Our House, what a very, very, very fine house. It's in the middle of the street, our house. I have been holding my breath all week and on Saturday morning I will be able to slowly let out some air. Slowly, very slowly because on Saturday morning my dad is sending over some of his crew to prep and paint (cross your fingers, rub a rabbit's foot, hold up one leg, and say the Lord's Prayer) our house.


This is pretty much what our house looked like when we bought it in February '07. We had seven trees in our front yard. The picture does not reveal my husband's broken vertebrae that he lost while pulling the English Ivy from every single inch of the front yard and even on the trees. The green stuff in the trees? It's not leaves, that's ivy. We tried to send the kids up into the tree to help pull it down. They didn't go for it, slackers.

Behold the naked house. We had four trees cut down when this picture was taken. The tree on the left, it passed away during the ice storm. In other words, our house is now exposed! She lost her camouflage and is showing herself in all of her luscious fecal brown glory. Her banister is exposed for all to see her rotten and decrepit railing.

Our neighbors tell us on an almost daily basis what a good job we are doing fixing up the yard. We get to hear about how disappointed they were when the President of the Garden Club (seriously, she was) terraced her yard and gave up grass for ivy. But now we are getting asked, so subtly, what color are we going to paint it? Oh? she needs paint? I guess no one wants to be reminded of a bowel movement when they drive pass our house.

I kid, I kid, think about all those people that are homeless? They would love to live in a poop colored house. Another man's shit is another man's treasure, right?

So annnywayyy, after much hoping but not pressing, and dreaming but not expecting, my dad is actually going to start the process of painting this weekend. And I am so incredibly grateful. When he called yesterday to tell me, I about started to cry while on the phone. But I held back because that would put too much pressure on my dad and it might postpone the job. (Yes, I have issues, big major issues but that is not what this post is about)

Saturday morning they will power wash and prep. My dad has instructed them to start painting the upper half above the garage and go around the back if they have time Saturday. They will have to come back next weekend (cross your fingers, rub a rabbit's foot, hold up one leg, and say the Lord's Prayer) to finish. The colors will be a sagey green on the bottom half brick, a creamy whitish beige on the top half, off white enamel on the trim. All Benjamin Moore colors just not sure which because we are getting leftover paint from some of his jobs. The shutters will be black. Don't you see the shutters? well they are going to be there. Board and Batten shutters that we thought we had time to build or buy because I refused to get my hopes up in case it didn't happen this year.

I am so excited! I am going to Sam's to get a case of water because it is suppose to be 110 with the heat index. Lovely.

Looks like we might have to really decorate for Halloween this year in order to have the scariest house in the neighborhood.
We'll have a beautiful house in the neighborhood, a beautiful house in the neighborhood....

Last night, while lying in bed, I solved some of the world's problems. It really was a productive night. I re-enacted my day correcting all my conversations I had to be more witty. I went through entire scenarios of what I would say and then what they would say and then what I would say and then what they would say.... it would go on and on. Most of the time the conversation would play out that I, being extremely succinct, witty, and thought provoking, left the other party admitting that I am so right, how could they not see it?

I did this for about four hours last night. When I couldn't take the constant replay I gave in and took my lovely Xanax.

But before the pill took effect I was rockin' and rollin'. I had about ten blog posts written, the "kidnapping" of Casey Anthony in Florida solved, my mother-in-law put in her place, created a new position for me within my company, what McCain should say to Obama, what I want to say to the people making me change my light bulbs to those ugly fluorescent things, and a way for me to work from home and still keep my job.

I can solve it all. I just need a few more nights of insomnia and I can figure out a way to keep my old incandescent light bulbs and still look like I believe changing bulbs will keep the earth from burning.

My Daughter is seven. Seven. She has been working to master the art of hair brushing, pony-tails, teeth brushing, using soap not just water when showering, just the basic hygiene and grooming skills. Our deal is once she is able to take care the basics, without nagging prompting and help from me, but especially without nagging prompting, she can then get her ears pierced. No age requirement for this rite of passage, just independence and responsibility.

Most days she does a pretty darn good job of pulling her hair back and brushing her teeth. She sometimes skips a step in the process, like forgetting to brush her hair before pulling it back, or forgetting to actually brush her teeth once she puts the toothpaste on the toothbrush.

Last weekend I figured out how to motivate her toward good hygiene and independence.


Sunday, before Sherry and her family of four boys came over, Anna had hastily pulled her hair back in a pony-tail and added a headband to catch all the stray hairs that failed to make it into the rubber band. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed but I did not nag say a word.

Within fifteen minutes of meeting Jensen, Walker, Hunter, and Dawson, Anna went back upstairs. The next time I saw her my heart skipped a beat and I started to panic that I was going to be raising one of "those girls", the too young to be boy crazy, girls.

