I have to do my taxes. My mother is coming this weekend which means I need to scrub the entire house. My laundry is in competition with my dirty dishes to see who can accumulate faster. But after reading a friends blog and realizing that I couldn't even remember my password for this one I decided to shelf it all and write a post.



It will be a short one. Baby steps.



I have been helping Steven set up a blog with his artwork. Since moving to Brattleboro four years ago he has sporadically painted. This is frustrating to me because he used to paint all the time. I have many photos of Lydia wearing a paint covered garbage bag in her dad's studio. Steven was always the person who actually produced art, while I have been the super procrastinator of our duo. My taxes?



I like being around people that create. I like to say it inspires me. But it inspires me no more than reading Martha Stewart Living. "Oh.... your tinting your walls with homemade paint made with milk, tell me more" is interchangeable with "wow look at these Victorian sculptures made from real human hair that Martha collects". I genuinely love to see what others create, but with me it's all about the ideas.



RECENT IDEAS BY ME

1. block printing or silk screening on textiles then making curtains (I've thought about this a lot lately mostly because it involves a book I want that costs $50)

2. making some spring clothes for Lydia, I swear I've been designing clothes in my mind for her for 10 years (yes I know she is 7)

3. write a book about finding my dad, also not a new idea, yet seems to reemerge with change of seasons

4.make a quilt about the Owl and the Pussycat

I could go on and on.

Luckily I have friends who do amazing things. They do all sorts of great things. I have a friend that writes screenplays (even one titled after me). I have a dear friend that knits beautiful clothing and clever animals. Another good friend is rehabbing a Gothic style home. At Lydia's birthday party she got a homemade hula-hoop for the love of god.

How did I get here...

"you may ask yourself- well how did I get here?" Talking Heads

I refer to this song, pretty much daily. It's not because I love David Byrne (I do), but it seems like I can never truly believe that this is my life. This introspection is not of the existential variety, it is more concrete.

How did I end up in small town Vermont?
At which crossroads did I do an about face and fall in love with a man 14 years my senior who has very little in common with me outside of our admiration for Davis Byrne?
When did it become reality that I would work for and very closely with an obsessive compulsive son with a serious Oedipus complex?

These questions may never be answered, but my longing for some understanding may not elude me for long.
I have joined ancestry.com.

A lot of people are interested in genealogy. It's fun to dive into the past, the same way it's fun to rifle through boxes in your grandparents basement. I wonder if my curiousity of the unknown isn't sparked by the fact that I know little to nothing about my fathers side of my family. There is a ton of information about my mothers side of the family, which is made easier by the fact that I know the names of most relatives going back four generations. Italians pass down family history the way they pass down recipes. While I like learning more about them it's the unknown characters of my paternal side that turned me into a fixated, family tree detective.

These are the things I do know about my paternal side : the names of my father and his parents, my grandparents divorced after having only one child together (spoiler alert), and that my father grew up southern RI.

After many an hour on my new favorite time wasting website of choice I have come up with some pretty intersting information:
My paternal grandmother's parents immigrated form Poland to the US.
They were most likely Jewish.
My child is the only child of a mother who was an only child of her father who was the only child of his mother who was the only child of her parents. Confused yet? Needless to say, not a lot of extended family on that end.
My father's father moved to the south, remarried and had three more children. In his obituary there was no mention of my father. This makes me a little sad and also more understanding of the fact that he is a total flake of a parent.
I know the names of my grandfather's other children (an aunt and two uncles) and have seen one of them on facebook.

Now what to do with this information?
Is this my way of knowing my father without having to know him?
Has the internet opened an unnatural portal that should be less easily navigated for a reason?

I'll let you know once Steven's family tree starts to grow. I've started one for him too, mainly because like me he knows very little about his father and his fathers family. I started this "work" under the guise that Lydia should know this information. But really it's because my family tree's trail is getting cold and I can't stop.

and to think I was optimistic

The last few days have been a roller coaster ride the way only New England weather and being a parent of a six year old can be. One day you've got every window in the house open, clothes blowing dry on the line. The next morning you are bobsledding down a icy snow covered mountain and are sad to realize that your forgotten laundry is still on the line now frozen solid.


