Mr Potatohead

After the great potato peel adventure of two nights ago, Dan decided to take matters into his own hands. When a full bottle of Drano failed to work, I tried the old vinegar and baking soda followed by boiling water trick, hoping that the Drano had opened it up just enough to let the elements take over. No go. Still clogged, albeit not a full sink full. I went downstairs to check it all out, then came up and told Dan that I thought the problem wasn't in the kitchen sink trap, but in the trap for the dishwasher.

That's when he became a plumber, which usually ends in some kind of minor disaster.

He went down and eyeballed the entire situation, then wondered aloud why there was a piece of PVC routed off the normal route, but capped. "If that comes off, then maybe it'll let it all drain," said he, right as he yanked it off. The result? Mount Vesuvius, along with a lot of loud expletives -- enough to yank Seth off his computer chair and run downstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. By now, Dan had capped the entire thing again, but a few minutes and a few buckets later, he yanked it off again, and a disgusting Niagara falls ensued. After the buckets were empty, and Dan had plugged it all up again, he told me to go try the sink again.

You guessed it. It was still clogged. This was, as I told him, because he wasn't working in the area that was clogged -- he was working on the kitchen sink area, and the actual clog was further down, by the dishwasher. He fiddled around with it, and couldn't manhandle it loose.

That's when the hack saw came out.

Now let me tell you, a hack saw and plumbing is probably never a good thing, especially when being handled by an amateur. He started hacking, and Seth, standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, took a front frontal dose of greasy potato peel nastiness, soaking him from his head down. As if that wasn't enough, the pseudo-plumber asked Mr Potato Head to hold the bucket while he hacked away, which meant that he got it again until the bucket got positioned correctly. The poor kid may never be the same.

Of course, neither will the plumbing, because after hacking it all open, it couldn't be put back together again, and though the sink was drained, it was completely unusable, so it ended up with faux crime scene tape over it, with DO NOT USE written in purple Sharpie all over it. Dan put calls in to two plumbing friends of ours, but after not getting a response -- and Jill accidentally turning on the dishwasher to nowhere with Dan right underneath it -- we finally called a plumbing company. The end result?

1) A $1200 bill to completely replumb the kitchen, which we've known since we moved in 16 years ago wasn't plumbed right, because the entire thing is clogged from the dishwasher to eternity.

2) Thomas getting one hell of a deal on Dan's Town Car, which he sold to him to pay the plumbing bill and

3) Seth messaging me on Facebook, saying that after a 30 minute bath, he'll probably still smell awful. He's probably right.

At least at some point today, I may be able to use the kitchen sink and dishwasher again, and we can put it all behind us, till the next natural disaster happens in the land of Utter Chaos.

Why my kid is smarter than your kid

Seth had drumming class yesterday, which means that I didn't get home till 6;15 or so. I put a nice roast in the crock pot, then called Jill on the way home and asked her to peel some potatoes so that we could have some nice mashed potatoes (which I seem to mysteriously have figured out how to make to Thomas' satifsaction).

Got home, had lovely potatoes, and even though the crock pot had somehow turned off and left the meat rather are, I finished it off in the microwave and we had a nice, albeit very chewy, dinner. Thomas amazingly unloaded the dishwasher without being asked -- be still my heart -- and we started cleaning up, only to find that the kitchen sink was clogged. Running the disposal was no help, because everything just backed up into the other sink. Yuck. I couldn't figure out what the heck the problem was till Jill said "the only thing I put in it was potato peels." Well, there was the problem.

Back when we lived in an apartment, the maintenance guy told me that the #1 clogger of disposals is potato peels. He told me what #2 was, but I can't remember -- I think maybe onion peels, but I'm not sure. In either event, I'm pretty respectful of the disposal, and try not to put anything too iffy in it. I always peel my potatoes onto a newspaper or plastic bag, then throw them in the compost pile, and even though the kids have done the same, I don't know if they knew why, but they did, till yesterday.

Dan was getting rather grumpy about the whole thing, because the one time episode of peels in the disposal led to a night of plumbing that ended up with us having no kitchen sink or dishwasher to use. He groused about the fact that the kids should know better, till I pointed out to him that it took me till 28 years old to find out that you can't put potato peels in the disposal and, since Jill is 18, she's ten years ahead of the game. He didn't have a response to that.

That reminded me of another kitchen rule that she knows, that maybe not everyone does: don't put dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher. Now, it might make seem to some that you can put Dawn in a dishwasher, but let me give you a clue: dishwashing liquid means someONE is washing dishes. Dishwasher liquid means someTHING is washing them.

