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dirty house, warm heart 2002-09-23 Yesterday I had to run to the Walmart to return the quilt batting I purchased a couple months ago (I will tell you why later) and pick up a few items. The aisles are so narrow there that I get very annoyed trying to wheel a cart around, so I did what I always do: parked in the paint aisle, foraged for items, and brought them back to the cart. When I was almost finished with my list, I came back to the cart with a large padded envelope and the cart was gone. I searched for it for a few minutes, but it was nowhere to be found. Do I need to say it? I was So Pissed. I had to start over and it didn't take me a long time, but still it's the principle of the thing. One does not take someone else's cart, especially when it already has a bunch of stuff in it. I was looking for the cart for the rest of the time in the store, ready to bitch out the person who had taken it, but no dice. The reason I took the batting back is because Francisco and I bought a "coverlet" on Saturday night. I realized on Saturday that I would probably never actually make the quilt I was planning (I mean, let's be realistic), so I had purchased a quilt at Marshalls but took it back the same day because Francisco hated it. I didn't like it that much either, but it was better than actually exerting myself to sew. We ended up buying the coverlet, which is all white and has a chenille pattern on it, at Bed Bath and Beyond on Saturday night, and I like it a lot. It was more than I wanted to spend, but Francisco said, "Are we going to live like children for the rest of our lives?" Which is not that airtight an argument, but it was enough to override my thrifty concerns. While we were there we bought some white jersey sheets, and we love them. We had bought The Boy some jersey sheets about a month ago and he loves them, and while I was sick and sleeping on the living room futon a few nights, I used those jersey sheets and became convinced we needed some for our bed. They're so soft and comfortable. Our bed is lovely, and the fabric I bought for the quilt won't go to waste, because I'm going to make a large pillow for our headboard, and I'll make it out of that orange and while fabric. Problem solved. Also? The cats Love that chenille bedspread. I wish you could see them on it; they look extremely content, and very pretty. Speaking of fabric though, yesterday I finally made the covers for our bedroom desk and table. They took for-freaking-ever, and I had to force myself every step of the way, because I had very little energy to spare yesterday. I had to cut and hem the dropcloths to the right size for the table and desk, iron them (Francisco ironed the table one), and then decorate them with paint. The process took about 4 hours but it felt like longer. At Walmart I had bought some sponges and I cut them into egg shapes--small, medium, and large--and used them to stamp orange paint all over the dropcloths. I have to say, I really like the result, and I would recommend dropcloth because it's just seamed canvas (the seams are nicely done) and really really huge. It sews well (you need a size 16 needle at least) and it irons well, and the 9 x 12 foot dropcloths are only $20 at Home Depot. What's not to love? Unless you prefer a more refined cloth, in which case dropcloths are not your baby. Enough with craftyness, though I do want to say that due to yesterday's craftathon, my house didn't get cleaned and it is disgusting. Atomic would retch if she could see it; she of the sparkling home. I'm going to clean it little by little after work this week, and I'm not sorry I did the furniture covers yesterday instead of cleaning, because next weekend the weather people are forecasting lots of rain, and I had to paint the dropcloths in the driveway because they're so large. Which is not a good sentence but we all have to make sacrifices. Poor Francisco was sick this weekend. He doesn't think he has what I had, but it is probably a virus of some kind. I am trying to be as sweet to him as he was to me, but he makes it tough. He won't let me do many things for him, which is so not fair because when I'm sick I just lay there and let him be my houseboy. So message to him: Get your ass in bed and let me take care of you! Thank you cooperate. On Friday night we stayed home and ... I can't even remember what we did. I think Francisco and I read while Boy watched some mediocre tv movie. Saturday afternoon I took Boy to Old Navy and bought him some pants. I like Old Navy because they offer "regular" and "slim" jeans for boys. Boy needs slim because regular is way too big on him, but going down a size makes the pants too short. So slim is just what the doctor ordered, Boy pants-wise. He got two pairs of jeans (slim) and a pair of athletic pants, and with the pants he already owns, this is plenty. I like buying his school clothes as he needs them. When the weather gets cooler we'll evaluate his cold-weather shirt needs and make another trip. At this moment I would like to retract the statement I made about those Old Navy "curvy" jeans. Apparently women who wear sizes smaller than an 8 also cannot find jeans/pants to fit them, so I am sorry I made assumptions because I certainly didn't mean to offend anyone and I surely didn't think it was going to be such an issue. Over. Boy spent the night at Tony's on Saturday night, because Tony invited him to see a movie on Saturday afternoon, and as usual it morphed into an overnight invitation. Before the movie, Boy told us Tony had been grounded for a month for seeing Blue Crush without his mother's permission. Bahahahaha! Of course I'm sorry for Tony, but Blue Crush is only PG13 and Tony is almost 12, and his mom's main objection, I think, were the breasts. I am frequently amazed by this kind of thing, because breasts are mentioned at our house once a day on average, and it's not a big deal. A recent example would be how we pointed out to Boy that one of the Survivor contestant's breasts are fake, just for educational purposes. "See", we said, "you can tell they're fake because they jut out of her chest like softballs. Real breasts don't do that." I don't really see anything wrong with Boy seeing bikini-clothed breasts, especially since his interest in breasts is still pretty low. In a couple of years I'm sure his interest will have increased greatly, but right now, meh. Tony's mom feels differently, clearly, and that is certainly her right, but it just seems odd to purposely ignore the very existence of breasts. My ass hurts from squatting in the driveway, painting the dropcloths yesterday. I think the limping around is adding some mystery to my character. In closing, last night we watched 'Thirteen Days', which arrived on Saturday from Netflix, and we were struck by the contrast between JFK and Dubya. JFK had military advisors telling him to attack Cuba, but he did everything possible to avoid that, fearing the consequences. Now, granted, the situations are totally different, but Dubya is doing everything possible to get us INTO a war with Iraq, and I think he should take a page out of JFK's diplomatic book. We are not in any immediate danger from Iraq, and if we attack, who knows what will happen? I think we need to try diplomacy--it has worked in situations far more dire than the IDEA of Iraq POSSIBLY having the CAPABILITY to develop "weapons of mass destruction". People need to ask themselves what Dubya's motivation is to rush in with war, because it's not a genuine concern about Iraq's military capability, that's for sure. I'm going to read now--I still have half an hour of lunch break. Woo-Hoo! Love,
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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