The daffodils in this picture were bought out of early spring fever. Little did I know there would be an actual full blown winter fever in our house.
Lydia whose temperature rarely rises above 101 degrees woke up Saturday morning in a complete fog with a temp of 104.6. This freaked me out enough but then she started saying things like "I think our living room has turned into a boat" and "my feet don't feel like they are touching the floor " while walking down the stairs. She could barely open her eyes, like a little mole in the sun, because they hurt so much. Cheeks as red as a July sunburn.
After vomiting in the doctors office and sleeping for most of the day cuddled in bed with me to stop the shivering she seemed to be on the mend. Sunday morning she was jumping around and had a small appetite. She was back, or so it seemed. We decided to go on a little walk. It was such a gorgeous day it was too hard to resist. Fresh air will do her good, right?
I knew I was in trouble when we got to Amy's bakery and she said she didn't want anything except water. She was a trooper and we finally made it back home, even though she needed to keep her eyes shut for most of the walk. When we got home her temp was up to 105.2. She fell asleep for another three hours only to be woken up by the cold compresses needed to get her fever down.
Now it's Monday and it is snowy and slushy and Lydia's temperature is down to 99.6. I'm relieved she's OK (note to self: never google - 104 fever, vomit and hallucinations together). But now I'm stuck in the house with a bored child who only has an appetite for Popsicles and apple juice (aka crazy juice). But my daffodils are open and I know it's spring somewhere.

Where's my riot grrrl?

I'm a body hater. I don't hate anyone else's body.
I'm not very angry at mine at the moment either, but I have been a serious body hater in the past. I believe this form of self destructive behavior should be treated like any other debilitating behavior. You might be in remission, but if you were a body hater there is always a body hater in you. .

Of course I still have self doubt. But I like myself now and unless I'm trying on bathing suits I'm fine with me. I've already wasted enough time and energy, no more.

When I was pregnant with Lydia I was terrified to have either a boy or girl. A boy baby because of the unknown territory . A girl baby because of the danger of the known terrain. I knew one thing for sure, I was going to do anything possible to prevent my child from being body obsessed. I would raise a strong, healthy, happy person.

The words fat and diet were stripped from our vocabulary. I never put myself down in front of Lydia and I try not to let anyone else do either. I talk about exercise as a thing that helps you to fell good inside and out.

So when my 5 year old daughter walked into the kitchen and said, "I'm exercising in the living room", I replied "that's great sweetie, I bet it feels good to dance around." Then a steam engine appeared from nowhere and plowed me over, "I'm exercising to get skinny, I don't want to be fat."

After about five minutes of a very poor, unscripted, mishmash of a lecture Lydia says, "your just trying to make me feel good."

So... I checked out four books today from the library 101 Ways To Help Your Daughter Love Here Body, The Confident Child, Reviving Ophelia and How To Mother A Successful Daughter.

I'll let you in on my plan of action once I've gotten through these books. If anything it may improve my lecture.

Crazy Cat (lil') Lady

When I hear a story about a woman with 10+ cat's in her home I always wonder: when did this begin? Most of these stories center around a woman who lives alone. You never hear positive stories about these overly enthusiastic animal lovers. More likely the stories villanize the woman with headlines such as "Crazy Cat Lady's Home Condemned 37 Cats Placed in Shelter". Or "Cat Corpse Found in Old Ladies Freezer". Well what is an elderly woman supposed to do with a cat corpse in the dead of winter? No pun intended.



Whether the feline loving "perpetrator" is just lonely and needy. Or desperately feels the obligation to care for homeless, hungry animals. It's hard for me to believe that the person is acquiring mass amounts of pets out of malice. I'm sure it just got out of control, like a collection of angel figurines. Knowing you like angels everyone starts to give you new angels, before you know it you've got a home full of the things. These people probably were eccentrics their entire lives. I doubt their family members and friends were surprised to find that the person had a few too many cats. There must have been warning signs.

Was there a photo taken like the one below of them when they were five? Or maybe Lydia is just a visionary and she will cultivate the "Shabby Kitty Lover Chic" look. Only time will tell.

Bored? yes, This Lonely? No

Lately I've been a little bored. Well a lot bored. On more than one occasion I have referred to my brain as oatmeal.
Steven has worked extra hours over the past few weeks. He hasn't had a day off in a long time. When he gets home he's tired and I have nothing to talk about . I totally miss him. But, I don't miss him this much. The customer reviews of this thing are unbearably funny. (For some reason I can't get it to link. Go to Overstocks.com and then type in "hug me pillow") One hopes that some are fake, but either way they are amazing. There's a person who sleeps with 5 of them, so that it feels like there is a family in bed with her.

