Status Update

You can learn a lot about people, from their Facebook status. Mine, at the moment, says "Lisa is heading for the nation's capital this afternoon, with three teenagers. Pray for us!" Yeah, we're doin' it, and you'd better pray. My status before that said "Edit
Lisa LOVES LOST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!" because man, last night's show was GOOD, and I was beyond sad to see it end. I can't wait till next week.

Some of my friends' statuses are as follows. (Insert random name before the status, cause these people gotta be anonymous:

has no water because somebody(initials are MT) left the garage door up after taking out the trash!

would appreciate some prayer: my dad may have had a stroke and is current in icu.

forgot my speakers were turned up and I almost karate chopped my PC because it spoke to me.

is wondering..."Am I the only person in the world that hasn't ever watched LOST?" {mental note from editor: enlighten her}

is feeling virtuous after doing the laundry.

Like I said, you can learn a lot from people's status. So imagine how sad I was today to see that one of our "adopted" sons is now single, after being madly in love for the last year and a half. Jill came in and informed me, and promptly started singing Air Supply's "All Out of Love." When I pointed out how wrong that was, she switched to "All By Myself," and was promptly interrupted by Dan's hardcore version of "Love Stinks." Yeah, my family + empathy. Not happening.

So now my status is that I'm loading up soon to go, and Dan? He's packing for cold weather, wearing Thomas' shirt and jacket, and probably my socks, cause that's how he rolls. But that's a story for another day. Meantime, don'cha just love this red lace confection, from Couture Allure Vintage Fashion? I love it seriously, and am so sad it's sold. But, as Dan would sing, "Love Stinks." I'm outta here till Monday, folks, so that's it.

Things learned about the husband during inventory

Dan hates winter, not because of the cold, but because people don't do as much painting in the winter, so he's not crazy busy. I like winter, in part because of the snow, but also because when he's not busy, he does laundry, cooks (a little), and cleans the house. Since my primary job is usually busy in the colder season, I like having the help. It's the whining that makes me want to put nail through someone's head.

So I took two weeks of vacation from work, to go home and do what? Work, of course. On the websites. Meaning it's time to do inventory. We did it last year for the first time, and Dan bailed on me halfway through. That was when I had one website, and now I have two. I kept reminding him of his promise, just so he couldn't pull that "you didn't tell me" stuff that men tend to do. I got started on one website the night before last, after he was done for the day. We've also been moving everything around, and the poor boy was tired. But now I have an actual workspace, complete with shelves and table, and all the shipping in one place. And we've discovered that our sunroom has a floor. Go figure.

We finally got going on inventory in the afternoon, much to Dan's chagrine. He had finally run out of reasons to NOT help me with it, so we settled in to get the books straight. I've always said that if you want to really test the strength of your marriage, wallpaper with your spouse -- which, I might add, is something that we will never do together again. He is not even allowed to mention the word wallpaper to me again, but that's another story for another day. What I did discover yesterday is that another way to test the strength of your marriage is to do inventory together.

Things I discovered about my husband during inventory (which is still in progress -- we got one site done, and are now working on the other, which will be much more difficult to do):
1. The man has ADD. He cannot stay on task for more than maybe, if I'm lucky, ten minutes, before he's off on a tangent, asking what the boxes way on the other side of the room are for, why can't we label the boxes yet, do people really buy these things, and oh, I need a drink. Or something to eat. Or anything to get him away from the inventory.
2. The man is completely obsessed with painting. I asked him to put up the shelves for me, and when I went down to ask him something, he said, in a not too patient tone, to be careful on the steps, because he had just painted the edges of the risers. Who, I ask, paints the edges of the risers? The answer: a man evading doing inventory.
3. He has an almost sick relationship with his shop vac. The man will shop vac anything. He bought me a wonderful Dyson for mother's day a couple of years ago, and what does he use? His little shop vac.
4. He missed the listening skills part of kindergarten, but he's great with organization. I may have to tell him something three times, but once he gets it, he gets it, and it's all fabulously sorted out.
5. He's got a thing for labels. I mean, he LOVES labels. Constantly wants things labelled, even after I've pointed out that we can't label until we know what is going into the boxes.

