The amazing, lovable, friendly, kind, curious and gentle ..... CAT!

Our cat never ceases to amaze me. Monday, he traveled across the house, into Captain Destructo's room while we were reading books, and started purring and basically begging for attention. I did the best I could to keep both just-awakened children in my arms, so as not to frighten the poor kitty, but they squirmed and wiggled their way out of my arms to pet him.After many warnings about being gentle, and careful, and soft, it was me walking out of the room that made George ski-daddle out of there, not the little people. Which translates in kid language to: CHASE HIM!George found a safe place to hide, temporarily, but soon he was showered with more attention and love than he knew what to do with.That safe place was right between my t-shirts hung up in our closet (and might I add some trashy t-shirts of mine). Back in the ole' severe allergy days of middle school, high school and college, the mere thought of a cat rubbing up against my clean shirts would have sent me into a Claritin-induced overdose. But just like my dad experienced (which I always thought he was just trying to get me to shut up because there was nothing they could do to relieve my suffering), I eventually outgrew them. The allergies that is.He's one pretty-darn special cat. I checked to make sure his begging for attention wasn't out of starvation or dehydration, and it wasn't. I had a parakeet, named Freckles, that would do that. I got Freckles for my 12th birthday, or Christmas (can't remember), and that bird lived for 9 years. My parents were pretty sure I'd inadvertently kill the bird within a year or two, but noooooooo sirrreee. That bird was hardy as you know what. He was so hardy, there were times when I would forget to feed and water him and he would slip into a starvation-induced delirium that would make him do weird things, like be SUPER nice and let me put my hand in the cage for him to hop on my finger. He'd let me rub his neck and make him do gymnastics. So when George starts acting all nice and stuff, I always check his food and water and I've come to this conclusion: he's just a nice cat. Most cats aren't, but George is.

We got George as a stray. Our neighbors found him and brought him to us. He had been left in one of our County parks with a bowl of food and water. I've got a sneaky suspicion that he was in a house with little kids and was misbehaving, which led to his trek to the woods. So maybe, just maybe, he's got that little movie reel playing in his head when an urge to be "catty" (ha, that worked out too perfect) enters his thoughts. And he thinks to himself, "nah man, these people'll dump me off too. Better straighten up."

Which we wouldn't. But, either way, he's a joy to have around.

Bye-bye blue-ribbon blue

Listening to my mom's stories about painting about half of the interior of her house inspired me. No surprise there.

I've been wanting to repaint the blue in our bedroom. This blue was the color I was in love with after we returned from our two week trip to South Dakota and Wyoming. The skies out there are a different color blue, maybe the different longitude/altitude? They weren't this dark, but they were the inspiration.

BK (before kids), home improvements projects were happening right and left. It seems like there was hardly any time for us to actually enjoy each other's company before we started another major project. But we had the time and money to do it, so I'm thankful we did. Jim decided to let me decorate one room on my own. Anything I wanted, I could do. So I did, and we got blue-ribbon blue out of it.

I got it out of my system and I'm moving on. Stay tuned: two of the walls are already repainted. But since we do have two little rugrats running around, it might take another two months to finish up about 5-6 hours worth of work. :)

One more year with her

We made the very difficult decision to not put Katherine in school this year. So, you've been reading the best creative writing works from her current Pre-K teacher: yours truly.

Never fear though, I've got a plan. The curriculum is en route, but mostly I plan on enjoying her being home one more year. I look forward to her climbing into our bed to cuddle the last minutes of the morning. I look forward to having the opportunity to turn a quick errand into a 30-minute long gazing at and learning session on heavy equipment resurfacing a road (yes, even Katherine enjoys them). Or even us talking about how our eye's pupils work kind of like the flexible steamer basket, then comparing the size while in the sunlight and in the dark closet.

We have lots more pages to color, dresses to design on Disney's website, books to check out from the library, friends to meet at the playground, vacations to take in the couch car, worms to rescue and errands to run in the Barbie Jeep.

I have many friends saying good-bye to those times with their "babies" and I hurt for them. Although, I know this is all part of the process and their kids are doing great, God help me the first day of Kindergarten.

No seriously: God, please help me the first day of Kindergarten.

Oprah ain't never gonna come calling here for a cooking show

I love to mow the lawn. No really, I LOVE to mow the lawn, and edge, and weed-eat and blow it all off when I'm finished. I think it has something to do with getting a tan or being able to complete a project, uninterrupted, and see the beautiful results. Maybe also it's knowing that I still have skills besides wiping rear ends or even getting a tiny break from being a mommy.

Jim enjoys it because he works in the hot sun 5-6 days a week and the last thing he wants to do is bake in it more.

I think it might have something to do with the noise also. Just a couple of weeks ago, I realized that I find myself vacuuming more than really needs cleaned or even drying my hair a little bit longer. And I'm pretty sure it has to do with the drowning out of the noise. I don't hear whining, bickering or even the blessed Elmo songs. Nobody has ever been seriously injured or started to bleed or even lost a limb while I've been in insanely-loud Mommy-land. So, I think I might be on to something.