Jill put Dawn in the dishwasher one time when she was about ten. Next thing you know, she's screaming, so I went running into the kitchen, thinking someone was dying. Well, she might've thought that she was heading toward a quick death, because the bubbles had already made it halfway across the kitchen floor, with no sign of letting up. Turning off the dishwasher was no help, because there's no way to get them out once they've started. Jill was looking rather panicstricken -- that look a little kid gets when they know that they are in real trouble -- when I just picked up a big handful of the bubbles and threw it at her. This turned into a melee of bubbles flying that only stopped briefly when Dan walked into the room to see what all the laughing was about. He just stopped, looked, and left the room without ever saying a word, while we went back to our own tamer version of Girls Gone Wild.

I didn't have to wash the kitchen floor for a month.

So yeah, my kid is smarter than your kid, cause she knows 1) not to put potato peels in the disposal, and 2) not to put Dawn in the dishwasher. Of course, she also knows how to do her own laundry correctly, how to saddle a horse, how to train a dog to do about a dozen tricks, how to plant bulbs, how to parallel park WELL, and how to bake some wildly delicious chocolate chip cookies, so all in all. That's just a sample of her talents. Like the apron pictured above. Click the image to shop, cause I've gotta pay the plumber somehow.

Post Traumatic Seth Disorder

We had to go get family pictures done last night. Some of you may remember that we had them done last fall,
and that they came out rather nicely. Well, our church decided to redo the church directory, as they do every couple of years and Dan, being the frugal soul that he is, didn't want to pay the $10 to have our current family picture inserted, so we had to go and have it done again by the photographer that church hired.

Have you ever tried to convince three teenagers that they need to dress up for a family photo, for the second time in less than a year? Well, let me tell you, it's not fun.

First of all, you have to make sure that everyone is actually going to be around for the picture. Wednesday night was a good bet, because a) it's youth group night, so odds are that two of the kids will already be at church and b) LOST is on, so no one makes plans. This is the logic that I used, however Dan just planned it for a Wednesday by sheer luck. I told him that HE was going to be the one to break it to the kids, which he did, two nights in a row, at the dinner table.

I was rather surprised at the lack of response to his announcement, till I realized yesterday afternoon that no one had been listening. Jill called from work. I reminded her about the pictures, and she got a bit testy, saying that she was going to have to rush home from work and take a shower so that she didn't smell like the barn when she went, and why were we getting the pictures done again anyway? I tried to use the youth group thing as a rationale, and she even more testily informed me that she didn't get off work in time to go to youth group, and wasn't going to be able to go. Oh, and she was "in the mood for a good dinner." Whatever that means. She ended up hanging up on me when she found out that her father and I had made plans to go out to dinner with friends, thinking that the kids would be at youth group, so her "good dinner" was going to have to be prepared by her.

Seth was no problem, except he seemed to be having trouble understanding the English language, as usual. I told him to wear his jeans (Dan said he was wearing a suit and tie, and I informed him that he was going to be sadly out of tune with the rest of his family, because we'd only get them there if they could wear jeans. Jeans it was.) and to put on the blue polo shirt I had bought him last week. "What's a polo shirt?" he said. Oye and vay -- this could take a while. "It's the light blue shirt that matches the yellow one you wore to church on Easter." "The one I can wear to school? That's not against the dress code?" "YES!" He was also informed to take a shower and wash the hair that was sticking straight up from the back of his head. (He has a Dennis the Menace cowlick. You will see its importance shortly.) He showered. He brushed his teeth. He came out wearing jeans and a turquoise polo shirt that was a couple of sizes too small. "Is this it?" he said. "Uh, no. Doesn't that feel tight? You want the light blue one that matches the one you wore to church last week." "Oh," he said. "The one I can wear to school? The one that's not against the dress code?" (Can you tell he's more than mildly obsessed with the dress code in the high school he's going to in the fall?) "YES!" He wanders off to his room, then yells back, "is it the button down one?" "No! It's pale blue. It matches the one you wore to church last Sunday." "OH!" he says. "I found it."

I wasn't holding my breath that he was going to come out in the right shirt, but miraculously, he did. Two down.

Thomas had been warned multiple times of the countdown to the pictures, when they needed to be there, where they needed to go, etc., because Dan and I were going out to dinner, and expected to meet the kids at church afterward. I told Thomas to wear jeans, and some semblance of blue, as far as a shirt. I knew he didn't have a polo shirt, because he thinks that they are old men shirts, so I told him if all else failed, wear the shirt he wore for family pictures in the fall. I knew it was clean and hanging in the hall closet upstairs, so I figured I was safe, since he lives upstairs, right next to the hallway closet. The hallway closet that he asked me to clean out of all of the junk, so that he could store the stuff that he's bought for his apartment (then never used, but that's another story).