That said, he's a great help, and I am well on the way to organization in my workspace. Of course, the kids are nowhere to be found, because they hate everything to do with sewing patterns, because that means I might ask them to do something tedious and boring. Not to me, mind you, but to them. Even the dogs stay away, which is no small feat. But I will say, Jill made some Oreo snow ice cream, which was a big hit with the help. She and Dan have ditched me for now, and are at the Y, whilst I take a little break to rest my back.

Why rest the back, you ask? Because as they were going out the door, Jill said "hey, do you have some tennis shoes?" "Yes, they're on my feet. I think they used to be yours, and you gave them to me." "Well give them back to me. I don't have any laces in mine." So the girl not only distracted the help with food, she took him completely away, and left me barefoot in the kitchen. Oye and vay. On the good side of inventory, I found this cool nightgown pattern that I thought was listed on the site, and wasn't. Well, it is now, so click the image to go there.

Viva Las Vegas: The Paper Trail

Communications with kids are always interesting. It used to be that we communicated by a letter in the mail, then telephone calls. Nowadays, it's cell phones and texting. Jill says "who emails? That's so outdated." Well, it wasn't, back a couple of years ago when we went to Vegas.

I had told the kids to only call if the house was burning down - an admonition I quickly withdrew after meeting a couple on the way to the casino who told their kids the same thing. I guess they shouldn't have been surprised when their kids called and told them to sit down. They'd truly burned the house down. Oye and vay.

Well, I had also told the kids to email and let me know how things were going. Email helps to keep the parents out of the immediacy of the fights, but still keeps us in touch. Guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I got my daily missives. Below is an unauthorized, abridged version of the discussions:

From Jill, dated 6/12/06:
SUBJECT: WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?
I'm pretty sure the subject speaks for itself...

Yeah, you know that star-fish that was hanging in the kitchen? Timmy ate it. I hope you weren't to attached to it...

Hurry up and get home,

Jill.

From Thomas, dated 6/13/06:
SUBJECT: What up
Missed your call today, so I figured I'd just email you.

Day one went fine, had a little bit of a problem breaking a boredom spell in the afternoon, but we just went to the park and hung out, hit a few balls, and played catch for a couple hours. Came back, took Jill to work (she was going to hand her two weeks notice in or something likek that - but I guess she said that whoever she needed to talk to wasn't there), got dinner dinner with Seth, rented a game, came home, watched a couple movies, and now I'm here.

....I've been trying to keep things simple in terms of necessities that we need that you guys usually supplied... I asked Jill to cook dinner (becuase Lord knows Seth and I would probably blow the entire fucking block up), and Seth and I would set, do dishes, etc. But apparently this is too much to ask, and we got into this huge argument about it. I honestly have no idea how this is not far, and she couldn't tell me either. She even called me a sexist, rofl. I guess she thinks she has the pants on right now, and she will just have to disillusion herself. I have the car. :D [Thomas was the only driver in the house at this point. Jill only had a permit.] So I kind of resolved that by telling her she loses either way, since if she's going to be like that about things then Seth and I will just go have a decent dinner elsewhere and leave her to cook for herself, and I kind of won her over with that. I might be coming off as mean, but oh well, just trying to mediate things.

Speaking of the car, it's driving quite fine...but I don't think you probably expected anything different.

I guess they don't realize that I am quite fine with driving just about anywhere they want to go (within the realms of safety and yadda yadda), but they don't want to seem to want to go anywhere fun or out of the ordinary. I'm actually the one trying to think up of something - ANYTHING - to do. Hopefully they'll chill out and become more imaginitive than I...but if not, this week is going to be a long one. I am jobbed with paying for everything so far. Oh well, if she hasn't gotten to me yet, I don't think it will throughout the week.

At least there are always hundreds of movies to keep me entertained..until my hard drive gets here. [His computer had ::gasp:: melted down right before we left.]

This e-mail is probably ridiculous incoherent since I'm rather tired, but oh well.

