The garden

It started innocently enough, the desire for the taste of a few homegrown tomatoes. Somehow though, it turned into more. The sad thing is that I am an all or nothing personality, but I didn't realize how much until the garden. Why would I think about it now in December? I picked up a book with a very catchy title, "The $64 Tomato" by William Alexander. My hubby often teased me that we had two $200 salads, instantly, I could relate. Oddly enough, I thought the garden would save us money. Ha! That is lie. At this rate it will take years.

I think it worth mentioning that I am not a fit person. In fact, my winter activities mostly resemble that of a grizzly bear. So, the shear fact that I squatted, I kneeled, I lifted, I shoveled, I weeded, and down right nearly died in the garden should render pause and reflection. Is it worth it? Will I be so crazy as to try again? I did lose one jeans size, but I found it again.

Or how about the fact that I mistakenly pulled out all the pepper plants and watered poisonous weeds. They grew and grew and I was so proud. I thought the pepper crop was going to be amazing! I started googling recipes for hot sauce. It was a sad day when the neighbor behind us broke the news.

The truth is, I have to try again if out of nothing but pure stubbornness. All that work, I can't let it be for naught. And truly the tomatoes are amazing, even if they do cost nearly $64 each. I am determined to do better, determined to arm myself with more knowledge over the winter.

Call me crazy but I also love the the peace and quiet. I enjoy digging in the dirt. I love lifting my face to feel the warmth of the sun. Never before have a fully appreciated the curse of the land on Adam or the plight of the farmer. Oh, how I covet success. My New Year's Resolution: to garden with more wisdom and fervor, to enjoy the fruit/vegies of my labor and not to cultivate weeds.

What now?

You know its bad when the kids are still out of town and my hubby and I are content to nap, and by nap I mean really sleep. If it weren't for the dogs the house would be completly still. Odd how you can't wait for the phone to stop ringing, the door to quit open and shutting, the refridgerator to stay closed and then when it does it calls your whole exsistence into question. The thought occurred to me, as I wandered aimlessly from room to room, to tackle all the after Christmas chaos. Perhaps, this would be a good time to do some deep cleaning... and then thankfully, a girlfriend called! "By all means, let's go to Starbucks!"

There is something deeply soothing about the fabulous aroma at Starbucks. We cradled and caressed those coffee cups, inhaling deeply... is it possible to make love to a cup of coffee? (sorry honey, but I might seriously have an affair with a Cafe Mocha). That's why Starbucks is so popular you know. That's why people are willing to pay an arm and a leg. And slowly, slowly life began to have purpose again. Slowly, slowly with the help of friendship and caffeine I felt like part of the human race again. Human race, you know the one, the race that runs the race. The rat race (I hate rats! Need a new name for the race... am open to suggestions).

Seriously, if the lab techs suddenly pulled the wheel out of the cage, what would all the rats do? If all the baby rats went off to Grandma's house for a week, would they clean the cage? Doubtful. And when they went to the grocery store for cheese, they wouldn't have to buy the usual hunk, they would purchase just a slice and think "this is what it would be like it it were just the two of us." That's what it felt like. I purchased one roasted chicken, no sides, no desert, no pop, nothing. I would have soooo much money!!!!

The kids come home tomorrow.

and to all a goodnight!

Merry Christmas to everyone! We had a very nice time visiting with family. The only negative was the absence of my hubby that couldn't leave town. There is just something about going home, to the house you grew up in. Somehow, it's always the same and yet there is always something different to find. I can't say something new, because usually it is an antique, so really, it's something old. It's like the Where's Waldo of garage sale finds. It really is half the fun. This year there were several new things, but they weren't things. This year it was my brother's girlfriend and three dogs.

I have to say that my brother is much younger than me and in my mind he is much, much younger. It's hard to believe that he's old enough to even have a girlfriend, much less a serious one. I do have to admit that I really like her. She is curiously an awful lot like our mom. He wants to go to school to be a doctor... Just when did he become serious enough to really know what he's doing with his life? And then there was the puppy, not just any puppy. The poster dog for ADHD puppies. Cute, yes (and it's a good thing) also smart, but not that smart, which explains his name, Puddles.

