It’s not easy being green

So a while back I wrote about trying to green my life.  The regular light bulbs have been replaced with CFLs, we use the ceiling fans and furnace fan on all but the hottest days, I dry 90% of my laundry outside.  I’ve planted mostly organic seeds and haven’t touched a non-organic pesticide or fertilizer in the garden.  I shop at our local farmer’s market , I try to buy foods with less packaging, local and/or organic on every grocery trip, I bring my own shopping bags everywhere and I’ve replaced nearly all our household cleaners with less harmful or all (or mostly) natural cleaners.  Aside from a little more elbow grease when cleaning and slightly higher grocery bills this green thing is working well.  Although I really do have to start the laundry earlier since five loads WILL NOT dry in three hours no matter how sunny and/or windy it is.  Time management…it’s a beautiful thing and I need to work on it.

But, and there’s always a but, some of the organic/natural/green personal care products I have tried are not so great.  I have happily substituted my Colgate toothpaste for Tom’s of Maine and quite honestly believe that it cleans my teeth better.  I know it tastes better and it doesn’t leave a gross aftertaste in my mouth if I accidentally swallow some.  Despite costing twice (or three times) as much as the regular stuff I’ll keep using it. 

The deodorant sadly, did not fare so well.  Even before reading my friend Kara’s blog post I had bought a stick of the Original scent and thought it was pretty good.  I liked the way it smelled and while it was a little sticky upon applicaiton, it seemed to do the job.  After a week of use no one had complained or passed out in my presence.  Granted, by the end of the day there was a very slight “odour” about me, but since I was at home I could care less.  Of course this was in May when it was still fairly cool out.  When the hot weather rolled in a month later I had to go back to the regular stick.  Quite honestly I smelled like a musk ox by noon.  It was bad.  Even DH noticed and I like to affectionately kid him about his lack of olfactory glands.  So the Tom’s got put back in the drawer to wait for cooler times.  It’s a good product, but not for me in the hot weather. 

I also switched out my shampoo and conditioner.  I am not super fussy about my hair (I’m stylistically challenged) and since my hair dryer died a month ago it’s gotten even worse.  Aftersniffing every bottle of shampoo and conditioner  in the organics aisle at the grocery store I decided to go with Avalon Organics Rosemary Thickening shampoo and conditioner.  The first go round was great.  I loved the smell and thought my fine, limp hair actually did look thicker.  Plus the conditioner doubled as shaving cream and you can’t beat a product that does double duty and is still good for the environment. 

The second go round has proved to be disappointing.  My hair now looks vaguely greasy all the time.  I have cut back on the amount of conditioner I use and sometimes skip it entirely but it’s not helping.  And I seem to have to use more and more shampoo every morning to get the same amount of lather which at $7-8ish per bottle does not make me happy.  Sorry Avalon but you’re being replaced with JASON.  Maybe we just need a “break” and I’ll try you again in a few months.  All is not lost though, I like your Vitamin C facial cleanser and think it smells pretty and does a good job.  That will be a repeat purchase in a few weeks when I finally run out.

I’m a big fan of the Nature’s Gate body wash I found.  I don’t think it’s hugely moisturizing, although it’s summer so it’s hard to tell really, especially given the fact that it hasn’t stopped raining here for weeks, but it smells great and lathers pretty well.  And their toothpaste is also good…minty tasting, no aftertaste and does as good job as Tom’s.  I will definitely use it again, just thought I’d like a flavour break, hence mixing it up with Tom’s. 

So I’ll  continue my quest for green personal care products that work as well (or better) than the kinds I used to use  which contain sodium laurel sulfate and parabens and are generally toxic and nasty to the environment.  Which coincidentally is the environment we live in and the only one we have.  The extra few dollars is worth it.  Not to mention, our furbaby Baxter also has to live in our house and given that she’s smaller than us and is that much closer to the ground, everything we use affects her much more (quickly) than us.   And she doesn’t have a choice.  But I do.  As the saying goes, I’m being the change I want to see.  One shampoo bottle at a time.

