Valentine's Day revisited

I am not a big Valentine’s Day fan, and I guess this dislike stems from the many times I was not in a relationship but had to endure those around me who were (I know you know what I mean...), but it goes further back than this.  In grade school, even though you were supposed to give Valentines to the whole class, the "cliques" decided that only their friends should get cards, so I didn’t really need a giant Valentine’s mailbox to carry cards home.  (Okay, here is where you're supposed to say, "Aw..."  )

In high school it was worse-student council sold carnations that you could send your sweetie, and they only knew it was you if they forked over another buck. The colors were red for "I love you", pink for "I have a crush on you," and white for "I like you as a friend." You can probably guess that I didn’t get many flowers from boys (I was a late bloomer of sorts), so my friends and I did what other girls did and sent flowers to each other-white of course, and maybe the occasional pink-just so we wouldn’t feel left out. College was better, but there were many times when a serious boyfriend was not in the picture.

Flash forward quite a few years-even though I have my sweetie, Valentine’s Day still comes back to bite me in the butt. The problem isn’t who my Valentine is, but what the heck do I get him? I used to buy all the gimmicky gifts, like kissing bears and other love themed items that Hallmark is famous for, but what do you do with the stuff after Valentine’s Day? I have several stuffed animals like a very cute gorilla hanging on a bar saying, "Let’s hang out!" but most are covering the top of our armoire in the bedroom. (My husband owns a pair of Valentine’s Day socks-yes I bought them for him-that play, "Let me be your sweetheart" every time he flexed his calf muscles-I know he still has them but they’re hidden deep in his sock drawer.)

Then I bought "sensible" gifts that my husband needed or wanted, like shirts, pants, and small power tools, but even though those gifts were nice, they weren’t what you would call romantic. So now it’s sort of a toss up for me (mostly sensible, sometimes not, and sometimes a little of both), and my husband has fallen back on flowers and possibly dinner out, and that’s all right with me. Is this what Valentine's Day is all about?  Maybe I’m still jaded by the past, and after 20 years of marriage maybe I'm less of a romantic, but I don't understand why we need a reason to do nice things for each other on just this one day.  Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy the day and love flowers, but it just seems like a lot of needless pressure, and I like the "just because" types of gifts that come on an ordinary day the best.

Okay, I’m dying to know if you’re with me on this one, or am I totally not getting the whole "Valentine’s Day is for lovers" thing? Do you still give gifts on Valentine's Day, and if so, what do you get? 

Facts, falsehoods, and the undecided

Over time, mothers seem to be able to create a sort of mental checklist when it comes to products that live up to their claims, tips and tricks about raising children, and other assorted tidbits. (Now I said mothers because I am speaking from experience, so you fathers out there relax-I’m sure that you do the same…) Now back to the point of my post-I thought it might be fun to share some of my newfound “facts”, “falsehoods”, and the “undecided” with the hopes that you either learn something new, or can empathize with me.  I'll start with product knowledge first...

When it comes to purchasing new products, I generally take my time before deciding on a change, and when it’s a big-ticket purchase, like an appliance, I often hop onto the Internet to search for product reviews. And if something looks as if it has more negative responses than positive, I won’t make the purchase. The following is a list of products that have been on my tried-and-true list or are a recent addition, those that just didn’t make the grade, or products I am still unsure about.

Cascade liquid vs. Finish powerball: As long as I can remember I’ve used Cascade for the dishwasher. My mother used it in powder form when I was little, and swore by its effectiveness, so I just continued to use it. But after we moved to our current house with a well and septic system, I noticed that my glasses and dishes weren’t as clear and clean as they once were. First my husband blamed it on the age of the glasses, but after replacing some, I noticed that they too came out of the dishwasher with a cloudy appearance. Then we both decided that it must be the old dishwasher that we inherited with the house, so we purchased a brand new dishwasher, but the results were still the same-I guess Cascade just can’t cut it with well water. I started buying smaller amounts of other brands to test them out, and the clear-cut winner happens to be Finish Powerball-even my older glasses look new again.

