Painting the Kitchen

Published, Jan 25,2015

Well, I don’t know about you, but I enjoyed our recent and brief respite from the bitter cold last weekend. We were visiting another one of Tennessee’s “top five” cities—Knoxville. Yet another gymnastics competition took us to their downtown area, too. In fact, all of Tennessee’s “top five” host these competitions—oops, make that four-and-a-half out of the five.

There is a small, pre-season competition which is hosted by Clarksville Elite, but they hold it at the Foy Fitness Center on the APSU campus. It doesn’t begin to compare to the scale and scope of the meets held in Memphis, Nashville, Knoxville and Chattanooga, though.

I just think it’s strange that a city that boast about its convenient central location, that we haven’t done something to take advantage of that location. I am sure greater minds than mine are working on it. I’ll just worry my pretty little head about domestic matters—like making hotel reservations and researching places to dine and shop while we’re attending the next event.

As for other domestic matters, I have once again tackled the less than enviable task of painting the kitchen. This is a process that was much needed, but became impossible to ignore after our recent renovations.

I don’t think I mentioned is before, but I asked Glen (our contractor for this project) move the cabinet surrounding our refrigerator about six inches to the left. It’s something I thought of a while ago, but doing so would have exposed an area of the floor which was not covered by the laminate floor that my husband and I had installed. The thought of trying to retro-fit the flooring into that exposed space was too daunting, so we waited.

We have a side-by-side refrigerator, which I normally wouldn’t have considered, but it met my single requirement: it was the largest capacity I could find which would fit into the space available. It fit, but (a little detail one should apparently consider) the door on the right hit the door jam on the adjacent wall and wouldn’t open. That’s when we came-up with the solution of removing the door jam and cutting it to a length that allowed the refrigerator door free movement—sort of. It still hit the door to the laundry room whenever we had to open it wide enough to open the crisper drawers.

Eight years of door banging had me ready to jump on this possibility of moving those cabinets when we had to replace the flooring. Glen told me it would be an easy fix, so I added it to the list. What a difference the move has made. The space we lost—to the left of the cabinet—was a concern, because I stow a rolling cart, which holds my stand mixer, there. Now it protrudes into the walkway a little more, but not enough to matter to anyone.

The repositioned cabinets gave us more room to open the doors on the refrigerator.

 

The new flooring and laundry room also provided an opportunity to make a few more changes to the space, too. I brought home a piece of furniture I had in Hodgepodge, but had been keeping in storage; it was always one of my favorite pieces and, consequently, I didn’t discount it when I closed shop. (My subconscious mind obviously had plans for it.)

My subconscious desire—the black bookcase/cupboard.

So, I told you all of that to tell you this: I started painting the kitchen again. When I moved the white cabinet from the kitchen into the laundry room, I took that opportunity to paint the wainscoting, trim and wall before positioning the new bookcase there.

the white cupboard in it’s new location

 

Fortunately, I love the color of our kitchen, so I am just going to freshen-up the look with some cleaning and the same colors. This way, I will be able to take my time—thus far proven, as I began the process just after Thanksgiving—without having to be met with an offensive contrast of colors. Of course, this could also work against me when I consider my ability to procrastinate.

One last note, since I apparently have a few things on my mind and the time on my hands to consider them . . . at length . . . I’ve decided to begin blogging again. This may not mean much to you, but it is a big thing for me. I consider it an obligation, of sorts. If you tell your readers you’re going to do something, then you need to do it. So, if you like reading about our renovation projects and general shenanigans, you may want to check it out. I will also be providing a few more photographs than space allows here in “The Leaf.” By the end of the weekend, you’ll find me at www.hodgepodge-home.blogspot.com.

A personal note—thank you to the friends who encouraged me to get back to my blog. I appreciate the support and confidence.

It’s Beginning to look a lot like Chaos

originally published on Dec 15, 2013 in The Leaf Chronicle

I was hoping to regale you with decorating tips and pictures of my decorated home, but alas—‘twas not to be. As author John Steinbeck penned, “The best laid schemes of mice and men . . .”

Oops! Wrong. It wasn’t Mr. Steinbeck, although I learned the quote in his novel, “Of Mice and Men,” he was actually quoting a poem written by Robert Burns. Anyhoo, the point is: plans often change or are changed for you.

My plans for the weekend changed drastically when the hard drive on my computer at the shop crashed Friday night at the close of business. No problem—it just contains all of the information vital to the operation of my shop for the past 9 years. I don’t use it much . . . just for every transactions, inventory question, social media to posts and email conversations. Naturally, after three hours on the phone with tech support and the promise of the delivery of a “recovery disc” (as if that means ANYTHING to me) within 3 – 5 business days, I took this whole event in stride.

So, after my mini-meltdown, I called my sister and asked her WWAD (What Would Angela Do?). Angela is one of our really, really smart friends who knows her way around a computer. Kendall (my sister) is usually my go to girl, but when she doesn’t know what to do—we go to Angela. When Angela doesn’t know what to do—we cry. Angela suggested calling tech support—when that didn’t work—she said, “Take it to Doghouse Computers.”

So, first thing Saturday morning, I did. They fixed it and got it back to me the same day! So, please, let that be a lesson for all of us. I am rabid about shopping local, but thought that, at 6 p.m. on a Friday night, my only option was online help. Not only did the online tech support fail me (they, in fact, promised they would have me up and running that night), but now I am fighting to get my money back. Taylor, at Doghouse, talked to me—in person—and understood my desperate situation and did everything he could to fix my computer as quickly as possible. Shop local, people—it makes a difference.

I told you all of that, so I could tell you this . . .

With my weekend compressed by my computer emergency, my plans for a big day of decorating this past Sunday turned into a big day of cleaning out the front room, which we refer to as “the parlor,” but that sounds so hoity-toity when I see it written. I had hoped to tackle this project Friday night so we could make room to relocate a table from the living room, to make room for the big tree. The parlor (said in my head with a droll British accent) was a little cluttered, as it has been the catch-all space for: inventory I’m holding onto; a college student’s “must have” bike; empty boxes from the recent bathroom re-do; a variety of ready-to-hang-but-no-wall-space-available art; and, a purgatory (of sorts) for laptops awaiting their final resting place.

The only decorating I managed was placing three trees in their designated positions—only two of which have lights on them; because that is the way I brought them home from my shop! The big tree in the living room gets a minimum of 1,000 new lights each year. I leave that tree on 24 hours per day and do not bother storing light strings that have had a minimum of 700 hours of use. When I used to reuse lights, I’ve had them go out, a string at a time, throughout the month of December—not doing that again.

