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Archive for the ‘chores’ Category

and I don’t…ordinarily.

But, I have to tell y’all that on my Sunday/Monday off I have done something that makes me candidate one for MOTHER OF THE YEAR…

Well, okay, only onething.  I made a bigass 9 x 13 plus some homemade CHICKEN FREAKIN’ POT PIE.

Now, I’m not one to toot my own horn, but good gawd…TOOT TOOT…I can make a freakin’ chicken pot pie…but apparently not ENOUGH of it to feed anyone twice…because one serving is not enough for ANYONE.

My recipe…in case you are interested…well, it can be found in the Betty Crocker cookbook. 

Google it…make it…and become THE BEST MOTHER IN THE WORLD.

And I don’t say that lightly, and I don’t out the fact that one of my kids’ favorite recipes doesn’t come from me, necessarily, but instead…a regular cookbook that anyone can Google.  Lemme tell ya, it won’t matter if you are the one who came up with this or Betty. freakin. Crocker. 

Fact of the matter is, if you make this Chicken Pot Pie you may very well be voted Mother of the Freakin’ Year.

I’m just saying that the (doubled recipe) chicken pot pie was DEVOURED by the five of us, with only enough leftover to send the Sub with something to eat for lunch today. 

Completely away from cooking, the other thing I am tooting my horn about is the fact that I have finally gotten my bedroom completely FREAKIN’ clean.  Clean sheets, made bed…and all the random clothes in the pile GONE…either in the washer, on the way to the washer, or thrown the hell away because no one has worn it for a decade. 

Yeah, I don’t have a problem with chunking shit. 

Old faded used-to-be-black turtleneck…you are OUT. 

Garbage bags in the hall to attest to my ease in getting rid of shit that no one is EVER going to miss.  I strongly endorce throwing some shit away if it is just sitting there, mocking your housekeeping. 

I’m glad to say that I have completely cleaned my bedroom…I have placed strategically a receptable for dirty clothes…so that maybe the FLOOR isn’t the go-to dirty clothes hamper.  Shut up.  I can hope.

After all, I have busted my ass while cleaninig my room today…so I can hope.

Don’t dash my hope just yet.

Save it for the day after tomorrow…

When all the socks and underwears and jeans and t-shirts are once again strewn all over the floor.

**EDIT** This was from the weekend, after I was high on pot pie…I don’t want to deprive ya’ll from the best pot pie ever, so I am resurrecting this from the draft pile and putting it out there.  Enjoy.

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Saturday, even though it was the last day of the pay period and I really needed to work, it was also the Junior’s last Winter Guard competition in Grand Prairie.  That said, I closed up shop early and the Sub and I headed North.  Now, it has been a long time since I ventured off 67… the only time I go North on 67 is when I am headed to Starplex, Smirnoff, SuperPages.com Arena for our yearly summer concert to see John Mayer or Counting Crows…for which you veer right.  Saturday, we veered left and drove through the most gorgeously green, bluebonnet-filled country I’ve seen in ages.  It seems that between Cedar Hill and South Grand Prairie there are quite literally hills mountains

and rock walls

and more green than I’ve seen in forever in “Dallas-ish” areas.  The Sub, I’m sure, grew quite tired of my exclamations of how exquisitely beautiful it was. 

To say the least, it was the prettiest drive to Grand Prairie I ever made.

After paying 10 bucks a pop to see said Junior do her thing with flags and giving her a lovely pink rose, we hit the door to do some shopping in the new metropolis of Cedar Hill.  Kohl’s was the target.  The Sub wanted to pick up some more tops to go with her ‘teacher skirts’ and I was just along for the ride, telling her from the get-go that we couldn’t stay long, as I needed to come back and complete my work for ‘the man.’

Surprisingly enough, I found things that I couldn’t live without…first came this

which makes the prettiest thunky thunk sounds when the wind blows.  I’ve positioned it somewhat near my bedroom window so that I can hear it while I lull of to slumber.

Then, like Kohl’s read my mind when I was thinking at Easter…dang, I wish I had an Easter-y tablecloth…the Sub found this

It’s the prettiest embroidered Easter-eggish tablecloth EVER.  And it was a whopping 8 bucks!  So, next Easter, baby, my table is going to be FESTIVE WITH AN EASTER EGG-ISH TABLECLOTH. 

So, then we found the candle section, which I am completely a sucker for and this candle

made me not want to burn it as much as just cut it open and eat it.  My GOSH the smell of this thing.  AND it has cinammon-y sprinkley things in it that just make it smell even MORE delicious.  Of note, burn this in a small room like my office and you might just get a fragrance headache.  This thing can scent up your whole damn house.

So, that was my Saturday…work…color guard competition…SHOPPING. 

Have I mentioned before that shopping when you have some dollars is so much more fun than shopping when you don’t? 