Win million in Vegas and such,

tsutter

From Jill, dated 6/14/06.
No Subject.
Mom,

please call your eldest son, Thomas, and tell him to put the gosh darn toilet seat down when he's done using the restroom. He absolutle refuses no matter how hard I try. When I asked him to put the toilet seat down he told me I was being lazy and that I should put it down. He also called me a control freak (just because I asked him to put the toilet seat down). Every time I ask him to do ONE thing he spazzes out and tells me to do it (Which is why the house is a mess right now).

Help me? Come home? Tell daddy I miss him and I hope he feels better.

Jill.

From Thomas, dated ten minutes later. He is obviously unaware of his sister's edict:
SUBJECT: re: What up
Will do.

Also, Seths RAM and my hard drive came today, but..

the hard drive is SATA. I needed ATA133. :/

I ordered another one, but I had to sacrifice a ton of stuff I would have wanted (though it was also cheaper, obviously), but beggars can't be choosers. I got the first one refunded, and I'm gonna try and ship it back today..just need access to a printer. So I'll probably head over to your double and use the one there and check out your mail situation.

[Translation: his computer should be repaired, but they sent something incompatible with what he has, so he has to return it.]

From Thomas, a mere twenty minutes later. I must've been around to respond to Jill's email.
SUBJECT: Re: What up
toilet seat more like lol get outta here i already destroyed her with MASSIVE LOGIC in that debate

[At which point, I noted that he had lost all punctuation and capitalization skills, and reminded him that men have been trying logic on the toilet seat issue for decades, and they will never win. Because they are wrong. And to just put the seat down, and we will have peace in the world, because putting the seat down should not be underestimated, in its importance to the universe. But I digress.]

Thomas' last proclamation, three days later. I guess he'd stopped caring, but he sure wasn't happy later that day, when he found out we'd gotten bumped from our flight and were spending the night in Phoenix, arriving home a day later than originally planned. I don't remember what I had sent him, but I think it was some version of the above note:
SUBJECT: re: What up
forget that

PS Jill's mega ultra super emo today holy crap

next time you guys do this you are taking her or I am going with you

I can't stand this. oh my god I snapped at her today 8)

The only thing we heard from Seth the entire time we were gone was this:
1. Get off plane.
2. Call home to tell kids we have arrived.
3. Seth answers.
4. "Hi Seth, we're here."
5. "Oh, I guess that means your plane didn't crash? Cool. Want to talk to Thomas or Jill?"

And that was it. Viva Las Vegas: The Paper Trail. And we haven't gone away without them since, other than a quick trip to Michigan last fall, when no one called or emailed. I guess they just don't care anymore, since two of them can drive now. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. Click on the image to buy the cool paper dress, available on ebay from Hide N Seek Treasures.

Viva Las Vegas: Ground Zero

Sorry to have ditched you for a few days, or did you notice? Had to watch the inaugaration, the Lost came back, then I had to go to Chicago to bond with the sister (who claims that she has somehow missed out on life because she's the middle child. Whatever.)

When last I blogged, my car had been painted, but on the wrong side. I told the car people that I'd bring it back to get painted on the RIGHT side when we went out of town the next time. Turned out that that took almost a year. Hubby and I decided to go to Ebay Live, to get a tax deduction, and a trip to Vegas, where we'd never been before.

Tickets bought and all, when we suddenly have a rainstorm that looks like Pete Rose has finally had his vengeance, because baseballs are raining outta the sky. I was on the fifth floor, at work downtown, and watched the whole debacle, thinking the whole time that yep, my van was out in it. Ended up looking like a huge golfball with all these little dents all over it.

So yeah. Now it not only had to go in and get the repainting done correctly, but also get the hail damage fixed. I called and made an appointment, reminding the shop of what had happened the year before. I was a little surprised that they didn't remember, but hey, these people didn't paint the right side of the van to begin with, so what else could I expect, I guess.

The morning we were to leave, we drove out to the car place with both vans. I get into Dan's van and he informed me that he needed me to call and order him a phone, because he had dropped his phone in his cup of Starbucks when he left the house, and now it was dead. This is the man who has run over his phone, dropped MY phone in the toilet, lost one to a can of paint, and on and on, so I don't know why I was surprised. He needs his phone for business though, so I figured if I got on the horn right away, he'd have a new one by the time we got home from Vegas.