You see my sister was also visiting with her two, much older, seasoned dogs. We figured out that one is 91 in dog years! Let's just say, they weren't amused. But, we were. It was quite entertaining at times. Puddles never understood that 91 year- olds don't play with 3 year- olds. They don't entertain the thought, they don't think they are cute, they simply don't. Despite the Doggy Days of Our Lives, it was a great visit and as a bonus to my hubby, who stayed behind, the kids are with Grandma and Grandpa for another five days!!!!

Can you hear the champagne chilling? And, to all a goodnight!

Perception is Reality?

I'm finishing up the night shift. It's hard when it's almost over and you're feeling pretty tired, the make-up now feels halfway worn off, the hair is flatter, the hand on the clock doesn't seem to be moving, and here they come, the perky day shifters! The fresh perfume wafts by my desk, fresh smiling faces all say, "good morning" with a lilt in their voice. Their perception is a new beginning to the week. Optimism sums up this crowd for the most part (there are a few cranky ones that I feel a kindred spirit with). My perception is that this is my Friday! When will it end? There is such a thing as being too perky you know.

But the whole whose perception is reality thing really hit home earlier in the week. I was feeling rather accomplished with this whole blogging thing and mentioned it at the dinner table. Prince Lawn Gnome seemed interested, "what's your blog called?"

"Oceangypsymom," I reply. He nearly spit his chicken and rice halfway across the kitchen table. Apparently, he thinks that is a ridiculous reality for me. Apparently, it's laughable. Perhaps, he would name this blog something more akin to: mompleasemakemesomebacon, or momwhycan'tigotostephen's?, or momwhoruinsallthefun. What Prince Lawn Gnome doesn't know is that I have been an oceangypsy for many, many years. Long before he was a glimmer in his father's eye, I would crank my stereo and blast the song Ocean Gypsy by Scheherazade. It spoke to me. It transported me beyond my surroundings into a creative and vibrant world. My reality is that I have finally dug down far enough to resuscitate the ocean gypsy in me and guess what? She's still there! She was just covered up with loads and loads of laundry.

Perception is reality, in so much as, it is in the eye of the beholder.

The Perfect Man

For awhile now, I've been hearing all about how my husband is the perfect man. He frequently mentions it. You see, he happened across an article in the Octover issue of Popular Mechanics, "100 Skills Every Man Should Know." If you're interested, you can find it with instructional videos at www.popularmechanics.com/home_journal/how_to/4284709.html. Anyway, he has been strutting around like a peacock stating that he knows all 100. So, just for fun, I thought I'd take a closer look at the list and add my two cents worth.

Popular Mechanics has divided the list into catagories. The first is Automotive:

1. Handle a blowout
2. Drive in snow
3. Check trouble codes
4. Replace fan belt
5. Wax a car
6. Conquer an off-road obstacle
7. Use a stick welder
8. Hitch up a trailer
9. Jump start a car

My Automotive List:

Please keep car clean, including no smoking in the vehicle. It wouldn't hurt to actually run through a car wash once in awhile. Please check all fluids, tire pressure and anything else that has to do with car stuff. Whenever your wife states that the car "sounds funny" or is "acting up" the phrase "operator error" never applies.

Handling Emergencies:

10. Perform the Heimlich
11. Reverse hypothermia episode
12. Perform hands-only CPR
13. Escape a sinking car

My Emergency List:

Please realize that just because you have seen an episode or two of ER, does not mean you know everything.

