Just photos: San Diego

Words that should never go together

A few years ago, we stopped at a lovely children's museum on our way home from vacation. There were animals, outdoor walks, nature and programs to listen to. The one thing I saw that I can't tolerate: a nest of snakes that you could see through plexiglass.

Nest. Snakes. Those two words should never be used together in my humble opinion. I leave the room when nature shows even mention the two words anywhere close...they may be talking about snakes one hour, and a cute nest of birds soon after, but I hear the two words and I'm g.o.n.e.

Two words came together (sensing a theme here yet?) that I also have always believe should never have to be uttered together: snake. house.

Snake in the house. House with a snake in it. MY HOUSE WITH A SNAKE IN IT.

Yes. And worse yet, I carried it in a huge load of dirty sports/workout clothes from my basement, two flights of steps, to my laundry area. And it sat there for 45 minutes, waiting for the washer to be available. Picked up one piece and. yep. Snake in my house.

So I did what this mom does best in that situation: I screamed.

The cat and dog didn't seem to care. The neighbors couldn't hear. I couldn't get to the phone without taking my eye off the darn thing. I was frozen. Me and snaky were in a standoff stareoff.

So, I thought, if I take my eye off of it (which I really, really wanted to do), or if I move (really, really), or ran out (really, really really), that thing would be in my closet. Or bedroom. Or my bed.

OK, add that to the two word list: snakes. bed.

I was stuck in a hallway with no weapons. clothes, laundry detergent, plastic hangers. Nothing. OK, one basket. Put the basket on the floor and hope for the best. Cringe and shiver. Shiver and cringe watching it start to move and slither.

But it was moving and slithering into the basket. I ran (I think I was still screaming) and out the front door and that snake went for a small unscheduled flight across my front yard.

Deal: done.

Then I left home.

And I'm hoping those two words never, ever work their way into my vocabulary ever again.

Easier made than bought: Sofa Table

My Mom and I went shopping recently for ideas for her new (smaller) home. We wanted a small table that she could eat at but not take up too much room. This one was too long, that one too wide; one was too high, another had shelves so a chair (or legs) wouldn't fit underneath. All day we looked, measured, and found something wrong with each one.

By the end of the day, I had a good idea what we wanted, but no idea of how to find it.

So I did what any other mom would do: I headed to Lowes. I figured it was just as easy to make a table than to spend all day shopping for one. It turned out to not only be easier, but quicker too.

I started with 4 premade table legs, skirted with 1x4 poplar, made into a simple box around the legs and attached with wood screws. The top was a pre-cut piece, the perfect size I was looked for---yay for anything that saves time!
It isn't perfect, but for my first quick attempt, I'm pretty pleased. So pleased that I kept it for myself. (OK, mom got something else that worked, don't get all upset!)

What I would do differently next time: 1) miter the corners and 2) inset the screw heads for a better finish look.

It looks really nice here I think, and fills in what was an empty spot

The 3 R's: Reduce, Reduce, Reduce....

Well, those are my three anyway (the original being reduce, reuse and recycle!). Recycling is taken care of as part of our trash pickup, and I'm not so creative that I can see new uses for old things, but boy can I get rid of stuff.

I don't like clutter (see "about me"). I love to organize. Together, you have to clean out, throw away, recycle or reuse and get rid of that stuff before you can get organizing.

I had a few minutes the other day, and this is part of what I pulled out:

Well, that was the start at least. I decided to clean out the craft supply areas in our spare room (now a fort room), and in barely no time, I had two large grocery bags ready to go. After a quick post on Freecycle, they were out of the house in just a few hours.

On her way was a woman who said she worked with an after-school program, so I quickly filled up bag #3 with books by 8 year old had not read in six years a year or two, and I'm left with one of my favorites things:

Empty spaces.

It's one of my goals in life: To have empty spaces in my house. It's a decent size house; there are only three of us (six with critters), and in my opinion, we should have a lot of empty space.

How much stuff do we really need? I'm on a quest to find out.

A day of getting rid of "stuff" ranks up there with a trip to Lowes to pick up lumber for a new project.

babies or puppies?

So this die-hard kitty lover finds herself raising a puppy. Good thing she's cute, because she is a feisty little thing that has a talent for learning so many tricks quickly, but still prefers to poo and pee in the house.


People wonder: Is it harder to raise a baby or a puppy? Which one should you get first? Is puppy raising good preparation for baby raising? Let me think: . . . .

I'll take the baby. Definitely the baby.


No kidding, the first weeks of baby-ness were hard. I did find myself sitting in a puddle of tears in the middle of the bed one day just sobbing "this is so hard" with a living room full of family taking care of Carter one night. But, on the other hand:

I was in love with him from the first second I saw him, held him. Puppy? It's been more of a process....


Baby: He never bit me (Wait, on second thought, he did while he was teething or when he was mad)


Baby: Diapers. Puppy? Don't think I haven't thought about it.I saw a chickin in a cart at Lowes in a diaper once. So it can happen.



Baby: Potty training wasn't that bad. OK, there was that one time I was on the phone and he peed down the stairs and thought it was hilarious, but that wasn't a daily occurrence.


Baby: Did not chase the kitties. OK, he did a little. But he definitely did NOT bite their tails. That I am sure of.

Baby: Most definitely did not bark. And he never chewed through his (three) leashes.


Baby: He just was never the baby that put things in his mouth. And I know FOR SURE that he never, ever ate cat poop. Seriously.
These are the things the puppy people keep secret until you get them home and get attached and can't send them back.

So my vote? Baby first. Then kitties. Then wait.

Then puppy.
But make sure it's a cute one. You'll need it.