My youngest daughter helped by bringing down some of the boxes while I was at the shop. She even arranged my Santa and nutcracker collections. That was a huge help due to all of the unwrapping involved in those chores.

As I plan my attack for the rest of the décor, I have found myself wondering what, if anything, I can “skip” this year. I probably won’t decorate the cabinet tops with all of the fresh greenery I’ve used in the past. I may also skip the vintage tinsel tree in the dining room . . . especially since I’ve added a new tree at the base of the stairs. Nah—who do I think I’m kidding? The tinsel tree will probably go up tonight, while I’m helping my decorating elf with her homework. It’s only about 4 feet tall—the tree, not the decorating elf; I adorn it with vintage ornaments in shades of aqua and pink—the elf, not the tree . . . (rimshot, please).

I have one more chance to share some decorating ideas with you next week. You know better than to hold your breath though.

Creating a New (Accidental) Tradition

originally published in The Leaf Chronicle on Dec 1, 2013.

As I am writing this, the dressing is waiting in the crock pots, the pies are cooling on the sideboard and the cranberry sauce is at the ready. Mom is rending the meat of the baked sweet potatoes from their skins and preparing to top them with dried cranberries and almonds. All is (mostly) right in my world. I am, however, a day behind in composing my column and not even sure they will be able to insert it in the Living section, but feel compelled to sit down to write.

I love preparing meals for the holidays—almost more than eating them. I enjoy planning menus and table settings; I love cooking. Yup—pretty much the entire process ranks rather high on my list of things I like to do. The funny thing about Thanksgiving preparations though, is that—although a month separates them—they go hand-in-hand with Christmas planning.

As I prepare my menu for Thanksgiving, I am conscious of the fact that I will be preparing similar offerings for the Christmas meal(s). With a collection of more than fifty cookbooks, one might think there is no way duplicates should even be offered, but it’s difficult to not fall back on the tried and true. I like to experiment with new recipes, especially when we are entertaining, but have not venture too far from my standard menus for the past few years.

One new development I noticed yesterday was when I was rifling through my cookbooks to find a recipe I typically use; Mom opened the kitchen cabinet to look at the notes from last year’s menu. I know they are there, but it just occurred to me how helpful that is. (Evidence that my inability to throw things away is, in fact, borderline brilliance—it’s not the cure for cancer, but will aid my sanity.)

If you open the cabinet door where I keep my spices, you will find the notes and menu plans for the week of Christmas 2012, just under the plans for Thanksgiving 2013. I think most of us write out our menus for special events like this. Ours has notes about who will be preparing which dishes and which Southern Living Annual Recipes book contains the Bourbon and Chocolate Pecan Pie (it’s 1998, by the way).

Notes like these have already proven useful this year, but I think there are added benefits.

For instance, when I say things such as, “You know, I would like to try cooking a beef tenderloin for Christmas,” and my mother looks at me like I’ve got lobsters coming out of my ears, she will be able to back-up her “are you nuts” look with my own hand written menu from 2011 as evidence. (For your amusement, I will confess that this memory lapse actually happened last year, all expect for the “evidence;” we don’t have that menu taped to the cabinet. The fact remains, however that I completely forgot having prepared a beef tenderloin—a cut of meat which is to dang expensive to forget!)

So, through happenstance, I’ve decided this will be a new tradition for the King Kompound. I will now purposely keep these notebook pages taped to the insides of cabinet for two years. After which they will be retired to a page protector in my black three-ring recipe binder, for posterity and reference. My kids will likely never need/want to reference them, but I like to think they might. I know I’d love to have something like that from my mother, but at least I’m making these memories with her.

I hope you enjoy (and remember) your menu planning this holiday season.

Plenty of Blessings at Thanksgiving

originally published on Nov 23, 2013 in The Leaf Chronicle

I’ll start this column by saying thank you to all of the kind and concerned patrons of Hodgepodge, whom also demonstrate distinguishable intelligence by reading The Leaf Chronicle, for their inquiries regarding whether or not I would continue writing for this fine publication. The foreseeable future does include a weekly column written by yours truly, but I will encourage you to share your appreciation for the journaling of my antics with my editors—all persons I regard with the highest esteem.

As this column will appear a few short days prior to my favorite holiday, I thought I’d share a little about our holiday plans. Like the menu, there will be only minor variances from years prior. For instance, I started discussing the menu with my mother and eldest daughter the other night. I suggested a possible change from my regular offering of my mushroom and sausage dressing—which I’ve been serving for nigh on 20 years (argh! I should not have done the math . . .)—and was met with hesitation. Neither of them wanted to stomp my new idea, but they had apparently been looking forward to the old standard and, to be honest, so am I. The new rice dressing will have to wait for a less momentous occasion.

In a recent column I told you about my cousin’s approach of serving her Thanksgiving meal in courses, which I think is a fabulous idea—yet will not come to fruition at the King Kompound this year. I don’t think this is the year to implement changes—we have enough to contend with at the moment.

I did say, however, I won’t make my pumpkin bread pudding this year. The request has been submitted for basic, everyday (but not at my house), run-of-the-mill pumpkin pies, which I happen to love. I haven’t made a pumpkin pie in years! Anyhoo, as I was flipping through a magazine this morning, I saw a recipe for a Double Chocolate Bread Pudding with a Coffee Caramel Sauce and my mouth began to water. I’m thinking bread pudding will make an appearance, but in a slightly different form this year.

I am still considering the table setting, but I know it will involve my Johnson Brother’s Friendly Village dishes. Last year, I used some wheat bundles I had arranged as the focal point for the table, but the moths really liked them, so I had to toss them (in the picture). I have a cotton bowl garland and couple oat standards I made which will likely anchor this year’s display.

The challenge of our dining room table is its—umm—rustic condition. We bought it from Carolyn Robinson at Traditions when we first moved to Clarksville. I believe she said it had been in a break room at factory in Nashville; I could’ve made that up, but I’ve been telling folks the same story for years, so it has to be true by now. We absolutely love this table! The top is constructed of two wide, thick oak boards that have been pocked by cigarette burns and numerous other assaults. Where the two boards meet in the middle, there is a little ridge which keeps me from displaying anything with a flat bottom in the center of the table—everything wobbles. I generally have to use displays with feet that will straddle the ridge. Sometimes, I slip a coaster or some other shim-like device under the tablecloth to stabilize the chosen centerpiece, as I did last year.

