nada mucho

Oddly proud

File under: greta | nada mucho

 
Greta asked to wear her boots to school today, which seemed reasonable because there is snow on the ground, but I forgot to pack regular shoes in her bag. When they got to school, Pat realized I forgot to pack shoes (and yes, it was my job because he was out scraping our cars off - did I mention we have SNOW??). They have spare sneakers at school, but apparently Greta refused to wear any of them. This is because they're ugly. I know my daughter, and I know this is why she wouldn't wear them. Since it was my mistake, I ran out to Target and bought a pair of pink Converse (she really needed some new shoes anyway) and dropped them off. When I got there, Greta was still wearing her boots. Thankfully, Greta was excited about her new pink shoes, and I was relieved that she was happy. While the whole ordeal was kind of ridiculous, deep down I'm proud of my girl for sticking to her guns. She has moxie. I like that.
 
Fran

Found

File under: nada mucho | photo shoot

 

I started the big dig this past Saturday. The weather was lovely, and I never really got a chance to do one last clean-up in the fall because of that class I was taking, so I was itching to get outside. I did a little bit of documentation.

These are nothing special.

dead stuff

See?

fuzzy stuff

Moss Man.

Moss Man

Does anyone know what this little nubby brain-looking thing is? I do.

rhubarb nubbin

Here is the giant, scary tree in our backyard that I have nightmares about.

scary ass tree in my back yard

The next day I woke up very sore from my garden adventure, and I was relieved the next day when it rained and I wasn't able to get all Crockett up in this Victory Garden. If you caught that reference, you were probably born in the 70s or earlier.

Fran

Do as I do; do as I say.

File under: nada mucho

 
More than a year ago a friend of mine told me how great This American Life is, and I was all, "Note to self: Check out This American...Hey is that salsa? Mmmmm...." And then I promptly went and didn't check it out.
 
Pat did, in fact, check it out and liked it, and he recently got a couple of the DVDs from Netflix. After watching one episode, I was hooked. I started listening to the podcasts, and THIS SHOW HAS CHANGED MY LIFE. I listen to two or so episodes a day, and they are so incredibly interesting and they make me so, so happy (and sometimes sad, and sometimes thoughtful, etc). Seriously, though, I feel so happy to live in a world where this show exists. (I really like it.)
 
So, I'm officially spreading the word, kind readers. I can't even name a favorite episode; all of the ones I've heard are special in their own way (although I've only listened to the fairly recent ones), so just pick one.
 
If you're already a fan, nice work. If not, take a listen and then you too will start saying in your head, "It's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass," and then smiling to yourself.
Fran

I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya...*

File under: nada mucho

 
* If you know the reference the title is from, you win a pat on the brain.
 
Just the same ol' same ol' around here, and I'm having a posting drought to prove it. Because I mean, really, how many times can I talk about the same things over and over? It's not for lack of motivation, thankfully, because I've been very motivated with the house stuff, but it's just no fun to talk about. If I did it would sound something like this:
 
I finally threw out the pillows that came with our couches (not the back ones, but the totally unnecessary ones on the sides). Boy did they take up a lot of space in the attic. I don't know why we even kept them so long. LOL.
 
But that is not interesting. Not at all. Or I could mention that house search is going slowly (still) because I am being very picky this time, and any little thing can constitute a deal breaker. That might sound something like this:
 
Based on our search criteria, we could presumably find the home of our dreams on Penfield Road that is in the town of Brighton but is part of the Penfield school district. I can imagine the following conversation:
Peer: "Where did you move?"
Me: "Penfield Rd."
Peer: "Penfield is a great town!"
Me: "Actually, the part of the street we're on is in Brighton."
Peer: "Oh, Brighton has wonderful schools!"
Me: "Well, it's actually Penfield schools."
Peer: "I see. Will you be paying Brighton taxes or Penfield taxes?"
Me: "I don't want to explain this for the next 20 years. I'm calling U-Haul." LMAO.
 
Or I could really mix things up and post a math problem. That might look something like this:
 
There are 7 girls in a bus. Each girl has 7 backpacks. In each backpack, there are 7 big cats. For every big cat, there are 7 little cats. The bus driver is not in the bus at this time. How many legs are there in the bus?

Or I could talk about Greta and how we're just getting ready for her birthday later this month, and then we'll basically be nonstop busy until at least the beginning of May, but that just makes me tired to even think about, and I think I can definitely hear people in pnf.com land snoring at this point.
 
Or I could talk about how I have to put more than a thousand dollars into car repairs this week...you get the point.
 