Home:

14. Carve a turkey
15. Use a sewing machine
16. Put out a fire
17. Home brew beer
18. Remove bloodstains from fabric
19. Move heavy stuff
20. Grow food
21. Read an electric meter
22. Shovel the right way
23. Solder wire
24. Tape drywall
25. Split firewood
26. Replace a facet washer
27. Mix concrete
28. Paint a straight line
29. Use a French knife
30. Prune bushes and small trees
31. Iron a shirt
32. Fix a toilet tank flapper
33. Change a single-pole switch
34. Fell a tree
35. Replace a broken windowpane
36. Set up a ladder, safely
37. Fix a faucet cartridge
38. Sweat copper tubing
39. Change a diaper
40. Grill with charcoal
41. Sew a button on a shirt
42. Fold the flag

My Home List:

Whew! This is a big category! But, why or why isn't changing a diaper number one? And please, please tell me that you really do know how to remove bloodstains in case of accidental homicide of mouthy teenager. I would also list killing of all rodent pests at the top of the list.

Medical Myths:

43. Treat frostbite
44. Treat a burn
45. Help a seizure victim
46. Treat a snakebite
47. Remove a tick

My Medical Myth List:

Again, I must refer to the above mentioned ER episodes.

Military Know-How

48. Shine shoes
49. Make a drum-tight bed
50. Drop and give the perfect push up

My Military Know-How List:

I would like to see an example of a drum-tight bed. I call foul on this one.

Outdoors:

51. Run rapids in a canoe
52. Hang food in the wild
53. Skipper a boat
54. Shoot straight
55. Tackle steep drops on a mountain bike
56. Escape a rip current

My Outdoor List:

I've always said that if I were stranded on a desert island that there is no one I would rather be with. Give my man a toothpick and a piece of foil and we'd have cable reception.

Primitive Skills:

57. Build a fire in the wilderness
58. Build a shelter
59. Find potable water

My Primitive Skills List:

Know when to call it quits and make a reservation at The Holiday Inn.

Surviving Extremes:

60. Floods
61. Tornadoes
62. Cold
63. Heat
64. Lightning

My Surviving Extremes List:

Accept it when I say I'm hot, accept it when I say I'm cold. Please refrain from standing in the doorway to see the tornado touch down and please stay out of metal lawn chairs during lightning.

Teach Your Kids:

65. Cast a line
66. Lend a hand
67. Change a tire
68. Throw a spiral
69. Fly a stunt kite
70. Drive a stick shift
71. Parallel park
72. Tie a bowline
73. Tie a necktie
74. Whittle
75. Ride a bike

My Teach Your Kids List:

Always listen to your mother! The phrase "yes, ma'am" will get you far in life.

Technology:

76. Install a graphics card
77. Take the perfect portrait
78. Calibrate HDTV settings
79. Shoot a home movie
80. Ditch your hard drive

My Technology List:

Once again, the phrase "operator error" should never be applied to tech circumstances. For the love of God, please stop messing with the TV settings just when I've settled in to watch a movie!

Master Key Workshop Tools:

81. Drill driver
82. Grease gun
83. Coolant hydrometer
84. Socket wrench
85. Test light
86. Brick trowel
87. Framing hammer
88. Wood chisel
89. Spade bit
90. Circular saw
91. Sledgehammer
92. Hacksaw
93. Torque wrench
94. Air wrench
95. Infrared thermometer
96. Sandblaster
97. Crosscut saw
98. Hand plane
99. Multimeter
100. Feeler gauges

My Master Key Workshop Tools List:

I have no problem with this list and actually it would have been a good guide for Christmas and birthday presents about sixteen years ago. I only ask that equal monies be allocated for decorating and redecorating according to whim. An additional toolbox with a lock should be set aside for the woman of the house. It should contain: a hammer, nails for hanging pictures, screwdrivers, tape measure, duct tape and a stud finder!

Prince Lawn Gnome

I remember it like yesterday. The birth of a son. It was a joyous occasion celebrated by all in the family. Yes, there would be one to carry on the family name! Little did I know that this child would be the one to really test me. Yes, he would be the one to show me the breaking point of human sanity, the one to push me so close to the abyss that I can describe it intimately, the one that has taught me the most about myself. I am referring to Prince Lawn Gnome, an unusual name I know but VERY fitting. Prince, as he is the only son and Lawn Gnome because that describes his off the wall humor.