Cognitive Dissonance

Wikipedia (God I love that site) defines cognitive dissonance as an uncomfortable feeling caused by holding two contradictory ideas simultaneously. 

Now I love DH with all myheart, which I know you will find hard to believe a) that I have a heart and b) that I do love him due to my constant complaining about him here in Cleverly land.  But anyway.  I do.  That being said, he’s a bit of a doofus.  Which is often used as a term of endearment in The Money Pit.  Picture a golden lab…a big, goofy, happy drooly dog (ok DH doesn’t drool nor is he a dog) and you get the picture.

Anyway, the other day we were down in the basement workshop, which is also where our freezer lives.  I was digging out something for dinner and DH found his caulking gun.  Now, before I go on, you have to know that DH is also in the Canadian Forces Reserves and has been for a really long time.  I know this (oooh I love me a man in uniform) and see him often in his CadPat fatigues and God knows there is enough army crap lying around our house.  But I forget he’s basically a mercenary given his laid-back doofy nature and all.  Besides, it’s no secret that I’m the 37 star General in our relationship.

So why was it such a shock when he picked up the caulking gun and started doing weirdo gun moves that made it look like the caulking gun was actually the real thing?  Two worlds collided and I have to say that it was weird.  Jeez, my doofy lab is actually a trained marksman who knows the business end of a C7 assault rifle.   As DH would say “does not compute”.

Unmentionables

For the past several years I have been wearing many styles of  these.  I’d pick up a few here and there and over the years amassed maybe 60 or so pairs. They don’t quite live up to their no VPL promise but they are damn comfortable, come in all kinds of pretty colours and dry quickly…which is a huge bonus when traveling to offbeat destinations where laundromats are hard to come by.

I am a creature of habit and don’t like a lot of change in my personal life.  But as with any good thing, the end sadly is in sight.  The elastic is wearing out, the colours are fading and I find myself throwing out a pair or two a week.

I just read though, that there is a direct correlation between the state of the economy and the state of unmentionables.  When times are good, underwear sales are high.  When times are not so good, people suck it up and walk around with icky, worn out gitch.

Which means that since some economists now think we’ve hit bottom, I can shop my heart out for replacements without feeling guilty for spending money on frivolous things.  I’m just doing my part to help the economic tide turn and bring us back to better days.

No really, you shouldn’t have.

So the SIL was in North Africa about a month ago.  She travels a lot for work and for fun so I’m not really sure what the nature of this trip was.  What I am sure of is that I’d like her to stop feeling obligated to bring stuff back for me.  Really.  It’s ok.  I appreciate the fact that you are thinking about me, I’m sure you mean well and I get that you’re busy and probably don’t have a ton of time to shop in the souks but picking up some trinket at the airport is really not necessary.

Especially when said trinket is an orange belly dancing scarf.  I neither belly dance nor wear orange…it makes me look billious.  What in the hell do I do with it?  I know she’ll look for it next time she comes to the house so ditching it in the Goodwill bin is out of the question.  Besides, I couldn’t subject some poor unfortunate person to this polyester hot mess.  It wouldn’t be right.  Karma would have something to say no doubt…like a six foot tall balsa wood giraffe souvenir from her next trip to Africa.  Or perhaps a lifesize red phone booth from a trip to London.  Thank God for baggage weight restrictions is all I can say.

Yes this colour is true to life

Camping Widow Weekend

If you are friends with me on Facebook you’ll know by my numerous status updates over the past day that DH is away for the weekend.  That makes two out of the past four weekends he’s been out of town and four out of the past four weekends that have been all about him or his family, but hey, who’s counting?  He peaked too early and the rest of the summer belongs to me whether he likes it or not.

