nada mucho

Not too proud to steal catch phrases from a three year old

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So, our three-year-old friend Elise, when her mom or dad are looking particularly nice, says it looks like they are "made out of fancy." Holly mentioned it a couple times now, and I am totally going to work on popularizing this phrase because I love it. Today I was heard saying, "If we bought that house we'd be made out of fancy." And, "This iPod Touch makes me feel like I was made out of fancy." (Pat got an iPhone last week, and I got his Touch hand-me-down. [Awesome.]) So, yeah, made out of fancy. Spread the word.

In other news, since Pat got an iPhone, he is going to be canceling our phone service with Sprint soon, and I need to do some soul searching. I hate talking on the phone and I barely ever use it, so I have seriously been considering getting a Tracfone. (I just shuddered when I typed that - I hate bastardization of words, like "donut" and "tho." ANYWAY...) I would love to have a $10 phone bill a month, but I'd also love a swanky-@$$ iPhone. If I got an iPhone, though, we might as well give Greta the Touch; I run the risk of being obsessive-compulsive about being glued to my phone (a very likely possibility knowing me); and I'd have a wicked high cell phone bill (duh). Does Tracfone plus iPod Touch practically equal iPhone? Okay, that's a dumb question. But I really like saving money. I have to figure it out soon.

In other-other news, I've been really happy with Greta's new preschool classroom. They have a theme each week that they explore, and I like the routine. Two weeks ago it was bears. Last week it was camping. This week it's space. I think that's so great! She keeps bringing home artwork that is super cute. Last week Greta said they made s'mores, and I assumed it was, um, edible s'mores, but then I was sorting through the artwork and found two pieces of carboard with a piece of brown construction paper and two cotton balls glued to it. You see where I'm going with this, but I was like WTH?? And after a minute or two realized that was a s'more.

Looks almosts good enough to eat, no?

Cute. And then today she came home with some wadded-up foil with paint and glitter. Is it a star? A satellite? A planet? I'm not sure, but I liked it.

Is there life on Maaaaaarrrrs?

When I asked Greta what she's been learning in school, she said, "I haven't been learnin' nuffin' in school." Alrighty then.


Our Urban Rabbit

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There is a rabbit that we often see in our front yard. He usually hops away as soon as he spots us, but today he didn't and I was even able to take a few pictures of him.

We have a few neighbors who think that getting a new roof once every 30 years is optional, so after a windy day we often find chunks of shingle in our yard. One day we came home to find a shingle in our walkway with rabbit poo on it. I snorted when I realized it was literally "sh1t on a shingle." Har!

In other news related to the curious habits of bunnies, someone in our house has become baby crazy (how's that for a segue??), and it's not Pat and it's not me. It's Greta! Yesterday we were at the park and Greta asked, "Why can't I have a baby brother?" I stammered for a bit, all of a sudden very aware of the other people nearby, and then finally said, "It's complicated," which sounds more like a Facebook relationship status than a talk involving adding a new human to the family. I brushed it off, but then Pat told me today that Greta was telling people at day care that I'm pregnant and that she is going to have a little sister. Um yeah.



Kicking off the long weekend

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Recently I've been crossing all sorts of things off the why-didn't-I-do-this-years-ago? list. It has been extremely satisfying. One that seems worthy of mention is that I reupholstered some chairs my Aunt Marianne gave me (*ehem* about 7 years ago). They had a fabric on them that was no doubt super hot in the 90s, a teal, mauve, and beige Santa Fe pattern. Pat affectionately called them the "Cosby sweater chairs." They really, REALLY didn't match our red dining room, and last week I finally found and ordered some fabric I really like.

 Here is the before shot:

And, behold, after:

Ahhhh. Loves them. Patty helped me do them like the good sport that he is.

It was nice to give new life to these. I know my aunt bought the set of chairs and stripped and stained them and then put the Santa Fe fabric on them. I am very happy I didn't need to strip and stain them, and I am even happier to keep them in the family and give them a makeover.