Thankfully, Prince Lawn Gnome has mellowed out a bit. He came into this world with the full expectation that I was here to serve his every whim. Being a cute baby, he pretty much got his way until age two. That's when the tantrums started. Yes, I am the mom that let her son throw a fit on the filthy, grocery store floor. "Mommy's leaving now, hope you find a nice new family." I am quite certain that nearly every day a sippie cup was thrown at my head with a demand for "ju" (juice). Poor little Prince Lawn Gnome, he was unaware that this wasn't my first rodeo. We locked horns for several years, matching determination with stubborness. That's where the abyss comes in. Not many can claim that they have visited this place and lived to tell the tale. But, somewhere between desperate prayer and truly deserved spankings we made our peace.

I am proud to report that Prince Lawn Gnome and I get along pretty well now. He'll be 15 soon and will still come snuggle with me from time to time. He learned early on which buttons he can push and which one screams "WARNING.... WARNING... IN TEN SECONDS YOUR MOM WILL ACTUALLY EXPLODE." It is, however, slightly annoying how much time he spends enticing his sisters to squeal at the top of their lungs. Just a few days ago I caught him deliberately flushing the toilet while one sister brushed her teeth. All the while he is monologuing how many germs fly into the air from the toilet and land on the toothbrush. And, as an added bonus the other sister was in the shower so maybe, just maybe it also made her water cold.

Prince Lawn Gnome vacillates between school boy humor and responsible young man behavior every day. It's hard to know which one will show up at any given time. However, I have learned that sleep and food (particularly bacon) soothe his soul.

It's all the weatherman's fault

This week was spent indoors, huddled up, preparing for the impending doom of the ice storm. This week wasn't supposed to be that way. I had a million things planned, but someone forgot to remind me that the weathermen in this area don't know squat! Yes, I admit it, I was suckered in like the rest of the community. I heeded the warnings. I checked the flashlights. I rescheduled two major events. Thinking that it was going to be "really bad", I stayed off the streets and left the grocery store to the true ol' ladies. I explained to my children the wisdom I was displaying in not endangering their young lives by pushing the limits. It was a hard sell. It was even harder when the ice never came.

Now, I'm stuck. I'm stuck with house-cooped children! There's nothing on T.V. worth watching, the gifts are already wrapped, and I'm secretly cursing the weathermen that are only right maybe less than 20% of the time. What to do.... what to do.... well, I said I would... so I went in. That's right, I went into the kitchen. Clearly suffering from a case of schizophrenia, a new personality stepped forth. I was now a woman akin to Betty Crocker! Funny how strapping on an apron can do that. It's like magic. I stirred, I mixed, I whipped, I seperated, I improvised (only the truly kitchen savvy can pull this off), I melted, I drizzled, I crunched, I baked! In the end, I ended up with eight batches of differing cookies. Okay, okay one of them is highly suspicious. It wasn't setting up right so I added cornflakes. And then there wasn't quite enough almond bark to cover it,so, I decided that it will just be called the dirty snowball cookie! The kids wandered in and out occasionally, but kept enough distance as not to be roped into dishes. The dogs wandered in and out constantly! They begged, they whined, they were tripped over a hundred times and dutifully they licked up any spillage off the floor.

And now, it's over!!! I did it. I survived the kitchen! I decided against the fudge (too daunting). I can now hand out cookies to coworkers without too much shame. Still, there is NO ICE outside. Despite my obvious distain for the weathermen with their good for nothing forecasts, I suppose I should be thankful. Without them, I would never know this (split personality) wonderous side of the holidays.

What to do with an entrepreneur?

I'm not sure that every family has one, but ours sure does. My oldest, we'll call her Braveheart, has a unique mind that can bend and shape just about any circumstance into an opportunity to make money. I now know how Amway and pyramid schemes came into exsistence. It all started innocently enough with the all too familiar lemonaid stand. Thinking that this was a great teaching opportunity, I encouraged Braveheart to pay me back for all the CountryTime and styrofoam cups I purchased. "That's how it's done in the real world," I said. What I didn't count on is how cute and irrestible a little girl with a lemonaid stand can be in 100 degree weather. I didn't count on repeat customers or those that gave a tip. For a full afternoon's worth of work, Braveheart made $35.00. She was hooked.