This weekend he’s gone down to a provincial park in Southwestern Ontario with two other guys for a camping stag weekend.  Apparently they are drinking beer, terrorizing people on Lake Erie in a catamaran and, well, umm, that’s it.  I thought stags would be a little more exciting than that but I guess when you and your friends are in your 40s this is as good as it gets.

I jest though.  I’d much rather he cheat death on a catamaran than look at girls in some icky strip club in Windsor.  Someone would be sleeping in the shed if that was the case.

I, on the other hand, have had a much more exciting weekend in my opinion.  Last night my friend Martha came over and we indulged in some girl talk and some knitting.  I ate some chips after she left (swollen ankles be damned!), tried unsuccessfully to spin on my drop spindle and messed about on Facebook (damn you Bejewelled) until the wee hours of the morning.  I slept in, had a leisurely breakfast and managed to mostly avoid temptation today at two yarn stores (grand total spent was $72…woo me!) and the shoe store.  

But let’s talk about shoe stores.  Why is it that shoe designers think women want to look like hookers?  I mean really.  Who needs platform, gold lame, studded, lucite, fringed hootchie mama shoes that lace up to your knees?  Do you know how hard it is to find a three inch open toe/sandal in black/brown/any solid colour with minimal straps and no crap all over it?  Good taste is dead I tell you.

I tried this new store Stylesense and quite frankly I was sorely disappointed.  You can see from the linked page that tasteful and classy do not appear to be in stock at that store.  Or rather they are, but classy and tasteful cost over $200 and as I have few formal occasions in my life now, shoes that expensive do not have a very good return on investment.

I did manage to pick up a small present for a cousin-in-law who I like very much, a pair of brown socks for $2 and this pair of Havaianas (except mine are lilac).  And they were significantly cheaper.  And yes, they really are the world’s most comfortable flip flop.  DH gets all bent out of shape when I wear shoes in the house but my feet get cold even in the summer time so these will be my “house” shoes.  Sometimes I let him get his way….I’m not completely heartless.

I also spent some time messing around on zappos.com today as I have heard good things about it.  And our dollar is riding high so I thought I’d see what they have to offer.  Same deal as Stylesense….hootchie mama shoes.  I have no issue with high heels.  Despite having arthritic toes I love me some high heels and the higher the better.  What I don’t love is fringe, gladiator straps, platforms, studs and more than one buckle per shoe.

At this rate I’ll be wearing my lilac Havaianas to the weddings.  I won’t be stylish but I’ll be comfortable that’s for sure.

But the fun has to end.  Tomorrow DH comes home and while I fully intend to sleep in yet again, the good times will come to crashing halt at 11am as I’ll have to hide the yarn I did buy, wash two days worth of dishes, plant my perennials that have been sitting on the porch for nearly a week, start doing laundry and cram all the cleaning I haven’t done in the past two weeks into three hours so that I can make DH feel guilty for leaving me alone yet again to deal with the Money Pit while he gads about with his friends.  What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and I can always use another sushi dinner paid for by DH to assuage his guilt.  Shhh, my slack off weekend will be our little secret.

It was both better and worse than I thought it would be

I have only been married once and have no plans to do it ever again should the need arise.  But, in my opinion, there are a few things that thoughtful and considerate brides should do.

1. Alert your guests to the fact that there will be a strong liklilhood that some or all of the wedding day will be spent outside.
2. ALERT YOUR GUESTS TO THE FACT THAT THERE WILL BE A STRONG LIKLIHOOD THAT SOME OR ALL OF THE WEDDING DAY WILL BE OUTSIDE.

Brides who elect to have, oh, say their ceremony and cocktails outside, REALLY need to let their guests know this by WRITING IT ON THE FREAKING INVITATION so that said guests can dress appropriately.  Like by wearing clothing with sleeves.  And changing into high heels AFTER the outside parts are done.