Oh well, the world is full of challenging situations which perplex us to no end. My dining table centerpiece will not bring about world peace or the end of starvation in the Sudan. So as we gather around our table—wobbly centerpiece and all—I will be praying for the same and giving thanks for the many, many blessings the King family enjoys. Happy Thanksgiving!

Bah Humbug!

originally published in The Leaf Chronicle on Nov 3, 2013.

Guess who just finished decorating her shop for Christmas? Yep—this gal.

This is the time when I feel like I should walk around with a sandwich-style board on my person, offering the disclaimer, “It’s not my fault the Christmas holiday retail season has been pushed into August!” Heck, I feel like I should receive some sort of recognition for waiting this long to add Christmas trees and ornaments. We still have plenty of décor for the current season of fall and the next holiday, which—incidentally—is Thanksgiving, not Christmas. (Veteran’s Day is technically “next,” but I don’t think you need to decorate. Just make sure your American flag is flying, thank the veterans you know and do all you can support them all—every day.)

Anyhoo, I am trying to keep a positive attitude and laugh at the ridiculous nature of this Christmas push. It is not necessary and it is not new, but here we are. I can understand the need for selling holiday crafting supplies well in advance of the holidays, but getting the decorations out this early is ridiculous. I don’t know who is to blame, but it does reflect the nature of our lives now. We are rushed, so therefore our holidays are rushed. We spend so much time preparing for them that many of us fail to actually enjoy them.

I admit that I love decorating for the holidays. It has always brought me much pleasure to deck the halls, but 9 years in retail have taken their toll. Besides, there is so much to do before you serve the turkey, let alone hang an ornament!

So, with that out of the way, I will share a few ideas for things you may wish to consider as you get ready to get ready.

If you have family or friends coming to visit for the holidays, now is the time to take care of the “big stuff.” If you have pets (or kids), now is the time to schedule an appointment to have the carpets and/or upholstery cleaned. If you have any other minor projects you’ve been putting off, such as replacing the towel bar that always falls off in the guest bath, do it. Save your guest the embarrassment of having that towel bar clang on the tile floor when they yank their towel off. Clean your oven, fridge and the reflectors on the stove—all things I’ve regretted not doing at one time or another. If you need new sheets for the beds the guest will use, now is a good time to buy them. (I have a set to put on my son’s bed which gets used only for guests.)

As my life always seems to revolve around my next meal, I recommend making menu plans, too. There are many cooking preparations which can be taken care of well in advance of November 28^th. There are numerous planning calendars available online or in the cookbooks you likely have on your shelves.

You might also make plans for setting your table. Do you want to make a special centerpiece or order flowers? Will you be able to sit at the table or will you need to use the table for serving and provide our guests with lap trays? Either way, early planning will ensure you have everything situated when the time comes to carve the turkey. Speaking of how you will serve your meal, you may wish to consider taking a leisurely approach and serve courses, as opposed to a full meal all at once. It may take some additional planning, but you’ve got time!

I want to close by thanking one of my readers, Bridget, for contacting me regarding my reference to my home altar as having the image of the Virgin Mary on it. She suggested it might be a depiction of St. Thérèse of Lisieux; she is completely correct! Many thanks to all of you for reading!

Retiring Thoughts

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published on Oct 6, 2013.

Last week I was fortunate enough to steal away for a long weekend with my husband, so we traveled south to visit friends in Fort Walton Beach, FL. This is our fourth time visiting them in two years, which is a lot for us; between the business and my husband’s jobs we just don’t get away much. By comparison, however, we have traveled to see these friends with more frequency than any others and not just because they have a house on the water (wink, wink). The truth is that neither of us are really “Florida people,” but we love the Florida people we go to see.

 

 

 

 

 

When we met at college in NC, we both agreed that neither of us were very fond of the idea of living in the other’s home town. My husband is from Pompano Beach, FL and I’m from Fairfax, VA. Florida is too hot for me and has too few seasons; Fairfax is too congested and expensive for him.

Shortly after graduating, we married and my husband joined the Army, so we’ve lived wherever Uncle Sam suggested. Virginia and Florida never made the list. Landing here in Clarksville has been a great blessing and we feel so fortunate to have had the opportunity to purchase our dream home and become entrenched in a community. Any subsequent thoughts of retirement have featured our old house.

We’ve always thought our retirement plans would involve the eastern shore of Virginia. It has been our number one vacation destination for years and years, but now we plan for vacations in the Florida panhandle. What the heck is going on here?

Darren on the beach in Coles Point, VA

Well, I haven’t completely figured it out, but I’ve pieced together a couple factors to consider. Number one on the list of considerations: What do you do when you get there? I mean “long term,” not during a week-long vacation. Those vacations on the eastern shore are wonderful, but they are low key. We don’t do much, because there isn’t much to do; which is great for a week, but any longer than that and I’ll go nuts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a lot of this . . . (above), to get to this . . .(below).

 

Bill and Darren doing what they do best; Haedyn, too, for that matter.

 

Next consideration: the weather. The climate was my number one reason for putting the kibosh on Florida so many years ago. I need some variations in temperatures—hot being my least favorite. While I love the change of seasons, I really do enjoy being on the water; in a month or two you won’t be taking a boat out on the Chesapeake Bay unless it is your job. We were on the Choctawhatchee Bay in the middle of January last year. So, as much as we love the Virginia eastern shore, the window of water enjoyment time is really about 5 - 6 months; in the Bay area of Florida, you can hit the water year round.

(Can’t you just see that metaphorical scale tipping?)

One seemingly minor consideration, but worth adding to the list: the seasonable weather during months with “r’s” in them. Oysters taste better while seated at an outdoor table and outdoor dining on the Virginia coast in during the months of November – April is almost unheard of. Further, both areas have oysters, but the fresh oysters available in Florida are ginormous.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some JP Penney poses as we arrive at the Dockside Grill in FL.

The biggest factor weighing in this new found fondness for the sunshine state is reality. The reality is we cannot afford two households. So, when we make the decision about where to retire, it is there we will be. No weekend houses or summer homes for us.

 

Fortunately, however, this is not a decision for anytime in the immediate future. We’ve still got a high school student we need to push through and some college tuition to take care of, a few house repairs to tend to and so on. Suffice to say that I look forward to seeing you Wednesday mornings when I’m taking advantage of my senior citizen discounts at Kroger on Madison Street; be sure to stop me and say, “Hi!”

(Of course, none of it matters without this . . .)