Well, Dan and I went to dinner, and got done early, so we went home to get the kids. One dressed, one in the shower, and Thomas nowhere to be seen -- not that that is really all that unusual. He's kind of a ghost around here. Jill finally got out of the shower and went upstairs, then promptly yelled down that she didn't have anything blue to wear. I told her just to find something blue-ish and that would be fine. She yelled back some unintelligible reply that expressed her unhappiness with life in general. I was in the kitchen straightening up when Thomas flew in and said "a button came off this shirt and it's the only one I have to wear, then disappeared. He left me holding a red plaid shirt, sans one button. It was now 7:20, with pictures to be taken at 7:50. I yelled out to him to look in the hall closet, because he had at least three shirts there that would work for the pictures, and he said he was getting in the shower. Nothing like waiting till the last minute. Thomas came back into the kitchen at 7:35 with soaking wet hair and said that he didn't have another shirt to wear. Another one who doesn't understand the English language. Oye and vay.

I told him to check the UPSTAIRS hall closet, you know, where you live, because he was going to find several other shirts that would work, and he disappeared upstairs yet again. Meantime, the next door neighbor stopped by, asking Dan to help, of all things, with opening a jar of artichokes, so in the midst of everyone getting ready, there is an exhibition of brute strength going on in the kitchen. Seth wanders in at 7:40 barefoot, carrying his socks, and Jill said something about her phone and went out the back door. I told Seth to get in the car, Dan yelled up to Thomas that the bus was leaving, and several honks of the horn, and a tight fit in the back of the Yarus later, we did, indeed, make it to church on time. It was at this point, standing in the hall of the church, that Thomas asked why we were doing family pictures again. "Because they're updating the directory." "Why couldn't we just use the other pictures we had done." Dan replied, "because I didn't want to pay ten bucks for them to use that one."

"Buddy," Thomas said, "I would've spotted you that ten bucks, just so we didn't have to do this again" -- a reply that was quickly echoed by the other two kids and the wife.

Took a couple of poses with the little family, and then got one of just the brats, since we'd forgotten to do that in the fall. We even managed to get one with Thomas almost smiling -- how that happened, I'll never know, since he was most unhappy that his hair was still wet. I just figured he looked like a good conservative Baptist, with his hair gelled back. We're Presbyterian, but oh well. Everyone was even in a fine mood on the way home -- probably because Dan sat in the back going home, to help keep the peace. Jill's lament, because at this point, she lives in a constant state of lament, was that "back in the day, it wouldn't be proper for a girl to be in the backseat with two guys," to which my response was that back in the day, a girl wouldn't BE in the backseat of a car with a boy unless her father was there, so it was all good.

We were joking and carrying on, right up till we pulled into the driveway. I was the first one in the house, and had just put my purse down when I heard Jill laughing, glass shattering, and Dan yelling frantically that someone needed to get a towel. Yep, it's not Utter Chaos till blood is flowing. Turned out that Seth was running to the house, because Jill has a penchant for playfully locking him out if she gets there first, which she had. He had his hand out to push the door back open, when Jill tried to slam it shut, putting Seth's arm right through the glass in the door, completely shattering it, and cutting Seth's arm in four or five places.

Dan yelled for some gauze, which Thomas got. Jill disappeared. I stayed away from the hallway because Dan didn't bring him in the house right away, and there wasn't room for all of us in there, and the dogs needed to be corralled. There was lots of yelling, dogs barking, blood, glass, you name it. Somewhere along the line, Thomas ran upstairs to get something, and informed me that he'd had to go online and tell his crew about what happened. Because, you know, it couldn't wait. Oye and vay. Jill finally showed up, and never would admit if she disappeared because she felt bad for trying to kill her brother, or if it was because she throws up at the site of blood -- which would have only added to the mayhem. A quick inspection showed that Seth had several areas that maybe could use one or two stitches, by my assessment, but Dan of course told Seth it'd be fine. He could just man up and it'd heal just fine.

So yeah, we now have Seth's arm bandaged up with a patchwork of gauze and bandaids, there's no glass in one panel of the back door, I've told Jill several ways that she could kill someone that would a) be less messy and b) wouldn't irritate her father in having to repair the door. Personally, I'm surprised that glass survived the last sixteen years we've been in this house, especially with three kids, but I guess all good things must come to an end. At least we're no worse for the wear.

And so I had to go find something appropriate to show you, and what else better than a brother-sister outfit from Simplicity? The pattern itself is a wounded bird, meaning it's missing pieces, but it's cute as all getout. It just wouldn't be ok to wear with the high school dress code this fall. Click the image to shop.