Also, if you are going to write your own vows, please speak them CLEARLY into the microphone.  Despite the fact that I am a youthful 37  my ears are not good enough to hear you over the incoming delivery trucks, low flying airplanes and wind blowing in the opposite directi0n. Also the murmer of the other 125 people who couldn’t hear you either pretty much drowned out anything else you said from that point on.  While providing bubbles to be blown as you walk down the aisle once you are married are a really neat idea it is NOT a neat idea to ask the congregation to blown them INTO the wind and thus have the soap get into our eyes, mouths, hair and all over our clothing.

Just saying.

As for the rest of the day it was ok.  The FIL fell asleep on the way up to the wedding.  And fell asleep (or passed out…it’s your call really) on the way home from the wedding.  He was also seated at another table so my time spent with him while we were both conscious was minimal.  There really and truly is a God.

SIL was subject to the attentions of two very nice Greek men.  I spent much of the evening in fascinated contemplation of Greek courting methods that take sublety to new heights.  Afterall, Greek mamas and papas can’t have any idea that people might be interested in each other until the ring is on the woman’s had and 95% of the wedding preparations have been carved in stone.    SIL also sat at another table so my hearing the word “fabulous” was also minimal.

The wedding itself was at a very lovely private golf and country club that if I had an extra several tens of thousands of dollars kicking around I would not hesitate to join.  Despite the fact that I do not golf.  Or play tennis.  I spent much of the ceremony (aside from shivering and trying to stay warm) admiring the landscaping and figuring out how best to recreate those planting patterns in my own backyard.

Cocktails began immediately after the ceremony which was perfect as I need the alcohol to a) warm me up and b) keep me from killing the irritating friend of the FIL’s who kept asking me why I have yet to spawn a child and b) did I think it was fair to keep my inlaws waiting.  I’m sure it’s hard to kill someone with a spear of celery but I was pretty sure that I could do it if I wasn’t physically restrained by DH.  I compromised by shooting him looks that could kill for the rest of the night.

On the subject of cocktails though, despite being a lovely private golf and country club, they had no idea how to make a decent caeasar.  The addition of vodka would be my first suggestion on how to fix things.  Also rimming the glass with caesar rim mix is a classy touch.

We had prime rib cooked rare, which is the best way to eat it in my opinion.  In fact only running the prime rib through the warm kitchen on a hot plate could have topped the preparation of dinner.  This did not go well with the Greeks though, who must eat all meat at the very least well done but preferably cooked to charcoal and then left to cool on the plate for several hours.  I watched several plates get sent back until the beef was returned suitably leather-like.  I also found  it highly entertaining that none of the people (age range 30ish to 45ish) other than DH and I knew what Yorkshire Pudding was.  One woman at our table insisted that it actually had pudding in it.  Despite the fact pudding and prime rib don’t mix she seemed disappointed to find it empty.

God was also smiling upon me (must be due to my good behaviour during DH’s Birthweek festivities) because  the couple elected to go with a DJ rather than a band.  Greek music was kept to a minium and DH also must have remembered my complaints about it since every time that weirdo clarinet music started up he asked me to go for a walk outside with him.  Must be love.

The one cultural tradition that they didn’t to that I really like was the Pig Dance (a suckling pig is carried out on a platter while the “helpers” dance around and money is thrown on the pig until they decide it’s paid for) but the couple also nixed the whole kumbaro (kind of like godparents) thing too so I guess you can’t have a pig dance without a kumbaro to pay for it.

Other miscellanous things I found it interesting were that the bride wore her veil over her face during the ceremony as I haven’t seen that since I was a little girl and didn’t think women still did that.  I also found it interesting that my self-described fashionista SIL has a pair of grey nylons in her possession that she wore with a hot pink dress and silver shoes.  Other than the 65+ crowd, SIL was the only woman wearing nylons in the room.  I also found it interesting that the couple bucked the tradition of hideously ugly and useless bombonierre and gave everyone a heart shaped truffle from one of the “gourmet” chocolate store chains.  That also elicited grumbles from the Greek ladies of a certain age but I am once more thankful I do not have to dispose of etched glass coasters, an espresso coffee cup, crystal anything or a God-awful candle/vase/hurricane shade/sculpture shaped like a cupid/angel/kneeling child.  It could have been much much worse.  And we got to take the centrepiece which was a (super) heavy square vase stuffed to the brim with peonies and roses….very Martha Stewart and very much appreciated.