Strong Backs and My Weak Mind

This is my column for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published Sep 22, 2013.

Time to write the column.

Don’t worry; this will not be another scary dive into my not-to-sub-conscience. Yet, I do feel I need to acknowledge all of the emails, Tweets and face-to-face commentary from my numerous kindred spirits. It is wonderful to know I am in such great company, especially when it comes to my occasional struggles with focus. I am glad you enjoyed last week’s column.

This past week I have been all about fall decorating. The shop has commanded most of my attention, but I’ve made a few changes around the house, as well. We are in the process of a few house repairs and improvements, which have my mind and time somewhat preoccupied.

About a month ago, I wrote about the fact that we—by “we” I mean “my husband”—wanted to extend our patio walkway down the side of our house so it would link to our front porch. I was not very keen on this idea, but I decided that I could at least appear to give his idea some thought before I squashed it like the ground under a cherry picker.

Which brings me to the reason there is a new walkway in our side yard—the ground which was squashed under a cherry picker. Oops, I mean, “man lift;” and while we’re on that, why “man lift?” Shouldn’t it be “person lift?” Okay—squashed ground—the area where we installed this new walkway was the site of a gazillion ton person lift making 20-point adjustment turns for two weeks. The lawn in that area suffered considerably; not that it ever produced the thickest, most durable grass. So I decided that the new pathway might be a good idea after all.

Enter the young, healthy backs of the guys we hired to relocate the dirt and lay the new walkway. They arrived eager and ready to get the job done. Three days later, when they are still trying to break through the gravel and occasional outcropping of concrete, they seemed a little less eager and frankly, a little deflated. It appears that the area we had chosen for our walkway extension was exactly where a gravel driveway had once been located.

This is when it comes to me . . . that herb garden I planted the first year we moved into our house is located along the same path and I now recall the difficulty I had digging the bed for that garden. (In my defense, I can’t remember why I walked into the pantry instead of the laundry room this morning either.) My only explanation is one akin to child birth; no new projects would be tackled in our old house if we were actually able to recall how difficult the last one was.

Of course, my husband is the guy who laid the rest of our pathway and patio, not me. Perhaps he did not-so-sub-consciously recall encountering the gravel, which is why he suggested that I engage a contractor to do this portion of the walkway. Hmm.

Anyhoo, this is where I eat my words and admit, though I begrudgingly gave into the idea of the pathway extension, I l-o-v-e it; or rather will, l-o-v-e it, when I can plant around it. My husband is still working on painting on this side of our house and there is no point in planting a bunch of flowers to be crushed by ladders and size 11.5 work boots.

In the meantime, I will use strategically placed potted ferns and mums (see how I pulled it back around to fall decorating?) to distract my eyes from the bare ground.

Jan 20, 2013--Creative, Inspiring Year Ahead

Caption:  My resourceful endeavor to plan and record my anticipated creatively inspired year ahead

One of the best features of a passing into a new year is a new calendar.  I love calendars; so much so that I have a minimum of three—no, wait—four, running simultaneously.  There is the Microsoft® Outlook calendar which is my most dependable, especially since it syncs with my iPhone® calendar, then there is my wall calendar which hangs in the kitchen and lets the family know what is happening.  The fourth calendar, however, is my favorite; it is the one I carry with me pretty much everywhere.  It is the one that ends-up holding more than just my schedule; it is where I stuff receipts, coupons, agendas and more.  This “favorite” calendar has seen many incarnations—from a very corporate-style Day Runner® in a black portfolio to the pocket-style family agenda in a wipe clean plastic cover. 

My favorite, however, has been found.  It is a journal style calendar.  There is plenty of room to write my scheduled activities, as well as some notes about the day or week.  As it seems I have reached maximum capacity in my “grey matter” storage unit, I’ve found it necessary to not only write down where I am supposed to be going, but also where I’ve been and what I did! 

A few years ago, I found the perfect journal-style calendar for my needs.  It was actually designed to resemble a ledger book—like those kept by business folks for their record keeping.  I remember liking that feature immediately.  Then, upon closer examination, I realized it was also appealing because of the design lay-out of its content.  Each week shared a two-page spread, so there was a generous amount of room for my notes.  I liked it so much; I placed an order for the shop.  When November rolled-around and I hadn’t received them, I called the vendor and was told they lost the contract and wouldn’t be wholesaling them after-all.  Rats!

I went into research mode, to no avail, trying to locate the publisher and deal with them directly.  Finally, I found it online through a boutique similar to mine, but located in Ohio.  I contacted the owner and asked her to share the name of the vendor, but she wouldn’t tell me!  I was shocked, but undaunted.  I continued my research and found the journal at our local Borders—the same day I received the negative response from Ohio.

Well, long-story-longer, I was able to scavenge the calendar for only two years.  In that time, I tried desperately to contact the publishers, but the information just led me to a non-working number.

That’s when I decided I need to make my own, using a real ledger book I found at an office supply store.  I worked with my friend, Märtha, and sister, Kendall, and we created our own, but I just couldn’t finish it.  As luck would have it, Patty found one more of the published calendars, which saw me through last year.  Unfortunately, 2013 hasn’t materialized; therefore, I decided to get creative and made my own.  Unlike the last time, however, I am not waiting until it is finished to use it.  I figure, for it to be a truly creative journal, it needs to develop throughout the year.

I will be writing my notes, jotting down ideas and memories and using a glue stick to attach ephemera and other inspirational findings.  This is going to be a creative, inspiring year and I’m going to capture as much as I can in my journal calendar. 

Jan 5, 2013--Celebrating Minor Successes

As we move into day 6 of the year twenty-thirteen, many of us are considering what we can do to improve our situation.  We may be thinking about personal improvements, such as learning a new language or finding a new job; we may be planning to make physical improvements, such as improving our eating habits or level of activity; or we may just want to make changes in our surroundings, such as improvements to our home or perhaps purchasing a new home.  Whatever you have decided to take on or give up this year, I wish you luck, but more I wish you dedication. 

Dedication pushes us through otherwise insurmountable odds.  It is what tells you to keep going, when everyone around you is failing.  Dedication moves forward with every success and resets the backstop.  If you have this type of commitment you will succeed, even if you don’t achieve your intended goal.  Commitment to a goal is bound to realize some level of accomplishment and with varying levels of achievement come personal growth.

What do you think?  Are you buying what I am selling? 

Too be honest, it’s kind of strange to write these words, as they are usually coming from the mouths of friends and family as they try to convince me of my own success; or from my own mouth as I encourage those around me.  Why is it so difficult to see our own success?