Spray ‘N’ Wash vs. Shout: Those of you with infants are all too familiar with the term “stain” since pretty much everything that goes in baby comes right back out (in various forms.) I used Dreft for washing all the baby clothes, but even though I knew it was gentle, it’s stain-fighting ability was nothing to write home about. This time I didn’t have to purchase all the stain fighting formulas out there to pick the best because a co-worker’s daughter compared all the major brands as part of a school project. She slowly narrowed the field down to two major brands, but Shout won out in the end. I have been using Shout ever since, and although some stains (chocolate ice cream on a white t-shirt-ugh!) need both a pre-treat and repeat wash, I am pretty happy with the results.

Dove, Ivory, Oil of Olay: As my kids get older, I get older, and as I mentioned before, things “ain’t what they used to be” when it comes to my skin, but I have to be careful when it comes to my soap choice. My skin has always been sensitive, in fact I can’t tolerate any perfumed soaps-I break out in hives, and for at least 15 minutes I look like I suffer from leprosy. I started using Ivory mainly because of their cool adds boasting about their purity, but the soap left my skin tight and dry, and women my age need to keep moisture in their skin. Oil of Olay as a beauty bar seemed to work fairly well since I didn’t develop hives after using it, but I did itch. My doctor told me to switch to Dove, and I use the bar made for sensitive skin-the result was no blotches, no itch, and my skin isn't as tight.

The shampoo wars: I basically bought the shampoo that was on sale, never really forming a relationship with one brand over another, until I decided to save money and buy one shampoo that everyone could use-baby shampoo. The thing is, baby shampoo is formulated for baby hair, and not adult hair-our well water and the chemicals in the baby shampoo began to wage a silent war against my hair follicles. I started noticing small changes like how both my daughter and my hair seemed to tangle more easily, but then bigger changes like the fact that I seemed to be “shedding” more of my hair than I used to, especially after I washed it. My hairdresser finally shed a light on our problem when she asked if my daughter and I had been swimming lately-it was winter! She pointed out how both of us had and extreme amount of build up caused both by the shampoo and the well water, and this was causing the tangles and hair loss. So, I switched to Infusium 23 (my sister told me about this shampoo), maximum body shampoo, and we all (even my husband) noticed the change in how our hair felt almost immediately.

Now there are still a few products I purchased that I am still unsure of-Olay age defying anti-wrinkle night cream vs. Olay ProX wrinkle smoothing cream, ProX age repair lotion with SPF 30 vs. Eucerin Everyday Protection SPF 30, ProX eye restoration, and my new EasyTone training shoes from Reebok-so I will just give you some of my impressions. I have been admiring some of the new training tennis shoes that promise not only to give you a better workout, but also to help tone you while you go about your everyday activities. I hesitated due to the mixed reviews online, the cost, and due to the fact that I am a natural klutz, and I as worried that any shoe that puts me “off balance” would literally send me to the ground. But my husband must have been sick over my indecision and for Mother’s day he and the kids presented me with a pair of Easytones. Now I haven’t worn them to work out in yet, but I have tried wearing them after work and out-and-about. They are very comfortable and not hard to walk in, but I don’t feel as if I am walking in sand or off balance. And while I did notice a little tightening in my upper thighs when going cross-country across several soccer fields this past weekend, I didn’t notice anything unusual during regular wear. I hope to update you more on these in future posts.

And I am undecided about the Olay ProX products-I have only been using them for a couple weeks now, and I am trying to compare them to the products I already use by applying them only to one half of my face. So far, my face feels much smoother, (I notice this in the morning and throughout the day), brighter, and I have to admit that the dark circles that seem to haunt me these days aren’t that apparent anymore, but I need to use these a little longer to see if they are worth the price.