A few years later I was suprised when a strange kid came knocking on the door demanding his pay. "Pay for what?" I asked. Apparently, Braveheart had hired him to deliver newspapers around the neighborhood for which she would pay him $5.00. Nevermind that the newspapers were old and set aside for recycling, nevermind that she didn't actually have $5.00 at the time, she had found a willing employee!

Fast forward another year and once again I find it necessary to have a talk with Braveheart about ethics. Afterall, it isn't ethical to loan out your lost tooth to other school children on the bus. It isn't ethical to trick parents into shelling out tooth fairy money under false pretenses. Visions of bailing this child out of jail for some white collar, corporate crime dance through my head.

Another year and now we have the bike shop. A place where all neighborhood children can come and have minor (sometimes turned major) repairs done. Where did the "good" parts come from? I was afraid to ask. Oh, and if you're thirsty while you're waiting, you can have a slushie from our new and improved lemonaid stand. All for a very good price of course.

Did I mention that I actually invested in duct tape? Yes, you too can own a custom made duct tape wallet for the bargain basement price of just $10. I was paid back within the week and made a $6.00 profit from additional sales.

It's hard not to encourage her. She's now nearly 16 years old and ready to take on her first real job. I know whoever hires her will be amazed at her work ethic. If they're smart they'll put her in charge of sales. She could sell glasses to a blind man.

She's not your typical teenage girl. She doesn't lose her head over silly crushes, instead she watches "The Big Idea with Donnie Deutch", Donald Trump is her hero and at the foot of her bed you'll find an issue of Fortune or Entrepreneur magazine. I'm quite certain that the day will come when she sits across the kitchen table and asks for a mere $40,000 to start up some whacky business that will revolutionize the way people think of dish soap and it probably will.

Don't worry hubby

Reasons my hubby shouldn't be worried what I blog about that might pertain to him:

#1 All women discuss their hubbies and I will endeavor to do so in a positive fashion (although sometimes funny is just plain funny). It's healthy to be able to laugh at one's self.

#2 I really, really love him and don't want anything to be used against me in future arguments.

#3 He already says that he's only allowed to win one argument a year and he already used his up for 2008.

#4 If I overstep the bounds he will surely hear about it from friends.

#5 If I were to overstep the bounds, he heard it from friends, and was mad about it then who would bring me coffee with just the right amount of creamer when I'm sleepy and grouchy?

#6 I am full of considerably more flaws, fears, regrets and plain ol' stupidity than he.

#7 Did I mention that I love him?

#8 We've finally reached that point in marriage (16 years for us) where flaws are more endearing, no one else would put up with us.

#9 When I say that I really like his gray hair, I really mean it.

#10 I'm in it for better or worse and all that falls in-between.

#11 He might start his own blog (gulp).

It's the end of an era

Can you imagine my elation when finally after an interminable amount of time the rodent finally died?!?!!! Yes, I am referring to the hamster that I was tricked into bringing into our home. He lived so long that the kids began referring to him as Jesus. He was given a proper funeral and burial, and hopefully, there will be no second coming in three days time. I hate rodents! I have found myself on more than one occasion hopping from sofa to loveseat to avoid the floor whenever a mouse made himself known. Yes, I have actually called my husband at work and demand he come home to deal with the situation. And for all of you out there that can feel my pain, I'd like to share that peanut butter on a trap works the best. Husband with a broom, second best.

So, how did someone like me end up with a rodent in the house deliberatly? I would like to thank the no good, low down, dirty pet shop owner that offered to put the rodent up for adoption if the kids could just afford the cage. I knew that they had no money and wasn't worried. What I forgot is that someone (who shall remain nameless, but you know who you are) had birthday money with them and offered to share custody of said rodent. At which time my youngest starts proclaiming, "It's from God, he knew I wanted a hamster." What could I do? I would just like to state that shared custody never came to fruition.