Overall the wedding was ok.  Minimal FIL and maximum entertainment watching the SIL.  Maximum annoyance from irritating old Greek men (yes men) and women asking about babies and the lack thereof and minimum exposure to outdated Greek wedding traditions.  For once the non-Greek part of the couple won out (yay groom!) although I also suspect that this was what the bride wanted too as it’s very difficult to stop a determined Greek mama unless a united front is presented.  Although the bride’s parents are super nice so I don’t think they really cared one way or another.  If only all of DH’s family weddings could be like this I’d go willingly and quite possibly even cut back on my alcoholic intake.

Any way you look at it I’m going to be hung over tomorrow

So on tonight the DH and I, his sister and the outlaws will be at a wedding.  It’s the first one this year for us.  As you can guess, it’s DH’s “family”.  The bride is some sort of quasi relation and while I’m sure she’s a lovely person, I really don’t care to dig much deeper.  I met her for a grand total of 8 minutes at my bridal shower and wedding and expect to spend about the same amount of time conversing with her at hers.  No offense but that’s how these things go.  Brides are busy and weddings aren’t really the time or the place to have deep and meaningful conversations.  Not if you’re the bride that is.

And this is how the fun begins.  We are all going in one car.  Yes five adults in one small Japanese car.  As the wife of the driver (aka DH) I get to sit in the front.  Which is a small mercy as his parents have yet to hear about this newfangled thing called dry cleaning.  It can get a little ripe in the backseat.  Anyway I digress.

The wedding is at some golf course and I’m sure it will be lovely and tasteful and elegant.  I was speaking to the SIL tonight and it’s going to be small (for a Greek wedding…only 150 or so people…my shower was bigger than that no word of a lie) and not at all traditional.  I am hoping they elect to go with a DJ or a tasteful trio or ensemble as those weirdo Greek bands creep me out.  And if I never do another circle dance I can easily die a happy woman.

If we get to sit with the “young people” which may or may not include the SIL it’s all good and tomorrow’s hangover will be minimal.  If we get stuck with the outlaws….Oh sweet Mother of Jesus there will not be enough wine in the joint to make it a pleasant evening.  

Case in point, the MIL firmly believes that weddings only occur so that the couple can have babies (ummmm babies come to people who aren’t married and there are lots of married couples who elect not to or cannot have babies) so I’m sure I’ll be bombarded the WHOLE FREAKING EVENING with baby-related digs and comments.  After all, it’s coming up on three years….where are the babies?????  MIL knows where the babies are…or rather why the babies aren’t but that’s something she’ll conveniently forget tomorrow night.  And why the babies aren’t is a post for another time.

And if it isn’t MIL making baby comments it will be any number of other irritating Greek women who I have met for approximately 18 seconds at my wedding who now feel that a) they know me intimately b) feel they can ask/tell me any manner of inappropriate things and c) think I am entitled to their thoughts and opinions especially concerning babies.  They’d be wrong on all three counts.

So yeah, long drive, outlaws, inappropriate comments and questions….all while dolled up in a dress, ridiculous party hair and fancy high heels.  Not to mention that I’m PMSy, my face has broken out 17 ways to Sunday and I just want to curl up in bed with the cat, a trashy book and a giant bowl of popcorn instead of going to a virtual stranger’s wedding.  

I can tell you’re just aching to swap places with me.  I can feel it.

Oh but wait, it gets better.  It’s no secret that the FIL likes his wine…and vodka and beer and pretty much anything else with alcohol in it.  He also has major health problems.  Major MAJOR ones that mean if he wants to live he can’t drink.  FIL either thinks he’s invincible or he wants to die given that he still partakes of the grape.  Without putting too fine of a point on it, you can guess which option I’m partial to.