I'm starting to sound like an infomercial so I better end things now. Besides, my husband keeps stopping to read over my shoulder (he thinks I’m going to write about our disagreement concerning a newfangled grill he wants to buy-but I fooled him!) and he mutters, “Boring” every time he leaves… Stay tuned for my takes on family “facts”, “falsehoods”, and the “undecided”-you won’t be sorry! Goodnight everybody.

Just 5 little questions

I had quite a few computer woes the first half of the day, and after spending nearly two hours getting my Internet connection back up (the Internet didn’t recognize the IP address of my router), I wasn’t in the best mood to write today’s post. I changed my mind only after reading Stacey’s answers to this 5 Question Friday Meme, so I linked up with Mama M over at My Little Life and answered them too.

1. Do you sing out loud in the car when you’re driving?
Ok, I may sing to a tune or two but if I croon a little too loud for a little too long, I hear from the critics riding in the back. Now when I'm by myself and a good song comes on, I keep the beat by bobbing my head up and down and pounding the steering wheel, and then I let it all out.

 

2. What would you never be caught doing?

I have two answers for this question: wearing short shorts and drinking from someone else’s glass. Why no short shorts? When you have chicken legs and knobby knees, well you get the picture. And everyone knows that when you take a drink, a bit of your guzzle always escapes your mouth and goes back down into the glass-I don’t ever want to swallow someone else’s spit. Case closed.

3. Will you go #2 in a public restroom?
I won’t even go #1 in a public restroom unless it’s an emergency, and then I only do so if the seat is completely covered by a nest of toilet paper.

4. Have you ever broken a bone?
You name it and I have broken it, but just about every break but one happened due to a car accident when I was a senior in college. I was a camp counselor for the summer up in the Pocono Mountains, and on our night off, we were hit head on by a van driving down the wrong side of the road. (The driver of the van was European and forgot about driving on the right side…) I broke my left wrist and forearm, my right femur (thigh), my right tibia (shin), right fibula (back of the leg), my right ankle in two places, and my nose. (I used to have a bump in the bridge of my nose, but I got a “free” nose job thanks to this accident.)

I broke my right ankle once again when I was still a newlywed. I tried to shoo our cat down the basement steps-she moved out of my way, and down the stairs I flew. My husband was taking a shower at the time and he was stark naked when he came down to see why I was screaming. I still laugh when I think about what he said as I lay on that cold, basement floor, “Just stay where you are. I will be back in a minute.” Um, I didn’t go anywhere-he went back upstairs to dry off and put clothes on.

5. Do you prefer cooking or baking?
I like to cook some dishes but only tried and true recipes from Better Homes and Gardens because these usually turn out fine. With baking I have to be in the mood, like when it’s cold outside and there is nothing to do except hunker down at home. This is when the baking bug strikes me, and I usually try to get my kids involved because then they aren’t fighting with each other…

Have a wonderful weekend everybody!

Change

I don’t know why, but I have never really handled change, good or bad, very well. As a child, I could hardly wait until the Christmas holiday, but when it came, I was often disappointed-not about the gifts I received, but because my other toys were now my “old” toys, and my new toys were the replacements, and I remember being depressed for a good part of the day. What makes this even worse is the fact that no one I knew ever felt this way-I was definitely a loner in this department.

Now I don’t feel the same as I once did about holidays, thank goodness, but I still am not a big fan of change. For example, I rarely ever rearrange my furniture because I get used to things being a certain way and it’s comfortable, but when things have to change (like when we got our new living room set), at first I begrudgingly go along with it, but in the end I’m happy.

On a more personal level, I am not happy with the changes I see in my mirror every day, and even though I know that getting older is just a part of life, and the alternative is so much worse, the woman that looks back at me is so different from the girl who still resides in my mind-except for the occasional ache and pain, I still feel like that young girl. Does everyone else feel the same way?