This was an exciting kickoff to a long weekend that I hope is a good mix of productive and fun. Happy fourth, all!



The good and the bad

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Hmm, so I feel like I should post something because I am painfully aware that it has been a week since I last posted (and that last one really wasn't very exciting anyway), but I can't think of much to say. Pat suggested I write about how Greta refuses to believe us when we tell her our full names and that she calls us "Flower House" and "Grassy Man" (sadly, I'm Grassy Man), and I suggested that perhaps HE should write about that, and he keenly noted, "I don't really write about things like that." And since Pat only writes about riding Segways and he hasn't ridden one in the past week, here I am.
Here's a list:
+ Our good friends Mike, Christy, and Colin had a new addition come into their family recently: Miles Christopher! So far they are total rockstars at doing the family-of-four thing. Miles is a sweety, and I got to hold him for a good 20 minutes and he not only didn't cry, but he made the sweetest, most expressive little faces. We love him already.
+ We have been continuing to work on little things around our house, from decluttering to beautifying. I recently told Pat that I am starting to appreciate our house more and more...but I still want to move ASAP. :)
- We keep looking at houses in Brighton, and we keep leaving disappointed. I am pretty good at recognizing the obviously sucky houses in the pictures, but sometimes I get tripped up. When I see something promising in a listing, I can't help but get completely wrapped up in obsessing about it, decorating in my head, resisting the urge to buy lamps and curtains, etc (until I actually see that it's ranges from being a dump to being just slightly not quite right). It's an emotional rollercoaster for me, and I don't know how to stop feeling that way. We're going on 6 months of looking, and I'm starting to feel drained.
- A couple kids in G's class have had the flu in the past two weeks - at least one with confirmed H1N1. The reasonable mom says, "It's the flu. Wash your hands. Whateves." The crazy psycho mom is two seconds from pulling her out of day care. (Serenity now.)
+ My mom's 60th birthday is next week, and we have a very intimate family seafood extravaganza planned. CAN'T EFFING WAIT. My brother emailed me today to say he ordered 6 whole lobsters and 75 clams. I named my lobster Pinchy. I munna eat em.
- Tori and Dean's son has weird short bangs and a rat tail. At first I thought maybe they didn't realize he had the rat tail (because they're not the most involved parents [but probably better than most celebrity parents]), but then one episode I noticed Tori kind of running her fingers through it. I find the whole thing troubling.
+ Greta is showing her smart, funny nature every day (except this weekend when she was sort of the devil). Since being in her preschool class, she has started sort of coloring in the lines and even doing some simple math. My parents got her a subscription to National Geographic Kids, and it's for kids who are a bit older than her, but when we read it and I ask her the questions in the magazine, she rocks it; it boggles my mind. It's sweet and cute to see what she "gets" and what she doesn't, though. She can recite all of The Very Hungry Caterpillar nearly verbatim, but when we read Everyone Poops and we get to the last page, there is a spread of four different shapes of poop and she says, "That's poop, that's poop, that's poop, and that's a whale." (It's actually a silhouette of poop - shocking, I know.) When we remind her it's poop, she says, "Oh," and then calls it a whale again the very next day.
Hey, so apparently I did have some things to say! Ta-da!
How are you?

If you drink slowly enough, your celebratory wine can become consolatory wine...