Yes, it's the end of an era. No more deliberate rodent pets! No matter what. No way. No how.

When A Man Needs Underwear...

So, I asked my husband what he wanted for Christmas. "Oh, nothing", he replies. "I don't really want anything that isn't way over our budget. And I don't need a bunch of $40 or $50 gifts. I mean, I can go buy those myself. When a man needs underwear he needs underwear."
Which basically left me back at square one. So, let's examine square one...

Square one is that day on the calendar that lands just before payday. The day in which, with all good intentions, you determine that this year I am sticking to a Christmas budget! I will live within my means. I will buy gifts with meaning. I will choose wisely as to be witness to smiling faces on Christmas morning. But, what no one tells you before you marry and have children is that only mom's are allowed to visit and dwell at square one. Men just pass through square one on Dec. 24th, they don't have the time to look around, unless of course, they wander through a Victoria's secret.

Square one is the reason Hillshire Farms hasn't gone out of business. Square one is the reason fruit cake is still around. Square one is, well, square one. Somebody help me!!! Just what am I supposed to get this man for Christmas?

Christmas is coming...

Another day closer to Christmas... ho.. ho... oh no! I feel like the days are on fast forward and I'm the little mouse trying to get the cheese at the end of the maze. This is the week that the real stress begins. Mailing packages, ordering on line, hoping to find the latest tech toy in stock at the first store I go to and to top it all off a little self hate in the kitchen. That's right, I'm goin' in. If you don't hear from me in the next couple of days you'll find me on the kitchen floor with the oven door wide open. Trust me the family won't notice. They go all weekend long and never see the dishes piled high in the sink or the overflowing trash waiting to be taken out. No doubt, they would just step over me, open the refridgerator door and cry out the usual refrain, "there's nothing to eat!"

I don't know why I do it to myself, but every year I do. I just don't feel like it is Christmas without baking. A couple years ago I hosted a cookie exchange. Feeling confident, I forged ahead with a recipe that called for chocolate and coffee. Two of my favorite things! This sounded like a sure fire winner. Needless to say that the cookies came out looking like an ode to reindeer poop. The next year, again I tried. Funny how the embarassment of the first year faded like the memories of labor pains. This time I was going to create a sugar cookie with a peppermint middle. I crushed candy canes till the cows came home, or at least what seemed like it. But, truthfully I have NO patience and some of the candy canes weren't technically all that crushed. The final product was flat sugar cookies that looked like little nipples were in the middle. If you are ever in the need for poop or boob cookies I'm your gal! The cookie exchange was canceled the following year.

So this year, I'm attempting fudge. Will keep you posted as to the outcome. fa la la la la la la la laaaaaaaaahhh

Vote for the Laptop!!!!

Okay, okay I know it's been nearly a week without a post, but as you are about to learn I am not big on self discipline. I thought about making the long, long journey to the basement of no return, past the mountainous laundry pile, through the maze of game systems, past the reeking bathroom (teenage boy's) and finally to the smoke filled office (husband portrays chimney well).... and then I thought about it... and then I thought about it again... but I just couldn't face it! Some things take courage and quite frankly, I would just about rather face an unknown attacker in a dark alley.

Realizing that this is going to be a problem I am starting the "I need my own laptop campaign." A vote for the laptop is a vote for freedom! Freedom from guilt of undone household chores! Freedom from second-hand smoke! Freedom from Dante's fifth ring, otherwise known as the laundry room! Freedom from foreign viruses spread by know it all teenagers! A vote for the laptop is a vote for all moms! A vote for all moms that have sacrificed and suffered many hours of neglect due to Runescape!

It's going to be an uphill battle. The cries of the children will no doubt rise in horror "huh.... mom's buying something for herself?" The sidetracking of the husband will not work, "how you doin'?" A vote for the laptop is a vote for uninterrupted blogging everywhere!