Called T-mobile, and finally got through to a real person -- ever navigated their menu? It's a nightmare. So there I am, explaining the perils of Starbucks to the customer service rep, whilst Dan drives us all back to the house to get our luggage. Right about the time we got up to the Pizza Hut on the corner where we were, a lady pulls out in front of the van and WHAM! Hits it. Everyone screams in the back seat, Dan starts yelling about it all, and I'm still on the phone with the guy from T-mobile, who asked what happened. "Oh, we just got hit by another car," I said. "Oh my gosh," TmG (T-mobile guy) said, "do you need to go?" "Heck no," I said, "you stay right there. I don't want to have to navigate that menu again. Everyone ok? Yep. Keep going."

So there I am on the side of the road, ordering a cell phone, with the kids remarking how mad their dad is gonna be, waiting for the police, whilst Dan talks to the lady and her husband. Cause yeah, that's how we roll. It all worked in the long run, because the new phone was there when we got home.

Downside? The fact that the idiot insurance agent never could get the time difference in his head, so he called EVERY morning that we were in Vegas, promptly at 6am. We couldn't get away from it either, because I had to leave the phone on for the kids, in case the house burned down or bones were sticking out, but yeah, that guy never had a particularly warm conversation with me.

And so yeah, if you want to know how the kids survived that trip, hang on. Tomorrow: the paper trail. And if you just flat out want to look at something pretty, dig this gorgeous red taffeta dress, from Fast Eddie's Retro Rags.

Viva Las Vegas Part -1: The Pregame show

I guess I started this whole Las Vegas thing backwards. Call me dyslexic, but I told the end first. Our trip to Vegas actually started over a year before we actually went there.

I used to work downtown. At the time, I drove a van which has since been absconded by The Brat. Got up one Saturday morning and was sitting in the kitchen bleary eyed, when Dan started yelling at me to come outside and look at something. He didn't sound too happy, and when I got out there, he said "when did this happen?" He was pointing to the passengers' side, which had beautiful circles all over it, where some wonderful individual had dug their key into the side of my van, creating a piece of art that not even his mother would be proud of. I told Dan I had no idea when it happened, and go the "how in the hell could you not see this because someone just dug into this van, and even as wild a kid as I was, I'd never do this to someone's car" lecture. Didn't matter. I still didn't know when it happened, since when I come out at midnight, I usually climb in the driver's side, not the passengers'. He just muttered something at me that sounded like the dad in "A Christmas Story," and wandered off.

No worries, I figured, because we were getting ready to go to Seattle, to see my brother for a few days. I made plans to drop off the van while we were gone, and it was going to be ready when we got back. Perfect. Dropped it off, flew to Seattle, saw the bro and his family, and flew home. (I won't mention the panic attack I had on the flight home, because I suck at flying, and pretty much figured that we were not going to end as well as those people standing on the wing of the plane on the Hudson River last week. But I digress.) A few days away from the kidlets always does the parents good, so we came back happy, refreshed, and ready to conquer the world. Till we went to pick cup my van.

We pulled into the parking lot, and there it was. Shiny and beautiful, and I remarked how nice it was. We got out to look at it, with Dan going to the passenger's side, and me going to the driver's side. I remarked how they must've buffed up the driver's side, because it looked mighty fine. Dan was really quiet. I walked around to where he was, and found him there, staring at the side of the van. The unpainted, still full of artwork side of the van. I don't think he said much till he got inside the body shop, where he proceeded to ask the owner to come out and look. "Now you tell me," he said, "just how in the HELL could you not figure out that you were painting the wrong side?" The guy, who admittedly was pretty old, and had cataract, just spit on the ground and shook his head. "I got no idea," he said, right before he said for us to leave it there so he could paint the correct side.

Well, no way was I leaving it there. I need my van, man. I have kids to haul around. And inventory. And dogs. Et cetera, et cetera, as Yul Brenner said. So home we came in the van, and figured we'd wait till our next out of town trip to get it fixed right. It took till the following spring, right before our Vegas trip.