And when it comes to putting myself out there and moving beyond my comfort zone, even if I know it’s for the best, it’s downright nerve racking, and sometimes I can be hard on myself. I just take a deep breath and with a little bit of faith I tackle my latest “adjustment.” Whether it’s developing a blog, entering a new writing competition, or trying something new, deep down I know that each and every change is truly a learning experience, and learning is not such a bad thing.

Now you might be wondering about my topic of choice for this evening’s post, and I will keep you waiting no longer. I am once again trying something new in the writing arena-I will be a guest blogger on Diary of a Mad Bathroom this Friday. DG was looking for some funny posts about nutty family members that she could host on her sight every Friday in February. Well I jumped at the chance for a boatload of reasons: I am a big fan of DG’s very witty writing style (her blog is always a "must read" for me), I have more than my fare share of unique family members, and I was looking for a new writing experience. I chose to recount a story involving my husband, my in-laws, two dogs, a camper and myself-I will have a link to DG’s site here on Friday, and I hope you all can come by.

Well, I might have to get up early to help my husband get out of the driveway tomorrow-we don’t have school, but he’s going to try to make it in to work, so goodnight everyone.

Trying to measure up...

I’m pretty stressed right now-midterm tests and quarter grades all have to be finalized by Wednesday, my son said someone squirted hand sanitizer in his eye as he was getting up to get off the bus today (I think it was just on his face and he rubbed it into his eye but we did a rinse just in case, and I’m peeved!), I got my daughter upset about the bus situation by insinuating that she doesn’t look out for her younger brother, we had to rush off to take the dog to his vet appointment, I had to hurry back to get dinner started(my daughter had practice at 6:30), and once again I am worried that I am not good enough at something I endeavor to be great at.

For the most part I am a positive person, and I try to be a positive force for my friends and family, but when it comes to my talents, I am a “jack of all trades”-good at many things but great at none. I enjoy art and drawing but I am not an artist; I love music and used to play guitar but I’m no musician; I went back to school for computer science when an English teaching position didn’t open up, and though I know much more than my students and the average Joe, I am not a master computer programmer. Now this post is really starting to depress me, but I’m also a realist. What bothers me the most about all this though is the fact that I have spent my entire life thus far trying to prove to myself that it’s in me to be great, that this greatness is just around the corner-it’s just not time yet. And I would achieve this greatness with my "pen."

You see my first love has always been writing, in fact, writing to me is a cleansing experience. It’s when I can put words to feelings and emotions but I never have to utter a sound. Sometimes it’s a grueling process, because once I start writing, I can’t stop until I’m finished-it may be physically and mentally exhausting but I have to complete the piece. My teachers in grade school and high school, and my professors in college, all encouraged me, and I knew I was good, but is that good enough?

I have tested this “good but not great” theory by participating in sporadic writing contests in high school, college, and over the years, but I have never made the cut. I work and rework a project until I think it’s perfect, and then as I await the results, I start to agonize over every little detail. All is lost if I can compare it to someone else’s entry because I read and reread that once perfect work until in my eyes it is seriously flawed and a waste of time and energy.

I recently entered yet another writing contest as you can tell by my last post, but what started out being enjoyable, has now left me feeling anxious and unfulfilled.(I just didn't have it in me to post, and I am sorry I have neglected all of you this past week...) My husband says that he doesn’t believe in contests, especially those online because who’s to say if anyone wins. He says my entering should all be in fun, and he doesn’t understand why I stress myself about things like this. And I don’t really have a good answer for him-I just keep pointing to that never-ending desire for greatness, because that’s what makes me do the things I do.

