Holiday Home Tour 2010 Edition

Come hell or high water, as my mother used to say, I am going to get this Holiday Homes Tour ready.

I put out the Christmas pillows. I confess, they are out all year but are tossed in different spots. I put them all in the same spot but the cat prefers Handy's nice wool sweater.


Handy was busy in the garage, so he was excused from getting the tree. Frank and Ernest put the stand on and carried it in, and Frank took over his dad's job of putting on the lights.


However, no one wanted to decorate it so I just did a half-assed job. I did hang the pre-school heirloom angels. I've seen those on someone else's tree.


There are tons of sad little ornaments waiting in the boxes. Maybe this weekend. I used to always make Handy hang the beer and barbecue themed ornaments.


This is the one ornament Ernest hung. I had no idea it was his favorite.


Mostly, I just put old decorations in new places. These are right behind the couch where Frank or Ernest could easily WHACK them WHILST playing WoW. The big one lost his sword last year. Note to self: find teeny tiny nail to reaffix said sword.


Most of the presents are wrapped and under the tree. I am waiting for a [redacted] to arrive for nephew McQueen, otherwise I think everything else is there. Note gift wrap coordination:

• blue/polar bears = gifts for Ernest
• green = gifts for Frank...he actually asked for socks this year but I swear there's something a little bit nicer than that
• poinsettias = gifts for Handy (and his birthday is TODAY, so imagine how imaginative I have to be at Christmas)
  
• newspaper = gifts from the cat -- she only had a $1.50 budget! She was a good shopper.
  
• no color assigned yet for the mom = Yes, I wonder too??? Something has been built in the garage.
  

I dithered about Christmas Cards, whining that I didn't have a decent picture of us, until I finally remembered that YES, we had a picture from Ernest's graduation. Thanks to Shutterfly, the cards arrived today.


Then I was consumed by the Secret Santa at work. Most years, no one tells me about it until it is too late. This year, the teacher told me on time so I was able to participate. I used that ransom note look to keep it mysterious.


You can see I am seriously into chopping up bits of paper, probably thanks to my project...

My Recession Wreath is just awesome, if I say so myself. Newspaper, cardboard from a frozen pizza, Magic Marker, elderly watercolors and school glue left over from some other project. Plus some clear gloss spray paint, to weatherproof it. Everything found around the house.


Even the Regular Wreath got some Recession Snowflakes. I was tired of my Star Wars theme. (Although I'm never tired of Star Wars (Episodes 4-6). The real ones. But I digress.)


And TA DA --- The Recession Wreath's adjunct, the Recession Tree. Lousy picture, and when is Ernest EVER going to move that Taj Mahal? When he does move it, I'm going to take hopefully better pictures. Really, this is just the most charming little downsized decluttered tree I could have ever imagined.


I'm in love with its simplicity. Tomato cage, green spray paint, a strand of lights, and newspaper ornaments. It's Frank's inspiration -- when I was making wreath wannabes, he said, "We should put them on the tree." And so it goes...

It's the Charlie Browniest.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Best Wishes, Warm Thoughts, and all of that jazz to you and yours.

Much love from the Smalltown Mom family!

Working on my Wreath

I am hard[ly] at work on my Recession Wreath (can I trademark that, Cheri?) and its adjunct, the Recession Tree.

But they may not be ready in time for Jen's Holiday Home Tour. Heck, the rest of my house may not even be ready. Some of you wonderful overachievers may be decorated already, but since my husband's birthday is the 17th, we are in birthday mode till then. That's my excuse and I am sticking to it. (And no, the cake is not planned yet.)

But I am working on the Christmas. It doesn't help that I am the only one decorating the tree (the real tree, not the Recession Tree). Ernest hung one ornament, after this exchange.

Would you please put something on the tree?
Maybe this weekend...
What's your favorite ornament?
I like the Cheshire Cat.
So go hang it.
I'll do it on the weekend.
[Mom digs in the box.]
Here. Do it now.


I swear, would holidays even happen if I weren't around????

If You Give a Bear...

If you give a bear a home for the weekend, he'll want a ride back to school on Monday.



Meet Bernard. He lives in Mrs. R's classroom.

Last weekend, my nephew was the lucky student who got Bernard. His mom was not so lucky. She had to carry Bernard home. It was a heavy load to bear. So I offered to give Bernard a ride back on Monday. I could bearly get the seat belt around him.



