NSFW or For Your Children. I’m singing this note because it fits in well with what I’m feeling

I’m in tune with the winds and with the way dust falls at sunset. I’m in tune with the way you breathe, I hear you when you dream, and I know when you are thinking. See, I’m so busy letting the good times roll is it any wonder I cannot sleep? I do not sleep well. I often cannot sleep at all. I have never been much of a sleeper and in my past only needed four hours to call it a good night. But these days four hours is understood to mean that mom is going to grow a beard and eat your soul. Four hours is not enough these days but four hours seems to be about all I can get. So I’m desperate for those four hours, desperate enough to get a Dr.’s prescription. Little did I know that the good Dr.’s prescription came with some serious side effects besides the ones mentioned in the commercials? Oh, like for example, eating two weeks’ worth of groceries in your sleep, ironing for the first time in six years, or talking to your husband for over two hours in the wee of the night all while thinking you are asleep. I Hate Laundry strongly recommends you not try any of this at home. I will only post the link out of respect for the sensitive types out there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZCFynN9BVc&feature=channel_page

Also, if you ever wondered what I sounded like in real life just follow that link!

Tis' the Season to Eat Glass

I love to decorate as much as I love to collect things to decorate with. When Sir T. Browne said, “That acid and piercing spirit which, with such activity and compunction, invadeth the brains and nostrils,” I’m positive he was talking about the compulsion to collect. I just can’t help myself. I’ve got to do it to silence the drive but I am always left with a lumpy blob of what he said.

Decorating on the other hand kind of does the opposite for me. Decorating allows me to put all the stuff I’ve collected on display and proudly proclaim that there was indeed a need and space for it. As Yeats once said to me over a cup of coffee from the 123rd cup in my collection, “Joy is the will which labors, which overcomes obstacles, which knows triumph.” He was referring to my success in placing one more shiny thing-a-ma-jig on my whatsit without the whole thing collapsing under its own weight.

Christmas time is no different. I collect for it all year round. In fact it is my Wimbledon, my Grand Prix, the mustard on my corndog of decorating. But I have found myself less enthused as each year passes. When Miles was a baby I spent hours stringing cranberries for our ridiculously too large tree. It barely fit into our apartment and fell over more than once. The next Christmas found us with sweet little Isobel and me with a little less time and energy to string such enormous ambitions. So I settled on a smaller tree with less circumference and spaced the cranberries a little further apart. When Andrew arrived I somehow got a second wind and decided to not only string cranberries once again like they should be strung but also made all our ornaments. Maybe it was that Christmas that did me in.

Last year we didn’t even get a tree. I dragged inside one of the landscaping evergreens that Luke’s mom gave us and that I had failed to plant. It became kind of a joke and I adorned it with only the most absurd of my collection. The kids loved it and better yet it looked purposeful, like a houseplant, three months after Christmas. This year Luke has the bug and took the kids on a cold trip to hunt down the perfect tree. They posed with it like it was a game animal. They brought it inside and set it up with pride. I agreed to go get some more lights. I walked around Target for a bit and before leaving grabbed a box of lights. See, in previous years I would have grabbed enough to be embarrassed by. Luke strung the lights and I threw some ornaments on it. You can tell how involved I am in the decorating of the tree by how much I let the kids help. If the kids are helping then I’m not really all that interested. This year I let Danger Baby decorate the left side.

All this to say that I didn’t do much in the kids rooms this year. What is in there is of their own doing. Except for the lights. Like I said, Luke has the bug this year. He strung Christmas lights in their rooms. It’s very festive and makes them insanely happy. The first night they slept in their Christmas wonderlands Miles came racing down into the office with a mix of panic and the giggles. He sputtered out between laughs and serious, stern, and arched brows that Andrew had bitten off one of the bulbs and was now chewing it. After a thorough washing of his mouth and a frantic inspection for shards of glass he was sent back to bed none the worse. We are not having Christmas next year.

Here is a sampling of what I have done around the house. I remind you, this is nothing compared to my usual.









Here's a bowl full of what has been broken so far this year. I just might keep it as a reminder if I start thinking I want to "get into" the holiday spirit next year.

New Thanks I Think?

What if you had a new family upon a new family upon an old family you didn't really know anything about anyway? This is what you would get minus the old family you didn't know anything about minus the trailer park.

Old Tin Cups

I never thought I would be that kind of woman. The kind you see with a deep permanent wrinkle in between unkempt eyebrows. The kind with shiny & pale skin stretched over a nude and surly face. The kind who doesn’t have time to brush her hair and has hurriedly fixed it precariously above her ears. Supper time rolled around and Luke got home just minutes after I changed out of my pajamas. Over the phone I told him not to say a word about the condition the house was in or to utter a breath about my physical appearance or I would have to shiv him. He is a good man and didn’t really need the warning. But I was feeling like a good shivving and just wanted to give him a heads up.

I think Miles kind of felt the same way.

99% of human history

Day 1: War Berries

We were thankful that the wind wasn't strong and the day was fine and fare. Our new location has provided us with enough raw materials for shelter and kindling for at least half the winter. The scouts came back today and reported that we are surrounded by plenty if we should find ourselves running low. Ten paces south of our shelter is a small brook well shaded and deep enough for washing. It seems that it will not be a source of food itself but shows signs of being visited by land animals. My heart wants to believe that we have put enough distance between ourselves and the genetically modified super monkey dog creature like thing but I can't shake the feeling that we have not seen the last of it.

Our new homesite, on this coppery autumn afternoon, is favorable and beautiful. Although it is lovely it has about it a strangeness. Earlier we saw a muskrat in the trees. I wasn't aware that muskrats could climb trees (Note: must ask _____ about this). The bushes are heavy with war berries and opossum grapes but not much else. The children love it.


We are reading about hunter-gatherer societies and thought it would be fun to get our noses out of the books and into the sunshine for a little "a day in the life of". We pretended to be a family of nomads looking for greener promises.

Here is the skeleton of our shelter made of branches and grapevine found in our own backyard.

Here it is covered by "animal skins and reeds".

Here is Andrew inside the shelter decidedly not helping with operations.

A view of my fine grapevine stitching.

Chief Popasquat with clan markings.

Toothless tribesman.

War berries. The kids like to gather these and throw them at each other or sabotage me. They especially like to squeeze them first to insure proper marking upon impact.

Shadow stories after all the work was done. This was my favorite part. Especially when Andrew sang about butts and tried to stick his against the sheet and came crashing into the hut nekkid cheeks first!

At the bottom of the stairs

Tonight as I was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Isobel to come down with her pajamas I noticed how warm the light was, I could smell dinner cooking, I could hear Miles and Andrew running around the house, the sounds of a football game and the excited mumbles of my gramps floated up from the basement, and I could hear Luke sing as he was making coffee. I thought of the coming election, looked back upstairs and wondered how anyone could vote for McCain and Palin. Smelled the coffee getting stronger and thought of Michelle Obama. I thought about her and her family. I wondered about our future. I ran my hand down the white washed panels of the stairway and counted the points of the stars I painted there four years ago and wished there was something I could do. I noticed there was peanut butter smeared all over the light switch. I smiled and wiped it off. I’m doing what I can.

Maintain your ride

This was the summer that we finally broke down and got bikes for all three kids. Luke has a bike too. It's a very nice bike. I have a bike too. It's not such a nice bike. Riding my bike is like using a typewriter. Kind of like "what's the point". If you want to enjoy your ride, notice the beautiful scenery, and feel refreshed and rejuvenated after your ride don't take my bike. If you saw all five of us together riding our bikes your first thought would be, "Ahhh, that family looks so cute and cozy and happy", then you would look again, a little closer this time and think, "I wonder if they know that they are being followed by a sweaty, red-faced crab on a dinosaur"?

Luke takes his hobbies pretty seriously. No seriously, you should have seen him this afternoon with our video camera mounted on his helmet. I could not decide if I wanted to laugh at him or tell him how awesome I thought he was. I did both then kicked myself for not having my camera, oh wait, it's on top of his head.

Anyway, here at the Thompson's you don't just get a bike, put some stickers on it, hang some tassels from it, and ride it. No, here at the Thompson's you study it, know it, become it, and if Luke got everything he desired you would have to read the full user's manual, the manufacturer's manual, and the entire known history of the bicycle from The Walking Machine, the "English 3-speed" of the 50's, to how when he was in college his favorite bike got stollen on his birthday. Here are some pictures of Luke giving the kids a bicycle maintenance lesson.



If you think I'm kidding about the manual thing Luke once came to me in our first year of marriage earnestly wanting me to read the manual for the carburetor of his Honda CB 750. Not the manual for the motorcycle itself but the manual for the carburetor of the motorcycle. He takes his hobbies seriously.

Contains roasted nuts

Ok, here's the deal my friends. I feel like long division with remainders, a mathematical equation not always ending up as a whole number. Wait, I just reread that sentence and it makes it sound like I'm trying to tell you that I'm crazy. Nope, not crazy, not psychologically anyway. I am however growing increasingly disturbed by American politics. "Oh no Buttercup! She's not going to talk politics is she?" Nobody wants to hear any more of this or that. Do they? I don't know.

I've been following almost every step of this election that I can stomach and there's not much I can stomach, but it's enough. I'm not sure what it is that worries me most about this election. I could, and have with much polite restraint, discuss the "issues" that are knocking around in my head and bones. The struggle I'm having right now is, "will it make any bit of difference"? The optimistic, every breath uttered counts side of me champions the idea that yes, it will and does matter and our destiny depends on our speaking up and out. The other side, the not so sweet, cheap-seats side of me believes it when people say that it doesn't matter what we say and that all this political talk is fruitloop and it doesn't add up to anything and won't change anything.

I don't want to believe that see? I don't want take another sip from government and slow dance through my day all out of touch with what is being "spoken for me". I never want to talk with you and try to persuade you to see it my way. I don't want to strong arm you into giving up on your convictions and jumping on board with my line of thinking. I want more than anything to find out where you're coming from. I want to know why you think and feel the way you do. I want to see it the way you see it. I want to understand, really understand. I don't want to tell you what to think or what to feel. I would never want to tell you how you should live. I just want to talk. It may not change the outcome of an election but it might change me. And that's something considerable don't you think?

Multiple intelligence explained

We are loving this whole homeschool bag. Although we are hitting the math and reading, it seems we are moving more towards the unschooling side of things. I believe what we are doing is more aptly called "eclectic unschooling". So far so good.

Luke and I are pretty tuned in to each of our child's learning styles and where they are strong and weak accordingly. Knowing this, we like to make fun of them and set up tasks that they totally suck at. I'm kidding of course! What follows is a fantastic example of the differences of learning styles in action.

This masterpiece was done by Miles. Here you see a distinct set of images, a police officer, his car, and headquarters. He likes order, themes, concepts, and setting and achieving goals.

This one was done by Isobel. She's all over the place. No quickly recognizable congruency upon first glimpse. She has figures, shapes, words, and a multitude of colors. For her, the drawings are not the whole story. She must narrate, elaborate with elegant and quirky stories, and make you laugh for her to feel like she has accomplished her goal.

And here's Danger Baby's. Self-explanatory.

Dear Mr. Anonymous,

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

-Theodore Roosevelt-

Genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing

I was going to write up a charming little post, with pictures, about how the kids and I have been spending these last days of summer, but after the conversation I just had with Luke I can't bring myself to talk about anything but the conversation I just had with Luke.

So tonight I sit down at my new desk, plug in the laptop, plug in the mouse, grab the camera cable and realize that I don't have the camera. I quickly remember that I more than likely left it on the garden bench out in our backyard. So much for setting that fine example of "if you get it out put it back like I do because everything has a place and should be in its place" campaign that I've been preaching. So I quietly get up and try to sneak out back to fetch it without anyone being any the wiser. I open the back door and wonder when our backyard got so huge. I don't remember that bench being so far back into the yard just outside the reach of the soft, warm glow of all the house lights I leave on? Ah snap! I may have some pride issues but I am incredibly pride-less when it comes to ensuring that I don't get attacked by the roving bands of red-eyed, fanged creatures of the night. I asked Luke to come and spot me as I went outside to get the camera. What a nice man he is. He didn't even ask me why OR laugh at me. I then calmly made the skull-numbing, ear-burning trek to get the camera. Man! I never realized how big our yard is. Walk calmly and with little movement. Don't run, don't walk fast, don't let them see that you are afraid. They can smell it though! Damn, they can smell it. Just like those horses from that one girl scout summer! Ok, you have the camera. Turn around and walk, don't run, back to the house like your panties are in the right place. Sh*t, f***, d*** now my back is wide open to the dark woods where they are waiting and watching and smelling me. Ok, I'm cool.

With a quiet sigh I sit down outside with Luke, for our quiet-adult, let's talk about our days time. I casually mention the nights during my childhood when I had to go outside and bring in the wash from the clotheslines. How I could see all these little red eyes in the not so far distance and hear the scufflings and runnings of creatures.

"The worst part about it was that I could never see what they were. I mean I never knew if they were just your basic wild animal or some crazy genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing." "You know that's one of my worst fears."

"I personally give you my 100% guarantee that you will never encounter, nor be attacked, nor meet your death by a genetically modified super monkey, dog like creature thing."

"Well I want you to make a promise, now that you have guaranteed me this, that if I do die from an attack from a genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing that you will stand up at my, whatever, and tell my multitude of mourners that you were wrong."

"I promise I will let everyone know that your fears were founded. But how would a genetically modified super monkey, dog creature like thing kill you? Would it have fangs? I mean the teeth would have to be some odd simian, canine combo and..."

"Hell yes it would have fangs! Why else would anyone want to genetically modify animals unless for the fangs and it's killing, mauling, limb-tearing potential! Ooh, I wonder if I would scream or just pass out?"

"These are all great questions you bring forth tonight. But unfortunately there is not enough time in tonight's presentation to adequately answer them all."

"Well whatever, you mock me, but that crazy crap is out there. And they can smell my fear."

Put the Yee-haw back in your motor and transmission

So the other day when they introduced us we just nodded and shook hands and said it was nice to meet each other. No one there knew about our history. They all said that we would probably get along.

Ah crap, how do you start doing this again? Do I give a detailed rundown on what we've been doing while I was inblogito? Do I hit the hi-lights, low-lights, make some stuff up, or just jump back on board like nothing has happened? Stop bugging around and just start again? Should the tone be ecstatic, dramatic, operatic, or apathetic? It's just nice to see you all again!

The store is still under construction. It's functional just not complete. I'll update everyone when changes have been made. Spread the word like it was liquid chocolate! Things around here are also going to be changing. Someday. There's going to be some new categories, new links, new graphics, some tutorials, and some nekkid pictures. Just kidding about the nekkid bit. That would be weird.

Here's a quick update for those who have a little IHL history under their belts. For those who don't, no worries, you'll get gleefully uncomfortable soon enough. Luke is no longer a high school teacher. He has emancipated himself from the safety of the given and has thrown himself into the world of... We're not sure yet. He is now working as the art/creative director for a software company here in town. I'm not sure if I can name the company or not. I don't know why I wouldn't be able to but as soon as I started to write it out I got all tingly in the uncomfortable bits. He will be finished with his masters this October. Word. I am still in school and probably won't be done until dinosaurs are replicated. We have also decided to homeschool. Say what! Yep, we are now homeschooling. As you know, I was in some sort of self-inflicted mental torture about this last year when Miles went off to school. We loved his teacher and we loved his school so it has nothing to do with our public school experience. In fact we really kind of miss his school and all those cozy, kind faces. So whateve panda bear. Our reasons are boring and not any that you would want to read about because once I got started I wouldn't be able to stop because I'm an incredibly wordy person who has terribly bad grammar and it would all read like some horrible after school special for the "special".