If any of you do this to yourselves when it comes to your writing, I would love to hear that I am not alone on this one. As for me, I can hear a slice of cheesecake calling my name (why did we have to buy that cheesecake sampler?), so I am off to the kitchen for some healing-or better yet, maybe I’ll just get a glass of water. It’s definitely not the same, but my inner voice is telling me that I would regret my rendezvous with Mr. cheesecake in the morning-sigh…

A little Christmas "Whine"

It all started with the snow. The weather forecasters predicted 8-12 inches by Saturday, but since weathermen have the only profession known to man that allows them to be wrong, (since most of us don’t know our jet stream from a stationary front a weatherman can blame anything for the missed prediction) and because the computer generated Super Doppler Radar is still just a machine, I didn’t believe them-I was wrong. It snowed continuously from midnight Friday until late into the evening Saturday (we got 20 inches), so no runs to the mall for a couple last minute gifts, or runs to the grocery store for things I needed to do our holiday baking…

Now you might ask how I know that the snow started at midnight Friday night, and I will tell you. I finished watching 3 Weddings and a Funeral for probably the 30th time (still worth it to me, but not my hubby), and was heading to the bathroom for some hand cream. I glanced out the window in the kitchen and saw a few flakes start their decent. When I got to the bathroom, I couldn’t find my new hand cream tube, so I tried to squeeze what I could from my old tube and my hand slipped. The cap made a ¼ inch gap in my left pointer finger (typing is real fun tonight!) and blood was dripping down my hand and onto the sink. I started weaving back and forth and I kept thinking would anyone hear me hit the floor? My inner voice finally piped up and I put pressure on the cut and raised my hand over my head. I did manage to finally get a bandage around my finger-not an easy thing to do while you are rocking back and forth I can tell you-and me and my throbbing finger finally made it to bed.

Later that morning I rolled over and winced because of a kink in my left shoulder-I just figured I laid on it wrong and tried to go about the day. The snow kept falling, and my finger kept bleeding, and with my shoulder now hurting, I parked it on the couch while the kids and hubby braved the wind chill and played in the snow. I tried to make it up to everyone by attacking a new cookie recipe that was supposed to be foolproof, and although it was, I burned my hand getting the tray out of the oven, and the mess I made making the cookies was more than a little disheartening. The bandage kept coming off my finger while I washed up, so I asked if hubby could finish. I know he had been Mr. Entertainment for the kids outside, but I did manage to put something on the table for dinner and get it cleaned up, and although he obliged, he didn’t do so without making a comment or two...

Fast forward to today-I can’t lift my left arm to the side or even lift it up waist high, but since I took it easy yesterday, the laundry for the week (I usually start washing clothes Friday night and end Sunday so I don’t have to do it during the work week), wasn’t done and I wrestled four loads in and out of the washer and dryer all day today. And since Sunday school was canceled, my activities today consisted of computer, laundry, lunch duty, laundry, computer, laundry, and then couch. No one is taking my wincing seriously, and when it was nearing the time for dinner (I was reading the paper on the couch) my husband walks in and asks, “What’s for dinner?”

I wanted to say something, but it’s nearing that “most wonderful time of the year,” so up I went to the kitchen to quickly get something together using my one good arm. I sat at the dinner table in a rather sour state and I braced myself for the stress that eating with children always brings, but then something happened that is really quite miraculous, and no, it has nothing to do with my aches and pains. As I sat there, I watched my son pretend to throw super hero punches at his dad sitting next to him instead of eating his vegetables. My husband was doing his best to eat his dinner and ignore my son, but I could tell by the look on his face that his patience was dwindling and his annoyance was growing, and all at once everything-my finger, my arm, the snow, and even my annoyance-was hysterically funny. Even though I tried my best to hold my laughter in, it spilled out then, and sporadically throughout the rest of the evening.

You know it really is how you look at things-I mean my shoulder still hurts and I have a date later with the heating pad (I still don't know what I did to it!), I am typing without the use of my left pointer finger, and I have a load of laundry in the dryer, but I am sitting here smiling, my soul is content, and like a line in A Christmas Story, "everything is right with the world!" Goodnight everyone and Merry Christmas!