So FIL earlier this week had a little too much to drink.  He and MIL got into it at dinner (we were there) and, well, it was awkward.  A bit funny but mostly awkward.  There was yelling, name calling and then pouting by both parties.  Closely followed by mumbling in Greek about how the other person was an idiot and the mumbler was a martyr.  At least I’m pretty sure based on facial expressions and tone that that’s what was being said.  

I wanted to disappear under the table, downstairs, out the door…anywhere to be honest but that wasn’t an option.  DH sat there and ignored it all but I was mortified.  In my world you have your fights in private.  Of course airing dirty mildly-disguised family laundry on the internets is ok though ha ha.

Even though this is going to be a very non-traditional Greek wedding there will still be an open bar.  Of course.  Personally I can’t through these events without it and thank God for those fine bartenders who pour me doubles without being asked (to be fair my family’s events often require open bars too).  I drink to shut out the yapping and to take the edge off.  Sometimes that’s one ceasar and sometimes it’s several.  Never can tell until I get there.

So, open bar, MIL otherwise occupied with a) berrating SIL for not being married-honestly-what-is-she-waiting-for-she’s-not-getting-younger and b) berrating me for not being pregnant-honestly-what-am-I-waiting-for-I’m-not-getting-younger FIL will make a break for it and have several beverages while the coast is clear.  He will also have wine with dinner and a cocktail or two afterwards.  At some point MIL will notice and possibly the fight will begin anew.  They won’t yell in the reception hall, although snipes will be made at each other and their children (for some strange reason I am off limits – a fact I am very thankful for) but you can bet the house on it the yelling will start in the car.  Great….long drive back, sore feet (and possibly swollen ankles if it’s hot and there’s a lot of salt in the food), an uncomfortable dress (at that point), super tired, still PMSy, cranky from deflecting inappropriate comments/questions/opinions and now stuck with feuding outlaws.

Sweet Jesus thank you for letting there be a fibre festival and all-you-can-eat sushi in my immediate future.  That and the open bar are the only things that will keep me from stabbing the lot of them with my dessert fork.

Updates and random musings

So after DH’s three day 40th birthday extravaganza I took some time off.  I’m still tired.  But I’m finally feeling coherent enough to jumble together some sort of post. 