Well, I am determined to improve my own outlook.  I will attempt to find my own minor successes in attempts my former self would have viewed as failures.

For instance, my numerous attempts to clear our “back porch” in order to find a creative space will no longer be viewed as failures, but partial successes.  While I have not been able to claim it as an inspired work space, my repeated efforts to do so have reduced the piles of discarded sports equipment and categorized tools and garden equipment. So far, the producers of that reality show about hoarders have not yet knocked on my door.  Success!

My inability to stay on top of my social media marketing for the shop—especially my blog—has been a constant source of self-admonition this year.  Instead of berating myself for not doing better, I will congratulate myself for not distracting my loyal Facebook fans, Twitter followers and blog readers with a barrage of my ramblings.  Success!

My efforts to re-establish a workout routine have not emerged, but I do take my dog on long-ish brisk walks each morning.  Of course, this is more in an effort to break her spirit and hope for a few moments of inactivity, than to keep the size of my thighs in check, but it’s something.  Oh yeah, for the past two months, I also managed to squeeze several days of “power yoga” each week.  So, cheers to my better than nothing fitness efforts!

I just decided to take a look back at what I promised to do better last year and was delighted to find that I made no resolutions last year—other than to get past the misery of 2011.  So kudos to me on that stroke of brilliance—no goals means “no failures.” 

Wow—I am on a roll!

So, whatever you decide to put your mind to in 2013, I hope you do attack it with dogged determination, but, if you are only able to lose 13 lbs. instead of the full 20 lbs. or if your to-be-filed pile remains, even though you resolved to be more organized, I hope you are able to find your minor successes and celebrate them!  If you need a cheerleading section, give me a call.

two-by-two

August 12, 2012

Preparing for two kids to leave for college is like survivalist preparations. You double-up on everything and pack it in big plastic bins. The only difference is they will have running water, so we can leave bottled water off the list; that, and ammo. Two birds leaving our nest.

Recently, Facebook has been awash with pictures of the children of friends as they approach the school bus for the first time or as they trudge ahead of Mom, laden with a fully loaded backpack. Most photo posts are accompanied with comments such as, “I’m going to cry all day,” or “I can’t believe time is going so quickly!” All I could think was, “Looks like freedom to me!”

I remember when I started sending the kids to school. I don’t remember ever really being sad about school days. I do remember thinking things like, “Wow, grocery shopping is going to be much easier now,” or “Maybe I can get the dining room painted now!” But sadness wasn’t really part of it. I guess there was comfort in knowing that I would see them again after school. The freedom was good, but it was temporary and that was also good.

Now I am facing a much more permanent “freedom” that is making me feel a little off-center.

Our eldest daughter was gentle with me. She started her college career here at APSU about two years ago. At that time, she decided to continue living at home. It has been great (for me), but now she is ready to live in the dorms. We are very excited for her and hope that she is able to fully enjoy the university experience now that she will be living on campus. But part of me is now-so-secretly glad she will still come home for the occasional meal or maybe to do laundry.

Our son is a different story. He is off to eastern Tennessee, where he will attend UT Knoxville. (eep!) This one will be a little more difficult. He will eat all of his meals and do laundry (I hope) in Knoxville—now through fall break (hold on . . . yes, there is a fall break, Oct 11- 14) or (eep, eep!) Thanksgiving. He will not be taking a car with him, so any efforts to retrieve him for a weekend will require hours of travel there and back; not likely to happen with my schedule.

So, our youngest has a lot of pressure on her. She will be home alone for three years. We’ve already told her she is going to have to pick-up the chore slack (hee, hee), but what I don’t think she is expecting is how she is going to have to pick-up the entertainment slack, too. I really enjoy their company now. We have interesting conversations—talking books, issues and the like with comfort and ease. I actually like my kids and look forward to the daily rundown during our dinner conversations.

I find that I really like my adult kids. In fact, I recommend skipping all of that other stuff and just adopting fully grown, well-behaved adult children. Since, however, the youngest requires a little more time to enter the next phase of life, I will follow through with our commitment to raise her.

Alrighty then, I guess I better get back to packing—you can call me “Noah”—everything is going, two-by-two.

Just When I Thought I was Accomplishing Something

Motivation is a good thing. Sometimes we have external motivators; others, we create for ourselves. Last week I created my own when I told your lovely readers about my woeful neglect of my home. My confessions resulted in a level of activity around my house I haven’t been able to claim since Christmas!

Last Sunday I woke-up and began my usual level of cleaning—it’s my day to clean our bathroom. Whoopee! Then I decided to take it to the next level and began dusting the family room. Pleased with my efforts and results I moved, duster in hand, to the office and through the entry hall. Having exhausted the heroic efforts of my little dust grabbing cloth, I then shifted gears and headed outside to salvage some plants that have not already surrendered to the heat.

That is when I found my husband, diligently toiling away on the house. You see, several years ago he began his one man crusade to preserve our old house. His first major project was our roof. The front of our house has a standing seam metal roof, which we want to try to preserve. When we noticed some leaks, we immediately began researching methods for preserving a metal roof. Darren settled on a product that he painted onto the roof. For a week, he was perched on a rented cherry picker with a rubberized paint product and mesh tape. He worked diligently, all-day, each day of his “vacation” to salvage the roof of G.B. Wilson’s house.

Now, during his break between jobs, he is back to the tedious job of scraping 130 years worth of paint off of the wood siding of that same house. This is an on-going job. He has slowly, but surely been working his way around the house, heat gun and spatula in hand, removing the paint which has been baking onto the surface of our historic home.

 

(this is the before—at the bottom of the pic; after scraping—the mid, yellowish tone; and after the primer has been applied.)

I feel sure I have mentioned this before, but just in case you missed it . . . I love our house. I’ve wanted to own an historic home for longer than I can remember. Mom and Dad brought us up on “This Old House;” we were watching when Bob Villa was cool.

Funny story: Darren and I were living in Richmond Hill, GA when Steve Thomas and crew were renovating a house on an historic Savannah Square. My sisters came to visit us for St. Patrick’s Day—a pretty big day in Savannah. Well, we went out and did what you do on St.Patrick’s Day; by that I mean we ate corned beef and potatoes. What?!?