But you know there are people out there that are comforted by this half torso. And for that I applaud this product. Sometimes in all the gloom and doom it's nice to have a strong arm to rest your head on.

I'm not sure I could ever get passed the fact that it seems like a dismembered body part. It doesn't help that the hand appears to be backwards. I also have never been partial to men that wear oxford shirts. An old, stinky rock tee from a band that hasn't played since 1993 and then we'll talk.

Shopping Lists

I feel like you can tell a lot about a person or their momentary situation when you look at what they buy at the grocery store. I think you can tell the most in the 10 or less lines. The fewer the items the better for a simple case study.


What do you think of the guy in front of you that buys a box of diapers, bacon, toothpaste, a can of tuna and a thirty pack of Bud. Or the woman who buys organic milk, tofu, prune juice, Mike and Ikes and a family size bag of Doritos. You can draw your own conclusions about their current situation. When running in to get a few things, what is that extra impulse buy? I imagine what the cashier might think of my purchases. I think about this whenever I buy tampons for some reason. I never just buy tampons. I'm usually in the supermarket and pick up a few other things. Is it normal to feel self conscious when I also get a bag of chocolate chips and a bottle of red wine with the tampons at nine in the morning?

On the nights that I work I can expect to get a phone call from the son of the woman that I take care of. He always seems desperate for something. I will preface this with he has a huge supply of everything they need. I have never had to pick something up that they don't already have at the house. Most night it's just a few things : ice, large Ziploc bags and smoked salmon one night. Sometimes he wants more things I emphasis want not need. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind picking a few things up for us (us?) at the co-op. I already called over there and asked them what sort of soup they have and if there is anything wonderful like moussaka. I'm not interested in what they have so could you just get me a few things. It would be really great and it would really help me and mom out."
After twenty minutes on the phone while he rummages through his kitchen here is the list:
2 glass bottles half gallon whole milk McNamara farm
2 organic veggie juice
2 blood orange Knutzen sparkling juice
2 organic Apple and Eve cranberry juice.
as many bottles as possible Nantucket Nectar's lemonade
5 bottles tonic water
4 four-packs sugar cane cola
4 four-packs root beer
8 gallons distilled water
2 six-packs Heineken
6 bottles sparkling water
1 and a half pounds ham sliced 1/16 of an inch
six navel oranges
mild salsa
a bag of ice
and mixed nuts
I'll tell you who was the mixed nut.
That would be me, as I braved sub zero weather to get all these beverages and random items in an empty store at 9:00 pm (in our town that's like 11:30 anywhere else).
And when I got to the cashier I couldn't help but wonder, "where does she think I am headed?"

Bratz Attack

These moments come and go.

Every so often Lydia gets into something that I am horrified by.

This isn't the "I'm horrified, but really sort of happy" moment like when your daughter begins to love salamanders and caterpillars and tries to kiss them or expresses interest in playing ice hockey.

It's more the "I want pom poms to be a real cheerleader" moments.

The Cinderella obsession of age three followed by the Princess period of age four were easy enough to deal with. I liked princesses as a kid and I agree it is fun to have a costume of every character down to Pocahontas (yes she is a princess be it a less popular one). I even feel like I am to blame for this Disney saturation in some ways. It's sweet and cute to see your little one in a baby blue sparkly ball gown, it makes them look like one of those weird paintings of a royal child in the 1500's.

It is a little upsetting that most Disney princesses are waiting to be rescued by princes and usually the only friends they have are animals. I won't even bring up the mother abandonment hang ups. But all of this I can blow off as theatrics and drama, it adds to the story. Lydia has never even mentioned a prince, she really doesn't seem bothered. The mother issue also went under the radar. She loves to talk to animals and is forever dressing her lions and rabbit's in tutu's and gowns, but this doesn't seem to be a precursor for adult hang ups. Of course the self absorbed mother in me would love to think, "she could care less about those Disney Diva's". But I've been trying to remember (and remember and remember...) that she has her own taste and this taste needs to be respected. And in most cases she has better taste than I do anyway.

Now enter the Bratz. You know them, the big head /little body, lips lined in dark purple, street walker ensemble dolls. I have avoided them at all cost. I will not even entertain the idea of buying one. I've used many excuses: "Santa doesn't make lady of the night dolls" and "those are way too expensive, it costs a lot to get a doll that looks that cheap".