• 40th Birthday parties – they all went well thanks for asking.  The giant monkeys on the lawn were a big surprise (thank God DH does not check Facebook regularly!) and go figure there was way too much food.  The MIL brought food, aunts brought food, my mom brought food, I cooked food, assorted friends and cousins brought food.  Let’s just say that it’s a good thing we have two GIANT green boxes for composting.  And no, I don’t feel guilty about tossing all that food at all.  Especially since hardly any of it that got tossed was mine.
• Surprisingly there was no drama.  This was both good and bad.  Good as it made for smooth running parties but bad I really was hoping to be able to kick people out of my house. 
• The birthday sweater did not get finished.  The Spider Pig cake did not get made.  The Spider Pig fabric was not ordered and thus the pj pants were not sewn.  DH nixed everything but the sweater.  Estimated time of completion for that….on the 12th of Never given how I feel oddly uncreative these days.
• DH will not be having a 50th birthday party thrown by me I have decided.  I am still tired from a week and a half of cooking, cleaning and gardening. 
• Still waiting for my “trinket” of appreciation for spending nearly a mortgage payment on the party, being nice to people I can’t stand and opening my house up to 80+ people over three days.  Suspect I’ll still be waiting when his 50th birthday rolls around.
• Who knew my post on swollen ankles would garner so much spam? 
• And speaking of swollen ankles it appears that heat+salt=swelling. It eventually goes away but it’s going to be an uncomfortable and unattractive summer I think.
• Wedding season is upon us and we have the first of two (so far but hopefully that’s it) weddings to attend this week.  As this is on DH’s side I don’t give a rat’s ass about what I am wearing.  I am breaking my cardinal rule of not wearing black to a wedding and, well, will be wearing a black dress.  Hey, it’s stretchy, pretty and I really don’t need any more formal wear at this point in my life.  Not to mention I have run out of time to make something and can’t be bothered to spend money on non-yarn and book related purchases.
• On Sunday I am going here with my friend Steph.  We may also make a stop into  Chapters as they’re having a 20% off sale and hey, you can never have too many knitting, gardening or cooking books.  I’m particularly smitten with Rustic Fruit Desserts .
• Next weekend the DH is away at a camping stag trip (have fun…I’ll miss you..but will enjoy having the bed to myself!) and I have big yarn store plans.  Perhaps a trip to Listowel?  Definitely a weekend of sleeping in though.
• I really need to make the blinds for our living room and dining room.  Really. 
• I have discovered that while I like growing plants I do not like planting them.  Weeding is ok though.  Huh.
• Squirrels and rabbits are the bane of my gardening existence.  I have, no word of a lie, 25 mystery plants that have come up in my gardens which have been ”planted” by squirrels.  I suspect they are cucumbers.  No one needs that many cucumbers.
• Rabbits have decimated my rhubarb and raspberries.  Gah!  I suspect chicken wire fencing is in my near future.
• I am mere seconds away from stabbing one of my co-workers with my pen as he has daily lame phone conversations with his GF.   We work in an open concept office and he’s loud.  They discuss riveting topics such as how they each slept the previous night, what they dreamed about, what one or both of them will be having for dinner, how their respective exercise programs are going all interspersed with sucky-face comments.   Two words for you dude…cell phone.  Oh God now he is whispering to her…please make it stop.
•  My face has decided to act like it’s 18 again.  I haven’t broken out like this for nearly 20 years.  Sadly I do not have the 18 year old body to go along with the suddenly 18 year old face.
• Lately I seem to have no creative energy.  I am trying to finish a lace baby blanket and have several more baby presents to make.  I  am pretty sure this blanket will be done by the time this kid goes to college.  Eeep.
• I have rediscovered my love of stove-popped popcorn.  My sister bought me a great housewarming present that was popcorn themed.  She’s the best!
• I have strange cravings for cake these days.  Time to break out the Cake Love book I guess.  But I am thinking the ricotta cake will be next.  Watch for it in June’s Cake’s I’ve Made page.  Mmmmm cake!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch….

Earlier today I was reading a blog where the author was talking about having nothing to say.  And I have to say that that has been me lately.  Nothing blog-worthy has been going on in my life.  I’ve been busy…cleaning my house (which quite frankly has reached biohazard status levels…you should see the size of my dust elephants bunnies), planning for DH’s 40th birthday parties next weekend, frantically trying to finish his sweater, trying to get some exercise in, working on my garden and spending an inordinate amount of time watching my seedlings grow.  Yes, I have just admitted to the world at large that I am obsessed with my plants.  Laugh at me now if you want but I’ll have the last laugh in August and September when my 42 tomato plants bear fruit.  Or maybe you’ll still be laughing since two humans cannot possibly eat that many tomatoes.  Unless one of those humans is DH.  That man can eat!

Ahem.  Like I said, I’ve been busy but boring.  However, all that is about to change.

I’ve written before that DH has a big, loud, much-of-the-time obnoxious, mostly dysfunctional family.  Anyway, in order to accomodate the dysfunctionality, we’re having three days of parties for him so that as many relatives as possible can a) wish him happy 40th birthday in person yet not have to interact with other family members they hate and b) see the Money Pit so we don’t have to spend the rest of the summer inviting them all over for drinks/dinner can kill two birds with one stone.  I tell you Army Generals have nothing on my planning and logistics skills.