It was a grizzly experience.

(Help me out here -- can you think of any other unbearable puns?)

Just Call Me Edna

Yesterday I spotted a fifth grader wearing a superhero cape while playing handball. Immediately, visions of cape-related accidents ran through my head. So I asked him to take it off.

Actual conversation:

"Please take off the cape. It's not safe."
"But Mr. P. gave it to me. He said it would give me superpowers."
"Haven't you seen the Incredibles? No capes. "

Just call me Edna Mode.

So I Tried A Different Tactic This Year

Last year, I let my husband off the hook and shopped for myself. I enjoyed it and got myself some incredibly lovely pretty things.

But that seemed to be far too easy on my husband. So this year I asked him for a few homemade things that I have been wanting, longing, pining for a long time. He says I never asked for them before but I disagree with that.

There's one strange thing that's been missing on our house since we bought it almost 23 years ago and I've often complained about it... (If I get it, I'll write about it.)

Those of you who know my handy husband know that his homemade stuff is quite awesome. It has involved lots of wood, sawdust (tracked all over the black rug), bent metal, help from tall male children (that's the only kind I have), and that all seems to be a good thing.

One thing has been built already and stashed away I-do-not-know-where so at least I will have a surprise somehow!!

Is There a Laundry Goddess Out There?

Because I need help!

I have an adorable white sweater which inexplicably became discolored on the lower arms after I washed it. Well, not inexplicably. It appears to have had a reaction wherever my skin touched it -- a reaction to sunscreen? It's 80% cotton, 20% nylon. I know you can't use regular bleach on nylon.

I've tried Clorox 2, Woolite, borax, and am headed to the store for some Oxyclean next. If that fails, lemon juice and sunlight.

Any other suggestions?

Parade

Saturday was our Christmas parade. Ernest played guitar for the elementary school's group of carolers. It was hard to catch him in action from across the street, but I got a lucky shot!

Serving up the Bird

I hope your Thanksgiving went better than Snoopy's...



Our dinner was served at 6:00 so I had the whole day for crises to occur. Fortunately, nothing happened, unlike last year.

(I got my bad juju this morning, when the toilet backed up. There's nothing like unsuccessfully plunging a toilet full of poo to make your day start off on the wrong foot.)

But the good luck on Thanksgiving day continued and I got the traditional "boy with olives" picture.


Other boys learned new tricks.






I made a low budget harvest wreath.

Now Frank wants to make all our Christmas decorations out of newspaper. Maybe he should have his own bachelor tree in the man cave.

Marching to His Own Beat...or razor

It may be No Shave November or Novembeard or Beardvember or Movember for some, but not for Frank. He marches to his own beat. And so, he decided to shave.


And then he slightly regretted it because his face was cold. I think the beard will be regrown before the end of the month. If not the Guy Fawkes look, probably a Van Dyke.

And I remembered a book that his Bearded Handy Grandpa (my dad) sent to Frank many years ago...



I hope Frank's beard runs home soon. I miss it.

Hats

When I picked Ernest up at school Friday afternoon, he was wearing this:

(He declined to pose for the picture so the cat was conscripted.)

He wasn't the only student wearing a foil hat. Were they afraid of aliens reading their thoughts?

No, but if they wore one they got free ice cream.

I guess they'll do anything for free ice cream.

What is your Quest?

It's only his first day of vacation and already Ernest is bored. He doesn't like any of the fun quests I have suggested for him:

• take all his shoes upstairs
• bring down his sheets to wash
• pick up the trash and dishes in his room

What's wrong with those? He's just going to have to think of something on his own.

Meanwhile, my quest for the day was to find out what was making that stinking smell in the refrigerator. It wasn't any kind of leftovers. I'm really good about cleaning them out, after all my childhood traumas of mistakenly opening my aunt's stinky cheese containers. I pulled out everything, including the shelves, and found some suspicious pink dribbles along the shelf tracks. Aha! Stinky meat juice. I have washed the entire interior and it is clean, organized and ready to be stuffed full of Thanksgiving goodies.

But then my nose was overly sensitive, and I could smell the garbage, so I also cleaned out the cabinet under the sink. I see in the picture I forgot the toe kick so it's back on hands and knees for me.


WHAT... is your quest?
And more trivially, WHAT... is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?

Revisiting the Deathly Hallows

With Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows opening at midnight,
I thought I'd revisit another midnight.