Back to mowing: I prefer it over the other two loud hobbies of mine, because it is repetitive and no one can hang on my leg. I get lots of thinking time while mowing.

Today gave me the perfect opportunity to think about our trip to the grocery story this morning. Everybody who knows me well enough, knows that me and grocery stores are like hormones and husbands. We don't mix. Which further adds to my problems in the kitchen. Although, it's very possible a witch intern accidentally put a hit out on me with the cooking gods. Which would explain A LOT!

I digress. Usually, my lack of completing the task of grocery shopping completely and within a respectable amount of time is blamed on something else. The store was crowded. I forgot my sweater. The kids were acting up. She wouldn't quit asking a hundred questions. I couldn't concentrate. I felt rushed. My husband wouldn't quit calling. I ran into a friend. I was concentrating too much on coupon-ing. Blah, blah, blah. There's always an excuse for me, because I can't ever seem to get it right. And today was no exception, except that there was NO excuse for my absent-mindedness. None.

The kids were seated and well-behaved and I had only 15 easy items to find. My trip was spurred on by providing a meal to a new-baby momma and I had already discussed the menu with her. On this particular trip, one very important item was left sitting cold and pretty in the freezer aisle. Right next to the limas and black-eyed peas I did manage to pick up.

So why all the fuss? Isn't the baby momma understanding that I forgot to pick up the green beans? Of course she was and she just chalks it up to another Kelle-grocery-shopping experience. Which is what irks me!

Why? Why can't I get it? The second or third line of a mother's job description has something to do with providing food for her family, and I fail miserably at it ALL THE TIME! What's going on with my brain that seems to make it so hard to successfully buy items on a grocery list and prepare them at home? I have no idea.

Some ideas I tossed about over supper (to my smirking husband), were along the lines of: maybe it's too much to choose from in the grocery store, or even sensory overload. The distractions are half-way legitimate excuses but I mess something up when I'm just by myself also.

I admit, I'm envious of those able to perform the simple task of not stressing out over a trip to the grocery store and coming home to prepare a scrumptious meal.

Jim's take on it was this: my heart's not in it.

Doesn't he just make you want to puke sometimes, or even strangle him? He couldn't be more right, that's the problem. I could care less about grocery shopping or cooking. If it were up to me, we'd have those machines that prepare meals for you with the push of a button, like on the Jetsons. That's all I'm interested in. No automatic washer, no maid to clean up. Our costs would be wrapped up so much in that food thinga-ma-bobber that I'd gladly clean up.
This has been going on for a while though. In my teenage years, the first time I cooked spaghetti for my dad, I neglected to get the water boiling before adding the noodles. There was little-to-no stirring involved and the spaghetti blob had to be cut like pie slices. He politely declined the noodle-slice smothered in Ragu poured straight from the jar.

My next cooking disaster happened about the same age and I ended up cooking and eating not-thoroughly-cooked chocolate grits. Long story.

I took the class Meat We Eat in college because it was supposed to be an easy 2-credit class. I think I managed to squeak out a D+.

God has to have a sense of humor for pairing me up with Jim because he is his mother's child and that man can cook along with everyone else in the family. This evening, he so graciously scraped the burnt lima beans out of the bottom of the pot I left sitting on the grill outside so it wouldn't stink up the house. Yep, we were supposed to have green beans also, then it turned to lima beans and finally we ate left-over broccoli in the fridge (that Jim had cooked).

So bare with me, if you've received a meal from me and it was horrible, just smile and thank me later on. If you were thinking about inviting me to a cooking expo, please invite someone else, I'll save you the time of asking and you'll enjoy it more. If you're looking for a good recipe from me for your fund-raising cookbook, I'll send you the ONE I use off of allrecipes.com. And last but not least, if you come to my house and eat a meal that is out of sight, Jim cooked it.



I leave you with an excerpt from a post I did back in June of last year: Enjoy!
"Whenever Jim and I are in the kitchen it's like this dueling dance of power. He's the cook and I'm just basically a hack that fakes her way through a meal. However, our approach to cooking sometimes reveals our approach to life and our levels of optimism about the world around us.

For example, he's a recipe skimmer, basically he actually comprehends the recipe the first time he reads it and his cooking-intuition is 99% right. I'm a recipe studier, analyzer, follower (to a fault) which has not worked in my favor.

His attention span is long when it comes to cooking. He's fast and adept and flings food around while he's stirring. I am slow and agonizing, taking twice as long to do everything, frequently do it the hard way and always keep everything inside the pan.

He does not wash as he goes. I take too long washing, inevitably messing up something that is cooking because I wasn't paying attention to the food.

I assume it's all going to work out fine, and it usually doesn't; he's certain it will and it does."