Anyhoo, we were on our way home (don’t worry, my sister, who doesn’t eat corned beef OR potatoes) was driving and we had the brilliant idea to drive by the project house. Next thing I knew, we were pulling-up and the sisters were running up the stairs for a photo! We couldn’t wait to share this photo with Mom & Dad! Of course we were hoping Norm would walk out of the front door and pose with us, but alas, he was a no show. We were this close to fame!

Okay—so back to present time. Darren shares my love for historic homes, but I don’t think he really wanted to be this involved or perhaps, he thought I’d be doing more to help. I make my contributions, but I can assure you, I do not have the “sweat equity” Darren has invested. My help involves interior paint colors and furnishings. I do help with a few of the maintenance projects, but they really don’t stack against scraping paint in desert heat!

(Here is my dedicated man, heat gun in hand, scraping under the eaves.  He’s a keeper.)

July 29, 2012—Minor Accomplishments (accolades welcome . . .)

This week has been as crazy busy as any other, but I feel like I am actually getting things done. Don’t you hate those wheel-spinner days/weeks/months?

I feel like real progress was made in several areas—including the house, garden and shop—but mostly the shop. I have been able to pull together a summer sale, the likes of which I have never had before, at least one new window display (as of the writing of this column) and I was able to do some painting. I finished some small projects and put a few new things on the floor for sale.

The beauty of getting stuff done at the shop is that I will have virtually hundreds of people walk through and notice the changes. Regular customers will comment, “Oh! You’ve changed the window—let me go look again!” New customers will compliment an arrangement or a particular vignette. It’s all very satisfying. Not so much at the house. At the house, if anyone notices a new arrangement or newly hung picture, I am lucky. It is much more likely that someone will ask, a month down the road, “When d’we get that?”

That’s why I find it so funny when I over hear people saying, “Oh, I bet her house is wonderful.” Basing this supposition, naturally, on the attention to detail and display they see in the shop. My response, when they actually make this comment to me, is generally, “Not so much.”

I generally explain that I spend more time at the shop than my house and, when I am at the house, 7 of the approximately 10 hours are spent with my eyes closed. I don’t pay much attention to decorating my house anymore. Of course, the shop not only gets my attention, but also that of my friends/staff that help me; they do not come to my house, neither to arrange displays nor dust. (I’ve asked, they won’t do it.)

There was a time when the house and the décor filling it was all I thought about and did. I was constantly working on projects—whipping-up a couple throw pillows, making curtains, dinner and doing laundry, too; now . . . not so much. If I do have a novel idea for my house, it usually doesn’t happen until the relative season has nearly passed; bunnies arrive in May, patriotic bunting in August, you get the picture.

I guess that’s why, minor successes such as walking the dog AND pruning the Nandina before my chiropractic appointment makes me want to climb on the chicken coop (that I wish I had time to build) and crow!

July 22, 2012—

It’s not the heat . . . it’s the humidity. I think if we’ve learned nothing else in the month of July—this we now know.

I have assumed the “summer-doo.” My stylists advise against it, but I simply cannot run a hair dryer in this heat, nor can I wear my hair down; consequently, I will wear my hair in a damp knot at the base of my neck until the temperatures cool down. By the end of summer, my scalp with likely mildew, as my hair is almost never dry, thanks to the humidity. (Pretty picture, eh?)

Coping with the heat isn’t so bad. I was actually feeling my age with the dry beginning of July thinking it is no wonder so many folks retire to Arizona. The heat without the humidity is bearable. My gardens, however, did not fare so well.

Our dear friend, Travis, was kind enough to tend our home, pool, dogs and cat during our vacation. He intended to water the gardens, as well, then we were hit with the mandatory water restrictions and we knew we would like return to Death Valley. A pretty accurate description of what we found. Travis watered when he was able—based on the schedule established by the City and his work obligations—but the combination of heat and lack of water really took a toll on the lush gardens we left.

I was especially sad, because Mom had spent a great deal of her time here working in the yard. She finds that time—watering, trimming and weeding—therapeutic. She tended to the things I rarely get to do in the garden. She deadheaded the withering blooms, trimmed back my mums to avoid an early bloom and cut-back old growth on some of the more established plants. This freed Darren and I to finish the wine bottle garden, to thin-out the floppy undergrowth of the Crape Myrtles and other chores. The gardens were looking great.

My goal is to get this established so we can mulch it—as it is now,

everything just washes down the hill.

 

As is typically the case when one returns from vacation, I have had so much catching-up to do at the shop, I haven’t had any time for efforts to salvage the plants that remain. I did manage to cut-back the remnants of a beautiful hydrangea, which was already recovering from a lost battle involving high winds and a gas grill. It was a sad day, but I managed to salvage a few dried blooms to display in a vintage sap bucket.

The blooms I was able to salvage. 

I almost prefer dried blooms to the fresh.

 

I am one of those people who hates to cut flowers out of my own garden. I prefer to enjoy them in the garden. Hydrangeas are the perfect bloom for people like me. You can enjoy them on the shrub for an entire season then, as they begin to fade, cut them for drying. I enjoy dried hydrangeas almost as much as the blooms on the bush.

One exception to my “no cutting” rule is my herb garden; those I’ll cut. When I go to gather herbs for cooking, I often return with a handful of herbs for the window sill above the sink. I keep an array of vintage bottles at the ready to serve as vessels for these clippings. I love the purplish blossoms found on our rather prolific oregano. Another favorite is basil—even without the blossoms. Technically, you shouldn’t allow your basil to blossom, as the leaves will taste bitter, but I love the smell and look so I usually let a few blossoms form, then trim back leaving the bottom two sets of leaves. It will renew itself several times throughout the season.

 

I hope the rest of our summer is a little more temperate, but I will attempt to grin and bear it regardless, because we are so fortunate to enjoy all four seasons here in Middle Tennessee. In the meantime, I think I’ll call Mom and offer an opportunity to come enjoy more therapy.

July 15, 2012—the vacation

(Disclaimer: I actually wrote this last week, but due to my lack of technological expertise, I was unable to send it. Please forgive it’s late arrival.)

I am sitting on the porch of my second favorite place in the world, enjoying my second to the last sunrise (which I enjoyed mostly from the comfort of bed, but then reminded myself that there would only be one more, so up I hopped). My brother-in-law is the only other one stirring—wait, there is the squeaky door . . . my son appears with a bowl of cereal in his hand.

All week we have been enjoying what I call the excessive relaxation of vacation. Yes, it is relaxing to be away from the shop and the house, but sometimes it is a little excessive. The food and drink is definitely excessive—I am sure everyone is regretting my choice of a bikini for our time together. We are excessive in our attempts to squeeze-in so much togetherness (there are those among us who need their alone time, if you know what I’m saying). But all-in-all, I’d say it has been another banner vacation for the family.