So tell me, what have YOU been up to? Now I'm sensitive about boring you with the details about my life but I'm not so sensitive about hearing the details of yours! Fill me in homeslice!

Here's a pic of Miles doing the homeschool thing.
The ducks are helping him with his math.

A little after the fact...

Kansas City has a new urban magazine called Ink and they thought it was a good idea to do a little piece about me and Chirp. I don't know about you but I have never done an interview and photo shoot before. In my head I have done a million, and I always sound so eloquent and sophisticated and cheeky up there in my head. But in real life I sounded more like a twelve year old who is painfully aware that her ears and teeth are too big for her head. "So, this is where I do stuff. And this is a quilt, I mean those are quilts, and this is my sewing machine. I like to make stuff like miniature things, um books, and you know stuff like that." Wow. Anyway the article turned out pretty good in spite of me.


Here is the link to their online mag.

Hugs

High Fives!

It's up, it's functional, it's hot and awesome, but it's not complete. But no bother, there's still enough there for you and all your neighbors to look at. It's in its infancy, and so am I for that matter (concerning website stuffs, not diaper wearing kind of stuffs), so will be growing on a daily basis only if you feed it, pet it, nurture it, and for the love of all kittens world wide don't leave it in the rain!

Thank you all for your patience, encouragement, and support. Can't wait to see you all again.

chirpdesigns.com

For any of you who might have missed it

Chirp Designs. New promo video, check it out. Thank you Luke.

We are Thompson. We are legion.

August 1st = Launch date of Chirp Designs and a relaunching of I Hate Laundry. Stay tuned for all the hits. Yeah, you want to click on that link.

Yeah, about that.....

Patience Iago, Chirpdesigns.com is taking a lot longer than I thought it would.

I don't know about you but I really hate it when I'm listening to Pandora.com and they slip Dave Matthews in on me and it inevitably turns my listening, for craps sake they just did it again! It happens no matter what station I'm listening to. Tonight I was listening to some Ratt and then the next thing I know it was "Grave Digger" by Dave and his members. I like Pandora for about oh, half an hour, and then it turns into hug a hippie fm.

The look of things to come...

http://chirpdesigns.com/

Friday night T 'n' H

We hosted a party Friday night for our friends from an organization that Luke used to work for. It was possibly one of the best times I've had in a very long while. Here's a little clip of some of the Friday night action!
Doesn't everybody refer to it as hoo-hoo?

Let's call this the comeback

All this time has come and gone.

Just because the light on “his” porch is flickering doesn’t mean that I should stop writing here. We’ve locked the doors, brought in the house plants, put up a privacy fence, dug a moat, and hung 'no trespassing' signs around the alligators’ necks.

Let’s step through the front door together and turn all the lights on in the house. Raise the curtains, open the windows, and let’s throw a party! I’ve been dragging these shadows around long enough. I think I better let it all go. Come on in and BYOB!
Angela and Qwingk have both tagged me separately with memes. For one I’m supposed to come up with a list of ten weird things about myself and for the other I’m to come up with a list of 8 things people may not know about me. For my comeback I’m going to go ahead and tackle those. But I’m not stopping there. I’m going to go ahead and let the good times roll and ramble on down this immodest and embarrassing road. It’s going to be a little bit stupid, a little bit embarrassing, a little bit ridiculous, very random, and a whole lot-a indecent exposure. Let’s get to know each other a little more shall we?

1. I simultaneously think I’m the world’s biggest loser and the best damned thing that ever lived.
2. I like eating dinner stuffs for breakfast. Be it meatloaf, fried chicken, or cold lo mein I’ll eat it as soon as I wake up.
3. I procrastinate a lot. My husband finds the ways in which I procrastinate a little disturbing. I like to waste time by looking up gory shark attacks, pictures of birth defects, and bizarre cases of mental illnesses, basically anything that is a bit gross or shocking.
4. I bite my nails.
5. I scratch my head when I’m falling asleep. This really annoys Luke.
6. I also intensely miss my children when I’m falling asleep.
7. I once lived in my car for a month while I was traveling Westward to find kind weather. I was 19.
8. My Westward journey brought me to San Diego. It was sunny, warm, and beautiful. I didn’t know anyone there.
9. I lasted only four months in sunny California. I was incredibly lonely and lost.
10. I was wearing velvet leopard print pants when Brian Setzer gave me a great big ol’ hug and told me that he’d like for me to meet his mom.
12. I clench my teeth and shiver uncontrollably when I’m having a big or serious conversation with someone.
13. I feel like crying when I’m having a discussion with someone about something that I’m passionate about and they hold a different view.
14. I cry when I get mad.
15. I cry like crazy when I get hurt. Even if the pain isn’t that bad. I can’t help it.
16. I say ouch out loud even if I escape from injury. For example, if it seems like I’m about to stub my toe I will still yell ouch even if my toe doesn’t make contact with anything.
17. I love to read.
18. I rarely remember the authors or the complete titles of the books I read.
19. I love music.
20. I rarely remember the artist or the name of the songs that I like.
21. Don’t even ask me what album.
22. While I was being born my dad was tripping on acid in a cave somewhere in Oklahoma.
23. I learned what a dime bag was before I learned how to spell my name.
24. I sit in the bathroom sink when I want to be alone and think about things. I’ve done this since I was a teenager. Your guess is as good as mine.
26. I’ve never been into drugs even though I grew up surrounded by them. But I failed to resist the genetic inclination towards cheap beer.
27. When I was 14 I pulled my own braces off with a pair of tiny pliers. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds.
28. I was a foster kid.
29. I ran away from home when I was 15 and never went back.
30. I’ve been homeless.
31. When I was homeless I gave my money away to other homeless people before I fully realized that I too was HOMELESS for crazysakes! I’ve never claimed to be very smart.
32. I’ve met Max Lucado and for some reason he thought I was a teenage single mother. When I tried to correct him I got a little carried away with the details. He politely but quickly interrupted me and made a hasty break for it.
33. I once looked like this:and this:now I look like this:
34. I love to watch Forensic Files.
35. I want to hold a midget.
36. I had some serious hardcore pornographic dreams when I was pregnant with my boys.
37. I've been bald.
38. I want a metal detector.
39. I've swam with alligators. Again, I never said I was very bright.
40. I wanted to be a rock star when I was a young Galadriel.
41. I have three brothers and one sister.
42. This is a picture of me and my older brother Gabriel when we were little:
43. This is a picture of Gabriel the year he died, he was fifteen (he's the one on the right):
44. I love to fish.
45. I once lived in an apartment across the hall from two women who had been on Jerry Springer.
46. I did some camera work and acted in an independent film.
47. I worked in Yellowstone when I was 18.
48. I went skydiving when I was there and here's a pic of me coming in for a landing:Yep, that's a dude strapped to my back.
49. When I was twelve I had surgery on both of my feet at the same time. I was horribly flat-footed and walked like a duck. I was in the 6th grade and had to go to school with a walker. At the time my mom packed my lunches in a bread bag. I had to hang my bread bag lunch over the front bar of the walker. Every time I took a step it would swing back and forth, back and forth. Needless to say, 6th grade was not a good time for me.
50. Morrissey once kissed my hand.
51. My sweetest friend and love of my life:



52. I was a theater nerd when I was younger:
53. My favorite photo of my dad (he's the skinny one with the cheap beer):
54. My favorite photo of my mom:
55. Four generations (I'm the one with the fro, just kidding that's my grandma, I'm the little blonde chunk in her arms):

I'm touched really if you made it all the way through that. Like I said earlier, I'm not going to go into the details about what's been going on but I've decided that I'm not going to quit writing here. In fact, as this post shows, I'm going to step it up and put it all out there! I've nothing to hide. I know certain people are going to continue to read this and find some random and not-at-all-related-to-them-in-any-way issue to freak out on. But hey, some people are just crazy and in need of some good therapy. I'm pretty sure though, that after what we have set up to protect ourselves, we won't be seeing any more of his comments. On here anyways.

Thank each and everyone of you for your kind words and support. I'm going to be contacting each one of you in the next couple of days. Either on your own blog or right here if you don't have one. I've missed you all muy mucho.

I'm supposed to tag some certain number of folk after this but instead I'm just tagging you all. Go on. Let your little light shine!

Tiptoeing

Trying to figure everything out all at once has left me half-awake. I am so incredibly overwhelmed by everyone's well wishes and concern. Thank you all for your kind words. I'm sorry for not updating sooner or for not replying to the comments you have left. I'm not supposed to talk about this situation any more here on the blog for various different reasons. This issue does not just affect my blog but our real lives too. Luke and I have talked everything through and have taken measures we think are necessary and right to get this harassment to stop. Certain people have been contacted and actions are pending. We are doing ok.

I've been woefully out of touch with you all, and I'm sorry. I'll post again here in the next couple of days. Hope you and yours are staying glued together. I wish you all so much love and a wonderful holiday.

love, hugs, kisses, and bugs
galadriel

Don't let the bastards grind you down

Several years ago a group of us friends and our spouses decided that we would all start up individual blogs. It was fun to read and comment on each other's posts. The comments took on a life of their own and became the true focus and fun of the blogs. We all took funny and lighthearted jabs at each other through the comments. You had to read each blog and their comments to get the full scope of the joke that was developing and unfolding. It moved on only when someone took it a bit too far with either something incredibly gross or laughably scandalous. We all sort of fell off of blogging for awhile and some no longer have one. I started back up when I launched Chirp. Through that little endeavor I found wonderful blogs that were family and art & craft oriented. They inspired me. So I took my blog off in yet another direction. I have truly loved writing about my family and our adventures. I never thought I would develop friendships through my blogging. But I have been truly amazed by the lovely people who have commented here and have made some awesome friends because of it.

But over the past couple of months someone has been taking advantage of the comments option to harass me. The first time it happened it really caught me off guard and kind of shook me up. Of course they said what they wanted behind the posture of anonymity. I thought it a bit perplexing that a stranger would leave such comments. That is until we quickly figured out that we knew this Anonymous. It knocked the air right out of me. The revelation of this person's identity was devastating and horrifying. It was because we knew this person that made the comments so frightening. I would have been able to have distanced myself from a strangers comments but this was different. It was an invasion and I felt extremely violated. Since the first time it happened I have really slowed down on posting. I've been getting nervous and a little sick to my stomach right before I post something or check the comments expecting to be met by more malice. I recently deleted an entire post not because it was offensive or I decided that I didn't like it. I deleted it because this person used it to attack me. The comments were so dark and hateful that I first just deleted the comments. The frightening thing was that every time I deleted Anonymous' comments he immediately posted another more threatening one. It felt like one of those situations in the movies when the phone rings and the person answers it and is frightened to death because the person on the other end begins to narrate that person's every action and starts to ask about how the children are upstairs. It freaked me out so bad that I just deleted the whole thing.

This person should know better. This person should also know that some day my kids are going to want to read this blog and will be horrified and hurt to know that this was the way this person talked to and spoke of their mom.

Another person is using my blog and the things I choose to share as a means of victimization. That somehow the fact that I'm in school and that she never had the chance or the means to go to school is in some way my fault. She has accused my life of being perfect and carefree and that the happy pictures of my family and friends have somehow made her unhappy. I've been getting emails filled with anger and judgment, mostly based on things they have seen on my blog.

All of this has left me feeling so at a loss. What I used to do for fun has now become something that feels violated and tainted. The past couple of months I've been questioning the purpose of keeping a blog at all. I have lost the joy I once had at documenting and sharing our lives with the wonderful people I've met through this blog. Like I said, I think I would have an easier time with this if these people were strangers. But it creeps me out that these are people that we know. Just knowing that they read my blog gives me the heebie-jeebies and it has affected how I feel about the whole thing now.

I know that having a public blog opens you up to all sorts of things, but I guess I never thought something like this would happen. So I'm kind of not knowing what to do right now. Part of me thinks, "Oh, to hell with them," but the other part of me is freaked the crap out.

Why do you blog?

Deleted Post

I had a post up. Took it down. In the meantime, if you feel like it, you can go check out some photos of Danger Baby and some ladybugs and pics of Luke's 30th surprise birthday party over in my flickr account!

Cheers!

I Hate Laundry's Person of the Month

Since I am so busy these days and have very little time to post I thought I would resurrect some old categories and bring forth some new ones just so that both you and I know what to expect. The old categories will be, "The Reluctant Domestic" & "The World According to Miles & Isobel; a Pictorial Perspective from a Five & Four Year Old." "Come unto me, and I will sell you something for five dollars in Spanish" is a relatively new one that I will continue, but the newest one of all will be "I Hate Laundry's Person of the Month." I will randomly pick the Person of the Month from IHL's readers pool. So if you have ever left a comment on here your name will go into the bucket. If you haven't left a comment but would like to be added to the bucket then contact me by tying your name to the ankle of your homing monkey and send it my way. If your name is drawn you will get the awesome duty of responding to a list of interview questions that I will create specifically for you. Who knows, I might even send you an unrelated and probably pretty random gift.

To inaugurate this exciting new category I decided to bestow Luke with IHL's first ever "Person of the Month" for October. He turns 30 in a couple of days and I thought it was fitting to gift him with my attention and shine some light on his awesomeness for all of the world to see. Here is the following interview:

IHL: So, you’re the IHL person of the month? What are you going to do with that power?

Luke: I believe that our education like such as in South Africa, and the Iraq,
everywhere like such as… and, I believe they should uh, our education over here,
in the U.S. should help the U.S. or should help South Africa,
and should help the Iraq and Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future,
for us.

IHL: Yeah, ok. Just so the readers know where you’re coming from and to give them a little background I’m going to ask some lame questions here quickly.

Nicknames: “Admiral Teabag”
Height: 6’4”
Eye color: Green
Age: 30 on October 30th
Occupation: Science teacher, professional appreciator.

IHL: Food likes and dislikes?

Luke: Guac,

IHL: Body hair, if yes, where, what color, how long, and does it form any shapes? You know, like how sometimes clouds can look like Falcor?

Luke: My chest is known in some circles as “The Tree of Life”. The roots wrap round my navel, the uppermost branches poke out of the top of my shirts, and it even includes a falling apple.

IHL: Speaking of Falcor, you remind me a lot of Bastian from that movie. Did you watch that movie, and if so did you ever find yourself identifying with Bastian or did you just want to make out with the Childlike Empress?

Luke: No.

IHL: Why don’t you tell the internets what your thoughts were when you first saw/met me.

Luke: You had short black hair, and your best friend Brooke was practically sitting on your lap at a coffeehouse when I met you. My first thought was a combination of the two keywords most frequently googled by Midwestern perverts: “Asian Lesbian”.

IHL: You have a degree in both English and biology. Do these degrees have any significance concerning your sometimes cheesy taste in music?

Luke: What the hell is up with this “interview”?

IHL: What are your guilty pleasures?