Her naturally curly hair had been brushed as straight as she could make it. Her dress-up makeup had been applied to her eyelids and cheeks, her face was as reflective as a disco ball with all the glitter. Her lips were protected from drying out and cracking due to the careful application of Hello Kitty sparkle lip gloss. She was a picture of beauty and perfectly made up to be a light reflector for a late night bike ride. But I don't think bike safety was on her mind.

Did I mention she was seven.....

Meet Millie, name subject to change, our new puppy. She is a seven week old, 8 pound, green-eyed, chocolate lab. Isn't she the cutest thing? Look at her, fall in love with her, help me raise her, tell me I am going to be so happy with our new addition because I am scared. But isn't she so adorable? I need to sear this image in my brain for when she is 150 pounds and knocking off my knick-knacks with her mammoth tail.

My mom called on Sunday, while I was rushing around getting ready for our cookout, to tell me that a friend of hers was giving away lab puppies and they were soooo cute. I immediately said, "No mom. We do not have time to train a puppy. We need to finish the remodeling before we think about getting a puppy." She said that she knows but that they are so incredibly cute and sweet.

My mom called me at work on Monday asking if I was positive that we didn't want a dog. She was so sure we would change our mind that she took one of the puppies home anyway! Looks like my mother really does know me.

My 20th reunion was great! I saw some people I hadn't seen or spoken to in 20 years and some even longer than that. After we did the, "Where do you live?" "Has it really been twenty years?" question and answer time then it was like no time has passed and we were picking up where we left off, standing in the hallway in front of Mr. Martin's classroom.


I am so glad I went and I am excited about renewing friendships that were such a huge part of my life growing up; but fizzled with moving, careers, families, and time. Most of the people I was able to see I had gone to elementary school with or started 7th grade together. I think that is one of the cool things about growing up in a small town with one high school the ties go way back. Then again that is why it is hard for others that have to move to a town with only one high school the friendships have been established since grade school and they can be hard to penetrate.

When we got together at my house on Sunday I looked around and saw all the kids, FIFTEEN, and thought - how in the world did we all get here, this place, this year, these kids, those husbands? How were we able to do all that on our own without passing a note or talking on the phone for hours? It was funny, I was able to decide who to marry without their advice but my judgement failed me when I had to pick out an outfit for this shindig. Crazy.

I am home and about to jump in the shower to get ready for my 20th reunion mixer. Since I didn't buy a new outfit and we are not shelling out $60 for a babysitter as previously planned, I splurged.

I had a manicure and pedicure last night at Ulta for $65!!! (that is a complete rip off but at least I was able to have a whole conversation in English) This morning I went into an empty cubicle and painted my nails a different color because I wasn't thrilled with the choice I made last night.

I am also having my hair blown-out. I failed to tell my husband of this frivolous appointment and let it slip while I was on the phone last night. But hey! my 20th high school reunion only comes around once.

Though not really since I actually graduated high school from Bob Jones Academy, in Greenville, South Carolina, a year later. My husband is safe from that reunion because the last time I was allowed on campus I had to write a letter to the Dean and promise to stay with my parents the entire time I was on campus for my little sisters college graduation. But that is a story for another day.

Every Thursday Sandra at Diary of a Stay Home Mom has recipes for Slow Cookers from other readers. She calls it Slow Cooking Thursdays and you can find some really good recipes. She also just got back from visiting her family in South Africa where she is from. She hadn't been back in over ten years! The pictures of her trip were great.

I made this Tuesday night and our kids loved it! Great flavor, tender meat, and super easy. No one in our family is a fan of mushrooms so this recipe does not include any vegetables commonly found in Beef Burgundy. Plus, I used inexpensive meat and had wine with dinner since I didn't want the bottle to go to waste.

Ingredients

• 2lb package of cute up stew meat
  
• 1 can cream of mushroom soup


• 1 package of Dry Onion Soup Mix (I used the Golden Onion mix)


• 1/2 cup of dry red wine (I used Columbia Crest Merlot because I have no idea what is "dry" and what is "non-dry" but my husband who actually reads our subscription to the Wine Spectator told me it would work)


• Cooked Egg Noodles
  

That's all!

Lightly grease your crock pot and then mix the cream of mushroom soup together with the red wine and place the meat on top. Sprinkle the entire packet of dry soup mix over all. Cook on low for 8 hours or high for 4.

*Tip*
When I came home from work I gave this a good stir. I thought it seemed a little thin. In a 2 cup measuring cup I added a 1/2 cup of cold water and 2 spoonfuls of cornstarch and mixed it together to get out all the lumps. I poured this into the crockpot and stirred. I let it cook for another 1/2 hour. I thought the consistency was perfect.