With the last night of our time together drawing nigh, I am forced to acknowledge the limitations of our vacation. My sister, Nikki, is recovering from a recent surgery (-ies, actually) and, naturally, my father’s presence is sorely missed. Nik is doing her best to keep-up with us, inevitably overdoing it at times, but I think we’ve all done a good job of keeping her in check. Dad’s presence is all around us: the music he loved and his quotable quotes—usually declared by one of the grandchildren—are most frequent reminders and conjure happy memories. I do miss being able to turn to him as ask him: about the history of the river; to identify a fish, bird or plant; how to fix the broken box spring on one of the beds. As promised by all of my friends, however, time is taking away the hurt and helping smiles overtake the tears.

One thing Dad loved about coming to this new cabin is seeing the new, quirky decorations Robyn and Craig have chosen for their home-away-from-home. They have procured some of the most unique items to adorn their home on the “rivah,” and there is always something new. This year, they added papier mâchê figures, most about 3 – 4 feet in height, to the rafters of the main room. They are all representative of their love for country music and the blues. They told us they were able to purchase them from a restaurant that was redecorating.

Each time we visit, my sisters and I talk about what we would do if we were able to have a cabin to our own. It is one of our favorite things to do—plan fantasy homes and decorate them. We consider our favorite plan to be a compound of sorts with a central living and kitchen area and separate wings for each of the families. (I did mention this is a fantasy conception, right?)

Anyhoo, I think the décor in your home-away-from-home should be casual, but you still need to consider practicality and comfort. A large, well-planned kitchen is essential, as we must all be able to be in there at the same time. A large, screened porch with plenty of seating is wonderful. Beds are nice, too—at least one for each of us.

As for the décor, I think my place would look much the same as my house. Old, worn furniture—no pressure to be careful with finished surfaces. Everything would be washable. Hardwood floors are a must. I am sure I’d have the water themed toss pillows and painted signs such as, “What happens at the cabin, stays at the cabin,” but I am thinking I’d have to issue a moratorium on additions to the décor without my prior approval. So, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, when you are invited to my fantasy cabin, please bring gifts of consumables—nothing I will feel obliged to display, please.

Paige Thomas King is owner of Hodgepodge, Where You Gather Your Home, at 125 Franklin St. Email her at paige@hodgepodge-home.com or visit her blog at www.hodgepodge-home.blogspot.com.

Jul 1, 2012—Vacation Packing

How do you pack for vacation? I think I pack very differently when I am packing for vacation, as compared to when I am packing for a business trip. I wonder if this is a widespread phenomenon or my unique, ill-prepared approach.

The cool thing about my job is that I give the appearance of having it “together” by virtue of the fact that I can arrange a mantel or create a coherent display in a window. All you have to do is peek over my front desk or behind the curtain into my backroom to know it is an illusion (not a very good illusion, at that). If messy desk is evidence of a creative mind—as those of us with messy desks are desperate to believe—then I am approaching the Einstein-esque genius! But we were packing . . . (Attention Deficit Disorder is something else altogether).

When I’m taking a business trip, I make a list—choosing outfits for each day, adjusting for maximum use of one or two pairs of shoes. I usually have it all ironed and ready to pack in the car or suitcase at least one day in advance. I think it’s more difficult to pack for vacation. I always have so much I want to “pack-in” during my time away (every bit of that pun was intended), I feel the pressure to make sure I have everything I could possibly need with me. Business trips are straight forward. Also, there’s less guilt in going away for business. Vacation time is just so dang self-indulgent!

As I compose this column, we are at t-minus 12 hours and I’ve only put a bathing suit in my suitcase! I will be here at work another 7 hours. There is laundry to do, last minute runs to the grocery store for en route supplies, and a refrigerator to clean! You do the math. No don’t . . . I’m stressed enough already.

What I always marvel at as we prepare for vacation trips is how the family divides-up the necessary chores. Now that the kids are of that somewhat useful age, I think I lull myself into a false sense of security that they’re taking care of the things I once did. They do their own packing, including the preparatory laundry. They no longer require entertainment devices the size of large coolers. Now, they’re happy with an IPod and a few books. They even pack their own snacks for the road.

We do have to remind them to grab the sunscreen, beach towels and other items for the “greater good,” but they do tend to their own needs pretty well. Our youngest is a planner. She has been packing in her mind for the past month. She will also be especially helpful in selecting approved outfits for her older brother; he, in exchange for her efforts, will promptly commence to mismatching or completely disregarding. Our eldest is responsible for making sure we have enough tie dying supplies to create unique apparel for each of our party of 15—one of our few pre-planned, organized activities. Oh, and in case you are wondering, it is my husband’s job to clean the car prior to the trip; the kids and I look at it as clean palette on which to create.

The truth is bathing suits will be the attire for the majority of the time. I really don’t plan to pack much more than that. I’ll be wearing my travel outfit, which should suffice for the required runs to the grocery store while there. So, I guess I’m really packed already—I just need to grab a few magazines, a book, my camera, my laptop . . .

June 24, 2012—lazy, hazy days

According to the official calendar of the King Kompound (aka: the Clarksville-Montgomery County School System calendar) we are about four weeks into our summer. Thus far, as Nat King Cole used to sing, I’ve had plenty of the “crazy,” but very few of those “lazy, hazy days.” But I guess that’s just life.

The seasons determined by the tilt of the earth on its axis have very little bearing on the level of activity in most of our lives. Sure, there are the occasional happenstances of a seasonal nature which ramp-up activity levels (Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc.), but for the most part, life is always pretty crazy for us. I try to keep things in perspective, but sometimes it is difficult.

I know that the reason we are busy running kids to-and-fro is because they are healthy, active kids, therefore they have things to do. The reason our schedule is full is because we have jobs, church and civic commitments—all good things. But sometimes it feels too crazy and you just want to stop the roller coaster ride and get off!

Pretty soon we will enter another phase of our household life—two of the three kids will be in college (one here at APSU and the other is heading to UT in Knoxville), so we will have a little less activity in the house. Thank goodness this is gradual or I’d be experiencing “lazy, hazy” at a home for the mentally deficient!

 

 

 

In the meantime, bring on the crazy with our upcoming family excursion to the aforementioned (my column from April 22nd) second favorite place on earth. The area is known as the “Northern Neck” region of Virginia; it is located on the northernmost peninsula of three located along the Chesapeake Bay. We will enjoy boating, fishing, hammock rocking, great food and even better company. This is how it is going to play out . . .