Luke:
A. Sliced hot dogs in bowl of peanut butter, microwaved until pb melts a little.
B. Everclear (only Sparkle and Fade, not the later touchy-feely crap), Blink 182, and Madonna

IHL: Yeah, gross on all of that.
IHL: I don’t want to ask you anything about politics or religion especially about global warming or your thoughts on evolution. Does that make you think less of me? Does that make you think I don’t care about such things? Does that make you think that I’m shallow and unconcerned about important things? WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME! IS IT ME? IT’S ME ISN’T IT!

Luke: Sweet baby Jesus you’re weird.

IHL: Do you still like me?

Luke: Yes.

IHL: Am I cute to you? (I better be the most fracking beautiful woman you’ve ever seen!)

Luke: I confirm your cuteness 450 times a day.

IHL: If you could do magic stuff what kind of magic stuff would you do? Keep it clean! You can show me that magic stuff later; )

IHL: Who are your man-crushes? Why do you like them? Explain what a man crush is? You’ll get five points for each question answered honestly and without perversion.

Luke: A “Man-Crush” is a slight infatuation that one completely and totally heterosexual man develops on another man, usually born out of extreme, lasting admiration for either specific, impressive skills or general awesomeness. I can imagine that if I were to have a “Man-Crush”, Bruce Willis might possibly possess the certain general awesomeness. Seriously. He’s friggin’ awesome.

IHL: How would you respond to me if I told you that “we danced like waves on the ocean?"

IHL: Um, ok, movin on then...

IHL: Do you mind that I think Bruce Springsteen and Willie Nelson are pretty darn cool and if they were lots younger I would want to hug them real tight?

Luke: Bruce gets a bit sweaty, and you just know that Willie smells seriously weird, so go to town.

IHL: Hey I could have asked you something about Johnny Depp! Arrr!

IHL: Did you ever think you would marry a girl from Oklahoma? Explain.

Luke: I guess not. I always thought that Oklahoma was chock full of backwards, braless, toothless spandex-clad folks, you know, who looked a bit genetically “off” and made livings by selling weird little tiger and dragon figurines at flea markets. And then you took me down to Oklahoma, and I realized that they also sell lots and lots of samurai swords and used fishing bait, too.

IHL: Word! What are the last thoughts that pass through your mind as you’re falling asleep?

IHL: Because whatever it is must be something crazy! You take over the bed like it’s the last corn dog in the world!

IHL: Ok, would you rather have a hungry weevil dropped down into your ear while you were strapped to a table OR would you rather have to listen to me sing?

IHL: Hey, are you asleep? You are sleeping! Wake up Hondo...

As you can see he didn't answer all of the questions. Maybe he ran out of time, or he had a deficit in brain activity, or maybe it was me and the questions. Yeah, it was probably me. Anyway, what a sport huh? So get ready and prepare yourself to be November's, "I Hate Laundry's Person of the Month!" I'm kind of thinking you don't have a say in it. If you get chosen and you don't want to participate I'll just answer the questions for you and then deny I did it. I know, I am an incredibly kind and fair person. Humble too.

Just one of the many last times

I posted a long time ago about Danger Baby and his new ability to crawl out of his crib. He really didn't crawl out so much as he threw himself out. Luke and I would be downstairs trying to relax after successfully shuffling three small children off to bed when we would hear a loud thump and crash followed by riotous outbursts of laughter and the furious pitter-pattering of feet racing across the floor. Danger Baby found all this attention too much to pass up and proceeded to throw himself out of his crib every night over and over again. Each time he would injure himself in some way but never cried about it. I was worried sick that he would break his neck even after surrounding his crib with a million pillows, blankets, and marshmallows. To him, my efforts to soften his falls were signs that we approved of his nightly escapes. It was all too much for me to take. So we took down his crib and set up the bottom bunk as his new bed.

As a mother it's not hard to find things to get sad about. We get sad when we have to pack away the newborn clothes and bring out the new 3-6 month items, we get teary eyed when they take their first steps, we fall apart the first time we leave them with someone other than our husbands, and breaking down and packing away their crib is no different. It's just this time is so much more sad and heavy. This is the last time. Danger Baby is our last. Before I left the hospital I called my husband's doctor to schedule the old "cut and snip." When you see the size of Danger Baby's head at birth you will forgive me.

We took his crib down several months ago but I have just now finished rearranging the boys' room. I was very sad the day we took his crib down and I still sometimes feel a little tightening of the heart when I tuck Danger Baby into his big boy bed. Tonight when I went up there to tuck them all in I turned around and felt my stomach drop when I saw a desk and chair in the spot where his crib used to be. Their room is such a big boys room now and I'm having a bit of a hard time moving on. I know there are so many fun things in store but it's such a final chapter you know?







Does anyone else do this?
Now instead of the loud crashes and thumpings, we deal with the silent creepings and the midnight revelations of a huge baby sitting on our chests trying to stuff toys up our noses.

There's nothing like talking about yourself in third person

There is a house, a lovely house where King Luke “The Bottom Line” and his wife Queen Galadriel “The Slightly Unhinged” live in precarious harmony with their three children Prince Miles “The Sensitive Analytic,” “Pretty Princess Pink Pants” Isobel Sophia, and Prince Andrew Grey “Devil Dumpling the Lovable but Entirely Untamable”. The house is lovely and a true pictorial testimony to the inhabitant’s genteel aesthetic sensitivities. Everything has a place and is prettily in its place. The pillows are fluffed, collections of quaint tea cups and tea pots shine humbly from their various perches, the curtains are hung with care, sparrows and swallows fly across the walls in graceful arcs, the dining room table sits proudly draped with a vintage tablecloth in the center of a room with chocolate colored walls, and the sheets are as soft and pretty as a cherub’s ass.

Queen Galadriel is known throughout the land as a lady with melodramatic and preposterous expectations for how life should look. Her extravagantly nonsensical bent for perfection has driven her subjects mad. In spite of being completely aware of the fallacy of perfection and the cynical attitudes her family harbors, she soldiers on unflinchingly steadfast in her pursuit to make sugar cubes and glitter spontaneously sprout and flourish. It is torture and she gladly suffers. But nothing pains her more than to walk outside and be confronted with the rude and savage certainty of a wild and rangy yard. Where there should be walls of roses, plots of daisies and Russian sage, and beds of healthy vegetables and herbs there is instead rambling, barbaric wilderness. From weed to weed there is nothing but wantonly luxuriant disorder and overgrowth.

She is bound by the powers of an intangible and obviously inconsiderate, fiendish hobgoblin that keeps her chained to the spring time compulsion to garden. The Queen will spend hours upon backbreaking hours every spring weeding, digging, hoeing, building beds with intricate borders and depth, and planting a million different varieties of edible and inedible growing things only to lose steam and let it all go to pot during the hot days of summer. It happens every year without fail. Without fail her family will mercilessly mock her efforts. The King’s favorite joke is to caution the royal children while they are playing in the gardens not to step on their mother’s vegetables. He thinks this is funny because, you see, there are no vegetables at this point. Off with their heads she shrieks as she stomps off to sit in the bathroom sink to ponder her pores and her fruitless and futile habits.

Harvest time has come and is in its final days. The Queen has only a small handful of herbs and one rotten watermelon to show for it.

Prince Miles tasting the unripe watermelon with the rotten bottom.

As you can see, Devil Dumpling and Pink Pants didn't really mind that it wasn't ripe. They ate the whole thing then moved on over to the bucket of fetid water to wash it all down.


Happy fall everyone. The Thompson's wish you all a season full of cool weather, hot drinks, cozy scarves, and snuggly cuddles. Off with your heads!

Schoooool is Coooooool! - Brooke Vertin

I am much obliged to all of you for your heart-stirring applause and good wishes. Reading your comments made me feel like I was running down the line high-fiving everyone. I just know some of you sneaked in some cheap shots at my backside too as I passed on by! So cheeky.

I know things have been a bit slow around here. I really miss posting and visiting everyone else's sites. About a hundred different ideas flit through my head on a daily basis but I just can't seem to find the time to write. Hopefully after I get a better grip on my upcoming schedule I will be posting on a more regular basis. But most of all, I hope you and yours are doing well and are having a great fall season.

Here's a look at the last assignment I turned in. I guess the information was correct enough but who cares when it looks this pretty?

Making the world of psychology a more beautiful place one time-line at a time.

Going back to school

Hot dawg! My first class in seven years is over and I got an A+! I start the next class next week. Wish me luck and join me in a deep breath of relief. I'm off to take a nap. Wait, let me rephrase that. An A freaking +!

Super Worm & The Rescue Blues

Okay, so it's like obvious that October asked me out finally. As if there was any doubt! It's all great and he's been pretty good to me so far but I had no idea that being his girlfriend meant that I would have to be this busy. Busy as in a 15+ page developmental analysis project over the main characters in "The Secret Garden!" I'm all tuckered out. He should do his own danged work, but he's just so cute I can't help it. So you see, it's not that I'm avoiding you it's just that I'm like way busy. I know, it's like so lame.

Our good friends Anthony and Jen came to town and took me and Luke to go see Ryan Adams the other night. It was just the bowl of guacamole this vaquero needed. We didn't get to stay for the whole show seeing as I had some crazy paper to write and Luke had to get up early and take some students to Millford Lake for an eco meet. What kind of dorkitude is this? It's the awesome kind! One of his students won the competition and gets to go to State. Back to Ryan Adams. That guy is some kind of weird. The good kind of weird, but all the same, weird. It was one of the best shows I've ever been to. Incredible musicians and incredible weirdness. He and his guitar buddy, Neil, were pretty funny. Lots of swearing and threats to physically harm the audience, and lots of Ryan Adams dancing and making noises like he had a tic. No offense to anyone who has a tic, it was incredibly entertaining. No, I'm not saying you have a tic merely just to amuse me. I'm saying...ok whatever, I'm sorry I ever said it ok?

Not only have I been busy with school work and rock concerts I have also been busy making worms. What kinds of worms? The super kind. Once Miles saw Candy the Frankenworm he had to have a worm of his own. So what does a worm for a five year old boy look like?

Behold! The electrifying and all-powerful SUPER WORM!!!



Luke has brought it to my attention that Super Worm is kind of phallic. Whateve dude it's a worm and it's Super and everyone is pervy.

A great big ol' thanks to everyone who commented on my last post. I can't wait to reply to each and every one of you! Look for some Super Love coming your Super way.

Bug guts on the Cadillac of life

Well shake a leg and go kiss your cousin! Life can sure came at you like a speeding, hopped-up Charger. The question is, are you going to see it as a chariot or as an agent of the Apocalypse? Before these past couple of months I would have played like a speed bump and rolled over and died in the middle of the road.

Life is always going to hurl some kind of flapdoodle your way. My usual lousy way of dealing with this truth was to curl up in fits of downheartedness while inanely waving my white flag of surrender. Luke and I have been having some fantastic back porch moments recently. Lots of talks about the beauty of redemption, forgiveness, and being broken of foolish, debilitating pride. One of the things Luke shared with me was how sad it is for him to know how hard I can fight for someone else but how I never fight for myself. Whatever the reasons are for that are not necessary to explore at this time in my life. As Luke said, "There are always going to be bug guts on the Cadillac of life." Right now I just need to drive that Cadillac to the nearest gas station and give it a righteous squeegeeing.

I don't know who all or how many people read this site but I'd love to hear how you deal with life's misfortunes, rotten-luck, hard-knocks, and bummers. Come and share your story.

What does that on-coming Charger look like to you, and is your Cadillac asthmatic or pneumatic?

Kansas City Fashion Week

When "Art" and I broke up we had to go through the messy process of deciding who gets to keep what and who gets to claim what friends. We settled on a one to two year agreement that would allow me to continue with Chirp until December. In that time I will take Chirp to a few more fashion shows to try and sell off the remaining inventory. After that it's all his for the next couple of years. Is it getting creepy yet the way I talk about art? Anyway, I attended one of those fashion shows last night. Last night was just one of the many events being held by WearHaus and Rush Publishing for the Kansas City Fashion Week. It is a week long event that includes seminars by professional Hollywood Costume Designers, opera singers, fashion shows, live performances, fashion meet & greets, fashion markets, after parties, and dance performances. Lots of fun. It was an interesting and fascinating night. I opted out of the fashion runway and just signed on as a vendor. I really don't know how I found myself in this world but man it's fun.

I took a ton of pictures and realized that posting fifty-something photos here would be overkill. So I have finally signed up for a Flickr account! I'm posting a few of my favorites here just to get you interested to check out the rest.








Go check out the pics. Discuss and leave some comments. If you have a Flickr account and would like to be one of my very special contacts or vice versa just shout out a howdy.

Chirp will be attending two more Urban Bazaars this year. Whatever I don't sell I'm going to put over in my Etsy shop or offer up right here at I Hate Laundry. So stay tuned for all that jazz. Oh, and everything will be on SALE!

Come unto me, and I will sell you something for five dollars in Spanish. Chapter 1 Verse 2

Luke and I were out back having a bit of quiet time when we found ourselves discussing the unique temperaments of our children. Luke made a comment about how Danger Baby will not be allowed to listen to Pearl Jam but will instead only be allowed to listen to Belle & Sebastian and The Indigo Girls. Conversely, Miles will only be allowed to listen to Pearl Jam. Any crackwhore can have a baby, but it's pure wisdom to know when your quiver is full.


Amen


Note:(this was not meant to insult anyone who adheres to the concept of remaining open to however many children the good Lord wishes to bless them with).

Sunday night at the Thompson's: (Yes, that's a Stormtrooper costume and Miles choreographed all these fly moves)

School

Pretty clever title don't you think?

So I started school like five weeks ago. Just one class on Wednesday nights. The workload is insane though! Each week I have over 100 pages to read, at least two essays, several developmental time line graphs, case studies, short answers, and class presentations. I have a 15 page book report due in two weeks. Last week I was given the blessed honor of teaching the class about the development of locomotion and language skills in infants through early school age. I'm so busy that I've developed a signal. When you want to speak to me your message will automatically go into my internal voice mail. I am absolutely loving every second of it! I honestly have never felt better in my life. Truly yo. The funny thing about breaking up with art and returning his sweater, is that I feel more creative now then ever before. No more falling asleep to the nasty wailing of guilt. Just sweet sleep now plagued with the new knowledge of all the possible ways I can mess up my kids that I've just learned about in class. Time to invoke the daily prayer. HELP ME JESUS! HELP ME!

I walked out of class that first night and knew without a doubt that I had made the most fantastic decision. I love what I'm doing.

Miles started school, as you know, back in August. He loves it! You know, I could go on and on about all the incredible ways he has changed but I'm going to spare myself the cheese. What I didn't think about was all the ways Isobel and Danger Baby would change. I just assumed that Isobel would be really sad not to have her buddy around. She was sad for awhile. The second week was the hardest on her. I think that second week was when she realized that this wasn't some short-lived thing. She began to see that he was going to be gone like this every day. As we drove away from the school that second week she began to cry and "tremble," as she calls it. She would reach towards the school with her little arms and sob that we had left Miles behind. It broke my heart. She soon got over it though. Just yesterday when we were driving home from picking Miles up from school I was telling him about how happy we were to see him and how much we miss him during the day. Isobel piped up and said, "Yeah we miss you, but I do my own thing."

