in May, and almost EVERYWHERE in the world expects you to have a passport that still has six good months left on it if you travel to their country. Well, except for France (so I've read), where, if you're Canadian, you can travel around there right up until the bitter end of the very last day of non-expiry. At least, I hope that web site was correct, when I read it...
I haven't laughed so hard in a Long, Long Time.
This may be one of the top funniest tattoo stories ever.
Yesterday, in a fit of madness, I told Kelly I'd teach her how to sew, and we'd make her pants. With stretchy fabric!
What was I thinking?
I was thinking "how cuuuuuuuuuute!"
Felting, O felting, how addicting you are.
I should be doing a dozen other things, but instead...
Nope. Still too much stitch definition. I just ran it through the wash/dryer once more, and now I'm blocking it over one of my grapefruit bowls.
A little shake-up this morning while we were having breakfast. All of a sudden it sounded like the house was being attacked.
Oh, wait. It's just hail.
(picture taken way after the fact, after the worst of the hail had stopped, and I felt safe venturing out to the car to get the camera)
I'm so glad Ken and I went up on the roof yesterday and cleaned out the eaves... again. The weight of hail would've brought them down, for sure. As it is, I've gotta go up AGAIN, and fix the downspouts, which were wrenched off the side of the house in last night's wind storm.
I wish the kids would be self-motivating. Sheesh. Schlumping around the house moaning "I'm hunnnnnngry..." and "I don't wannnnnnna" isn't gonna get your homework done in time to leave for Kung Fu. And by the way, do you WANT to get your next belt? Because the Sihing says you're up for it, but if you're going to whine and mope, I'm going to suggest they wait until your next birthday... which is nearly a year away.
I was ahead of the laundry game on Friday, but somehow, over the weekend, I fell way behind again. How does that happen? And this is even taking into account the boxes of stuff that I sent off to the Cerebral Palsy folks who came to collect donations today.
Ken was up on the roof with me yesterday, cleaning the eaves, and he was wearing his favourite sweater, which, after he got it completely mudded up with eaves-compost, we realized that in the 19 years that I've known the sweater, I've never washed it once. Ouch. I started washing it last night.
Four sink-fulls of dirty rinse-water. Ouchies. Then three washes with Eucalan wool-wash. And that was just YESTERDAY's work. This morning, I washed it again, and rinsed it three times, then ran it through the tumble dry with no heat and 3 dry towels to take the wet away faster (Oh, the smell of wet dog was strong in the sweater).
Now I'm just thinking that I may have shrunk the thing (just at the waist-ribbing) a bit. But the thing is so full of moth holes, I'm surprised it didn't fall apart in the sink.
I can tell the thing is machine-knit, but there's this part of me that looks at the pattern and thinks "Hmm, could I *make* this?" Maybe for Next Christmas.
*puts it on the back burner*
When we got Homer in September, I went to great pains to make sure that the elementary school had our most up-to-date insurance on file as soon as we got the new insurance paperwork. I went in, and personally added the photocopies of insurance and updated license (remembering that I LOST the stupid thing in the fall) to the personnel files in the PTA boxes in the office.
Imagine my surprise when I went looking for those papers on Friday so I could make copies for the Middle School (Ken will be driving the Jazz Band to a Jazz Festival up in The City on Saturday), and the only paperwork I could find for us included an EXPIRED license, and the paperwork for The Pilot... from two thousand AND FIVE.
So this morning, as well as screwing up the nerve to call a Travel Agent about getting us to France, I also was sifting through piles and piles and PILES of "important stuff - do not toss away", looking for our Most Recent Homer Insurance, so I can not only drive on Saturday, but also drive on Friday for Kelly's class field trip.
I hate that I'm so disorganized.
Will I ever get any better at this?
Nate is now quite agitated that he can't find a book that will tell him how many legs a sea cucumber has.Gracious, what are they teaching him in school?
Cupcakes and Gambling by The Pioneer Woman
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