We all pile in the “family truckster”—a 1993 Suburban, held together by prayer and our dear friends at Auto MD on Seven Mile Ferry Road—and head east. We stop driving when we see water. We will start the fun at Nikki and Bill’s (my sister and brother-in-law’s) RV they leave at a park there. It is big and comfortable, but will fill-up quickly with our family of five, Nikki’s family of five and Kendall’s family of four. Needless to say, Mom will be skipping this part of our adventure.

She will join us on day 3, when we move to the cabin our cousins so generously allow us to borrow now and again. It is much more spacious and allows us to spread-out a little more, but we will have equal amounts of fun at both locations. The additional bonus at the cabin is the fact that is right on the Nomini Creek. We walk off the porch and within a few steps we are on the dock. From there, children will perform their antics (which they believe resembles “diving”), kayaks will be launched and Uncle Bill will push-off more times than we can count to pull a tube or throw some fishing lines. Our biggest concerns all week will be: is it jellyfish free zone and do we need more ice for the coolers.

Cue the “lazy, hazy” and check my pulse.

June 17, 2012—Father’s Day

This has been an emotional week for me.

As I write my column, Darren is in Knoxville with our son for his University of Tennessee orientation. Haedyn is our second to go to college, but the first to leave home. Hunter, our eldest daughter, is a student at Austin Peay. In an effort to save money, she has lived at home for the first two years of her college experience. She announced this past spring that she wants to move on campus. While we’re excited about these moves for our children, I can’t help but have a little anxious pang of panic at the two of them leaving in unison. I mean, who is going to get Hannah to gym? (Just kidding—sort of.) I’ll miss them both terribly and not just because they’re great chauffeurs for their sister.

 

I guess, however, before we move my eldest children out of the house, we should address the fact that it is Father’s Day. Those of you who read my column regularly—right after the obituaries and the comics—will recall that I wrote about all of the great stuff I learned from my mother for mother’s day. It would follow that I would write about all I learned from my dad for Father’s Day, but as the tears are welling in my eyes even trying to start this, that will have to wait until next year. Suffice to say for now, that he is, was and will always be the most influential man in my life. He showed love to our entire family, which extended to our friends, and so many more. I miss him every day.

Instead, I want to share a little bit about the guy I’ve watched become a father.

My husband, Darren, was raised by his mom. She and Darren’s dad divorced when Darren was very young. Darren didn’t know his dad very well until later in life. They spent some time together while he was growing-up, but he wasn’t an everyday dad. We did get to know him—he was a great Grandpa—and we miss him tremendously, as well.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t worry me about what kind of dad Darren would be. My Dad was such an integral part of my upbringing and influence, which caused me to wonder if Darren had received the same sort of nurturing, guidance and support. I need not have worried; twenty years into this parenting thing, I can’t imagine a better partner with whom to parent.

Darren is the yin to my yang—especially with regard to parenting. He is more disciplined than I, in many regards, but they all serve as good examples to the kids. He is physically active. He believes in the maximum, “everything in moderation.” He demonstrates to the kids that you can enjoy those vegies sautéed in butter, but you need to make sure you’re balancing it with exercise. He has taught them they are responsible for their actions or the lack of action. He has a great sense of humor and the kids appreciate it—especially that kind of humor that mom often chides as inappropriate.

As the son of a single parent, he learned to be self-sufficient at an early age. He has instilled the children with the same ethic. I admit it—I was taught many things as a child and young adult, but I probably fell back on my parents for support more frequently than Darren did. I know his mother expected a lot of him and guided him in many of his core values.

As a 22-year Army Veteran, he has demonstrated the importance of service to your country, as well as the pride found in a working hard and loyally wherever you are. Yes, he was gone for a lot of the early years as our family was developing, but influence was and is ever present. The kids knew, throughout his deployments and our many other separations, his first priority was his family.

I think he has been an amazing dad. I am fortunate to have shared this parenting experience with him.

Next week, however, all bets are off and things will be back to normal; he’ll be fodder for another kind of column!

June 10, 2012--Color me happy and the pool clear!

You will be happy to know that the Center for Disease Control is no longer rapping on the front door, wanting to move my kids into foster care due to our inability to keep a clean pool. We can claim a huge success this past week—the pool is clear and safe for human use. It is also, according to our dog that prefers water out of anything other than her water bowl, pretty tasty!

We worked every day for about ten days trying to bring it around. Thanks to our handy dandy new scooper net (nearly bent the pole with a few of those scoopfuls of leaves), our vacuum and lots of bleach, we’re back in business. Disclaimer: the writer of this article does not claim to be an expert in pool cleaning or anything else for that matter. Please consult your local experts if you’d like to know how it’s really done.

So now we are ready for a pool party. I love my Adirondack chairs which we relocated to the mini-deck adjacent to the pool. The only thing missing is a palm tree, which I pointed-out, in a rather obvious manner to my eldest (I’ve got a birthday quickly approaching).

Color me happy and the pool clear!

I think I mentioned that my mom has been visiting with us ever since Haedyn’s graduation, but I don’t think I mentioned how much I am loving having her here. Well, I am!

Ever since she left after her extended visit last Christmas, I have been missing her—for a lot of reason, not the least of which is her companionship. My husband travels a lot and it is so nice to have a grown-up to talk to in the evenings. I have been sick this week, so I’ve not been much fun to be around, plus Mom has started wearing a special mask to deter the germs—it’s a little off-putting (as they say in facebook-ease, “winky face”).

As you may have guessed, I am a pretty social person. I like having people around to bounce ideas, to share the events of the day and the such. My kids are great and listen to far more than I am sure they want to—I think it’s because they’re afraid I’ll assign a chore if they get up and walk away!

Which brings me to another great thing about having her around—she is so helpful! I now see why that whole “housewife” thing caught on. They’re nice to have! Not that she does my laundry or dusting, but if I forget to defrost, I can call her and ask her to take something out of the freezer. She is the queen of salad prep! She gets the salad ready—my least favorite dinner chore! (Washed and ready bags of salad were invented for me.) She also helps keep the kids on task—she reminds them of the chores they promised to accomplish. She is actually saving me a lot of frustration. I don’t know what it is about kids and summer “mush head.”

 

Well, in case you didn’t know the other half . . . we’d like to have her move here. So if you see her, talk-up Clarksville. Don’t tell her I wrote this . . .