...and then just regular ol' drinkin' wine while watching Tori and Dean. We opened a fancy bottle of wine Saturday night to celebrate putting the offer in on the house. Pat and I both had a glass. I was too stressed to drink wine Sunday (is that possible?), but Pat did have a glass. And then I had some more last night in which to drown my sorrows. This seems to be some never-ending fancy bottle of wine, so now I'm just settling down with a glass.
I am happy to say that, although I started the day feeling quite dismayed with the house situation, at some point this morning I started actually feeling okay with it. First, the house itself had some obvious idiosyncrasies (eg, there was no place to put the kitty litter box, there was really no storage), but whenever I would think about those things I would immediately think about how awesome the bathrooms were, or how beautiful the windows were, or how gorgeous the gardens were. But then I had a bit of a breakthrough. This was a historic house in an an actual neighborhood-neighborhood. I Google'd the neighborhood this morning to see if I could find out its history, and I found the neighborhood association's website and, HOLY CRAP, those neighbors would be all up in our grill - in the nicest way possible, but still. They expect you to do neighborly activities, and pay dues, and help "support" your neighbors, and keep your yard super well maintained. I mean, sometimes we don't mow our lawn for a month, and our lawn still looks way the heck nicer than many of our current neighbors' lawns. I don't think I am ready to be the slacker neighbor. When my mom and I went to the open house on Sunday, there were a bunch of obnoxious women in the dining room all kibitzing about the sellers and their house and blah-blah-blah-blah-blah, and they all seemed to know an awful lot about the couple. Now I understand why, and I sure wouldn't want to be forced to hang out with those women and then have them standing in someone else's dining room kibitzing about me.  
Call it self-preservation or whatever you like, but I guess I'm okay with how things worked out. While I highly, highly doubt we will find another house as aestheically pleasing, I am almost certain we'll find another that suits our family better.
And yes, I realize I'm talking about the house a lot. It was just a lot of energy and hope in one thing (and in a short amount of time - hey, I'm on the same bottle of wine!). But now, on to other things*.
For example, Greta is a bit danger prone and often has multiple cuts and scrapes and whatnot. At this very moment she is wearing three (count 'em, three) Band-Aids. And tonight I was reading her a book, and it asked a bunch of questions that she was answering. One such question was, "What makes you feel happy?" and she gleefully exclaimed, "Band-Aids!" Hehe.
*Although I just saw a commercial that showed the same washer and dryer that were in the house, and I actually stuck my lower lip out, in some sort of immature, yet involuntary reaction...I'm still healing. (Send more wine.)

Cross That One Off the List

File under: nada mucho

I got a chance to take a Segway for a spin at work today. Campus safety was letting people try one out for a couple of minutes. It's virtually impossible to not look like a DB on one of these, but I have been wanting to try one for a while. Plus, at RIT, there is always somebody ready to step up and look like a bigger dork than you. The large lady that got on it after me slowly crashed it into the wall and then jumped off like it was about to explode.

Pat on Segway


Don't you remember I told you I'd love you, baby...

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Oh nos! My computerz are all broken!
Seriously, though, Pat has two laptops, I have a laptop, and we have a desktop computer, and two out of four of those are currently defunct. And, sadly, the two I used the most and have all of my bookmarks saved to are the broken ones. So I've spent probably a grand total of half an hour on the computer outside of work during the last three days. So unlike me. That means if a friend of mine has recently announced her pregnancy, I would have no clue. That means pictures I've taken are sitting idly on the camera. That means I've been mostly *gasp* reading my book in the evenings.
It also means you guys are getting no love from Sorry!
I just wanted to give you that update, as crappy as it may be.
Perhaps you could talk amongst yourselves. (I love when you do that.) Discuss.


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Tonight Greta and I picked a bunch of daffodils, hyacinth, and little blue flowers that, for all I know, are weeds from the back yard. The hyacinth smell so nice, but I've had a perma runny nose all night. Totally worth it.


We had enough flowers to fill four small vases, and I let Greta pick her favorite to put in her room. We will soon likely find out if Greta suffers from the same allergies as her old mom.



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Who's a kick-@$$ Easter bunny?

Easter basket

Who's a kick-@ss super flamingo?

Super Flamingo


Seashell on my doorstep

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When I came home from work today I immediately noticed a seashell lying right in the middle or our doormat. I picked it up and looked around for signs that might explain its presence. We just don't see many seashells in the city of Rochester, as I'm sure you can imagine. What does it mean??

(Finding a seashell on our doorstep is not as cool as the time our friend Holly found a beet on her doorstep [especially for a Tom Robbins fan], but it still seems kind of cool...or creepy...I'm not sure which.) 

seashell in my hand


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