So yeah, I got nothin'. I thought if I just sat down and spewed some stuff out for 10 minutes something good might come out...no such luck. Perhaps interested parties could submit topic ideas in the comments section. Hint, hint. Otherwise it might be more of this for the foreseeable future.
 
Fran

I make your cards

File under: nada mucho

 

Pat's great-grandfather is turning 100 on St. Patrick's Day (holy cats!), and Pat's grandma asked me to make the invites for his party. I happily obliged. Here is the finished product.

birthday invite

I blurred out the details so you don't try to crash the swingin' centenarian's party. I wouldn't put it past pnf.com readers.

In person, the invite looks less like the scrolling Star Wars intro and more like, well, a normal rectangle. I shot this at a wacky angle, apparently. I'd better be careful, or people are going to start accusing me of being crafty!

Fran

Spawn Twin

File under: greta | nada mucho

 

My dad sent me the image that I rembered looking a lot like the picture we just took for Greta's birthday card. I think they are definitely quite similar, but it's not super uncanny or anything.

Li'l Shannon McCarthy meets Greta Bean

This above-left picture of me is from Easter 1980, so I was about four and a half. The above-right picture of Greta is from, um, about a week and a half ago, making her pert-near three years old. 

I posted this picture of me as my Facebook profile, and ond of my old classmates, Jennifer, asked, "How much do those invisible suitcases in your hands weigh?" Hilarious!

 Fran

I hope you received my distress signals...

File under: nada mucho

 
Our Internet has been down for most of the day, and it has been seriously cramping my style. For one, we were supposed to go to some open houses today, and I went to get exact addresses and maps and whatnot, and I couldn't. We were due to meet our realtor and were at a loss. I vaguely knew the address, so we drove around looking for wifi and trying to get directions on our phones, iPod Touch, etc. No luck because all of the internets were being jerks. We were wicked late, finally got our realtor's number, made it to the first place, yadda, yadda, yadda. And between that first attempt and now, when it finally started working, I thought about using the Internet only 5,000 times, give or take. I am addicted to the Internet. This is not news. How do I know? Well, that is somewhat subjective, but here is one possible test.
 
Test: How do you find out what the weather is in your neighborhood right at that moment?
 
Answer A: Open the door and step outside.
Answer B: Turn on the weather channel or news.
Answer C: Open the paper.
Answer D: The Internet, duh.
 
If you answered anything but D, you are probably not highly addicted to the Internet. If you answered D, and the Internet was a person, you would probably long to give him/her a hug, and then you would probably start stalking him/her, finding out what restaurants he/she likes to go to and then casually showing up; you might even make a shrine to him/her in your creepy red-carpeted attic.
 
Okay, it is clear I'm rambling. I just missed you so, Internet. Don't ever leave me again. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.
 
Fran
 
 
 

Diane Keaton is a model tooth-bearing citizen

File under: greta | nada mucho

 

So, Greta brings home probably as many art projects as the next toddler in day care, and I am willing to admit that some are, well, less than spectacular. And this is coming from the girl's mom. True, I was a studio art major in college, but it doesn't take a BS in art to know that the artwork is less than spectacular. (I always think of this when something particularly crappy comes home.) Anyway, it kind of depends on the teacher, and it's obvious that some are more into art projects than others. When Greta started in her current classroom in September, it was clear her teachers were into other things. Don't get me wrong - they are good things - like teaching lots of songs, working on manners, good stuff like that. But the blue pen on random old dot matrix paper with premade puffy styrofoam cutouts glued on was not exactly worthy of hanging on the fridge. A couple months ago a new teacher moved into the room, and the artwork has greatly improved, which is fun to see. We just got one home yesterday, though, that made us laugh.

Diane Keaton has great chompers.

It sort of helps to know that February is National Children's Dental Health Month, but I just randomly knew that, I'm actually not sure the two things are related. For my own sanity, however, I choose to believe they are.

In summation, any artwork involving Diane Keaton is a-okay with me.

Fran

St. Valentinosaurus

File under: nada mucho

Here's what Greta will be giving her teachers tomorrow. Not too shabby, right?? I was always a suck-up, and now I'm a suck-up via proxy.

You warm my heart

We cut out hearts, glued dinosaur figurines onto them, and wrote corny messages. Greta turned them into a dino-valentine choo-choo.

You're the best Valentine in 65 million years

This Valentinosaurus looks like he might want to go to a dermatologist. It looks like he might have melanoma on his head. Perhaps that's what caused dinosaurs to become extinct: skin cancer!

Be my valentinosaurus

Fran

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