Honesty is the best policy

My home network is finally back from the dead with the addition of a new, better, router, and it seems like ages since I was last on my blog-I was actually starting to go through withdrawals because, yes, I am on the computer that much… I thought I would fill the extra evening time by bonding with my hubby, and “talking,” but hubby wanted to play his new video game then watch TV, and he said that I was starting to annoy him. You’d think after 18 years he would relish spending even more quality time with me-ok, maybe not.

Nicole over at A New Normal,(pop over to get a look at her new blog design and posts ranging from the heartwarming to the hilarious) recently awarded me the Honest Scrap Award. Merriam-Webster defines honesty as, “a fairness and straightforwardness of conduct; adherence to the facts,” so I’ve composed a list of ten honest things about myself that quite honestly are a little discomforting to admit, and a little alarming in print, but I figured what the heck…
 

• Unmade beds unnerve me-I can’t stand walking into a room where the bed is unmade, and I won’t get into a bed unless it is made. Sometimes I don’t have time in the morning to make my bed, so I will make it before I climb in it at night, and if my husband happens to climb in first, I will make sure all the covers are where they should be even if it means removing his warm spot.

• I can’t stand having sticky hands. I mean the whole world might be crashing down around me but if my hands are sticky the only thing going through my mind is getting them clean.

• When I buy a book or magazine, I reach for the copy at the back of the pile because it’s still nicely creased with no fingerprint smudges on it.

• Becoming a mother has really brought out the “germaphobe” in me-I can’t tell you how many times I’m washing my hands in a day and the H1N1 stuff has me ballistic! Before we got some hand sanitizers in our classrooms from the Department of Health, I placed two huge bottles near the tissues, and I personally helped the kids go through those two bottles in two months.

• I told my husband that I love to cook just so we didn’t have to suffer from his many strange food combinations-I mean he tries but the secret ingredients in his sauces have the kids and I turning up our noses! The truth is that while I sometimes enjoy the creative aspect of trying out a new recipe, after a long day at work I would love if someone else could do the cooking for a change.

• My kids’ rooms would be condemned by the Health Department, because even though I rant and rave about having them clean things up at least once a week, the rest of the time I just close their bedroom doors and pretend.
  

• I still have jackets that don’t fit the kids or myself in our coat closet, and even though I keep telling myself that I have to get them out of there so we have more room, there they remain…

• If I had to choose between running and walking, walking would win hands down. (Sorry Molly!) I am a firm believer that you don’t run unless, A) someone is chasing you, or B) a bug has dropped on you. I still remember when my husband and I were engaged- I was trying to prove to my outdoorsman fiancé that I could be a “nature lover” too, and I agreed to go for a walk in the woods. Well everything was fine until a spider (hate spiders!) dropped on me from a nearby tree branch. I took off in a flash and my husband claims I have never moved so fast.

• I love anything and everything written by Jane Austen-I have all her novels and have most of the PBS and popular movies based on her novels, so I guess you could call me a romantic.

• And last but not least, I am a closet pack rat, meaning I say I want to get rid of things but I want to do so at a garage sale that has never happened and may never will, so I store (or hide) things in boxes and bins down in my basement.
  

Well, you wanted honest, so I gave you honest… Since all these admissions have me pretty drained, I'm going to save my award recipient list for another post- I am off to wash my hands and make my bed, so goodnight everybody!

Climb every mountain...

I don’t remember when we first started cutting down our own Christmas tree-I know we bought a tree off the lot the first year we were married and my husband could barely get it into our rented townhouse (we were not good at height estimations), and we settled on having just a fake tree afterwards because we went “home” for the holidays and we were tired of coming back and cleaning up the pine-less stick that was left. Our vacuum didn’t pick up all the needles embedded in the carpet, so we were still getting the occasional prick for months afterwards.

