Halloween Costume: Global Warming

Halloween is dressed up and ready to trick or treat - as Global Warming.

70 degrees? That's what they are forecasting for Halloween in New England. Since my daughter was born, we have had unusually warm Halloween nights. And by delaying the fall back of time, it's pretty light out when we hit the road, too.

There is a picture floating around somewhere of me during my beauty-pageant years (ahem) with my coke bottle glasses as round as my head, fake cigar, layers upon layers of clothes, fake mustache and beard, heading out to trick or treat as a Hobo (is that PC to say these days?) because *damn* it used to be COLD!! No, actually, FRIGID, this time of year. When we were even younger we would hide in those plastic masks using our own breath to keep us warm - and when you lifted it up to reveal who was underneath, it felt like someone smacked you in the face with a brick of ice. Brrrrr...

Now, my kids throw on a light sweatshirt that often comes off somewhere along the route when they start to sweat, and we leave the jackets at home as we race around the neighborhood on what tightly challenges Christmas as the best holiday ever in our house.

So come on New Englanders, whip out your sunscreen, flip flops and shorts - it's almost Halloween!!!

I blame Twitter for not having the writing mojo

@christinelexa: Happy Monday. What a great weekend. Fingers crossed it flows into a great week.

@christinelexa: This is the main reason we bought this house 5 years ago. The crackling will put me to sleep! Zzzzzz http://pic.gd/b25496

@christinelexa: I think if I knew Yoga now would be the time to use it. But I don't. So I'll just breathe and turn the afternoon around. Happy place...

@christinelexa: Bad internet connection has caused a huge headache. Like the pounding kind. Like the kind that only a happy hour starting at 3:00 can fix!

@christinelexa: SEX talk - sorry, gender discussion - now with @geechee_girl about women in social media #SMBNH

OK, not sure what all those are? Those are some of my tweets. Those are the 140 character thoughts that run through my head during the day and night. Those are how I think now. I used to think in blog. I used to have long conversations in my head on the 2 hour drive home from my office and would gleefully run to my computer to put them down "in writing" on my blog. Thoughts. Glorious thoughts that flowed from my fingertips and filled up a page. Stories that would amuse you and make you giggle, or blush, or question my sanity.

Now, I think in tweets. Short. Quick. Can't use many words. Will run out of characters. How-do-I-shorten-them-to-fit thoughts.

So while I still enjoy my children and life, I just can't think in longer than 2 or 3 short sentences, which makes it hard to share with you in detail all the funny, cool things going on in our house. And at this rate, my blogs are going to read:

@christinelexa: Woke up. Work. Time with kids. Wine. Rest. Repeat.

Help. Please help me turn off the tweets. I want to blog again!

(Or follow me @christinelexa - just be warned, I do work full time and tweeting comes with the job so not all my tweets are as intensely profound and personal as the ones above - I know hard to believe, right?)

Boobs

Title caught your attention didn't it? It's not about me - er, mine. It's my son. And his obsession.

Recently, I found him outside his room with one of my bras on his head screaming,

"Abby...remember in Wall-e when he puts the boob thing on his head?"

He then proceeded to crack himself up as I chased him to get my boob thing back.

The other day, he asked me to draw a picture of the Hulk for him. We've never seen the Hulk. Never watched the Hulk. So I did my best "bulked up" man sketch and when I was done, he took it from me - studied it for a moment - smiled - and added two little dots about mid-chest.

"What are those?" I asked.

"His boobs," he replied

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess his girlfriends won't be leggy. They'll most likely well endowed.

He's such a little boob :)

Falling for fall

Usually, by this time of year I'm so excited for fall. Even though I know it leads to winter, which isn't so much my game. I'm usually so sick of hot sun, humid days and wearing the same stained shorts that I can't wait to roll into my slippers in the morning, put on a warm sweater and drink a cup of hot green tea to start my day.

But this year, with an abridged version of summer here in New England, I'm not falling for fall like I usually do. Leaves. Blah. I wish they'd stay green. I pretended to be ooohhing and aaahhing at the pretty colors on the way home from Maine last week in an attempt to get the kids excited about the seasons.

Frosty windshields. Random snow storms (ok snow showers) before Halloween. Acorns falling from the trees, causing me to twist my ankle. Chipmunks and squirrels scavenging for winter food, including my birdseed. Bees. Tons of Bees showing up in the house (maybe a whole different problem). Less sunlight. More darkness. Poor Dog doesn't get to hang outside as long.

Yeah, I'm not ready for fall but do I really have a choice?

So bring on the toasty fires in the fireplace. The endless bowls of soup for lunch. The warm crockpot dishes for dinner. The smell of trees and plants getting ready to sleep for the winter. Put your pumpkins and Mums on your front porches. Fill up the bird feeders. Shake out the warmer coats and the fleece pullovers. Inhale the cool crisp air and snuggle with an insulated cup filled with your favorite hot cocoa. Pretty soon, we'll be on the inside looking out thinking "Boy, I wish fall stuck around a little longer this year."

It's mine until Assisted Living

It's done. Finished. Complete! (except for maybe one shelf above the microwave but that is still up for discussion). And just so you know, we will not be selling this house, ever. And if we do, it's because I can't make it up to the bedroom on the second floor. Got it? It's all mine ours!

The before:







And the after:







Just in case you were wondering, I don't normally leave food sitting around in serving dishes on my counters. My parents came for dinner so I got a little fancy.

Now, let's move on to more exciting blogs like failing grades, H1N1, early arrival of winter and how my hands look like shriveled apple people these days.

Deal? Thanks for listening!

Like my top?

