Pay up bitches!
4 steps on Monday night. But, I thought I give everyone a break and not call it. But them each day it has been more and more, until today, 20 steps at our garage sale.
I prefer cash money, but will take a personal check from some of you...
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
511 5th street
If you sweep a house, and tend its fires and fill its stove, and there is love in you all the years you are doing this, then you and that house are married, that house is yours.”
― Truman Capote
If I had spent a few decades of my life on a windswept prairie, in a small farmhouse that got so dusty that it had to be dusted twice a day, I would have thought I hit the big time when I moved into town.
Especially if I had survived the depression and a war and 4 teenagers and farm life.
I am not sure, that I would, after living in a small house with my husband for all that time, want to have matching his and hers wood-hobby shops, but some husbands have a better temperament than mine and I could probably be convinced if there was a dog run with a porch swing between them.
I would have wanted a pink bathroom of my own. With creamy formica coutertops with little gold specs in them. I am not sure if my bathroom cabinets would have been as neat, but I would definitely have pink floral towels and a dixie cup holder. Got to have the dixie cup holder. I would probably have one in my husband's bathroom too, and it would be a good idea to have that by the back door, in case he came home from the filling station and was dirty, or what have you.
And don't you know I would have a green house. I'd have to have a place for my fiddle leaf fig. And my geraniums--more people kill geraniums by loving them to death, just leave those plants alone.
Not sure about the red shag carpeting. But what we think of red shag carpeting is what people will some day think of stainless steel appliances. Why anyone would want one of those cold things in their home is beyond me. E-gad.
I would have a guest room, but also fold out sofas and a murphy bed. I was invited to stay somewhere once where they didn't have a bed for me and, well, that just ain't cricket, folks. So I would have lots of places to sit and be comfortable.
And a little table for the grandkids to sit at and make paper dolls. And a little blue bear.
Now, after having spent years in the kitchen cooking and never getting to be part of the fun, I would probably have what they call nowadays "great rooms" I'd just call it good sense. I would keep little depression glass goblets on the windowsill too, because when the sun shines on them, it makes them ever prettier.
Yes, not many people are lucky enough to get to build their dreamhouse. Especially after so long on the farm. Some people start out with a nice house--but where is the fun in that? I probably would think about it a lot while I was on the farm. Especially that summer my son and I accidentally shared a toothbrush in that 'ol durn bathroom.
And even when I was in it, I would always be tinkering with it, because a house is never done, not really.
Of course, 20 years is a long time to live in it all alone. A mighty long time. But I think I would fight like hell to keep it. Because it was our dream house.
And because I am stubborn and somewhat impractical. And I can't respect anyone that can't hold a grudge.
― Truman Capote
If I had spent a few decades of my life on a windswept prairie, in a small farmhouse that got so dusty that it had to be dusted twice a day, I would have thought I hit the big time when I moved into town.
Especially if I had survived the depression and a war and 4 teenagers and farm life.
I am not sure, that I would, after living in a small house with my husband for all that time, want to have matching his and hers wood-hobby shops, but some husbands have a better temperament than mine and I could probably be convinced if there was a dog run with a porch swing between them.
I would have wanted a pink bathroom of my own. With creamy formica coutertops with little gold specs in them. I am not sure if my bathroom cabinets would have been as neat, but I would definitely have pink floral towels and a dixie cup holder. Got to have the dixie cup holder. I would probably have one in my husband's bathroom too, and it would be a good idea to have that by the back door, in case he came home from the filling station and was dirty, or what have you.
And don't you know I would have a green house. I'd have to have a place for my fiddle leaf fig. And my geraniums--more people kill geraniums by loving them to death, just leave those plants alone.
Not sure about the red shag carpeting. But what we think of red shag carpeting is what people will some day think of stainless steel appliances. Why anyone would want one of those cold things in their home is beyond me. E-gad.
I would have a guest room, but also fold out sofas and a murphy bed. I was invited to stay somewhere once where they didn't have a bed for me and, well, that just ain't cricket, folks. So I would have lots of places to sit and be comfortable.
And a little table for the grandkids to sit at and make paper dolls. And a little blue bear.
Now, after having spent years in the kitchen cooking and never getting to be part of the fun, I would probably have what they call nowadays "great rooms" I'd just call it good sense. I would keep little depression glass goblets on the windowsill too, because when the sun shines on them, it makes them ever prettier.
Yes, not many people are lucky enough to get to build their dreamhouse. Especially after so long on the farm. Some people start out with a nice house--but where is the fun in that? I probably would think about it a lot while I was on the farm. Especially that summer my son and I accidentally shared a toothbrush in that 'ol durn bathroom.