The book release party at midnight, July 21, 2007.
Ernest was the first person in our small town to get his copy.
He won the book and the first-in-line privilege at a school auction.
That beautiful young woman between us?
She's a dearest friend's daughter.
She bought her first Harry Potter book at that store.
She had to return for the last one.

Priceless.

The Daily Drive: Close Call

I learned something on the dark drive home from Hogwarts Tuesday night.

A deer running across the road does not prance like this.



It is simply a silvery brown blur in the headlights.

I didn't even see it coming. If Ernest hadn't seen the first deer run across the road and called out "DEER," I would have hit the second deer for sure. With his warning, I slowed and the deer flashed by me about 5 feet in front of the car.

Funny thing, it was just around the bend from the haunted house...

No, This is the Precious

No, Ernest would actually call THIS his precious...

The Precious?

That's what I call it. I don't know what Ernest calls it.


It sounds as good as it looks. He's practicing more. Is that because a) he likes playing the new one more or b) the music is more difficult?


After we heard the group play, we realized the answer is (b.


They sounded great. But what's with all the plaid?

Christmas Catalogs

This is the scariest Christmas catalog cover I've ever seen.

SANTA HAS PLUMBER BUTT!

Long Weekend

Ah, I am happily anticipating my 4-day weekend. What a treat!

I think I know what I'll be doing...look what showed up at the library for me! Why do so many holds come in at the same time?

What should I read first?

Preparationz

Life is more interesting when you laugh.

Driving home yesterday we had a hilarious discussion on how to survive the zombie apocalypse. Have we been watching too many horror movies?

The Handy Husband started it...as we drove out of the neighborhood, he said, "Look, zombie-proof walls! We'll have to come here in case of a zombie attack." Ernest had already formulated an elaborate plan to get weapons at Wal-Mart, and then hole up in Costco (for the food).

But I think if we stayed home we'd have pretty good zombie defenses:

Ernest can sharpen his ninja sword.

Frank would prefer the fireplace poker. He's also got my childhood baseball bat tucked away in a corner of his apartment. And there's a wooden washboard up there -- you could seriously down some zombies with that.

Handy's got a plethora of zombie-smashing implements in our garage. Just imagine.

All I could think of was my rolling pin but that would put me at pretty close range. Maybe I could whack them with my Mary Poppins umbrella instead?

But please don't worry about me. I've got the moves already -- I own this t-shirt!



Zombie preparedness. It's a good thing.

The Fifth of November

Frank had a new look today.



Me: You look like the mask in V for Vendetta.


Frank: That was my intent. That's Guy Fawkes.


Me: Is this because it's Guy Fawkes Day today?
Frank: Really? I had no idea.

He just wanted to do something different with the beard. He should have done this for Halloween -- we've got a collar like that somewhere in the costume closet.

Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder treason and plot.
We see no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!

Guy Fawkes, guy, t'was his intent
To blow up king and parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below
To prove old England's overthrow.

By god's mercy he was catch'd
With a darkened lantern and burning match.
So, holler boys, holler boys, Let the bells ring.
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the king.

And what shall we do with him?
Burn him!

http://www.bonfirenight.net/index.php

Happy Novembeard. Or is it Beardvember?

Coming to an End

I'm so glad it's election day because that means there is an end to the overload of political crap advertising:

• the TV commercials
• the signs - I confess, I have my first sign ever in my yard because my niece is running for school board
• the junk mail - some days that's all I get
• the phone calls - Oh, Leonardo diCaprio, why were you just a recording?
• the door-to-doors - Our current mayor gave us chocolate; his opponent did not. Do you think that swung my vote?

Don't forget to vote!

Refrigerator Cat

Our arthritic old cat loves to find a warm place to sit. On sunny days you can usually find her curled in a chair outside, or perched on Frank's steps. When we had the rainy spell last week, she found a new place to lie. Right in front of the refrigerator vent, which blows out a nice little stream of warm air. This made making breakfast difficult. Excuse me kitty, I need the milk. Excuse me kitty, I need the lunch meat. Excuse me kitty, I need the waffles.



She's pretty good at finding other equally inconvenient places to sleep, like on Ernest's gym bag during the morning frenzy.



I also think she has kitty alzheimers. She meows like crazy for food, we feed her, and 15 minutes later it's like she's forgotten and she's meowing again.


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