The compelling end to this store involves a cell phone, Pizza Hut, and a cup of Starbucks. But that'll have to wait till tomorrow. Just know in the meantime that a) when you go out with us, there's a prize every time and b) you can get this cool vintage Seattle belt from aprizeeverytime, on etsy.

Viva Las Vegas Part 1: The Dam-dest Thing

Dan and I went to Vegas a couple of summers ago. We'd never been, and Ebay Live was there, so we figured we'd get a trip in, and a tax deduction at the same time. We've heard so many raves about Sin City, but since gambling's not really our thing, we never bothered, but I guess Vegas is one of those places to check off the list and say we've been there.

We stayed in some place off the Strip that I don't remember the name of. Did a few slots, ate at the buffet, and a few brief hours later, Dan was praying to the porcelain god. Horrible food poisoning put him outta commission for the first 24 hours. Did the ebay thing --- I had fun, even if he was bored out of his mind -- and decided to see the sites.

I have to say that Red Rocks is beautiful. We enjoyed it there, then headed to Hoover Dam. There we were, enjoying our tour, when suddenly alarms started going off. Long story short, we ended up in some outer part of the dam where no one is allowed to go, with a guard telling the tale of seeing a co-worker running down the hall with a cloud of gas coming after him. I think we were out there for the better part of an hour before they finally let us in and we were able to finish the tour.

We never did figure out what all the hubbub was about, of what the cloud of gas was, but I do know that I've never met anyone else whose trip to Vegas included an evacuation from a national landmark. I'm glad that Dan and I don't get freaked out too easily, or we'd never go anywhere. That's how Utter Chaos works though. My former boss used to say that she'd never go anywhere where Dan and I were out together, because 911 always ended up being called. Sad thing is, she was right.

I still wasn't too worried till the evening we went down to the casino, chatting with another couple along the way. We were remarking that it was the first time we'd left the kids home alone while we were out of town, with Grandpa just checking in on them every day. I said that we had told them that if they called us, there had better be blood flowing, bones sticking out, or the house had better be on fire. The wife of the other couple said "yep, that's what we told our kids too. Don't call us unless the house is on fire. They called us the first night we were gone and said 'you'd better sit down.' They had burned the house down. To the ground."

I dialed the kids and told them they could call anytime they wanted.

So if you go to Vegas, avoid the buffet, keep away from clouds of gas, and by all means, let the kids call you. And if you want a better memory of your trip, get this revamped vintage tee, from Perk Up Vintage. It'll definitely perk things up, and in a good way!

Ancient Chinese Secret

I guess I haven't talked about work for a while. Maybe that's because I always seem to be at work. Working. Taking boring calls about vomiting, which is the diagnosis of choice lately.

With the change in temperature this week, we've been getting our share of other stuff, including some frostbite stuff -- cover up in these temperatures, folks, or your ears might fall off. Heck, even the puppy isn't liking this cold, cause he just does his thing and tears off for the door. It's cold, folks!

Last night, one of the pages we got said "chipmunk bite." Now, I know that I live in the city of concrete and gaseous manholes, but we were all trying to figure out how one gets bitten by a chipmunk in the middle of January in Indiana. Keep in mind, at my job, anything is possible, so we keep ourselves braced for anything -- like when I called someone tonight about "possible frostbite," and her "please enjoy this ringtone while we try to reach your party" song started blaring "chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose........" No lie. I couldn't make this stuff up.

So she gives a call to this lady, who has a Chinese name. Lady tells her that she was at work at her restaurant, and when she went outside, she saw a little chipmunk, and he wasn't moving. She was afraid he was frozen, so she took him inside and put him into a little container, to see if he'd come around. Checked on him every few minutes, and gave him a little poke. Realized she'd poked him one time too many when he reached up and bit her on the finger.

Me being me, when I hear the story, I wonder aloud if that chipmunk is now on the menu. Heck, my co-workers already think I'm warped for the things I come up with, so I tell 'em, "better not be eating any sweet and sour chicken at her place." Maybe I'll try Thai next time.