Jen and Lisa's fabulous adventure Part 1 Dude, Where's My Sign?

So my friend Jen, of momspatterns fame, came to visit last month. Dan was going away on the missing trip, so we figured it was time for a little girl time. Jen knows my penchant for disorganization, so she was going to help me with some purging and such.

Dan, of course, was sure that I had invited a serial killer to the house because, you see, Jen and I had never actually met. She and I have talked online forever, via email, IM, and in different forums that we frequent, but she lives in Florida, and I live in Indiana, and the twain just had not met yet. Dan doesn't get the whole online thing yet, and it didn't help the cause at all when he heard that Jen had met her hubby online. He was relieved to know that he would be home to protect me for the first day or two. Yep, he's my knight in shining armor, protecting my against Xena-like pattern sellers.

So Jen and I talked a time or two on the phone before she came up --which was, in itself, progress, since we'd never talked before this either. We were pretty giddy about the whole thing, planning to go through my stash 'o patterns and catalogs and such. You know, it's not often that you meet a fellow pattern junkie, so this was really something! Jen asked how she would know me at the airport, because she had only seen a few pics of me in the past. I jokingly said I'd make her a sign, then enlisted The Brat to do it for me.

The Brat, of course, was not feeling her creative juices flowing until literally 15 minutes before I was to leave to pick up Jen, when she suddenly said "didn't you want me to make you a sign?" Uh, yeah...........three weeks ago, when I first mentioned it. ::sigh:: We started scrambling for things to put on it, and Jill wrote (what else) JEN in big purple letters on the posterboard. We added her website logo to it, some pattern pics, a picture of Sawyer from Lost (since he's her man), and some other random stuff, and I took off for the airport while the marker was still drying.

Indianapolis has a new airport, and I'd never been to it, so I was a little concerned about time. I left the house a little late, the new airport is a bit further away then the old one, and I had no idea about where to park, or where she would be coming out from the plane. The new airport is kind of funky -- I parked, then had to go up an escalator, down some stairs, across one of those moving sidewalks (which has lights that randomly light up and start playing disco music now and again, kinda like the Billie Jean video does 70s), then up another escalator, just to get to the terminal. Then I couldn't find where her gate was, because her flight wasn't listed on the list. Oye and vay. I was sure that, because I was a few minutes late, I had left a not-so-total stranger alone in a strange airport, and that's not really the first impression you want to make.
I finally asked one of the staff people, who pointed me in the right direction, where a flight was coming out. I didn't see her, and didn't even know if it was the right flight or not, so I started texting her to see if she'd landed yet. Next thing you know, I hear "where's my sign," look up, and there she is, all 5'10" of her, standing right in front of me.

I just said "OH! Here it is," and flashed it for her. She loved it, of course, and insisted on a picture of me with it under the Welcome to Indianapolis sign -- a picture where I am still laughing, because we were so happy to finally have met. Got the luggage, took her home, where Dan eventually showed up and pronounced her to not be a serial killer after all. More tomorrow about this fabulous adventure, but meantime, click the image to shop in Jen's store. She needs some cash after all the shopping we did whilst she was here.

A stomp down Memory Lane

I've been dashing madly through three states in the past couple of weeks, gathering sewing patterns everywhere I go. Dan, of course, thinks it's really weird, especially given the fact that he doesn't like car travel, but I'm in my element.

The patterns I got today contained tons of wonderful styles, including 50s party dresses, 40s sundresses, and everything from playsuits to swimsuits and wedding dresses. But what I found interesting was the kids' patterns.

I don't usually get a lot of kids stuff, because it's not a huge market of mine, but these were some seriously cute ones. The one that caught my eye is shown at left. You may wonder why this one? Well, it's because it reminds me of my two sisters and me.

The dark haired one on the right reminds me of my "big" sister Linda. I say "big" because she's a few years older than me (ahem: eight) but she is quite a bit shorter than me. She does, however, have the dark hair shown here. The lighter haired one on the left reminds me of my "big" sister Amy, who is as vertically challenged as Linda. Being the youngest, I always looked at them as so cool, and such fashion plates -- especially because they wore cool 70s high school stuff, and I not only had no fashion sense, but also was too big to fit into their petite hand me downs, once I got to be about ten years old.

Tiny, petite cool hipster sisters. How cool is that? But look on that pattern envelope at the little tyke in front. That little one looks like she has some serious attitude, so she MUST be me! She looks like the sisters have probably told her not to do whatever she wanted to do, and in her little head she is saying "oh yeah, man, I'm GONNA," while she stomps off with her Barbie.