The difference, it is marked.

So, then Sunday…when I sat in church and decided that it was a GREAT day to clean out the front flower bed and PLANT SOMETHING for pete’s sake…since it was GORGEOUS outside.  So, off I did go to the Wal-Marts to get some posies to plant.  I got these for the planters on the steps

petunias, i think…

and these for the flower bed

a sort of periwinkle, I do believe. 

Little did I know that my little gardening project would entail pulling literally yards and yards of bermuda runners out of the flower bed and finding way old monkey grass that had been so devoid of sunlight for so long that it’s leaves were 2 feet long, in search of SUN.  So, I decided to transplant said long-haired monkey grass to the backyard, where it will still fight for light, but it will stand a better chance than being buried in the boxwoods. 

All said and done, by the end of Sunday, I had two huge bags of leaves and weeds and boxwood clippings and a flower bed that made it appear like I care what the front side of my house looks like.  Whether or not the petunias and the periwinkles live or realize that they’ve been planted by someone who dooms every living thing she plants to DIE is yet to be determined.  I’m giving them some plant food to give them a boost before I finally kill them.  But for the moment, don’t I look like a conscientous homeowner. 

Oh my Monday off, i cleaned the office. 

OH MY.

That was a task…

Let’s just say that there was FLOOR underneath all that shit. 

That Belle prompty distributed 1000 hairs on.

So, at last count in my get this DAMN HOUSE IN ORDER we have:

The Sub’s room…clean.

The kitchen…clean.

Den…besides all the Belle hair and the couch covers in dissarray…clean.

The Boy’s room…pristine (2 weeks in…WOOHOO).

All that is left to get ship shape is the bathrooms and my room…which entails a whole lotta laundry…of which I have a pile the size of Mt. Fuji…waiting to be folded in the garage. 

Hey, I’m trying…

So, yeah…going back to work today was kind of a relief from my days ‘off.’ 

But, dammit, does it feel good to actually accomplish something instead of just laying up and watching Top Chef marathons.

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  • Woke up feeling like I was about to cough up a ginormous hairball.  It seems that the crud that has gone from one spawn to another finally found me.  Gee, thanks, spawn.
  • Because I didn’t really feel like spreading my germs to the sweet old folks we sit by at church, I opted to just drop the boy off for Sunday school and skipping church this morning.  I didn’t want to give them my germs and i didn’t want any of theirs, either.
  • Used my sexy new dishwasher…and found out that due to water pressure and/or water temperature, that it isn’t going to be the end-all, do-all to my getting clean dishes.  I’m okay with it, really…if all the damn thing does is do the silverware, I’ll be happy.  I still love it and want to make out with it…the dishwasher, that is.
  • Washed the walls behind the garbage can and ‘coffee maker table,’ which is really just a wine rack where we have the coffee makers. 
  • Easy-offed the stovetop grates and cleaned the stovetop.  It sort of makes me never want to cook on it ever again.  It’s so pretty and shiny and clean. 
  • Scrubbed cabinets where the Mr. has made marinades and what not and sloshed crap all over the damn place.  It is amazing how pretty it looks and how clean it is now.  More to come.  Clean much?  I will.
  • Done loads and loads of laundry. 
  • Washed blankets and sheets and couch covers, some of which I got to hang out to dry outside, which means they smell like a little bit of heaven.  Really, is there anything that smells better than laundry that is dried on the line?  Right answer?  No.
  • Mopped and shined the kitchen floor.  Granted, it is gross, poop-brown, 60-year-old flooring, but by gosh, it is clean and it is now a shiny poop brown. 
  • Made abondegas, which is a tasty meatball and potato soup.  The Boy deemed it “awesome.”  I’ll take that. 
  • Realized that Zantac gets rid of that hacky cough I’ve had for months now.  Granted, I exchanged the hacky acid reflex cough with a real-life upper respiratory infection cough, but at least I know, hope anyway, that the hacky cough isn’t esophageal cancer. 
  • Manually torn in pieces about 16 bazillion pieces of junk mail/credit card applications/old bills that have never been opened.
  • I found the land-line phone and plugged it back in because my phone table is now perfectly clean and pretty and needs a phone on it

And now, the next thing I am going to do is go give this nasty ass dachsund a bath.  Wish me luck.

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You know, at 44, you’d think I’d get it that perhaps I need more sleep…that perhaps rather that sitting here in the shed our third living area, watching David Letterman and Craig Ferguson after the kids are asleep…I would think it is time to go to bed and get some of that stuff they call ‘sleep.’  However, night after night I relish this time where I can sit and do this while watching Dave and Craig, while the Mr. naps over there and the dogs nap on their blanket.  It’s become the time I reflect…which inevitably leads to me writing about whatever I am reflecting about. 