It worked for a while. That is until Lydia got a $25.00 Target gift card to spend on her own and has begun to read prices. Now she has decided she wants Neveah (someone had to fill me in that this is Heaven spelled backwards) and Peyton, a set of twin good girl/ bad girl Bratz. Will these dolls destroy her body image or turn her into a tart (Steven's words not mine). I doubt it. Will she think that this is what women should look like? Probably not. So I let her order them online.

The irony of the situation is, the gift card is from my re-born christian uncle. Can't wait for him to get a picture of the toy in the thank you card.

x-mas and new years true love

It's not every Christmas that you can say that you really feel the love from someone close by the gift that they give you. Yes I realize that you should feel the love without a gift, and I do from these gift givers. It's just that sometimes when you give a gift or receive one you feel like the person whether it be yourself or someone else, has missed the mark.

Well this Christmas for our family was a winner in the "I feel the love" gift category.

I'll start with Lyd.
Without a shadow of a doubt she felt the love from Santa and now shares this love with Elizabeth Cole her A.G. doll. (A.G. is not getting any publicity from me they already swindled Santa out of $115.00 bucks). This doll was the constant topic of most conversations over the last 8 months since our first catalog arrived. And it was serious love at first sight in a way that only a five year old could feel about a doll. It doesn't hurt that Elizabeth is a colonial loyalist. God save the Queen!
I also experienced love when I opened my present from Allison. I've hinted a lot over the past year and my x-mas wish came true. I got the softest most stylish scarf a girl could want. And I got it in the most awesome color green. Check out my peeps in this photo a total match.

Whether Steven's Mum is sending Lydia sets of sweat pant track suits or pink camouflage coats she always knows exactly what she would love. I might cringe when Lydia opens the box, but never has she sent anything without Lydia's taste in mind. She made no mistake when sending us out family present.

The brits might be a little fashion kooky, but they know their sweets. Candy love.

I wasn't even sure that Steven would like this present. But when he unwrapped it he was in awe. The Mr. Fawlty in Steven could not suppress his glee. Not because he needs an autographed photo of Basil but because it was an item that he didn't know he ever wanted (or ever existed) but was something that is so fun to have.
I know that Christmas is not about what you get or what you give, but sometimes the things that you do get actually make you feel more of the love.

Oh, it was also great that our friend Jeremy at first glance, thought the Fawlty photo was a picture of someone in our family. That my friends is priceless.

Martha Stewart why do you always fail me?

Why does every Martha project that I try turn into something that looks like it was made by a mad man? Is it possible that Martha is setting me up for failure? In some not so passive but very aggressive way is she trying to make every inspiring crafty to fail miserably so they just continue to watch her in awe?


This theory began about ten years ago when Corinne and I set out to make x-mas cookies using a Martha recipe. They were cut out sugar cookies with icing. In hindsight I have no idea why we choose the Martha recipe for such a basic cookie, I think we figured it was the best. We were trying to impress. The cookies were a total disaster. They melted all over the pan turning our cookie cutter stars into lumpy blobs and our santas into turtles. But we pressed on continuing to make about 6 dozen super "crispy" oddly shaped cookies with runny sticky icing.

Now I do love to watch Martha especially her older show on Fine Living. Which brings me to my next Martha debacle. I'll just call them Martha's Balls. They are ornaments made with string that harden and then you coat them with glitter.

On the show they looked so easy to make. I thinks she might have even said "only a moron could fuck this project up". She blew up some small balloons and coated them with Pam. I didn't have Pam (this was my first mistake NEVER improvise with Martha) so I coated the balloons lightly with cooking oil. Then you wrap the balloons with string, after the string is secure coat with glue. Let dry and harden then pop the balloon and coat with glitter.

Now Martha dried her balls with a super intense ionic dryer of some sort for effect. But she said "if you don't have one of these fancy tools created at NASA especially for me, then let them dry for a few hours".

Well I let them dry overnight, but when I popped the balloon the string just collapsed into itself and turned into a sticky lumpy mess. Recognize a pattern here.

I will not give up on this project. I am buying Pam today and if that doesn't work I'm calling NASA.

What do you do when you have some extra time? Obviously not blog.