My family never chopped a Christmas tree down either-we lived in the suburbs and were strictly “lot tree people” as far as I can remember, but my husband’s childhood was different. He grew up a few hours North of me where the snows are deeper and more frequent, and where residents are primarily “tree cutters.” So I guess things were going to have to change one-way-or-another when this “lot tree” person married a “tree cutter,”and things went my way until we had our first child.

As all of you know, when kids arrive everything changes, and what was once acceptable is no longer. My husband wanted to follow his family traditions at Christmas, and since I really didn’t have any traditions of my own, I embraced most of his. (Notice how I said most…) He relayed story upon story of his families’ treks in the woods to find the perfect Christmas tree, and he really had me convinced that if I didn’t go along with this, I would be shortchanging my daughter’s Christmas experience. Unfortunately, the area chosen as the “perfect” spot for this trek was about a 300-yard walk up a steep hill that is about 200 feet high! Now remember that I mentioned I was a suburbanite, and trudging up any hill during the cold is not something I wanted to do, but I was a new mother, so I caved. We also had a year old dog that our families affectionately referred to as our “firstborn,” and my husband decided he should go along on the trip too.

I remember standing at the foot of this mountain-hill and not being able to see the top-I had the dog and my husband carried our daughter in her car seat. We passed very nice trees towards the bottom end of the mountain-hill, but my husband, being the experienced “tree cutter” convinced me that the perfect tree could only be found at the top, so on we went. The dog, who was not yet obedience trained, pulled mercilessly forward, and about half way up I nearly fell over him as he dove in and out of the trees. I was losing my Christmas spirit very fast, and I soon muttered obscenities to the dog and to my husband under my breath. And then I started to whine-I was cold, I was tired, I would wait in the car-and my kind hearted husband ended up with both the dog and the baby as we slowly reached the summit. I did relax a little when we found a gorgeous tree (although by then all the trees looked alike), and I slowly dragged the car seat with my daughter down the hill, while my husband had hold of the tree and the dog.

Today marks our tenth trip up that blasted hill, but we are now a family of four and these days I’m an old pro. I know how to dress for the cold so I don’t whine as much (my husband says I still do more than necessary, but the reform process takes time), I know how to best negotiate the steep incline without falling, and I know to leave the dog at home!

Sunday Sage'ness

A sage is someone, according to Webster, “wise through reflection and experience,” so I want to share my sage ness with you by rambling on about my personal beliefs, and what I understand, have come to understand, or don’t understand about my life-see if you can relate to any of these.

Dirty clothes belong in the laundry hamper, not on the bed, or worse under the bed-it’s not going to get clean if it stays in these places.

The way things go into the laundry bin is the way they come out of the dryer with the exception of used kleenex- that doensn't belong in either place.

And continuing with laundry (do you see a pattern developing?), if I’m going to lug your things to the washer, sort them, treat them for stains, wash them, dry them, lug them back upstairs, and then fold them, the least you can do is put them away.

After years of denial I am ready to face the facts-I am turning into my mother and it is both a blessing and a curse all rolled into one.

Designate a spot for everything and put things back when you are through with them-how am I supposed to know where you took your shoes off last-I am not your feet…

And on that same note (this is one for me), no one has moved your things-they are right where you left them last, waiting for you to remember where.

If everyone can reach the light switch, why am I the only one who can turn the light off?

Don’t do things in “extremes”-the key to health and happiness lies in doing things in moderation.

I am not paranoid-someone is stealing my socks because I have fewer pairs after I do whites than I do before.

It may be your room and you prefer to live in squalor, but it is my house, and your room is a reflection on me, so clean it up.

Treat others the way you would want to be treated, and this includes your mother and father.

And here is my personal belief to go along with September Mom’s post about Sunday Citar: If you can visualize it happening, be it a small task or lifetime dream, and you want it bad enough, you can make it a reality-failure is for those who never try.

Be sure to check out my Friday post dealing with organization (or the lack of it). If you have trouble keeping it all together, know that you are not alone, and come on over for some laughs. Goodnight everybody!