Iso has become so much more outspoken and her personality has gotten huge these past two months. The way she plays is so different now. She has such an incredible imagination and I often find her happily creating these elaborate fantasy situations. We are having so much fun. Danger Baby has calmed down a bit and he and Iso are getting along so much better now. When Miles comes home they all run off together and tumble around outside or chase each other through the house. I had no idea that sending my kid off to school would bring them together like this.

Warning! This is the part where I brag about my kid. If you don't like to hear people brag about their kids then this is the perfect time for you to stop reading and go look at stuff that people are selling on craigslist. I have always been impressed with the way Miles' brain works. He's a pretty sharp kid. His memory is phenomenal. He's kind of quiet like his dad. But that quietness is because they're thinking. Still waters run deep. Anyway, since Miles started school I've been having him do "homework." I have done this mostly just to get everyone used to the idea of having homework time. This way, when they all reach the age of actually having to do homework they will be used to the flow of the day and know what to expect. I keep it relevant to what he's learning in class. I have him do simple math and reading activities and then have him practice the letters they are working on. I'm not lying when I say this kid has a blast doing his homework. He thinks it's a ton of fun. When he's done with his letters I ask him to draw a picture or write a word that starts with the corresponding letter. I have been blown away with what he has done so far. Here's where the real bragging begins. So, this one day I come downstairs to check up on how he's doing and to see if he has any questions. He hands me his letters and drawings. For letter A I'm really scratching my head trying to figure out what in the hell he just drew. I'm standing there working hard on a way to ask him without hurting his feelings when I just finally tell him that I have no idea what it is that I'm looking at. He sets it down and begins to tell me that he has drawn the concept of addition. His exact words were, "I tried to draw the concept of addition to teach you how to add. Addition starts with "A" right?" So it does little buddy. I was just kind of expecting an apple or an ant. THEN! Yes then, over the next couple of days he works up some more magic for me. For "R" he draws a riot. For "T" he draws a team. He also told me about the day he had to explain to one of his friends on the playground how that infinity isn't really a number but an idea that numbers go on for infinity. That Miles, he's a concept kid. Maybe you aren't impressed but I sure am.

So, we have all been having a great time with our new adventures. To add to the busyness of life, Luke will be starting school in October. He'll be working on his masters. Damn if we aren't some crazy folk.

A fairy fun day

Uncle Matt and Aunt Stephanie gave Isobel a book on fairies for her birthday. She has not put it down. She carries it with her everywhere she goes even to bed at night. I have been trying to do fun little activities with the kids based on the books and subjects they are interested in. Naturally, this week has been all about fairies. I know nothing about fairies except that I don't much want to get one tattooed on me. Here are a few of the fun things we've done so far this week.

Fairy houses. We started by trying to replicate a little village depicted in the book but we were short on rolly polly dew and silk worm hammocks. This is our version using pink paper cups and common yard weeds.



This is Isobel's little house.


Fairies! I printed out some drawings on card stock from the little book that I made for Isobel. We then printed out wings and cut them free and pasted them all together.



The next adventure will be to cook up some of the funny little fairy recipes that are included in the book. Then maybe we'll have a ceremony to join our favorite fairy and sparrow man in fairy matrimony. All bugs and nice critters are welcome to attend so long as they behave and don't start eating each other.

T is for "I've been tagged!"

Kalurah has tagged me. It was awhile ago, but I'm here to answer the call! It's a middle name anagram tag game. I guess it's not really a game but it's fun to say, "It's a middle name anagram tag game." I'm supposed to tell you a little bit about myself for each letter of my middle name.

My whole name is Galadriel Alethea Lynn Thompson. So I've got some work to do here.

A- is for Anti-gravity. For some stupid, ridiculous reason when I was younger I thought that levitation would be a cool superhero power. "I say! Stop there Mr. Bad Guy! Don't make me levitate!"

L- is for lopsided. My right leg is longer than my left by a noticeable margin. It affects the muscles in my back and I have to buy jeans that are too long for just half of me.

E- is for Eternity cologne. Once again, when I was younger, if a boy was wearing Eternity it made him 30% more attractive to me. It was a no-go if the guy showed up for our date wearing Drakar.

T- is for tattoos. I really love tattoos. Really love them. If I hadn't married my Lukey Bear I would probably have full-sleeves and possibly an entire back piece. As it is I have only two. Betty Page riding a guitar surrounded with flames on my left arm and the words "Forever Blue" tattooed on my right arm. I think tattoos are sexy. I don't like just any ol' tattoo on just any ol' person. I don't like tattoos to accompany a mullet or a NRA bumper sticker. I especially don't like rose and butterfly tattoos on your mamma's boobs.

H- "aitch"- is for my hot, hep, and hilarious husband. We got married six months after we met. Seven years and three babies later I'm still hot for teacher Thompson.

E- another E! Um, The Edge, aka David Howell Evans. There was a period in my life where I imagined that I was hanging out with and talking to The Edge. He was sort of like my version of therapy. He gave great advice and would always laugh at my jokes. I didn't talk to Bono very often because he talked too much and it usually wasn't about me. Just so you know, I didn't really think I was talking to The Edge. I mean I knew he wasn't there. I just sort of asked myself WWTED?

A- is for above water and ahoy! I'm afraid of the water. I want to stay out of it. I don't want to ever have to hear the word ahoy. If I'm hearing that word then that means I must be on a pirate ship and pirate ships are usually in the water.

L- is for longhorn cattle. I worked on a Texas longhorn cattle ranch from the ages of 12 to 14. It was a pretty exotic place really. Not at all like the kind of ranch you would imagine. This ranch was more like a zoo tucked into the woods by the Colorado river. It had llamas, zebra, bison, crazy exotic birds that would bite me, antelope, and I swear I heard monkeys at night. Everyone told me they were just owls. Yeah, owls that sounded like hairy, teeth-having, frankly frightening primates.

Y- is for the Y chromosome. I don't have a Y chromosome. That's why I'm a girl. My husband has one Y chromosome and that's why he's a boy. X and Y chromosomes are the sex chromosomes. We have three children. So X + Y = you guys are thinking something dirty aren't you?

N- is for never nudes. I'm not a never nude, but I think they're funny.

N- is for name. My whole name, Galadriel Alethea Lynn Todd, was very hard to remember how to spell and to write in kindergarten. Also, if you could think it, I was probably called it at one point or another in my life. Let's see, Caligula, Caladium, Cathedral, Gallipoli, Drill, Drill-bit, Chlamydia, and my very favorite Get-laid-riel. Obviously that last one was not my favorite but I have always thought it pretty funny.

So, now on to tagging others! Let's see, how about Fidget, Sew Succulent, Iguana Banana, Melissa, Knitterella, and Ruby's Daughter. Let's get to it girls! If I didn't tag you it doesn't mean I don't love you, but feel free to join in. Let me know if you do!

Happy 4th Birthday Pretty Princess Pink Pants!

Isobel Sophia Thompson was born on 9/11/03.



















We love you so much Sissy.

September and February were designed to murder your sense of humor

Hey I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I haven’t been a very good friend lately. I know I haven’t met you in the quad at our usual time and I run the opposite way when I see you in the hall. But I promise I’m not trying to avoid you or anything. It’s just that September is always there and for some reason he thinks I like him. He keeps telling me that he has something special for me and that I will really like it but he won’t give it to me unless I agree to like him. I’ve even gone out on a few dates with him thinking that maybe I might be missing something but nope, he pretty much sucks. Also, I’m trying really hard to make it obvious to October that I’m available, and since whenever September is around he’s always trying to sit next to me and pretend that we’re an item. I don’t want October to get the wrong idea. So you see I’m just hiding out until September gets a clue. I’m basically just holding out for October to ask me to the prom.

September kind of makes me wistful and pensive, but not in the same kind of way that October does. I love the wistfulness of October. I love the cool crisp air, the falling leaves, the sweaters and scarves, fall camping trips, and how your feet shuffle differently because you just can’t help yourself from sliding your feet around in all the new yellows and reds covering the sidewalks and yards. September makes me pensive because I know that summer is coming to an end. I begin to wonder if I took full advantage of the summer and all its sweaty glory. I sit on our back porch and think back on all we’ve done and wonder if we couldn’t have done more. I see one lone fire fly in the dark flitting its bright way through the trees and wonder if he feels the same.

I’ve been really digging in and trying to take advantage of these last days. The kids and I have been spending all our free time outside running wild and hugging the corporeal crap out of summer. Some of us fully clothed and some stark buck-nekkid.

Lots of picnics outside.


Harvesting and eating our grapes.


This is what Danger Baby thinks about our grapes!


We love cicadas.



Danger Baby could climb this before he could even walk!

Danger baby's first time in a tent.


This was lots of fun before the profuse sweating started.


We do this a lot but clean up lasts a lot longer than the painting does.


He did not learn this from me, I promise.

Note: Holy Pyractomena angulata! While I was out back that lone firefly just had some words with me. I guess he’s kind of sensitive to his situation. He told me that he wasn’t successful at getting the ladies interested in what he had to offer. So now he just flies around drunk and angry while listening to Morrissey hoping that it will all end soon. He told me that that’s how September probably feels and that I should stop being such a jackass. I told him I was sorry and that I would be sure to be more sensitive in the future. When he weaved a drunk man's path away to finish his nocturnal solo perambulations of dejection I left a little note for him to find tomorrow to show just how much I care. The note said: "Natural selection is a bitch".

This is what happens when mom leaves

When I grow up I want to be just like my dad!

Recently Miles has been talking about how much he would really like to see some brains. One day I absentmindedly said that I thought that would be pretty cool. He disagreed and said that brains would probably be pretty mushy and gross. Luke overheard our conversation and told Miles that he had some brain cells smeared on a slide up at school. So Sunday we went on a field trip to Luke's class to see some brains. Brains and a few animals.

Here's Luke giving one of his snakes an injection. I honestly had no idea that this was a part of his job as a teacher.


Isobel looking in on an iguana after Luke gave it a good spritzing.


Brains hard at work looking at brains.


A shy, sleepy little hedge hog.


A grumpy, fat, obnoxious looking African bullfrog.


Helping dad fill the turtle tank.


A bunch of things that aren't going anywhere.


Danger Baby and his softer side. He really loved the animals.


Danger Baby and Junior.


Danger Baby and the puppy dog of lizards. It's a tegu for those of us who don't know our reptiles.


A little snack after all that hard work looking at brains.


Class dismissed.


Maybe it's time to update the slides honey.

And the winner is...

So, I'm really very incredibly terrible at following up on things I write about here at I Hate Laundry. For example, I have yet to post my thrifting finds, our new laundry room, how school is going, and who won the "Guess Brent's Age" thingy. I didn't do a very good job of making it clear that I was really going to give someone a shirt for guessing his age. He is 41. In real life he doesn't look anywhere near 41. It's not that big of a deal for sure but I'm always amazed when I see him. All that it really means is that it's easy for me to get carried away and make a big deal out of nothing. My special ability for being easily impressed usually makes other people nervous and wary of my mental faculties.

Anyway, someone actually won the shirt. That was a long time ago. I just sent it to her this week. I didn't mention who won because as soon as I told her that she had won I walked away from the computer and got distracted by the process of breathing. You've got to check in on that every once in awhile you know?

Only three people threw out a guess. Knitterella and Jennifer guessed that he was 34. Kalurah said 29 but then said he could be 40 and aging gracefully. In my eyes, all of you girls are winners! That was meant to be as cheesy as it sounded;)

Congratulations Kalurah! I'm so glad the shirt made it to you. You make it look fantastic!

Diary of Candy the Frankenworm

AUGUST 30, 2007


The Thompson kids have been reading "Diary of a Worm" this week and I guess they really liked it.


The little girl liked it so much she decided that she needed her very own worm.

Her mom decided that a stuffed toy one would be a better option than a real one. I guess some people just don't appreciate worms!

They have this really wild baby that wanted to help bring me to life but he kept making messes and trying to eat the buttons. So his mom tied scraps to his head like a bonnet. He liked that.

Then before I knew it I was done! I don't think the mom did a very good job stitching me up, but I can't complain. Isobel decided upon every square inch of me. She's my best friend.

She WAS my best friend until she decided to use me as bait!

She apologized for it so I forgave her. I think it was that wild baby's idea anyway.

I guess I smell bad too. Isobel made her mom spray me down with perfume before she would take a nap with me. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her feet smell like a compost pile. Which I find to be a delicious smell!

"It's not like we've got that much invested in each other."-galadriel thompson, 1999

This is the attractive,incomparable, invaluable, magnificent, meritorious, notably noted, outstanding, inestimable, invaluable, irreplaceable Aunt Brookely. She has moved away from us. Left us sad, forlorn, and alone without even a suitable replacement to wipe away our grief filled tears. I've known her since she was a wee redhead with bangs. We met in 2D class or rather we noticed each other then. I quickly realized that she was going to be a competitive force for attention and precious resources. I vowed right then and there that we were either going to be best friends or mortal enemies. I played it cool, she played it cool, so I played it even cooler. Before we knew it we were drinking wine coolers in her room and laughing about the name Fuzzy Navel. Don't judge. We've moved on from wine coolers since then. Now we drink wine from a box.
We went to Parkville to celebrate her acceptance into Notre Dame's graduate printmaking program. I really don't think they know just what they're getting, but it won't be long before they realize they have a mad genius up in the house. A mad hippie genius. Although, I do have to say her taste in jewelry is getting much better.

Time for a little math quiz!
Question #1

Brooke Lee Vee used to live in Kansas City Missouri. She is now living in a college town studying art. Brooke lived approximately 3.14159265 miles away from her best friend, Galadriel, when she lived in KCMO. Brooke is a recovering hippie. Brooke has a boyfriend, a lovely man named Bryan, who will be moving up that direction next year to be close to her. They are both dorks in the best way possible. The kind of dorks that make you want to be a dorkier kind of person, well balanced with equal sides. How will Brooke and Bryan feel upon being reunited?

Students must show work to get credit.

We miss you tons Aunt Brookely! We hope you are having a great time up there where we can't see you. Don't forget us Princess Kitten.

Don't question the math! I am the Math Master Most High!

I learned it by watching you all right!

School fund raising is the gateway drug for...?

Come unto me, and I will sell you something for five dollars in Spanish. Chapter 1 Verse 1

I believe everyone should have a daily prayer and a moment with God. One prayer that I hold close and dear in times of trouble, stress, or confusion is prayed many times a day because I am human and times of trouble are lined up out the door. My prayer goes like this:
HELP ME JESUS! HELP ME! But, you have to say it loudly and like you are from the Deep South for the Lawd to hear you. Your arms must be dynamic and you must be dramatic. If you do it right then your children will laugh and your husband will leave the room and you will feel foolish and embarrassed. Your embarrassment will cause you to realize that there are bigger things than your troubles because now everyone knows you're a dork.

Amen

Part 5: In what happens even when you do take the baby to the bathroom when you have to pee

Story Box

Every time I go to a garage sale I look for wood/wooden puzzles. See if my grammar skills weren't so nonexistent I would have known which word was right for the above sentence. Either way it doesn't affect the outcome of the story. Now if I would have, see there's another option right there, would/wood/wooden/morning wood, said a four letter obscene word like sh*t, f***, or d*mn, then that, that would/wood have changed at least the tone of the story. I reserve those kinds of words for yelling at people in low-rider Cadillacs who almost run down my husband.