Maybe I've been feeling a little less than secure or maybe I am just a chronic procrastinator, but I have been avoiding the blog.

I have gotten a few things done. I finally finished the curtains that I have been planning for the better part of a year.



I think that they are rather snazzy. I need to find a solution for the under layer to get rid of the lace. Maybe a sheer or a roman shade. I'm not sure.

I also actually made a present for one of Lyd's friends. A cute little sparkly apron. Which I whipped together in under an hour with no pattern. If only I could say focused and motivated, I might be able to get more things done. My creative inspiration Allison may be able to help me with the hat I started to knit in 2003.

New motto: More creative projects Yes! More "Gavin and Stacey" No!

I should say that I also have been going to the gym religiously (four a week that's as religious as I get). And I have some noticed a few (small as they may be) positive changes. Now that I'm up to 3 miles, I want to get on some sort of 5k road race circuit for the spring with my exercise inspiration Corinne.

You know meet up in Poughkeepsie or some other random place for the weekend, run 3 miles then go for dinner and drinks. Sounds like motivation to me.

What do you do when you get fired from your dream job?

So I started my new job about a month ago, (mercury was in retrograde at the time). This astronomical fact was noted by my new employer. I should have run for the hills but I was too excited.

This was my dream job. My employers were sucessful authors/ visionaries/ personal restructurers. The setting was a beautiful location of Vermont, overlooking rolling hills in a refurbished 1830's farmhouse, with a boss who wears Couture. The anticipated projects were exciting. I would be an event planner/ copy editor/ administrative assistant/ production queen/ the overall go to girl. I was up for the task and rearing to go. I felt like finally everything was in line and I would get to do the job I always dreamed I was capable of doing.

These are but a few of the assignments I was given:

I planned an organic menu of four meals for forty people with the personal chef.

I trademarked a phrase and a book title.

I drove with one of my employers to Boston to pick up his car. And used my mad Boston skills to find the car shop that was hidden down a back alley. He is the craziest driver. I have driven with some crazy drivers, The Netherlands, Italy, Budapest and Liz Caulfield etc. I know crazy drivers when I see them. So I also got to see my life flashing before my eyes several times while on the time clock.

I picked up a deceased dogs ashes from a creepy pet funeral home.

I picked up one of my employers MRI.

Unfortunately my car broke down so I wasn't able to drive one of my employers to the dentist for a cleaning while she was on Valium to calm her nerves.

I edited a website daily.

I responded to a months worth of e-mails.

I made an appointment for the cat of my employers daughter who was suffering from an undisclosed illness. I have never seen nor know the age of this feline. When I called, the vet rightfully thought I was on crack.

I read and proofed 30 + stories about Transcendence from people all over the world. A very transcendent experience.

I drove an amazing Jaguar (to get inspected).

I was positive. I liked it. I was always busy and really felt like everything was going great.

Then I'm not sure what happened.

I forgot to turn the answering machine on when I left on Thursday.

I said that I couldn't drive to Boston on Sunday morning to drop one of the employers off at the airport.

Or maybe I am completely oblivious and just sucked.

But on Friday I got the can, I left graciously with one weeks extra pay and a boulder in my stomach. I cried like a baby on the way home.

And now I'm back to ground zero.

The worst part of all of this is I really wanted this to be great.

Tag a Tree

For the first time in a while I feel slightly ahead of the game. I started a job last week that I actually enjoy. I've been going to the gym. And for the first time ever I've managed to actually tag a tree pre-holiday rush. Never have I felt so organized.
It doesn't take much.

This is Steven and Lydia with our x-mas tree 2008.
I think we are more excited about Christmas this year because for the first time we will celebrate at our home. We will get to wake up Christmas morning and sit in our PJ's, opening presents and drinking coffee with Baily's. We won't have to rush around like lunatics in a mad frenzy to get to RI in time and we will get to plan the day on our terms. This means mostly eating, drinking and being merry without feeling the compulsion to clean for five hours of the day.


This is Lydia with our tree 2014, I really could not see getting it today, since the trees were a flat rate of $32.00. Steven humor went undetected when he asked the woman whose was manning the information table, "do you have any Canadian Trees?"

When we pick up our tree, December 14th I can only hope that the road is this clear.
Gorgeous little x-mas tree gumdrops.

Yes, it seems that the Lord himself has blessed our tree. We will have a joyous Christmas after all.