And even when I was in it, I would always be tinkering with it, because a house is never done, not really.
Of course, 20 years is a long time to live in it all alone. A mighty long time. But I think I would fight like hell to keep it. Because it was our dream house.
And because I am stubborn and somewhat impractical. And I can't respect anyone that can't hold a grudge.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
tallulah is one year old
Tallulah is a delicate child. That is what people say, although I can't tell how they can see it. My Aunts noticed it first, "que delicada, que hermosa." But strangers comment on how petite she is, how sweet she seems. I can't really argue with it. She is sweet, she is content, and if she isn't content, all she needs is a pair of arms to make things right. When Annabelle was her age, if she fell or knocked her head, or any of those small baby calamities that occur in the first year of life, she would just keep on going. Not Tallulah, she cries and scrunches up her little nose and pouches out her little lips. She is scared of big animals, of all animals, really, except the idiot dog, and if you are at the zoo and hold her up to a giraffe, she will clutch onto you in terror, which is so unlike the other child that would reach for them. The comment strangers would make about Annabelle was how feisty she seemed, but with Tallulah, it is her sweetness that is noticed. She is a delicate, sweet child, but how a stranger can tell is beyond me.
But for all her fragility, she is equally tenacious. If she wants something, she will get it. If you try to change her mind, she will literally bulldoze her way to the coveted object, and if you divert her attention for a few minutes until you think she has forgotten, well, she doesn't forget. She goes right back to the remote, cell phone, poisonous object, etc.
Tallulah is freakishly smart. At four months she was craning her neck when she was on the changing table, and calling "annbel, annbel" but it is one of those things that you just assume can't mean what it sounds like, because she was just 4 months old and I was sleep deprived. But I heard it often, when Annabelle was in the other room and Annabelle would say "I'm coming Tallulah," so I know she heard it too. She would also say mama, ama (when around my mom) and "dog bark." Once at the doctor's office, she pushed his hand away while he was examining her and said "no." The doctor looked at me incredulously and said, "did she just say no?" And then he tried to examine her again and she told him no again. She can also say "no dog," and pushes the dog's sniffing nose away-- but this should be no surprise, given how often she hears that phrase. She is a little parrot and can repeat things she hears a lot, like "thank you" and "lemonade" She can figure out toys that took Annabelle weeks to master in 5 minutes. And runs her fingers up and down her ribs when she wants my dad to tickle her, to the amazement and delight of her grandpa.
Tallulah's sister has a keen understanding of her needs and is very protective of her. "Don't do that to my sister's nose! She doesn't like that, you are making her cry and I am mad at you." We heard that tonight when we were bulb siringing the little snotty thing. The other night Tallulah, was banging her head on the high chair and we were perplexed as to why. "She wants a drink," Annabelle said. "you think so?" I said and fixed her one. As soon as she had it, she stopped banging her head and began happily slurping on her sippy cup.
Tallulah loves her papa. When he walks through the door she comes alive with smiles and thrusts her body over to him for him to hold her. She is a daddy's girl and while I think it took him a little bit to really appreciate her, he puts her to bed every night, without fail.
Tallulah is one year old today. Happy birthday, mija.
But for all her fragility, she is equally tenacious. If she wants something, she will get it. If you try to change her mind, she will literally bulldoze her way to the coveted object, and if you divert her attention for a few minutes until you think she has forgotten, well, she doesn't forget. She goes right back to the remote, cell phone, poisonous object, etc.
Tallulah is freakishly smart. At four months she was craning her neck when she was on the changing table, and calling "annbel, annbel" but it is one of those things that you just assume can't mean what it sounds like, because she was just 4 months old and I was sleep deprived. But I heard it often, when Annabelle was in the other room and Annabelle would say "I'm coming Tallulah," so I know she heard it too. She would also say mama, ama (when around my mom) and "dog bark." Once at the doctor's office, she pushed his hand away while he was examining her and said "no." The doctor looked at me incredulously and said, "did she just say no?" And then he tried to examine her again and she told him no again. She can also say "no dog," and pushes the dog's sniffing nose away-- but this should be no surprise, given how often she hears that phrase. She is a little parrot and can repeat things she hears a lot, like "thank you" and "lemonade" She can figure out toys that took Annabelle weeks to master in 5 minutes. And runs her fingers up and down her ribs when she wants my dad to tickle her, to the amazement and delight of her grandpa.