Anyway, back to the puzzles. I buy these puzzles because they are missing a few pieces and can't be completed. Sometimes I get them for free because I kind of make a passive aggressive issue out of it. Well you know there are pieces that are missing and I'm not so sure my kids would want something they couldn't actually finish. I mean it might upset them to not ever be able to put this puzzle together. Then they kind of just give them to me to get rid of my pouting. Although some old people out there really believe they have some sort of treasure and won't budge an inch and want to tell me when and why they bought them in the first place and who played with them and how they are now worth way more than they are selling them for, but you know, the grandkids just aren't into this sort of thing so they need to get rid of them to make room for all the toys that need batteries, and that's when I shove some money at them and run. I buy them because I want to put the remaining brethren into our Story Box.

The Story Box works like this, each person takes a turn blindly choosing a piece out of the box, the first person starts the story based on the piece they have chosen, then the next person has to repeat what the first person said and then continue the story based on the piece they chose, and so on and so on. We line the pieces up so that we have visual cues to remind us how the story goes.

Here's our latest lineup.


Our Story Box is a very humble shoe box. If I were awesome I would make a cute box that could double as a bread maker or something.


Here's the story the kids made up. Sometimes they are really funny. Sometimes they are really confusing. Sometimes they are so tediously like our every day events, brushed his teeth, got dressed, rode an elephant, got lost in a forest with the butcher, the baker, and the candle stick maker.

Once upon a time this cute little kitty, the cutest kitty in the world decided that he wanted to go on a vacation. He wanted to go to Japan, England, America, China, and to Disney Land, a land where dreams come true. Then he fell asleep, dreamed, woke up and saw all the things he ever wanted in the whole world! So he ate cat food and everything he ever wanted to do, jumped into his cat house and then jumped into his bird cage where his bird bed was and fell asleep again.

One little goat had a little mom who was about to grow up into a big mom like a big dad. And then his mom grew up so big, like a big leaf. Then when the kid grew up into a big goat like a big leaf it was time for fun fun fun. Then he went off on vacation and met a little cat. Got into the cat's bird bed and dreamed about growing up and his dream came true.

So while the goat and cat were sleeping their tummies began to rumble and grumble. The loud noises of their bellies woke them up. The decided to go together to the first restaurant in town. Once they were there they ordered a dish of chopped liver for the cutest kitty cat and a plate of rubbish for the goat.

After they left they were still hungry. So they stopped by the grocery store. While they were there they hugged each other then all the things in the store turned into food and balloons. The floor was made of chocolate and the walls were balloons. So the little kitty jumped up and got a very big balloon. The goat reached down and got a piece of the chocolate. The kitty got another balloon and gave it to the chocolate. That was the best dinner they ever had. The goat gave the kitty a ride home.

This scarecrow who wasn't scary enough was on the road. A crow came and took the scarecrow's clothes but left a spot. That spot scared the crow so the clothes came back. Then the scarecrow walked away from his stick. Met the cat and goat and said, "hello." They made friends with each other and went off towards cat's house together. I hope that scarecrow will scare all the crows away. Then the scarecrow disappeared.

The cat and goat completely confused about where the scarecrow went decided to keep on walking. At the edge of town they saw an egg with a hat on it's top sitting on a wall. The eggman told the cat and goat that the scarecrow was asleep in his bed. The cat said, "How did you know we were looking for the scarecrow?" But the eggman tumbled off the wall before he could answer. He cracked to pieces and out of his broken shell came a baby giraffe.

The giraffe said, "I love playing, wanna play?" So they went to the scarecrow's house. They decided to swim to play, but the scarecrow would break to pieces so he played soccer. The goat sang a song, "Everybody likes to swim, I like to swim too. Me and you you know we love to swim. Do do do da do do do!"

They went to a tiny hotel to have a sleepover. The little ones slept in different rooms. The cat here, the goat there, and the scarecrow here, and the giraffe there but no Humpty Dumpty.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled program

The cicadas are loud, the heat unbearable, and the school buses are back to their job of scaring the innocence out of young kids. I once remember a time, while on the school bus, unfortunately finding myself becoming the metaphysical punching bag of someone's bad day. This very mad girl, deciding that it wasn't enough to just insult me, needed to start at the beginning and insult my mother. She called my mother a "cut." Okay I thought, that was weird, I have no idea what that was supposed to mean but by the way her face got really red and how loudly she screamed it at me I was sure it was something really bad. Was my mom a cut? I had no idea. If she was one then I had some serious things to think about because obviously being a cut was not cool and would make people scream at you. I did not want to be a cut for sure but I also didn't want my mom to be one either. I had to ask her so we could work this out together.

When I got off the bus, thank goodness the girl got off before me or else she might have hit me in the back with something even more confounding, I found my mom hanging up the clothes to dry in the hot Texas air. Still very shaken by the verbal abuse and being very nervous to say the word "cut" out loud I offered to help her with the laundry instead. Finally when I couldn't take it any longer I blurted out that some girl had called her a cut. She laughed. She laughed really hard. She laughed really hard and really long. I just stood there and thought that life was not fair. How could one person think this word was horribly insulting and another think it was hysterical? School sucked because it was obviously not helping me to master the English language. After she had finished laughing she introduced me to the fine world of vagina lingo. She told me that the word was not cut but, you know.

On that note, my Miles started school Wednesday for the first time ever. Not to sound like a, "insert proper vagina lingo here" this has been a very hard thing for me. I have spent the last two weeks trying to make sure everything was just perfect before I let the system have him. This decision has been a cumulative of five and a half years of thinking, praying, doing research, and looking at reality straight in the face. When I was pregnant with Miles I decided that we would homeschool. I still thought that even when Isobel was born. I really started to question that decision when Danger Baby was born. Not because of anything to do with him, but because of the number of kids I now have and how much time I realized I didn't have anymore to be able to give each one what they really needed in the way of a good education. Some moms out there can do it and do it well. I decided that I am not one of those mothers. During the back to school night I found myself second guessing that decision though. I felt like it was my duty to educate our kids and that it was just me being weak and pathetic if I couldn't do it. I had to realize that I couldn't and it would do my children a great disservice to have me being too proud to let go a little. But their education doesn't just start and stop with school. It starts and continues at home and I'm excited for all that is to come. Miles loves it and looks forward to it and that makes me proud of our decision. I didn't cry when we walked him into his classroom and left him there. I didn't cry when we walked out of the school and across the parking lot. I cried when we drove away and he wasn't in the car with us. I know I will get used to this new stage of our lives but it makes me realize that what everyone has been saying about how fast time flies is so very true. I'm just glad that we can learn something in the present that helps us to appreciate each moment more and that it wasn't something learned late in life that caused regret.

Early Wednesday morning Isobel and I got up to cook him breakfast. We made chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs with smoked salmon. I don't do sugar so the salmon part was all me.

Here's Isobel whipping up some scrambled eggs for her big bro.


Miles contemplating whether or not this whole school thing was such a good idea.


Getting all geared up helped him get a little excited for school. See that lunch box? That's a NASCAR lunch box. It took every bit of restraint I could call upon to let him have that NASCAR lunch box. I figured that if I started telling him now what he should like or shouldn't like then by the time he was sixteen he would start hating me for trying to run his life. I only want him to hate me for trying to keep him from impregnating girls.


Back to not being very sure about this school thing.


Still not so sure about this.


For some reason this picture gets to me. It seems like such a symbol of letting go. The hanging up of the backpack in the designated spot kind of letting go.


Settled in and ready to go.


We lived way out in the country of this small Texas town when I was a kid and the bus had to drive through a never ending maze of corn fields to get to my home. I should say around them instead of through them, but my point is that it seemed so remote. This one stormy day on the way home we saw a funnel cloud come down out of the sky. It dropped into one of the corn fields and ripped its way towards the bus. I was certain that we were all going to die but the only thing I could think about was that it was going to be so embarrassing when the kids at school found out that I died in a corn field with no clothes on.

There are absolutely no absolutes

I just wanted to thank every last person who left me such kind words of encouragement and love. I thank you all for your honesty. Everyone made such good points and revealed little bits of themselves in doing so. It's funny how many of you are discovering the opposite about yourselves. Go for it with all you've got! I feel so freaking fantastic right now and I think you will too.

I was born a creative person and will remain one to my dying day I'm sure. It wasn't the creativity that I gave up, but the shoulds and the have tos. I cannot live without art and I believe that to be true about everyone. But some people need to do art to survive but it was killing me. I don't want to feel obligated to do art. I want it to come from a true place. I have always surrounded myself with beautiful things and have tried to live a beautiful life. That won't change. What I do with my children won't change except for the better. Since I let go of the heavy handed bond of a guilty conscience I truly feel like the restraints on my inspiration have lifted. I have actually found myself being inspired constantly and feeling awed by it instead of convicted by it. Still I don't want to do anything about it right now but enjoy it. I want to live it and let "it" create my life instead of trying to create "it."

Like I said, I'm just taking a purposeful and deliberate year long sabbatical from making "big art," as Sew Succulent calls it. In that time I will finish school and hopefully have some good stories to tell about it all.

Thank you to the lovely people who still wish me to blog. I love it here and I ain't going anywhere. I have loved meeting all of you! You all inspire me so much.

Love, hugs, kisses, and bugs.

Photographic evidence...

that I am nice to the hippies.(see anonymous hater comments on the Let's go outside post)

Oh my goodness! Look here. I'm touching one.


I'm touching another one, and I look happy!


I let this one into my car!


I have even been to a hippie fest of my own free will. In keeping with the spirit of "parents teach your children well", feel free to print off this picture and use it to teach your child about counting. How many bongos do you see?


Best buds, and I married that one there. Yep, that one with the rasta rainbow hat.


I even let some come to our wedding.


Wow, this one was there too. Look how close I let him get to me. See my smile?


I have even let them be in the same room with my children.


How many hippies can you fit into a bathtub?
None.

If you can't do it with feeling, don't. -Patsy Cline

This last Saturday I went to the Nelson Atkins Art Museum to break up with art. I've had a very dysfunctional relationship with it since I was fifteen. I figured to do it and do it right I had to face it where it hung.

In our house growing up, self-expression was the joint that led you to Nirvana. Any time I drew a picture I got praised and affirmed. I also got a lot of attention that one time I stood on the living room table in nothing but a diaper while singing, "We're riding in a truck with the windows up so we don't get dusty, but dad pull over cause I have to pee, oh never mind I just went." To my attention and love starved heart I began to do nothing unless I knew it was going to bring me praise.

That's who I became. A person so needy for validation that I became other people, I thought their thoughts and had their opinions, I felt that my life was nothing but a mimicry and I hadn't a clue how to deal with my insecurities. As I got older I began to be drawn to artists and musicians and poets and assholes. They were so cool. They made stuff and that stuff made people think they were cool. They seemed so strong so sure so depressed. So immediate. I met a boy when I was fifteen that was all of the things I wanted to be. I confused admiration with love and began to try to be like him. I spent hours in my room or the bathroom drawing and drawing and writing macabre stories to go with the drawings. The only people who saw my work were my aunt and uncle and that boy. They were so encouraging. I hated every second of each drawing.

When I went off to college I wanted to study neurology. I knew for the first time in my life something certainly. I was encouraged to study art not medicine, but I was already feeling so guilty for being an artist who didn't enjoy making art that the thought of studying it made me sad and anxious. Shortly into my time at college I began to fall apart. Studying neurology wasn't giving me that fix of attention that I was dependent on. Art seemed like such an immediate manifestation of acceptance that I gave myself over to it completely. I was afraid that if I didn't have something to throw on the table right away that no one would stay long enough to get to know me and I was afraid that if they did stay they wouldn't like what they saw anyway. Art became my place to hide.

I have gone to bed feeling guilty and heavy hearted each and every night for fifteen years. Each and every night I had been beating myself up for not "making art." The guilt of not making art had slithered into every aspect of my life. It kept me from enjoying the activities I did with my kids because I was always thinking about how and when I was supposed to make my art. I couldn't sit and watch a movie with my husband at night because my guilt to not waste time and go make something kept me away from the comfort of his arms. When I did find myself in the studio I hated being there. I hated watching my hands struggle with forcing something into being. There was no comfort in a completed work. I felt just as frustrated if not more so than before I started. I had no passion to be a better artist. I never found myself being so passionate about something that I just had to grab my sketch book and catch the moment. But artist is how I was defined now. I grasped it to me because it provided me with the tools that would get me positive attention. I would see other works of art and take it as an affront. I couldn't just appreciate it. I had to make something better. But everything I made seemed like petty thievery of other people's inspiration.

For the past two weeks I have been praying and letting things go. I've been talking to Luke and my friends. The last step for me was to take a little pilgrimage and make it official. I drove down to the plaza, parked the truck, and walked into the Nelson. It was just like breaking up with someone. Someone you have been with for years and had held up on a pedestal. As I walked into each room I felt more and more free of bad love. I was able to bring it down from the pedestal that I had made for it and saw it for what it was. I saw the imperfections and the flaws. I saw reality and it was ridiculous. I was able to laugh at all the late night lies I've been whispering to myself.

I love art and I love artists. I just don't want to be one. For now anyway. I'm taking a year long sabbatical. I will only do things for friends and family when the need arises because I can and I love my friends and my family. I have never felt better in my entire life.

This is all very embarrassing to admit but putting it out here makes it more difficult for me to lie to myself. I'm starting school in a couple of weeks. I'm going back to study neuropsychology.

Just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should.

Let's go outside before it gets too hot

Everyone has been talking about how hot it is. I don't want to kick a dead chicken but man it's hot. The kids and I try to get outside early in the morning to water the flowers and get some fresh air before it gets too hot. Around 9:30 that fresh air turns into a suffocating burlap bag. While outside I wear as little clothes as possible without bringing shame upon my husband's head, but a tank top and shorts is too much clothing. I'm sweating from my eyebrows by the time I've gotten the hose around front. After I've finished saving the lives of all our flowers the kids want me to play games with them. At this point I'd rather read the Bourne Identity out loud to my dad's side of the family. I despise that book and my dad's side of the family is always high. Anyway, I usually have to push on through and ignore the common sense that is screaming at me to go inside where it's cool and not sweaty. I buck up and play a game of soccer or something as equally grueling. I love our yard when I'm not dying in it.

So, the other day when I didn't think I could run around for one more second I decided that we should build a cloth tepee to go along with our gourd tepee. We built it under the tree that has the swing chained up in it and the steps that go nowhere nailed to it. I have no idea what got into me because it was well past 9:30 and I was drenched in sweat by this time. Sun sickness.



I haven't a single memory of being affected by either the heat or the cold as a child. As we grow up do we become big ol wimps or do kids just think that the fun of being outside outweighs the consequences of the natural kind? Maybe as adults we have forgotten how to just get over it all ready and have some fun. I had a great time building the tepee despite the blinding sweat and even more fun watching the kids play in it. I can't say that it is a work of art because it's obviously hysterically ridiculous. The kids didn't care about the execution of it so much as that it looked like a tepee and that they could get inside. They loved it.