So about the drama.  Well, DH has two cousins who are sisters.  Let’s call them Gwynneth and Winona.  Gwynneth and Winona have spent the last 20 years of their lives trying to outdo each other while not speaking to each other over some matter which no one really knows (or cares at this point) much about.  Which must have made life difficult as they still lived at home while all of this began.  So both Gwennie and Noni have grown up, moved away from home, gotten married and had kids.  But they still aren’t talking to each other.  And their mother, at least to my mind, continues this feud by telling each daughter what her sister is up to.  She won’t let it die.  Which is sick.  I think she likes the attention she gets when people tell her how terrible they feel for her.  Which is even sicker.  Munchausen’s By Proxy I’d guess but I’m no doctor. 

So these sisters, who haven’t spoken in decades, are set to descend on our house next weekend.  We knew one would come, as that’s the usual MO.  One decides to go and tells their mother who imparts that information on to the other sister who conveys her regrets.  Needless to say, I was blown away earlier this week when I got the second RSVP from the other sister saying she and her family would also be coming.

Now my house is big but it is by no means big enough to contain this kind of drama.  And I’m a bit embarrassed to say that I really do hope something happens as I’m really looking forward to telling one (or both) of them to get their heads out of their asses and grow up (oh please please PLEASE powers that be let me have the opportunity to say that!!!).  Plus Iwant to kick someone out of my house.  You can’t say it’s a successful party until someone has been forcibly ejected.

But I’m sure, with Murphy’s Law being what it is, one sister will suddenly back out of attending.  Or as DH says, they will time their attendance so that one is leaving while the other is arriving.  Which will suck.  From a drama point of view anyway.  And let’s face it, if one backs out, it won’t be the one I want to back out.  I’m not that lucky.

In the interim though, I’m going to practice my get-your-head-out-of-your-ass-and-stop-ruining-DH’s-party speech in my best adult voice every night.  You never know, the fates could be kind and usher DH’s 40th birthday in with a bang.  I wonder what kind of sacrifice I’d have to do to make sure that happens?  Is it worth a yarn diet for the next month?  Six months?  Forget it….no drama is worth going without yarn for more than six months.

Wanted…my ankles

A few years ago, when I travelled to hot places on a regular basis I would get a heat rash on my legs, from about my ankle to mid calf.  It was kind of ugly and itched when I thought about it but it went away a few days after getting to my final destination.  Upon occasion I would also get a minor heat rash on my arms.  I’m very fair skinned so it was pretty noticible, although it dindn’t bother me all that much.  Aside from being kind of itchy.

Lately however, my body has decided to find new and different ways to torment me.  Back in February when DH and I were in the Caymans (visiting his relatives  NOT laundering money…unfortunately) my hands, feet and ankles started to swell.  A lot.  Even DH had issues with his wedding ring and he doesn’t normally swell.  I attributed it to going from cold to hot and upon landing back in Winter, everything went back to normal.  I even asked my doctor when I saw her a month or so later.  She said it was nothing to worry about, just a weird fact of getting older.

So I pay it no mind until I woke up yesterday with my wedding rings cutting off the circulation in my left hand and my ankles swollen up like balloons.  Funnily enough my toes are ok and my feet fit into all my shoes.  But my ankles!  Oh my poor ankles.  They look like they belong to a woman who’s 9 months pregnant.  I’m drinking water like crazy, avoiding salt (oh that’s so hard) and trying to elevate them whenever possible.  Nothing is helping.  Well, not my ankles anyway.  My fingers seem to be going back to normal so maybe swelling starts to receed from the top down?

Anyway, if you see them, a decent pair of non-swollen ankles, gadding about town and having a good time, tell them get the hell back on my legs as I’m tired of looking stumpy.  Not to mention, if this really hot weather keeps up I’m going to have to seriously reconsider my summer wardrobe.  My legs aren’t the greatest but at least my ankles provided some definition.  Is it wrong that I want winter back and we haven’t even had summer?