Tallulah's sister has a keen understanding of her needs and is very protective of her. "Don't do that to my sister's nose! She doesn't like that, you are making her cry and I am mad at you." We heard that tonight when we were bulb siringing the little snotty thing. The other night Tallulah, was banging her head on the high chair and we were perplexed as to why. "She wants a drink," Annabelle said. "you think so?" I said and fixed her one. As soon as she had it, she stopped banging her head and began happily slurping on her sippy cup.
Tallulah loves her papa. When he walks through the door she comes alive with smiles and thrusts her body over to him for him to hold her. She is a daddy's girl and while I think it took him a little bit to really appreciate her, he puts her to bed every night, without fail.
Tallulah is one year old today. Happy birthday, mija.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
As I write this post, I swat a mosquito
I first moved to Houston in August of 1996 after college. I had never spent much time here, and I definitely felt like the country mouse visiting the big city. Skyscrapers, awful traffic, fancy shops, and all kinds of people. One of the things I noticed was how every afternoon at about 3:00, it rained. Without fail, thunderstorms at three o'clock, you could almost set your watch by it, very different from the central Texas Augusts to which I was accustomed.
It rained a lot actually. The streets would flood about once a month and it was always a major news story. Sadly, someone would always misjudge an underpass and drown. I learned how we were on a vast coastal prairie that was covered with concrete and that concrete was preventing the land from soaking up all that rain, like the sponge that it was. I say "we" because after a few years of living here I began to notice that despite the concrete, Houston was actually very beautiful. And very green. I would go home to San Antonio or to visit my grandmother in Lubbock or grandpa in Uvalde and notice that Houston was actually kind of like a tropical paradise. Lush green landscapes, a place where one house could have gorgeous tropicals and the next door neighbor could have a cottage style garden, all living in botanical tranquility.
Then in 2001, there was tropical storm Allison. I was heading to SA for a friend's wedding. I barely made it out. Hyphen didn't. He slept in his car on I-10 and when the water finally receded, he and a band of other unlucky motorists had to walk to some store that was open on the access road (in Houston they call access roads feeders) to let their families (some of whom were hysterical) know they were okay--this was bcp (before cell phones). Wow, that was a lot of parenthesis.
At the time, we lived in the Sunset Heights. It was an old neighborhood, and we didn't have proper drainage, just these huge culverts in front of our lots. After something like 35 inches of rain, they were really, really full. Actually the whole city was horribly flooded and we were very grateful that the Heights lived up to its name, our house was safe. The medical center basements were so badly flooded that the lab rats drowned and years of research was lost. Tragically, downtown, people were drowning in parking garage elevators, the symphony lost valuable sheet music and rare instruments and most importantly, something like 30,000 homes were flooded. But it didn't happen in New York, so most people never knew about it.
But back to our culverts. Afterwards, there were crazy mosquitoes. They would swarm you when you got out of your car and you had to run in the house. My dogs snouts were always covered with the the little vermin. Everyone was miserable. The 500 year flood, they said.
Fast forward to 2011. The driest year in recorded history. If you look at the tree rings, it is possibly the driest year in 300 years. Memorial Park? A wasteland of dead trees. Good ole Anise Parker, so fiscally responsible that she let them all die rather than water them. All the plants that are so used to getting so much water have not had a significant rainfall since sometime in 2010. Only people who are willing to pay the increased water rates are watering their grass and even in posh river oaks, there are brown yards. Coyotes are roaming the streets looking for food. I didn't even know we had coyotes. And the other night, I smelled a skunk. I felt like a city mouse visiting a place where there were skunks. Except the "place" was under my house, somewhere in the vicinity of the hall closet. Then about two weeks ago, it rained three inches.
Now we are fortunate enough to live in a neighborhood without culverts. But the post rain mosquitoes? Worse than tropical storm Allison mosquitoes. H calls them assassin mosquitoes. I call them rabid vampires mosquitoes on crack cocaine. But I can't run to the car, see? I've got kids. Two of them. And they take forever to get into the car. They swarm the car and we spend the first ten minutes of every drive killing them. My three year old, who loves all animals, knows how to swat them. My baby is so covered with bites she looks like she has some type of pox. My dashboard is littered with their tiny corpses--my own little hall of horns.
But there are people (dad) who read this blog who say climate change is just a bunch of hogwash. A 500 year flood. Two hurricanes. A drought to end all droughts, and for the past two winters we had weeks in the 20s. I may not be a scientist, but this little mouse smells a rat, and it not just the winds bringing in the Pasadena smell.