Miles is getting pretty tired of me taking pictures I think. There was this one time as a child now that I think about it that I acknowledged the heat. My dad was/is a musician and would often play outdoors during picnics and camping trips and dirty hippie festivals. There was this one day after having pulled a huge cinder block down onto my little leg that we had to go to a dirty hippie festival. I was at my aunt White Fawn's house when I tried to climb up the side of it and loosed a cinder block and it came tumbling down with me and landed on my shin. I sat there completely stunned and really scared about breaking her house. Nobody seemed to care much really. They just picked me up and gave me some homemade crutches and packed me up and out to the dirty hippie festival. My dad was on stage with White Fawn and some other dirty hippies and I don't remember where anybody else was. I was trying hard not to cry about the fact that my leg really hurt and that no one seemed to be worried about the big dent in my shin. I remember hobbling around and being aware for the first time ever of having sweaty pits. I thought something was wrong with me because I had wet pits. I thought that somehow my wet pits were related to my shin and that's when I began to take inventory. My upper lip was wet too and so were my back and my legs! My leg's began to itch from the heat and the fear that I had done something terribly wrong to myself. I crutched all over the park in hysterics trying to find someone to help me out. Someone found me and the heat wasn't doing much for her either. I began to explain what was happening to me and as she laughed she gathered me onto her huge lap and tried to tell me about crap that didn't have anything to do with my pits. The sun was beating down on my bandaged leg, my arms hurt from the crutching around, my body was heating up even more because of hers, and I was becoming increasingly embarrassed about what she was talking about. I remember noticing that she had wet pits too but hers smelled like hamburgers.

After a busy morning in the sun everyone needs a nap. Especially my little rumble bears.I am not a hippie.

Catching fireflies

Mixing & Diffusion

Today was a momentous day! Today was a day when my inability to pass up a bargain became a learning experience, of the scientific kind, for my rumble bears. I have a habit of buying books that are years beyond my children's abilities just because it was on sale, and one day you know, they'll probably want to read it. Miles came to me today with a book called "Science Encyclopedia." He found an experiment in it that he thought looked like something we should try. Yes! Let's do it! I can now check that book off of my "I Told You So" list. He took this venture very seriously and made a big deal about our check off journal. What? He has one too? Oh, he wanted me to make a list so he could check off each supply as we gathered them around us. Can do little buddy. I just so happened to have everything this experiment required. Hot dog, when does that ever happen? The experiment was about mixing and diffusion. Towards the end it was about explosion.
Stop staring at my veins!
First you have to smear petroleum jelly on the rims of two jars. I promise this isn't sexual! You guys are so pervy.


Then you have to fill each jar with water to the tippy top. Cover one jar with foil and drop some food dye in the other.


Then you stack the foil covered bottle on top of the bottle with the dye. Then you flip em over. Now, you have to remove the foil. It wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. The bottles were stacked, the kids were in awe, and the diffusion started happening. It was pretty. But I should have seen it coming.

Can you see it? I didn't see it. Nobody saw it because we were all looking somewhere else.
Danger Baby made a grab for the cookie sheet that the jars were mating on and down tumbled our beautiful diffusion. Things exploded from there. Each one of us jumped towards the baby, wow, it was like our very own human body diffusion experiment. We went from one side of the room to the other side in seconds. I grabbed Danger Baby up, Miles yelled and began to cry, Isobel just looked very confused and yelled just to be a part of the party, I scolded then hugged feeling terrible for reacting so loudly, and Danger Baby started crying because he was scared of all the crazy people.

The bottom jar represented happy, stable, and fun. The top jar obviously represented crazy.

I wonder if you realise you fascinate me so

Thank you to everyone who has been so kind about the books! You have given me courage enough to go ahead and post one more. This is the last one I promise. This one is my favorite. I wrote it up one day soon after Luke and I were married. It is about what my future daughter might be like. I titled it "Isobel". We weren't even pregnant with Miles yet! I was taking painting at Emporia State University where I was given an assignment to do a painting that said something personal about myself. I decided to illustrate the story about my future daughter. A bit odd I know, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I had thought about painting a canvas for each one but that was entirely too ambitious. So I drew and painted each one on squares of brown wrapping paper. Then I translated the story into French because I was a pretentious jerk. I don't know French. I had it translated online and for all I know it could read that my mom's a toad humper.








The real Isobel couldn't be captured in one drawing. She is all and none of those girls. She is more than I could have possibly dreamed up. She is my little Isobel Sophia and she makes the world a better place.

Doggone

Speaking of books, I think I'll post a few more that I did for the kids. Sorry to all those people who hate tons of pictures on a post. Because that's what I do and that is what is about to transpire.

This is the dog counting book that I drew up for Miles for his first birthday. He was obsessed with dogs at the time and I was obsessed with turning him into a little genius. So a book about dogs and counting was the happy marriage of obsession that I came up with.

Happy 7th University Lukey Bear

This is a book that I made Luke for our 2nd anniversary. It means more now then it did then. Back then we were still brand new at sharing space and beer. Now, we still share space but I drink most of the beer.

















He knows what the words say. I still mean every last one. Especially the ones about the reverse cowgirl.

Make new friends

Our backyard has seen some fun times this summer. The Anderson's came over Sunday evening and had dinner with us. Their children are some of the cutest little rumble bears ever. The kids all had a great time and got along fantastically. But the bug spray had to be reapplied liberally about every twenty minutes. Eek! Here are some pics. Also, I think we will have to have a little Chirp giveaway to the person who can guess Brent's age. Sorry Brent!



Isn't that Wendy just a gorgeous gal?

You're the kind of girl that looks better naked

Fidget made a comment on the Joey post about how she used to fantasize improbable things concerning NKOTB. Other than looking like Joey Mcintyre and having to sing Hangin'Tough in sixth grade choir I didn't give them much thought. I had an older brother who walked on water, created the guitar, had the coolest friends, smoked pot, and listened to Metallica and Guns-n-Roses. So I listened to Metallica and Guns-n-Roses. I tried smoking everything I could get my hands on. Pencil shavings rolled up in notebook paper, bamboo stuffed with Spanish moss, and dried out banana leaves just to mention a few. Liking NKOTB would have meant the death of being privy to the cool that was my brother.

I'm very glad that I grew out of that. I grew out of idolizing my brother and grew into idolizing other boys for other reasons. Yeehaw! As much as Fidget wanted for NKOTB's tour bus to break down in front of her house I wanted Chris Isaak to wake up and realize that he needed me. I was confident that he would find me. There I would be, suddenly transformed into some sort of breathtaking beauty, unaware of my own hotness simply laughing with friends, a cocktail in one hand the other one gracefully at rest by my side, the light of passion burning underneath such still waters. He would notice me in a crowd of hundreds and vow then and there that I was his reason for living.

I went to see him this Saturday with friends I hadn't seen in eight years. They came up from Tulsa, Oklahoma and whisked me away to the show. The whole experience said a lot about the changing of time and what it does or doesn't do for a person. I was so excited to see my friends that I rushed out the door to be with them, never giving too much thought about what I was wearing to go see CHRIS ISAAK! I wore exactly what I had been wearing to clean the house for my friends arrival. Definitely not stellar. Eight years before I would have suffered in great agony about it. Eight years before it could have been the night he would see the glow of true love rise out of the crowd like a giant heart shaped bird of eternal promises and endless romantic days. Eight years before he would have seen the bird and would scan the crowd with beating heart until our eyes met and fate was sealed and those eight years before would have me meeting my soulmate for the first time in something a little more glamorous than Debby Homemaker wear.

Chris Isaak puts on a fantastic show. I was pretty prepared for a somber event but was rocked right up with one of the best things I have ever seen. The man is hysterical! His voice was impeccable. I stood and watched my old sweetheart gyrate and sing, laugh and tell jokes, and get real freaky. He played mostly really upbeat songs. But I found it comforting to find myself a little bored when he played his more melancholy songs of unrequited love and relationships gone wrong. He ended the show with Forever Blue. I stood in the crowd with a satisfied feeling of having everything that the lovers in the songs were missing. Eight years before I would have been practically tortured during those songs. Those songs of tragedy, that kind of tragedy that was addicting. Eight years before I would have been religiously dragging my heart through all my failed relationships during those songs. I would have been a tightly crumpled fist of feverish energy making an oath that Chris would eventually be mine. I kind of miss that pitch of things. At the time it seemed so productive in a weird sense of the word.

After the show I got the chance to go meet the man. I was surprisingly not even thinking about it while we were in line. I was having such a good time with my friends. It was beginning to feel like the old days, but without all the awkward posturing of insecure youth. That infinite feeling was starting to come back. When we got to the table where Mr. Isaak was I got those tingles that start at your eyebrows and work their way to your mouth rendering you completely incapable of controlling the small motor skills required for speaking or not speaking. You know those muscle that make you smile like a goon because you don't know what else to do or to say something that you had no intentions of saying. At first he was off to the side talking to some other hoochie mommas but still close enough for me to have touched him if I was crazy enough to do so. And can you believe what happened to me? There I was staring at Chris Isaak when I snapped back to reality and my surroundings realizing that I had just zoned out and was thinking about the laundry I needed to get done the next day and how I hoped we would be able to mow the lawn before the Anderson's were to come for dinner. I mean come on, Chris Isaak is right in front of you you crazy lady! Eight years before I would have been calling on the gods to make me shine! Make me shine dear Lord so that he will be shot through the heart in love for me. Eight years before I would have been standing there trying to look as aloof as possible but still available and mysterious all in one highly nerve wracked body. This time I found myself hanging out behind my friends so that they could get his autograph plus I didn't want to interfere with his progress of moving on down the line. When all of a sudden he looks up smiles a very gorgeous friendly smile and waves at me all the way in the back. I was so shocked that I did what every girl would do and raised her hand and allowed those tingles to take over and waved like a drunken monkey with goon written all over my face. There might as well have been a bubble over my head that read, "heheheh a-har har he." So much for being mysterious.

It gets worse though. I find myself at the table watching him give autographs when he grabs for my hand to give it a little friendly shake. Now he's touching me for crying out loud! His shake was firm and manly, his nails perfectly manicured, no hair was out of place, his suit was handsome, he was beautiful. But he seemed friendly enough that I decided that I couldn't leave without saying something. So I waited for a second longer, he came back and grabbed my hand again and I leaned in. His face was right next to mine. Holy crap. So what comes out of my mouth? I looked at him and said, "I just wanted to tell you this in person, but I went ahead and got married and started a family. I got tired of waiting for you." Then feeling like that was way more words than I intended to come out of my mouth I walked away asap after he started with the jive brother handshake.

Eight years ago I would have ran home and cried big fat tears of regret and remorse and heartbroken. Today I just walked away without him ever knowing that I have the words Forever Blue tattooed on my arm.

Hangin' Tough

That's Joey Mcintyre on the left and that's a sweet little picture of me and my afro circa 88. We were separated at birth.I don't invite him over for Christmas though. He's always wanting to bring Jordan with him and things just start feeling a little desperate after awhile.

Brown paper packages tied up with string

I'm in bed aching all over with what might be the flu. Although I wouldn't be surprised if it was appendicitis, that's how bad that part of my body hurts. I also wouldn't be surprised to find out that I'm a tad bit of a hypochondriac.

Ten months after I had Miles, our firstborn, I began to think that I was dying. My first thought was that it was cancer, naturally. I was losing weight like crazy, and at my lowest had dropped down to a size 2. I'm 5'8" and had never been smaller than a size 8 my whole life. I was having major migraines and would go for days without being able to get up off the floor where I found it the easiest place to take care of a ten month old baby. This went on for months! I never once thought about going to the doctor though. On my best days I assumed it was because I was nursing and was still recovering from having a baby. On my worst days I just knew that I was dying. I was telling Luke all this when he casually remarked that it sounded like I was pregnant. Me, pregnant? Are you out of your mind, you crazy sperm loaded crazy man! I was still nursing, Miles was only ten months old, I hadn't even had a visit from "my old friend" yet, being pregnant wasn't a possibility. He went out that night and got a pregnancy test. Yep, I wasn't dying, I was pregnant.

So since I "think" I might have appendicitis I'm just going to post a bunch of pictures of things that make me happy. They might take my mind off of coming up with other things that this flu might be. Ooh, I just realized that things haven't been quite the same since Mexico. Maybe those gut rot bugs have grown into something more fearsome and fierce. Maybe they have grown into Mexican wood rats and they are running around gnawing on my bones and precious organs. Best not to think about it.
My Gramps and his garden.

This picture of my grandma.

Danger Baby doing what he does best.

Isobel. She likes to dress herself.

Miles. Poster boy for the NRA.

My new shoes and my baby's foot.

Our backyard, the wilderness where Bad Bad the Goblin lives and where the raccoons hide waiting to tear into our garbage.

My very handsome but weird husband and his brother.

Ooh, he's going to kill me.

Fried gizzards and hot sauce!!

I finally got to go back to my doctor yesterday. It's been more than a month I think since I was last tortured. We met to go over the results of all the testing I went through, not to mention all the swearing that I did. I went in not really thinking about anything. I didn't brace myself up for bad news and I didn't make a will. Speaking of wills, if Luke and I were to die we want our kids to go to the California Thompsons. I had to say that, you know, just to document it in some fashion. They shop at Ikea.

I was so tired from this past week and from the Bazaar that I almost felt bad for not having the energy to catalog my junk food obsessions out loud when asked about what my average running weight was. I asked the nice nurse if she was referring to, before Mexico or after Mexico, but she didn't know what I was talking about, naturally. Finally the doctor came in to give me the verdict. He sat silently in front of the computer screen for so long that I finally began to get worried. I don't do well with silences that seem like they're about to birth a brick wall so just to break the absence of sound I asked him if he preferred steak or chicken in his chalupas. He smiled and told me not to worry. I like my neurologist.

I'm very healthy. Which is a total surprise because I do things that aren't very healthy on a very regular basis. I have very low blood pressure and the heart rate of a kung fu master. My labs were great. No brain tumors, no liver problems, no arthritis, no MS, a small cyst in the sinuses but other than that all the things that you could possible worry about were healthy. But I do have a severe case of Raynaud's Disease. Raynaud's disease is a condition that causes some areas of your body — such as your fingers, toes, tip of your nose and your ears — to feel numb and cool in response to cold temperatures or stress. It's a disorder of the blood vessels that supply blood to your skin. During a Raynaud's attack, these arteries narrow, limiting blood circulation to affected areas.

Meaning, that my body begins to sacrifice itself digit by digit and extremity by extremity when the temperature gets to be about, oh 60 degrees or so, in order to save my vital organs. 60 degrees to my body seems like the coming of the ice age I guess. I cannot handle the cold. They have medications for this. So now I have to go see a specialist for Raynaud's Disease. Here, and I thought it was only my brain that was high crazy and high anxiety. Looks like my body freaks out too when the wind changes direction.



p.s. thanks to everyone who has been praying for me and sending me sweet words of encouragement. Love, hugs, and bugs.

P.S. I promise I'll be back soon after I can catch up on some sleep

I'm so tired. I'm so sleepy. I'm so wiped out. Being dorky takes it out of one. I've got so much to share with you. Also, I have one more post about "Mexico and California," one more post about, "The Laundry Room," one more post about, "My Condition," and one more post about, "My Thrifting Finds." So don't write your grandma just yet!

Here's a small pic of the Bazaar. It was my best display yet. Thanks to the crumbling walls and all. No really, they were awesome! That's my friend Brooke Raymond with Luke and Isobel and the fuzzy head of Greybear.It was a great weekend, but a very tiring one for someone so dorky and all.