Summer Vacay 2010 - Part 3

Our next day included a ride on the trolley train and a trip to the oldest jail. Nathan cooperated wonderfully and fell asleep on my lap during the train ride (I just love that).
He's looking like such a little man, these days.

Summer Vacay 2010 - Part 2

Saying the kiddos were exhausted that first night is an understatement.
Our next day's journey took us to the Alligator Farm.
Same situation as the previous day's: July, beautiful cloudless day, in Florida, with little to no wind, outside. Red cheeks were everywhere.
The alligators all started looking the same, eventually, because there were sooooo many of them.
Then we realized there were a group of us, strangers included, suddenly and very interested in Gomek, an 18' crocodilian display. He was interesting and so were the snakes and fish. (Can we say rooms with A/C)?
We wrapped up looking at what felt like a million alligators, grabbed a bite to eat, had a great swim and headed off to our favorite eatin'/stompin' grounds, The Columbia. No visit to St. Augustine and The Columbia is complete without a little stroll along St. George street. Nathan somehow bumped his head on the way out, Jim looked cute carrying around a pink tote alongside his brother pushing a stroller and one more annoying family picture was taken. (And no, I will not stop taking them. You'll thank me for these one day.)
Aunt N had a special treat for the kiddos. She bought some silly bandz earlier in the day and after our ice cream treat, she handed them out and traded them with the kiddos.

Summer Vacay 2010 - Part 1

If you recall, last year's summer vacation with the fam was our trip to Disney's Fort Wilderness. This year we decided to take a trip to good and faithful St. Augustine.
I must admit. Back in my college days, my roommate and I would do crazy things like go to St. Augustine for the day. We were both so excited. We'd get all packed up, driving in the blue F-150, windows rolled down, radio blaring (her singing every word correctly, me mispronouncing and misunderstanding about 3/4 of the words), telling stories and gossiping the whole way there. When we'd finally arrive in the historic area is when our paths veered, drastically.
She is very much a history buff. Me, not so much. I'm very much a beach-lover. Her, not so much. It would usually take us about an hour or two to realize that we had both planned on going to St. Augustine for very different reasons. We'd always find a way to keep both of us happy, but it certainly gave us even more to laugh about after-the-fact.
Still to this day, when I hear St. Augustine, I hear beach; but to most people, they hear, history.
I'm just gonna apologize right now. Even typing the word history sends shivers down my spine. It wasn't something I was ever good at, kind of like cooking, and something I still have no desire to be good at (unless it came with no effort).

My brother-in-law, W, is a major history nut. He can talk about anything in history, anything and he knows it and knows it well. Bless his heart, he's tried many times to get me over to the other side, but it has never worked. He used to be a tour guide in St. Augustine so he really does know his stuff. One time there, the words "Hugenot Cemetery" came out of his mouth and I was done. You might as well have been talking about cooking terms like duxelles or oeuf or sabayon and set a wood spider on my shoulder. The rest sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher and I was instantly more interested in quickly leaving the premises and checking out the shopping.
To give him his credit where it is due, he did just graduate from the University of Florida with his PhD in Archaeology. So, bravo Uncle W. We are extremely proud of you. I really do wish my brain was wired to retain history.
Our trip started with a visit to the Fort. In July. At 4:00 in the afternoon. On a beautiful, cloudless day in Florida. In a 16th century structure (translation: no A/C). It was beautiful, but it was definitely hot, also. The kind of hot where you're glad the shirt you have on is thin and breathable but also wishing that same shirt was a little bit heavier for fear of creating a wet t-shirt contest in front of the whole family. (Note to self: remove camera lens cap from the front pocket of shirt before taking any pictures. Heck, just put it in your shorts pocket, goober. People probably thought you had a mouth full of dip.)
Our precious little ones opted out of the no-nap plan driving there. The Princess Party wrapped up that same day before lunch and in all of my motherly wisdom, I had it planned out for them to sleep, so they'd be rested, and ready to play nicely, and be pleasant for their exhausted parents. Ha!

WHEN

WILL

I

EVER

LEARN?
Good news is, that they were much better behaved than I had expected.
It could have been the built-in entertainment in cousins and loads of help we had there with us the whole weekend. Sometimes, uncles have just the right shoulder.
Nathan, big surprise, was fascinated with the cannons and their ammo. He was pretty sure he could pick one up and bring it home with us.
And Katherine noticed that there were no princesses to be found, anywhere.

Unless you include herself and her cousin, of course.

We stopped by a local hot spot for supper later on that night and took a stroll on the beach.
I thankfully am that annoying family member that is always asking the kids or the whole family to get together for a posed picture. I'm so glad I did, because this one is priceless.
This is what happens when you tell them you have french fries in your nose.
Someone learned the valuable lesson re: throwing sand up in the air.
And this one reminded me of a picture I took a year ago on another vacation. The kids had a favorite hang-out spot in both hotels.