It rained a lot actually. The streets would flood about once a month and it was always a major news story. Sadly, someone would always misjudge an underpass and drown. I learned how we were on a vast coastal prairie that was covered with concrete and that concrete was preventing the land from soaking up all that rain, like the sponge that it was. I say "we" because after a few years of living here I began to notice that despite the concrete, Houston was actually very beautiful. And very green. I would go home to San Antonio or to visit my grandmother in Lubbock or grandpa in Uvalde and notice that Houston was actually kind of like a tropical paradise. Lush green landscapes, a place where one house could have gorgeous tropicals and the next door neighbor could have a cottage style garden, all living in botanical tranquility.
Then in 2001, there was tropical storm Allison. I was heading to SA for a friend's wedding. I barely made it out. Hyphen didn't. He slept in his car on I-10 and when the water finally receded, he and a band of other unlucky motorists had to walk to some store that was open on the access road (in Houston they call access roads feeders) to let their families (some of whom were hysterical) know they were okay--this was bcp (before cell phones). Wow, that was a lot of parenthesis.
At the time, we lived in the Sunset Heights. It was an old neighborhood, and we didn't have proper drainage, just these huge culverts in front of our lots. After something like 35 inches of rain, they were really, really full. Actually the whole city was horribly flooded and we were very grateful that the Heights lived up to its name, our house was safe. The medical center basements were so badly flooded that the lab rats drowned and years of research was lost. Tragically, downtown, people were drowning in parking garage elevators, the symphony lost valuable sheet music and rare instruments and most importantly, something like 30,000 homes were flooded. But it didn't happen in New York, so most people never knew about it.
But back to our culverts. Afterwards, there were crazy mosquitoes. They would swarm you when you got out of your car and you had to run in the house. My dogs snouts were always covered with the the little vermin. Everyone was miserable. The 500 year flood, they said.
Fast forward to 2011. The driest year in recorded history. If you look at the tree rings, it is possibly the driest year in 300 years. Memorial Park? A wasteland of dead trees. Good ole Anise Parker, so fiscally responsible that she let them all die rather than water them. All the plants that are so used to getting so much water have not had a significant rainfall since sometime in 2010. Only people who are willing to pay the increased water rates are watering their grass and even in posh river oaks, there are brown yards. Coyotes are roaming the streets looking for food. I didn't even know we had coyotes. And the other night, I smelled a skunk. I felt like a city mouse visiting a place where there were skunks. Except the "place" was under my house, somewhere in the vicinity of the hall closet. Then about two weeks ago, it rained three inches.
Now we are fortunate enough to live in a neighborhood without culverts. But the post rain mosquitoes? Worse than tropical storm Allison mosquitoes. H calls them assassin mosquitoes. I call them rabid vampires mosquitoes on crack cocaine. But I can't run to the car, see? I've got kids. Two of them. And they take forever to get into the car. They swarm the car and we spend the first ten minutes of every drive killing them. My three year old, who loves all animals, knows how to swat them. My baby is so covered with bites she looks like she has some type of pox. My dashboard is littered with their tiny corpses--my own little hall of horns.
But there are people (dad) who read this blog who say climate change is just a bunch of hogwash. A 500 year flood. Two hurricanes. A drought to end all droughts, and for the past two winters we had weeks in the 20s. I may not be a scientist, but this little mouse smells a rat, and it not just the winds bringing in the Pasadena smell.
Friday, October 21, 2011
what I do all day
The following represents a true and accurate account of the messes I have cleaned up this far this morning:
1. peed upon sheets and bedding
2. spilled milk sippy cup
3. spilled container of rice
4. two poop butts
5. spilled juice box, which was blamed on Tallulah-- convenient since her vocabulary is limited to "no dog" and our respective names and ranks and cannot defend herself-- but seeing how I had given the box to Annabelle and she was standing in a puddle of juice and spreading it around with her feet when I asked how it happened, I feel that both the direct and circumstantial evidence will be in Tallulah's favor
6. Blueberry muffin crumbs
It is 10 after 10 and Annabelle just asked me how to open her crayon rock box. I think we will be heading out for the rest of the day to prevent further destruction from occurring.
1. peed upon sheets and bedding
2. spilled milk sippy cup
3. spilled container of rice
4. two poop butts
5. spilled juice box, which was blamed on Tallulah-- convenient since her vocabulary is limited to "no dog" and our respective names and ranks and cannot defend herself-- but seeing how I had given the box to Annabelle and she was standing in a puddle of juice and spreading it around with her feet when I asked how it happened, I feel that both the direct and circumstantial evidence will be in Tallulah's favor
6. Blueberry muffin crumbs
It is 10 after 10 and Annabelle just asked me how to open her crayon rock box. I think we will be heading out for the rest of the day to prevent further destruction from occurring.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
velmas and thelmas
1. Velmas
Annabelle: Mom, I want to be named Velma now.