This could save the world

David Bowie & The Arcade Fire-Wake Up

New from Chirp

Here's a few new things I've been working on this past week for the Urban Bazaar being held this weekend. All the shirts you see are blanks that I get from various different places. I just add the cute stuff to em. I was inspired by the necklines on these shirts so I had to try it out for myself. The rocket shirt is my very first attempt at totally destroying a shirt and rebuilding it. It didn't go fantastically but it didn't go horribly so that means I'm ok with it.

I'm tired of looking at it all, but hopefully you all will see something you like.



I will post the rest of my new stash some time soon. I'm just too tired to do it right now. Whatever doesn't sell this weekend I will be putting up in my Etsy shop. So stay tuned if you see anything you like!

Ninja of the night

This is Miles doing what he calls, "The Bedtime Ninja."

Old dogs & old tricks

Miles is teaching himself how to skateboard. He started on the grass where it wasn't so gnarly when he fell.Dude. He's serious.

He has since moved on to the driveway and the basement and has gained courage and skill. Luke and I are very proud of him, but we're really a little too busy trying to out skate each other at this point. We're much better now but we used to be extremely competitive about everything. When I first met him he didn't know much about David Bowie and I didn't know much about Prog Rock. But by the next time we saw each other we knew all there was to know about the subjects. Google is good for posing.
He didn't know much about noodling or honky tonks either but I still married him.

Are the sounds of a switchblade and a motorbike

Saturday night found us having a water balloon fight and a dinner time picnic in the backyard with some good friends.


The kids had a great time. I got tired of filling up the balloons.



After the fight Isobel decided that she needed a grapedog.
The real reason I'm even posting these pictures is because I'm avoiding the mess that the kids made while I was making dinner.

p.s. It's Elton John people! Not Nickelback!

Ha ha! I was just joking!

Right after I got through writing all that sweet stuff about Danger Baby he decided that tonight must be a good night to start crawling out of the crib. He's saying, "Hey mom, can you "really" see me now!"

A little quiet time with Danger Baby

Having three kids all close in age makes it kind of hard to spend one-on-one time with any of them. It seems like each one gets a little lost in the chaos and shuffle of daily life. It happens to me everyday. I will be going about trying to keep it all together and all of a sudden I see my kid. I mean really see them, and it always makes me want to cry. I stop and slow down and gather them up to me. I hug them tight, wrestle around with them a bit, tell them all the wonderful things I think about them, and then it's time to get back to it. The Baby is the hardest one to catch, but he is the one that wants attention the most. He can't help himself and it makes him really frustrated. When everything is going well and we are all running around playing together and working as a team he is super sweet and loving. He waddles around giving hugs and allows himself to be kissed. He loves to know that he is a part of something. He loves to be let into our big people world knowing that he has a place and that we want him to be there right beside us.

I had a little rare time alone with him today. Miles and Isobel went off with Grammy for a lunch and movie date. It was awkward at first. I didn't really know what to do with myself or with him. Finally I decided that I didn't want to do anything but sit and stare at him and let him show me what we were going to do. We went up to Isobel's room and just sat on the floor in the sunshine. He cuddled with me for a bit. Then we got busy building towers and letting Tigger and the Hot Wheels have their way with them. He was so sweet and so gentle and so earnest about everything. That's a side I rarely ever get to see. He wanted me to pay attention to everything he was doing. He really wanted to communicate and have me understand. He actually tried out some new words for me. He doesn't talk. He has very few words but understands almost everything you say to him and this makes him really frustrated and angry. But this afternoon I could tell he was really wanting to talk with me. He babbled and made cute monster noises and would imitate whatever I said or did. Then he had enough and went off to play on his own. I really needed that kind of quiet one-on-one time where I got to see him. Really see him.

Starbelly

If you or anyone you know is pregnant, stuffed with baby, about to pop, or filled with the outcome of sweet love then you need to check out my friends Brent and Wendy Anderson's new maternity line. It's called Starbelly, and I have to say it's fantastic. Their designs are lovely but they are even lovelier. You won't be disappointed. Shopping is a lot more fun when you can put a face to the name so here are a few shots of the Andersons.

Buy their stuff and tell them that I sent you!

Chirp for HALO

I'm not sure I like either one of these. Maybe I'm just getting tired of the old bird on fire look or something. I think the cicada looks a bit too splashy and paint by numberish, but maybe it works for some. I just hope that the good folks at the HALO charity auction will like them enough to bid a pretty penny. Let's cross our fingers now everyone.
Thanks to everyone who has supported this endeavor!

Noodling with Elvis and Chief Corndog

Wow, that Tulsa trip was something different. The trip down there found the Thompson family a wee too grumpy. We didn't feel like stopping at all the tiny towns in between and getting everyone out of the car, strapped into strollers just to work our way through tiny aisles of breakables while repeating ourselves over and over again, "DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING!" Before we left town I told myself that this wouldn't happen, that I would somehow buck up and do it anyway because there was bound to be a treasure somewhere. I told myself that we would make a game of it and that I would give each kid a dollar or two to buy something for themselves. Whateve Panda Bear.

Either my standards have gotten higher or that particular flea market in Tulsa has gotten bad. Way bad like. It was one hot, dirty hole of a place. It spanned both sides of the street, filled a huge strip mall, and spilled out and around giant parking lots. Sounds like fun doesn't it? So much to look at. Yeah, well I left that place feeling like I sold my soul at a loss. I hadn't sweat like that since I was asked to give a speech about adjustable dye lasers at the Tulsa Math and Science Academy back in 11th grade. It might be Mecca for someone who is in dire need of half empty bottles of vitamins, size 3 diapers, daggers shaped like dolphins, brass knuckles, and purple pleather boots with your birthstone embedded into the toe or basically the leftovers from any average garage sale. Oh, except I don't think you could find a picture of a Cherokee Princess dancing with what looked like Elvis fondly holding a corndog anywhere else. Wish I had had my camera.

Speaking of Cherokee Princesses I feel so horrifyingly embarrassed. Whenever I spent time with my dad's side of the family they loved to talk about how awesomely Native American we were. They loved to go on about how my aunt Olivia, who is now known as White Fawn Killswarrior, was married to a "political prisoner." He was unjustly spending time away from his tribe for trying to preserve his native rights to smoke or eat or whatever, peyote. By peyote they cutely meant crack, bathtub crank, chronic grown in the bathroom with the Lucky Tree Frog to watch over your crop kind of peyote. They passed around peace pipes that looked like little wooden paddles for gnomes. Everyone was invited to take an "enlightening" from the pipe. Parents, children, cats, dogs, or your cousin on probation was invited in to find out the truth that the White Man was trying to hide. My dad would play guitar after all the women would beg him and he would sing his songs and tell stories about how his daughters were really Cherokee Princesses. As a young girl I found all of this very overwhelming and scary, yet the part of being a Cherokee Princess held me afloat. I held onto that for many years proudly telling anyone who challenged my reason for being alive that not only was I an Indian but one of royalty. I was so proud of my kooky family for coming through for me in this way.

There is no such thing as a Cherokee Princess, or any other kind of Indian Princess for that matter. I embarrassingly remember telling a group of preteen girls about my royal lineage and how I felt the burden of My People. Man, do I feel hornswoggled.

I couldn't find one single thing to spend my sweet money on. How hard could it have been to put something on a table that looked like it belonged to a sweet old grandma from the 1950's and not something that belonged to a toothless grandma who lived off of sweet mash and White Lightning?

After leaving that place I didn't have the gumption to keep going. We hit one thrift store and that's where I found this lovely sheet. I think I'll stitch it up into a duvet cover and give it to Isobel. It's huge, king size, and I can't even imagine spending that kind of time embroidering something like this. It must have been something that a little gal did in her spare time for her trousseau. I'll post all my other thrift store finds from Kansas City when I get the before and after pictures taken. I found some cute stuff.

Maybe she was a Cherokee Princess with dreams of living a fancy free life without "The Burden."

On our trip home there was this giant blank looking white building with no windows and Miles asked Luke what it was. He told them that it was the Baby Monkey Toilet Making Training Center. Isobel laughed and said, "Looks like that's where we'll be dropping you off," and Miles added in and said, "Yeah, they'll teach you how to build a toilet!" After that Luke told them that if they could be quiet for one hour he would get them a milkshake.

McDonalds ran out of milkshakes.

Urban Bazaar

Come and see me at the West Bottoms Urban Bazaar! I'll be there this July 20th and 21st. There will be art, antiques, fashions, crafts, garage sale finds, and collectibles. Friday hours are from 5p.m to 10p.m. Saturday hours are from 9a.m. to 4p.m. It will be a long weekend so I would love to see your faces.

The Life of Peg

I spent some time with my good friends Peg and Larry a couple of months ago. We sat around drinking wine, catching up on life, and practicing our embroidery skills. Peg lent me this little scrap of fabric to practice my stitches. The sperm is all hers.

Living on Tulsa time

We're heading off to Tulsa for the weekend. We're going to visit my Gramps, plus Oklahoma has the best thrifting and antiquing! Hopefully they still do anyway. I'll be sure to post my finds from this trip and my recent Kansas City shopping. Hope everyone had a fun and safe fourth and sending warm wishes for a great weekend. See you all soon.

Hair today, gone tomorrow

Before

After

Viva Mexico Y California! Part 3: Going to California with an Aching in My Heart and a poem about Diet Coke

The plane ride from Mexico back to LA was long and it was not fun. For the first two hours GreyBear stormed the Normandy of our sanity and dashed everyone's hopes for peace and quiet. I was hot, sweaty, and miserable with embarrassment. Nothing worked. He threw the candy in the aisles, he tossed the books overhead, bit at the toys with violent rage, thrashed at the seat in front of us, climbed me like I didn't have feelings, roared at Luke when he tried to relieve me, then finally fell into a deep, heavy sleep. Even after all of the drama, once he was sleeping, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I got all weepy with how much I loved my giant, thug baby. I'm sure that's why God makes babies cute. So we don't plant them in the garden or offer them to the highest bidder.I was wiped out after the flight. But we still had to get through customs, get our bags, and rent a van. We were going back to Jonathon and Tricia's home. Three hours away! It was already midnight at this point. Maybe the car ride was only an hour and a half or something. It could have been ten minutes and I would have still wanted to die. So we get the luggage into the bus sized van, get the four car seats situated, and then the rest of us pile in like we just didn't care anymore. The kids were all crying because they were hungry, I was crying because of the bad light saber art in LA, and Jonathon was trying to navigate our van in and out of each fast food joint in sight. Some wanted McDonald's some wanted Taco Bell and some wanted Carl's Jr. I wanted a Diet Coke from McDonald's because they strangely have the best Diet Cokes. They're perfect. They're fantastic. They're beautiful. They're lovely. They didn't have any Diet Coke. They ran out. Who runs out of Diet Coke! This fun fact kept us all awake for about thirty minutes because it was stupid-o-clock and we thought everything was funnier if you ended it by saying, "I'm sorry, we're out of Diet Coke."

Everyone began to fall asleep but I was terrified that Jonathon would too. So I tried to stay awake and make small talk. I've never made smaller talk in my whole life.
Galadriel: So there's an IKEA. Have you guys ever shopped there?
LONG PAUSE
Jonathon: Yeah
LONG PAUSE
Jonathon: That's just the distribution center though.
REALLY LONG PAUSE
Galadriel: Yeah, I saw that.
REALLY REALLY LONG PAUSE
Galadriel: So, have you ever been to Bangkok?

That's where I lost him for good. I kept nodding off in between questions and waking up with a start every time he made a turn or hit a bump or whenever the wind changed direction. I also started to feel kind of bad all over. Like I was coming down with something.

Their home was a glorious sight. Too bad I spent my first night in their bathroom. They have nice bathrooms though.

He shops at IKEA.

Part 4: In what happens when you don't take the baby with you everywhere you go even when you have to pee

Viva Mexico Y California! Part 2: Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now and Micah found some booty

So much happened on our trip that I don't really know how to get it all out without it taking months of my life just to relay two weeks worth of vacation. Anyway, we went snorkeling in Mexico.

La de da de da bunch of crazy people! I wasn't going to go because it would be at the same time that my barracuda baby would be needing a nap and I wanted everyone to feel like they were getting what they paid for. Which is an adventure without the added drama of watching a hydrophobic woman and a cranky, sleepy toddler go at it under the hot sun on the deck of a boat floating in the ocean where monsters wait to eat you. It was a very convenient excuse. I just learned that hydrophobia is a fear of the water or of rabies. I wish that didn't make sense to me. Anyway, I decided to go after all because I couldn't bear the thought of being alone for a whole day while everyone else was happily playing Russian Roulette.

The bus ride over to the snorkeling beach was pretty exciting in itself. The bus blared some Guns N' Roses while trying not to kill us on the single car road that snaked through that crazy dense foliage that covers everything around there. Those Mexicans love themselves some Guns N' Roses. I found that if someone asked me a question and I didn't understand all I had to do was quote some G-N-R lyrics and they would hand me a margarita.That's Miles and his cousin Noah on the bus. That smiles says a lot.

When we walked onto the pier to get onto our boat I couldn't believe that there wasn't someone waiting there with a set of rules and instructions on how to not drown or get eaten. Everything seemed so unorganized and crazy. No one was walking around making sure you or your small child or three had a life vest on. No one counted heads, hands, feet, or anything. But they did make sure to laugh at me when I frantically grabbed a vest and wrapped the straps around me and under my crotch the wrong way. Ha ha made you laugh that was great now would you please not let me get eaten? I decided to go on this trip but I wasn't going to get into the water. The vest was so I would float in case the boat were to sink or I fell off while trying not to fall off. It was freaking crazy! Everyone just jumped right off the side of the boat like they knew what they were doing, and that jump wasn't a short one. The part where I almost lost it was when Luke asked me to help Miles down. What?! You mean I'm supposed to willingly throw my child into the ocean?! Miles really wanted to go so I threw some salt over my shoulder, crossed myself, turned around in a circle three times, prayed silently, prayed loudly, held my breath and dangled Miles off the side of the boat and let him drop into the water. He was fine.


After watching her cousins and brother get into the water Isobel had to go too. So Tricia said that she would take her. This was a defining moment in our relationship. Tricia jumped in and got herself ready to catch Iso. I repeated my "Oh Lord help me," performance and let Iso go. They made it about twenty strokes from the boat before Isobel had had enough. When you see your child in agony you will do just about anything to ease her pain. I still can't believe that, I without second thought, signaled to the pirate of the ship to keep an eye on Grey while I ran to the back of the boat and burned a path down the tiniest, most unstable, most worthless little ladder that lead right into the water to retrieve Isobel back to safety. She was crying and spitting water and being basically miserable. When I got her calmed down and wrapped up in warm dry towels and she was sipping on the first soda of her life she said to me, "I didn't know the ocean was salted." Like it was some kind of peanut or something.

The baby did better than I thought he would and basically just sat there eating crackers and dumping water on himself. I kept looking back and forth from him to the ocean hoping that he wouldn't want to get up and explore the boat and hoping that there wasn't any bright red out there where the crazy people were.
Everyone made it back fine and in one piece. Miles had a fantastic time and kept telling me about the alien egg pods he saw under the water. I asked him if he weren't mistaken and just saw some big round rocks instead but he was pretty sure they were not rocks but alien egg pods. I love that kid. When we got back to the beach everyone just sort of sat around in the sand or threw rocks at the trees trying to get the coconuts down. My nephew Micah went swimming out by the pirate boat and found a mans wedding ring. It was inscribed inside with a name and a date. The saddest part about the ring was that it looked like they got married this past March and must have been on their honeymoon when it got lost.Or he got eaten by a shark.