Tonight I reflect on the fact that my dishwasher finally arrived, along with my new ventahood for over the stovetop.  I guess nothing reminds you that you are a 40-something more than the sheer joy you get over a new appliance..and by ‘sheer joy,’ I mean that I want to make out with this gorgeous, shiny new appliance.  I’m serious.  This thing could get to third base with me without so much as buying me a beer.  It’s not even hooked up yet and it could still get to third base…just knowing it’s here makes me feel especially frisky.  Just the thought of all the silverware, which I DETEST, that I will no longer be washing, makes me giddy inside.  GIDDY, I tell you.  The mere prospect that the people I share space with…the ones who are allergic to Dawn dishwashing liquid and hot water, will participate in the loading and unloading of this wonderful machine makes me a little verklempt. 

God only knows what I am going to do when I get the new floors…or the new living room furniture.  Hell, I’m liable to have a completely spontaneous ‘big O.’ 

Appliances…new furniture…flooring…

Who knew they’d be so sexy?

It’s a great feeling, this 44.  It might very well replace my last favorite year of 33. It sort of makes me look forward to what is going to happen at 55.  I rather like it that at this stage of my life I am finding so much to look forward to…and it makes me wonder why so many women my age dread ‘getting older.’ 

A commercial for a funeral home just came on.

Ironic much?

All I know is that right now I am happy with where I am in life.  I am writing regularly, which is what I used to dream of doing…albeit in my vision I was sitting in front of a picture window overlooking the ocean, with ocean breezes wafting in, writing the next great novel, not sitting in the shed tapping away about my mundane ruminations on my life while Chingy raps way on Letterman in the background.  Much like being 44, this is what it is and I am enjoying it. 

Now, I think, it is time to rouse the Mr. and the doggies and go in and call it a night…like a responsible 44-year-old who needs some sleep.

Besides, there might be an episode of No Reservations on (that’s right, while this is our third ‘living area,’ we do not have satellite out here.  Here is where we watch our 65 gazillion network shows.

Those folks who want to know what we’re watching should give us one of them there boxes.  Is it the Nielson’s who want to know what we watch?  If they were to ask me this is what I’d tell them:

On Monday I watch:  The Antiques Roadshow, 2-1/2 Men and Old Christine…and Medium.

On Tuesday I watch American Idol and Jericho.

On Wednesday…okay…Wednesday must be weak since I can’t think of anything off the top of my head (but this week I will add Men in Trees…squeee).

On Thursday, it’s Survivor, LOST and Eli Stone.

On Friday, it’s Ghost Whisperer and the coolest vampire show ever, Moonlight.

And somehow, in between all that we also entertain The Boy and his rolly shoe tricks (yes, the Mr. let him buy some “Heelies,” and also manage to have sit-down dinners several times a week and get homework done and practice times tables and bathing kids and laundry. 

I might have just called this the Confessions of a 44-year-old TV Junkie who Somehow Manages to Get Other Things Done, too. 

But that was too long.

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okay. so it was origihnally supposed to be here LAST Thursday.

then the delivery truck was in a wreck and i rescheduled it for Friday.

but they really meant we’ll bring it Tuesday.

so, the call came last night that it would be here between 7 and 11 a.m. today.

it is not here.

rat bastards have 15 minutes or heads are going to ROLL

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What I Did Today

Meez 3D avatar avatars games

 Yes, today I made a Meez.  For the record, that is exactly what the kitchen at Casa de Yub might look like on any given Sunday.  Because…I’m on strike.  When the new dishwasher comes on Thursday, I think some of those dishes might be taken care of.  Not sure, but maybe…okay, hopefully.

But, that’s not all I did.  Noooooo.  Today I also made the hall bathroom usable.  See, Max the Big Ass Cat Photobucket

well, besides taking up 95% of the work space on my desk at any given point in time, he also eats and takes care of his bathroom things in the hall bathroom.  I have oft referred to Max’s amazing invisible poop, in that I am the only one who can see it, which must also mean that I have super powers.  I must be PooperWoman.  I must admit that I am not the most attentive litter box keeper, especially since I avoid that place like the plague. 

It doesn’t help that the same bathroom happens to be the one where The Boy does his bidness.  Let’s just say that, never having a boy child before this one, boys’ bathrooms are gross.  Well, let’s just say that the Boy’s future wife has a long row to hoe when it comes to bathroom issues.  So, mostly, I venture in on the occasion to gather The Boy’s dirty clothes and to sometimes deal with the litter box.  If you’re getting the picture that it isn’t pretty in there, you are very correct.  The gross 10,000-year-old pink tile and 10,000-year-old linoleum doesn’t really help the aesthetics of the room…forget the cat shit and boy pee that ensconces every bit of the toilet area. 

So, simply put, if you ever come to the Casa, please, please go to the bathroom at the EZ Mart before you get here.  And if I give you sweetea to drink while you are here, feel free to run down to the EZ Mart to go potty rather than venturing into the hall bathroom and shaming me endlessly.