Me: okay. For today, or forever.
Annabelle: forever.
Me: that's a long time to be named Velma.
Annabelle: there's going to be some more changes too. I am in kindergarten now and my teacher's name is Miss Luciegiada.
Me: Miss Luciegiada?
Annabelle (slightly annoyed at my mispronunciation): no, Miss Lucie gi-A-da.
2. Thelmas:
Welcome follower number 9, Miss Thelma Duncan. Miss Thelma hails from the bustling metropolis of Bronte Texas where she is currently in a two way tie for the title of sexiest senior Coke County, female division.
Annabelle: Mom, I want to be named Velma now.
Me: okay. For today, or forever.
Annabelle: forever.
Me: that's a long time to be named Velma.
Annabelle: there's going to be some more changes too. I am in kindergarten now and my teacher's name is Miss Luciegiada.
Me: Miss Luciegiada?
Annabelle (slightly annoyed at my mispronunciation): no, Miss Lucie gi-A-da.
2. Thelmas:
Welcome follower number 9, Miss Thelma Duncan. Miss Thelma hails from the bustling metropolis of Bronte Texas where she is currently in a two way tie for the title of sexiest senior Coke County, female division.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
tallulah walk watch 2011
So here is how it is:
Back in June, Tallulah began to crawl and pull up at the same time. The pulling up caused some speculation on when she would walk. And as usual with my family, we decided to make it a little interesting. Price is Right Rules applied (which again I will explain to my dad, closest without going over). Annabelle got August 13th. Audrey chose September 1, Mom got September 10th. Dale chose October 10th, I picked October 13th.
Walking was defined as 4 steps in a row without any aid.
In the very beginning of August, she stood up on her own, which is the last hurdle Annabelle conquered a few days before she took off. So it was looking good for Annabelle. But, no dice. It looked really good for Audrey, but no.
Mom's date came and went despite the fact that when she visited she tried to get her to practice by returning the walking toy Audrey's twins had borrowed. Dad's came and went. And then it was me and Dale. The crucial reason I picked her 11th month marker was because while she was a great crawler and a great puller upper, she was not a cruiser (walking while holding onto something). Annabelle crawled, pulled up and cruised all at the same time. Tallulah doesn't. If she wants to go somewhere and is standing, she sits back down and crawls, even if there is a perfectly good coffee table available for her to cruise with.
Dale chose it by pure logic. Asian babies walk late according to some book he read.
Today is October 13th. She is 11 months old. She has until midnight tonight for me to win the kitty. Okay, until 7:00 when she goes to bed.
So, we are going to reset tomorrow. She is starting to cruise. But still prefers to crawl. She can stand on her own for a really long time and is very solid when she does.
Entry fee is ten dollars. I am choosing December 13th.
Ante up!
Back in June, Tallulah began to crawl and pull up at the same time. The pulling up caused some speculation on when she would walk. And as usual with my family, we decided to make it a little interesting. Price is Right Rules applied (which again I will explain to my dad, closest without going over). Annabelle got August 13th. Audrey chose September 1, Mom got September 10th. Dale chose October 10th, I picked October 13th.
Walking was defined as 4 steps in a row without any aid.
In the very beginning of August, she stood up on her own, which is the last hurdle Annabelle conquered a few days before she took off. So it was looking good for Annabelle. But, no dice. It looked really good for Audrey, but no.
Mom's date came and went despite the fact that when she visited she tried to get her to practice by returning the walking toy Audrey's twins had borrowed. Dad's came and went. And then it was me and Dale. The crucial reason I picked her 11th month marker was because while she was a great crawler and a great puller upper, she was not a cruiser (walking while holding onto something). Annabelle crawled, pulled up and cruised all at the same time. Tallulah doesn't. If she wants to go somewhere and is standing, she sits back down and crawls, even if there is a perfectly good coffee table available for her to cruise with.
Dale chose it by pure logic. Asian babies walk late according to some book he read.
Today is October 13th. She is 11 months old. She has until midnight tonight for me to win the kitty. Okay, until 7:00 when she goes to bed.
So, we are going to reset tomorrow. She is starting to cruise. But still prefers to crawl. She can stand on her own for a really long time and is very solid when she does.
Entry fee is ten dollars. I am choosing December 13th.
Ante up!
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