Another cute Chirp fan

I love this! I love that people are sending me pictures of their wee ones wearing Chirp. This is Sydney and I think she wears it well don't you?Thanks Deb for the lovely pic! Also thank you Lori for the fun pic of Grace and Libby. Hope to see you gals again soon.

The HALO foundation

Chirp has been asked by The HALO foundation to donate a clothing item for their silent auction. I feel so honored to be asked to do this. If you are interested in finding out more about HALO go to their website and check it out. I've decided not only to donate one item but two as a set and will start to donate 10% of Chirp's profits to HALO. I have grown very passionate about this and can't wait to get myself and my kids more involved. My kids are always talking about other children who "don't have mommies or daddies," and want to know what they can do to help. I think this is a great place to start.There are only 275 tickets up for sale at this black tie charity affair and they are prospected to go pretty fast. So if you're interested get in touch with them asap and come on out and support a good cause and bid on some great art.

Cutest Chirp fans

The best part of doing Chirp is all the people I get to meet. Saturday was fantastic for that. The show was a ton of fun and it was by far my best one yet. My favorite part was getting to see how happy people were while buying Chirp. I sold all my best pieces and it was awesome to meet the person buying the shirt. I didn't realize how hard it was going to be to part with some of that stuff but after talking to the lovely person for awhile I knew for certain that they were all going to a loving home.This is Grace and Libby. They were at the show doing a little run way work for another designer. It made my heart 1000% times bigger to see how excited the girls got about these shirts. Their moms bought my favorite pieces for them and some other of my favorites for littler members of the family. How sweet is it that they sent me a picture of them wearing Chirp! Such sweethearts.

In the next couple of days I'll be doing spotlights on some of the artists and designers that were at the show. They were all fantastic. They were all hot and awesome!

Viva Mexico Y California! Part 1: A Good Day for a White Wedding and Tequila Shots

Seriously, there is so much to talk about. After Luke spent a grueling amount of time driving to Chicago and standing in a line for 12 hours waiting to see if he could get my passport with four hundred other people waiting to get their passports he spent more grueling time driving straight back to Kansas City. Then we slept for three hours and then got up to board our plane to Mexico. He felt pretty victorious.

The kids did fantastic on their first plane ride. Miles never stopped being in awe of everything about the plane and the airports and the large crowds of people. Isobel was over it all after they brought her her own drink and bags of pretzels. GreyBear just did his usual thing by trying to eat everyone and everything in sight and trying to sneak off whenever he could. Luke said that I shouldn't worry about him getting kidnapped. He said that all we would have to do is wait right where we lost him and sooner than later the bad guy would bring him right back.
In Mexico there are pterodactyls in the ocean, manta rays floating in the sky and mermaids swimming between the trees. Or maybe that was all the tequila. Either way it's an enchanted place. That is until you get infected with gut eating bugs that make you curl up like a stiff, hot, dirty grub that's puking its life force out of both ends. I spent three whole days in a Montezuma coma, can you say Montezuma coma, good I knew you could. A fourth day in the hospital on a saline and antibiotic drip and the rest of the trip trying to figure out where all the days went. At least we were in California by that time and I was able to bless my older brother-in-law, Jonathon, with a viewing of my bright green vomit. We bonded in the hospital like that. I like to keep it real.

We went to Mexico to be a part of Matt and Stephanie's wedding and it was beautiful and I still can't believe that Matt is married. I met him when he was fifteen!
It was a lot of fun and it was so cute to see all the kids in their wedding clothes. Plus I got to get all dolled up too. I like getting dressed up. It either makes me feel great and confident or it makes me feel hot and dumb. I don't know why I would feel dumb. Maybe it's because that's when I usually put on the push-up bra and the sight of my girls looking so perky goes straight to my head and cuts off the oxygen flow.


That's Tricia my sister-in-law and tequila shot soulmate.

Tomorrow for part 2 I will tell you all about our snorkeling trip. I'm afraid of the water. Not just any water. I don't run screaming from the toilet or faint at the sight of a water bottle but I do go weak in the knees with fear when I see big open expanses of water. Especially the kind that have man eating monsters that lurk around in them.

I'll leave you with a picture of me impersonating a Mexican Wood rat. Or whatever those giant rodent like things were that scurried around at night while Tricia and I tried to get to our rooms.

We are back

We are finally back from our incredibly long vacation! We have lots to talk about you and I. But I won't be able to post again until who knows when because there is a ton to do. Maybe I'll see a few of you at the Rag Trade this Saturday. Yeah, I'm not at all worried that I have a show this Saturday and that we just got back. I have tons of pictures and stories to share and people to catch up with. I hope everyone has been having a great time. Drop me a line and tell me how you've been. Here's a pic to tide you over until the whole story comes out.I wish this were true! But between Luke and I we gained almost twenty pounds despite the fact that I spent almost a week sick in the bathroom.

Hope to see you Saturday!

Rag Trade

RAG TRADE = Makers and Sellers of Fashionable Clothing

WearHaus hosts one of the hottest fashion events of the year. On Saturday June 23rd, WearHaus presents “Rag Trade”, a fashion forward market with shopping, music and fashion shows throughout the day. The event, from 2:00pm-8:00pm, takes place at The Cross Gallery & Leedy-Voulkos Art Center (2012 Baltimore Ave) in the Cross Roads. Rag Trade will feature local talent in a market atmosphere where consumers are encouraged to meet and buy directly from the designers and artists themselves.

Rag Trade will feature jewelry, men’s, women’s and children’s clothing, handbags, paper goods, home décor, maternity wear and beauty products. Clothing donations will be accepted at the door for Hope House who is breaking the cycle of domestic violence. DJ Just and Clockwerk create the musical backdrop for the day while Magazines and Coffee provide refreshments and reading materials.

Rage Trade is all ages with a $6 cover. Donate gently used women’s and children’s jeans and shorts at the door to receive half off the admission fee. All donation items go directly to local women and children in need. Visit the wonderful fibers exhibit taking place during the show presented throughout The Cross Gallery and the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center at no additional fee.

Fashion Show times and details (made possible by Seven and HumaNature Salon:
· 3:00pm show featuring etak and Starbelly
· 5:00pm show featuring Cardinal Clothing, Janay A Handmade Wearables and ZipperFit with jewelry by Seapo Creations
· 7:00pm show featuring Take A Halliday, Miriam Coffey and Squasht by Les with jewelry by Rare Adornment.

Local designers in Rag Trade include:
Amuck
Ashestrash
Beaded Baubles
Bec’s Beads
Cardinal Clothing
Chirp Designs
Estate
etak Designs
Scarlett Garnet Jewelry Designs
Janay A Handmade Wearables
Katy Bird Designs
LOVER cosmetics
Miriam Coffey
Rare Adornment
rocha, ink.
Seapo Creations
Sevans Design
Squasht by Les
Starbelly
Take A Halliday
Terra Dea
ZipperFit.

In the past, WearHaus has drawn more than 1,000 people to these fabulous events and Rag Trade is expected to be bigger and better!

Tecate Light

We're in Mexico! I will have to tell you how we ended up getting our passports some day but it's a long and complicatedly impossible story and I don't have the desire to go into it right now. I wish everyone a happy week! Tell me what you are doing this week and weekend, I'd love to hear about it.
love, hugs, kisses, and bugs

PG 13

There are many things that happen here at the I Hate Laundry headquarters that never make it here on the blog. Many things. I have never really felt comfortable sharing with the world the more negative, sad, opinionated, really private, or even vulgar parts of my personality, daily thought processes, or my family life. I'm not saying that I find anything wrong with those who choose to do so. It's just that I don't have the courage to open myself up so vulnerably to such a wide audience. Call me a coward or call me private or call me weak but just don't call me Gail.

But! But, I'm going to come out a little from my comfort zone and share with you fine folks about some interesting things that have happened to me in the past couple of weeks. Things that I didn't know about myself because, well I've just never had to have a reason to have such privileged knowledge before now.

I've got some crazy stuff happening with my hands and feet and fingers and toes. First they get tingly, then the go kind of white and numb, and then if I'm real lucky they go dead. Not such much my hands. But my feet are a little dramatic about it all. So I've been seeing a new kind of doctor on an average of one a week for the past month. First it was the ol' family physician. He gave me a complete physical. My doctor is this clean cut Christian man who has six kids and all of them are home schooled and his wife always looks so pleasant and peaceful and it makes me kind of nervous to be around him because I always feel like not only can he see my funky bony feet but can see right to my very dirty soul. Plus this time he saw me nekkid and that's always a bit awkward. He then sent me to a neurologist. The neurologist and I had a great time. We talked and chatted like old chums. We shared our pasts and marveled about the mutual people we knew. Until we got to the part where he started to stick long slender needles into my muscles and wiggle them around. This was after his assistant had shocked my muscles a million times.

The neurologist then sent me to go get an MRI and then a cold water immersion test. The MRI was fine. I kept thinking the drum track and keyboards were going to kick in any second while I was in there. Those things make a ton of noise! It wasn't until the cold water immersion test that I learned something new about myself. I had to immerse my hands and feet, naked hands and feet, into a bucket of ice. Not cool plastic cubes of semi-frozen party ice cubes, but a deep bucket of the small easy to chew Sonic like ice. For four whole minutes! There have never been four longer minutes in history. To distract myself from the pain I thought I would talk to the nice sonographer about my kids right? I can talk all day about those lovely dumplings. But I found myself rattling off all the food I really wanted to eat when the test was done. It started out all gourmet with me even going so far as reciting a recipe or two. But it ended with me grimacing loudly about my favorite combos of junk food. I listed them all off quickly and without hesitation because I know them all by heart and keep them close. I would whine, "Fried bucket of chicken and sriracha!" "Jalapeño Krunchers and beer!" "Cheetos with ranch!" "Cheddar bacon fries with ranch!" "Thin crust pepperoni and mushroom pizza with ranch!" "Anything with ranch!"

That got me through but freaked out the lovely lady sonographer. I thought that little quirk was only relevant to cold water immersions because really who gets those on a regular basis? So we're going to Mexico in a few days, maybe, it depends on whether or not there really is a thing called a passport, and I thought this might be the best time if there was ever going to be a best time to get a Brazilian. For those who don't know I'm not talking about a new husband but a new hairdo, or lack thereof. I found out that my little junk food list making in times of pain is not just related to the intense introduction of freezing temperatures, but also to the intense pain of, you know. The first strip she ripped off from the top almost made me puke and after my stomach slammed back down out of orbit I heard myself yelling, "Fried bucket of chicken with sweet baby Jesus!" I soldiered through a few more goes at it but let's say that I didn't let her finish her job because I couldn't breath through all the tears and incoherent ramblings of junk food mixed with blasphemies of our Lord. She felt so sorry for me that she didn't even make me pay for the twenty minutes of torture I put her through.

The only diagnosis I have gotten so far about any of my problems has come from my husband who says that I look like I have an Under Wookie. You know, down there.

My husband's pink rocket

What? You thought what! You thought I was talking about "that" pink rocket? What a bunch of dirty pervs you all are! I'm talking about another one of the Thompson family hobbies. Rocket building and rocket launching.
Luke let Isobel decide the color scheme and sticker layout for this rocket and it is very Isobel. It was a smashing launch. The night was perfect, the take off fiery and exciting, and the landing a bang up. We like to do the count down at historic Minor Park. It is a beautiful, open expanse of natural Missouri history.



Things went great for the first launch. The kids were excited and so was I. The train passed by and everything felt alright with the world. But, Luke decided we needed to go ahead and launch the remaining parts of the rocket just for fun. What you don't see is the fact that this thing shot up then started to spiral towards us and ended up only a few feet away in a blazing heap of hot fire. Sounded like a good idea at the time. Everybody went home with all their digits and hair intact, but it looks like someone didn't end up as lucky as we were. At least we got to take home all the parts of our broken pink rocket.

Come on down

I Hate Laundry has just been added to DelightfulBlogs as one of their featured sites in their blog directory. Be a good friend and visit their hot and awesome site and leave a comment and a rating for I Hate Laundry. Love, hugs, kisses, and bugs everyone!

He prefers heels

It started so innocently.



But ended up so...

WMDs

Another go at it

We're looking at a little something more wild for this five year old. Something that says let's have some fun! Wild, fun, crazy, colorful, and over-the-top. Maybe this one will work.

Firsts of the season

The late frost we had did some real damage around here and it has taken everything a long time to bounce back. The lilacs bloomed for a few days and then got shredded by the cold. Shredded I say! I love those lilacs but had such a tiny little window of time to enjoy them. We have a lovely purple one that blooms right outside our bedroom window that I wait all year for. The vegetable garden isn't doing too hot either. Most of it died and needed replanting. The peonies are sad looking and only a few flowers have managed to bloom. The kids love to check on them every day to see if any more have opened up but I don't think they're going to. But some things are coming around and it all makes me very muy mucho happy.

I was kissin' Valentino

This is how every Sunday should be spent. Good friends, good food, and good times!

The lovers, the dreamers and me

I have been asked to make a dress for a sweet little five year old who loves rainbows. Hopefully she'll still love them after I'm done with the dress.


Who knows, she might take one look at it and decide that unicorns are where it's at.

MADC

This is what happens when you clean and drink. Brace yourselves! I know this looks like a crime scene but it's really just the bathroom of a woman whose kids are away for the day. All three kids spent the day with their Papa while I went to the doctor's and then cleaned some all too neglected messes. While I was in the bathroom I decided I needed to go ahead and have a glass of wine because cleaning the bathroom kind of requires a medicated approach. I was in there scrubbing away when the phone rang. When the phone rings at that time of day I'm pretty sure it's Luke and I still get just as excited about his phone calls as I did when we were first dating. I quickly propped the broom up against the wall and made a mad dash downstairs for the phone. As I was about a third of the way down I heard the crash of glass. The broom slid against the wall and found its way to the glass of wine and knocked that lovely little f'er over. I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to answer the phone. We talked for a long time. Long enough for me to forget about the bathroom. After the phone conversation I walked upstairs to try and remember what I was doing before the phone call and that's when I saw the glory of the bathroom. WTF!
Anyway, while cleaning that mess up I found this. This is the card that Luke made me for Mother's Day. I love my iconography but this is kind of creepy. I mean it looks like I'm about to eat the baby, the baby looks like he's about to puke, Iso looks like she's about to knit some celestial robe, and Miles looks like he's about to slay himself some baby. It's the intention that counts right?

MILES LOBE MOM

Kids somehow sense when you need an extra dose of love and flowers.
Miles is currently learning how to read and is constantly practicing his writing. You can hear him quietly trying to sound out and spell things while he's playing. It's a very interesting process to be a part of. I just adore it that he includes me in his achievements. He's such a lobeable little guy.

Hi, spy!

We had a juvenile robin hop and skip around our yard all day. The kids were looking out our bedroom windows into the backyard and were discussing what kind of bird they thought was sitting on our picnic table. I was listening from the other room, and their conversation went something like this,
Mil