Which leads me to why today I decided that maybe it was time to tackle the Boy/Cat bathroom and just get that shit cleaned the hell up…

Because last night Not the Boyfriend had to potty and The Sub did indeed direct him to the EZ Mart on the corner.

Mortified much?

Yes I was.

So, today, armed with many different cleansers and scrubbers and new litter box liners where you load up 11 liners with holes in them so that you basically don’t have to scoop and get all hands on, you just lift out the first liner and sift the crap out, I got in there and cleaned that muthah.  So now, the grossness has been replaced with the fresh scent of Mr. Clean and Ajax and Bam and Lime-Away (works great for lyme stains in the toilet).  It’s now a bathroom I would be proud for you to come and potty in, just in case you are in the neighborhood and feel the need. 

The thing is…no one ever, EVER comes over when it is potty worthy.  Go figure.

Before donning my HAZMAT suit and taking care of that little job, I managed to get some laundry done and making a totally awesome chicken spaghetti for Not the Boyfriend and The Sub…well, we ate it, too, so it wasn’t just for them.  We have Not the Boyfriend for a few weeks before he goes to Japan for 730 days, so I plan on feeding him as many times as possible all the yummy food he likes in the meantime.  He is, after all, the potential father to my future jarhead babies, so it’s the least I can do for the cause.

So, it was a full day and I’m a tired gal.  I’ll catch you folks on the flipside…OH…thanks to the Room Mother Lady, I will be hauling The Boy to the doctor’s office tomorrow in this height of flu season.  If you see some crazy bitch with Lysol wipes and Lysol spray sitting in the waiting room tomorrow (just in case we are dealing with a simple sinus infection and NOT the flu), well, that will be me. 

I need to order some face masks…OVERNIGHT delivery please.

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BREAKING NEWS

Well, you’ll be glad to know that this Day Off Monday was NOT spent watching whiney ass new parents on TLC’s    and kavetch about how best to introduce the dog to the new baby.

Instead of choosing to spend Day Off Monday supine on the seat of love, I actually accomplished some things. 

First of all, I ran out of gas.  The last time I ran out of gas had to have been 1982.  Everyone knows I push it.  Hell, the Mr. and I both do.  Fumes is how we roll lotsa times.  This just in…I have just become one of those ‘when it hits a quarter mark get more gas’ people.  Luckily, I had had the foresight to put on a bra AND shoes AND grab my phone before I left so that if need be, if the Mr. or the RCG couldn’t come rescue me, I could hoof it home or call the transit to pick me up.

After that I washed the ever present sinkful of dishes we seem to accululate at the Casa. 

Then the Mr. came home around lunch time to pick me up so we could go sign the papers to “rent” the Casa land’s nether regions to the Gotta Get to the Barnett Shale people.  I’m all for us getting all that gas we can, even if it means risking life and limb on the highways ’round these parts because the water tanker trucks consider you a mere ob-sta-kul on their way to their next delivery and especially if you give me a fistful of dollars!

 Consider that our contribution to getting the US less dependent on foreign oil. 

Next it became very important for me to scour craigslist for a newer used riding mower as both of the ones we have have crapped out.  I found this one  and about died laughing when I got to the part where they said “seat has a few cracks $300.”  That, my friends, is what we call an understatement

I did find a few that were promising and not held together with duct tape, so perhaps some of that money we got for whorin’ out the Casa’s nether regions can be used to keep our grass more properly coifed.  Who knows.  But we’ll call it Option A.

HOWEVER, if…say…the Mr. came in tomorrow and said “Chrisyub, let’s use some of that gas money and get you one of these,” well…let’s just say I’d say

OKAY LET’S DO THAT!

Because, I am serious when I say that ever since the RCG made us wireless, the lusting I do after those things is of monumental proportion.  I don’t know if it is the novelty factor…that I could, like, WORK AT THE PICNIC TABLE in the backyard, or if it just for the first time in a looooong time there is something that I don’t necessarily NEED but that I just plain and simple just WANT.

Believe me when I say that I’m way on down on my list of priorities and always have been.  If I don’t absolutely NEED it, then you’ll be hard pressed to get me to buy it.

HOWEVER, I REALLY WANT A DELL INSPIRON OR ANY OTHER DAMN LAPTOP NOW.

And then, as I was sitting in line to big up The Boy, my radio station actually BREAKS INTO A SONG for this breaking news:

Britney Spears has lost custody of her children.

When the Junior heard the news she said “they oughtta just give those kids to a couple of trained monkeys.  they’d do a better job than her.” 

I love that kid.

Anyway kids, I guess we all rest easier tonight knowing that the whole war in Iraq/curing cancer/eradicating hunger thing is all taken care of.

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