Welcome Naomi !!!!!

I could not have been more excited today when I opened my e-mail and realized that Liz and Ivano had a baby girl yesterday. I had a dream a few months ago and in it I knew if they were having a boy or girl. I told Liz, but now I have no idea what I dreamt. It doesn't matter, after seeing these pictures it seems like I've known forever that Naomi was coming.


I'm so happy for Liz and Ivano. I'm so excited that Naomi is going to have the luxury of a rockin' mom and a super hero of a dad. I'm also just so proud of my dear friend because she has followed her dreams unrelentingly. She has had more adventures, lived in more places and befriended more people than most people will in their lifetimes. (can you tell I dig this girl?)
I have always said that I want to raise Lydia to be like Liz. To have great confidence in herself and her friends and to take giant risks in order to fulfill her dreams. I do hope that Lydia doesn't break as many bones as Liz has in this pursuit. I wish the Daniele family all the happiness and adventures that they can handle. And take your time kids, it will be five years later before you know it.

Back to School Rules!

I don't really remember when I actually felt this way as a student. I'm sure somewhere before third grade I was totally excited about starting school. Don't get me wrong I did enjoy a lot of it, I liked the social aspect, I loved music class as a kid (oh Don Gato was a cat...) and I loved art. But I remember also counting the days left of summer vacation like it was an execution stay. So I have to say I was a little surprised when Lyd got up at 6:00am like it was x-mas morning and was bouncing with excitement on the first day of school.

She picked out her smart new outfit and was rearing to go. I on the other hand was a bit of a mess. Yes, I was that mom who was crying during all school sings rendition of "This Land in Your Land". And of course out of all the kids mine was the one who seemed perfectly content to sit in the middle of her new B.F.F. on the auditorium floor while I'm ten rows back trying to wipe the mascara from my cheeks with an old supermarket receipt from the bottom of my pocketbook.
Steven handled it much better. But I was amazed at how impressed he was of the school and the administration. I love Lyd's school and think it's a great fit for her. It's small (one class per grade) and it has some diversity which is rare in VT.
But I swear you'd think Steven grew up during the great depression or in some sort of training school the way he was acting. "Wow they have a music program and art classes, that is really great, she's gonna love this." and "There are so many windows and natural light, it's really nice in here." Although he really hates that the kids don't wear uniforms and has managed to bring the topic up with almost every parent or school employee he meets. So everything seems to be falling into place. It has been only two days so far. And this morning on the third day Lydia asked over breakfast with squinted, suspicious eyes...."so what are you going to do all day while I'm working hard at school?" Steven looked over with the same expression.

I on the other hand just sipped my ice coffee, School does Rule.

End of Summer

Where did the summer go?
I'm really having a tough time grasping the idea that Lydia starts kindergarten tomorrow. Not only does it seem that the summer has flown by, but I also am really having a tough time with the idea that my child is no longer a preschooler. I've come to the realization that this isn't really about her. She is more than ready to start full time school and thanks to grandma she's got the wardrobe to prove it.
This is totally about me.
The past five years have let me be a mom. Everything else that I have done was just extra-curricular. If I wasn't happy with my job I could fall back on the idea that it was just temporary until Lydia was in school. If I got a bad grade in a class it was the result not having enough time to study. When I stopped running and working out it was because it didn't seem like I could fit it in. I now have a great schedule with tons of free time to work out 5 days a week and to study all afternoon.
But I'm not so sure I'm ready for my old life after all. I know I should just get over it and be happy for god's sake, but I'm totally bummed. I'm going to miss the girl. I feel a little weird watching Arthur alone. This is how I feel in this moment, we'll see how I feel tomorrow after my first full day of freedom.
Here are some high lights of the summer.
FARM MADNESS

Chalk Outside the Museum Proud Soccer Girl
Proud Soccer Dad
None of this anxiety is helped by the fact that Roxy, my cat is on her last legs and has an ominous vet appointment tomorrow after I drop off Lydia for her first day of school.

Yes, I am the mom who kills the cat on her daughter's first day of school. How many years of therapy will it take to right that one.

When it's not raining we...

Pick blueberries. We are trying to freeze at least twenty pounds of blueberries this year. Last year we froze 15 pounds and ran out in October. We were well on our way this year we already had about 8 pounds in the freezer when our fridge died and we lost them all. We are now back to ground zero. Not that I mind going back to Green Mountain Orchard, were there is always something yummy being baked.