I don't think I could be any happier - I have counter tops! Waaaaahhh! (That's supposed to sound like that noise you make after having an epitome of some sort - sort of spiritual in nature...anyway)



At this point we are literally down to some spot painting, a shelf, and one under cabinet light installation. Once it is all cleaned up, tied up and pulled together I shall share before and after pictures - as if you aren't already sick of hearing about this damn kitchen.

Oh, and did I mention we placed the order for the cabinets on August 26 so congrats to hubby for a kitchen installation in less than 2 months...he's a good foreman.

First Grade Progress Report

"Needs Improvement"
"Needs Improvement"
"Below Average"
"Below Average"
"Needs to pay attention better and focus"

Ahem - excuse me!! Over here! I think you gave my child the wrong progress report...innocent mistake I'm sure.

You see, my kid is not "below average". At anything. She's smart. Funny. Caring. Considerate. Compassionate. Strong-willed. Enthusiastic. Energetic. Did I mention smart?

Trying to explain to an almost 7 year old that her progress report wasn't all glowing and wonderful while she stares at you excited for you to read it to her, because in her heart she LOVES her school, and her teacher, and her classmates - it's heart-wrenching.

Can you ever tell a child someone thinks she's below average? At Reading, Spelling, and Religion. Excellent in Science and Phonics (she says they're easy, thus the Excellent part). Good at Math, Art and Social Studies.

So, we carefully explained that all the teacher wanted was for her to try a little bit harder at her words and spelling. And sometimes the things that she thinks are really hard take more time and studying than the things that are easy. But that if she wanted to work with the horses some day, she needed to learn how to read so she could take care of them. (Score one for the Mom - anything that has to do with those neighing creatures is sure to motivate, right!?)

I also told her not to be disappointed because I wasn't so hot at Science so she was lucky to be so good at that...and Math wasn't one of my strong suits either.

She sighed, discouraged, and asked how frequently the progress reports came out and exactly when. You see, she already knew if she could make it look good around progress report time, maybe she'd get more "Excellents", which is all she really wants. Told you she was smart...

The year you were born was my FAVORITE year

1987 was awesome. High school graduation. First semester of College. Loved that year.

1983 was pretty cool. Freshman year of high school. New friends. Old friends.

1985 was up there, too. DRIVERS LICENSE. W00t!! Pile in the Ford Granada.

1988 saw a lot of independence emerge. Heartbreak. Love. College in full swing. Legal drinking age - oops wait. That's what the bouncers thought but it wasn't true.

My point? I spent two days with SEVERAL HUNDRED people, and the majority were born during those same years. BORN. BORN in the 80's and drinking with me at the event.

No wonder when 10:00 hit I ran out of the bar like Cinderella at midnight...who wants to see the exhausted old lady lose her slipper on the way out because she's had 3 glasses of wine and has been up 16 hours trying to sound intelligent and cool at the same time, and could have given birth to some of the same people she was spewing advice to about Twitter, FaceBook and social networking??

Wanna feel old? Go to a social media event. Damn kids.

Nooks and crannies

No muffins in this post. Just progress people! What a busy weekend...

We have our microwave nook - minus the shelf which will go up soon. Nice nook, hubby!



We have a window sill and molding - now that's a kitchen window!



And to all the women out there - why aren't shop vac's marketed directly to us? See that little puppy on the floor? It is the answer to all my cat hair, dust ball, dried mud bits, cracker crumb, and crud issues throughout the house. That little vacuum sucked the 5 year old remnants of burned wood and dust out from the cracks in our stone fireplace hearth. Vrooooomp. Sucked right up. Love it!



Luckily we didn't suck the lost tooth up - but we were on our hands and knees for a bit trying to find it on the carpet. She didn't even know it came out - until she noticed the blood dripping out of her mouth. Oy vey.



Busy weekend followed by a busy week so see you when I find a few minutes to myself.

Jon and Kate who?

A few years ago I happened upon a program that had two parents situated next to each other on a couch while their very young sextuplets teetered and tottered around them. It was adorable. And I had such a high respect for how they balanced their lives and stuck to such a regimented schedule. Wow. 8 kids in all. I could never do it. Seriously, N-E-V-E-R do it. I was hooked. I watched all the marathons on Saturdays to catch up.

And during the course of their conversation I would snicker at some of the comments made by the Mom. Sort of reminded me of myself at times. It's hard not getting a little sarcastic with your spouse after a long day of diapers, feedings, entertaining, sleeplessness and boo-boo healing. And I only had two kids and felt extremely fortunate to be able to be home with them. Plus I love my husband and want him to know I think he's wonderful. Most of the time. Ok, more than most, but not as much as always. Fair?

Then all hell broke loose and now I get nauseous over the fact that America (is it really America? Or tabloids?) is obsessed with the bickering, arguing, rude, obnoxious, poor behavior displayed by everyone involved with that series. Do I side with the Mom? Probably. Am I pissed at the TV network for letting it get to where it has just for ratings. Yes. Do I think he's a slime? Yes. Would I have stayed with my husband if he spoke to me like that for all those years? No. Does he have a right to leave? Sure.

But no matter, the focus should be on the children. How many ugly divorces occur in the country on any given day? Way too many. Way, way too many where kids are involved.

So put the friggin cameras down. Stop the voyeurism and move on, people!!! Isn't Britney doing something insane we can all focus on? Or that Lady GaGa must be wearing some hideous outfit? Leave the kids alone!!!!! Stop. Back up. Sorry Momma but the bread and butter needs to come from some place else, not just from showcasing your kids and the tears in front of the camera. Speaking gigs pay well. Write a book. Just shut the cameras off for a bit. Please.

I'm off my soapbox, thanks. Just breaks my heart all of that will be there for years to come for them to read and relive. So not fair.