That'd be me, and I dare my sisters to say I'm wrong. They won't.

So.............

Well, it's been almost two weeks "jobless" now, and boy am I having fun. I hadn't realized how much I was missing by drowning in the cesspool of corporate America, but I'm starting to get a little bit caught up.

Our dining room table, however, does not reflect this. It's a modgepodge of folded pattern repros, awaiting their envelopes and labels, original patterns waiting to be filed, a pair of boxer shorts that need a quick repair (I'm not asking questions there, folks, so don't you do it either), fish supplies (more on that later), and a potpourri of other stuff. Yes, that table is my project for tomorrow (which is now today, so technically, I'm already behind).

I have, however, had plenty of time to list fun patterns on the website, including some of the 682 I bought during an overnight trip to Chicago last week. Yes, I drove 3 1/2 hours one way to buy 682 patterns. And yes, they were REALLY good ones. These are the things you can do when you are sans job.

Thomas' bff came and spent part of spring break with us, so I put him to work. Mell is 6'3", and was quite comfy on my couch, so I had him bring in the printer, tossed some pattern boxes at him, and he scanned roughly 400 patterns while watching one of the weirdest mixes of movies I've ever seen -- I wish I could remember what they were, but I've slept since then. I know that one involved vampires, and one was Next Friday, but other than that.......just take my word, it was a weird mix. But hey, he saved me tons of time on the scanning.

Best thing that happened that week was that my buddy Jen, of momspatterns came to visit. We spent enough time working on patterns that I ended up on major asthma meds the next week, but the pattern rescue is richer for it. Not to mention the fine Estevez (seen above) that she found whilst we were trolling around. Sorry folks, it's already sold, but take a gander of it at Dorothea's Closet. It really is a sight to behold. And yeah, there's a whole shopping story behind it. Not to mention Jen's experience with the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department. Oh yeah, we don't do anything small, folks.

So this week is dedicated to organization, now that the fish have been freed and the Modes Royale are listed. More about Jen and hostage fish later.

All Good Things..........

I'm a firm believer that God places signs in our lives, to help us figure out where the heck we're supposed to be going. I believe, also, that we don't always pay attention to those signs a good portion of the time. That's how it is that fortune cookies helped me figure out a new path.

We order Chinese food at work, not too often, but once in a while. I'm always amused by the fortune cookies, with their sayings like "you are going to put shoes on today" and the like. Of course, on the back, there is always a word in Chinese which, for me, usually ends up being something like "paint" or something like that. And of course there are always the obligatory lucky numbers, which I always swear I'm going to play in the lottery, and never do.

We ordered Chinese a couple of weeks ago, and I had to laugh at my fortune, because it said "opportunities surround you if you know where to look." Well, looking around my cubicle, I saw another fortune, taped to the front of my monitor, which said "a fascinating project is in your future." Hmmm.....what could that be? Maybe it could be the lady who called, saying that her kid had swallowed a Lego pirate's telescope, and after he passed it, could he have it back, after they sterilized it? Uh.........no. How gross is that? Gross, but not fascinating.

Then I got an email from my boss, with ground rules to our leadership meetings, gleaned from some book that she read on how to be a better leader. I laughed when I read that we would now be coming out of meetings with decisions made on the issues, because in six years, I don't think we've EVER decided anything in a leadership meeting. Reading on, I read that we would be going from the presumption that everyone actually wants to be here, in these meetings. That got me thinking.

I don't want to be here. Then I remembered the fortune cookies, and the fascinating project that supposedly awaits me. I've never gotten a fortune like that at home, yet I had two from when we ordered Chinese at work. Could God be talking to me through a carton of takeout? Crazy.

After much thought, I realized that I was getting ready to go on vacation, and why come back? I've been ready to leave for about a year now, but couldn't decide what to do, so it was time to take a leap of faith. I emailed the boss my resignation, and emailed a few friends who 1) would want to hear it from me, not the grapevine and 2) would spread the word. Well, the word spread like a bush fire in Australia, and when I arrived at work the next day, some people were sad, and some could barely refrain from showing their glee. I, however, felt more gleeful than all of them, because now I'm a free bird. I have no idea where my path will take me from here -- probably to my websites for a while -- but it's taking me out of my cubicle and into a life full of possibilities.

We ordered Chinese again that afternoon, and what did my fortune cookie say? "It takes guts to get out of the ruts." No lie. And you say fortune cookies are not real? Bah. And for the interview I have on Friday, I'd wear this fabulous Dior dress, from Damn Good Vintage, but damn, it won't fit me! Click on the image to shop.