Spend time with friends. My dear friend Allison and her sons brought Lydia and I to the Cheshire Fair last week. The kids had a great time. They got to see a lot of animals and pretend to farm
Lydia was more than happy to go on every ride possible for a child of her height. I swear that girl worries me. I think it's great that she is so adventurous, I just wish she had a little bit of apprehension.

Today it's raining, again. Off to the library.

Camp Crazy!

So day camp is officially over.

My two weeks of alone time is done.

I'm actually pretty proud of myself because instead of sitting around all day and watching A & E I actually got some things done.

During this time I single handedly cleaned the attic.

I read three books, (I recommend The Wishbones by Tom Perrotta ).

I cleaned out our bedroom closet (there were still things in there unpacked from when we moved in 2006).

I not only got the roofers to call me back but they came AND actually went on the roof and replaced some loose slates and fixed things.

The garden looks somewhat healthy.

And when it wasn't down pouring, I exercised.

Also Steven and I spent one day together alone, we went out for sushi and took a mid day nap.

For a slacker like me I'm pretty happy with my accomplishments.



And from what I can make out Lydia had a good time too. When she wasn't too exhausted to speak she told vivid tales of the "mystery players". From what I can piece together these are two camp counselors in costume who the kids believe are people who live in the woods and only come out when the they are good. She also was super excited because we opted to let her have the lunch, which is basically the summer camp version of school lunch. Taco day and chocolate milk were the highlights.
But the biggest change I witnessed was here new alter ego:
"Camp Crazy Girl".

This is the child that now dances around and says "oh yeah, oh yeah!", like Vinnie Bobarino, "we bad, we bad", usually with her thumbs in the air.
She also goes "Ugh!" a lot when kicking a ball or high fiving someone. It's something between WWF meets Saturday Night Fever. And this morning at breakfast she yelled "Awwwsum" while eating pancakes. Well that might actually come from me.

Where does she get the stamina?

I worked the last two nights from 9:00pm - 7:30 am, and although I got to sleep some I can understand why I'm a little tired. But still I am always totally floored at the fact that Lydia can pretty much be on the go from 6 am - 8:30 at night. I don't know how she does it.

This morning she had her yearly physical, where the doctor said basically she's super healthy (this in itself is amazing to me). She had three huge shots, which made her a little sluggish for about 5 minutes (sort of like if you shot a humongous grizzly with one tiny tranquilizer dart).

After that we went to the grocery store where Lydia not only helped me with my list but also helped me put the groceries away. After that we went to the pool and she got to swim and play with friends.

Then at 3:45 we picked up her friend Sebastian and went to the library where we built bugs out of food (well candy). It's now 7:00 and I am officially done but the gal keeps truckin'. She wants to act out a story and suggests we take stills. Here's her story:

I WANT TO CATCH AND EAT A BIRD by Lydia

I am sad.
I am hungry.
Get over here I want to eat you.
I'm getting angry.

I'm coming to get you. Yeah! I've caught you I'm so excited.

Yummy in my tummy! Ugh, I'm full.

And when I think of stamina and see this picture I realize that I too have had serious stamina at some points in my life. Strolling out of some dive bar after closing and this photo isn't so unique. I've got to get this girl into sports or we're in trouble.

Camp!

Who knew camp could be so much fun.
I myself never really enjoyed camp. Although I wasn't sent to camp until about the age of ten. I was the kind of kid that would rather sit in a dark room with the curtains drawn watching Gilligan's Island through Three's Company on hot summer days. Maybe it's good that I am starting her young at this camp business so she doesn't already know how addictive Days of Our Lives is, and that eating an entire half gallon of chocolate chip ice cream before lunch is actually pretty easy.

But after one day she seems to love it. Swimming, crafts, baseball ( she was so excited to tell me she hit two balls really hard, now that's one skill she will never learn from either of her parents), archery (ditto) all in one day.

And best of all I have free time to do all the things that I love to do. I exercised. I got my hair cut. I tried on expensive estate jewelry at the fancy store in town. I pawned through vintage clothes. Now I'm going to start cleaning out our attic, not so much fun but much easier without the child. Granted it's hard to find an episode of Gilligan's on anymore, but I glad I'm not just watching TV. Well it is only day two, I've got 8 more of these to dive into the ice cream.