Well, here we are.

We've got books off shelves, newly arranged by color.  Some brown paint on the walls.  And one almost empty room.

{Inspiration via designsponge - no, it's not my room.  Yes, I wish it were.}

It's been a bit of a dream, per se, to have a color-arranged bookshelf since I saw it somewhere long ago.  It makes looking for your book a real pain in the booty.  Or, maybe, if you're a visual person it's way easier to remember the color than the author.  Who knows?

But when all is said and done... beauty over comfort, form over function.

Now, back to the paint.  The brown is making me nervous.  I don't usually paint with such dark colors.  It's really dark. Dark can be cozy though, right?  Right?!?!  This room uses the exact same color that I'm using.  However, it's not scary.  It's not scary at all.

{via Apartment Therapy}

So, I suppose I will trudge ahead and make our room brown.  Bear with me.  I'm nervous.

Flipping through magazines, I am constantly ripping pages out and tucking them away for a dream renovation one day.  Make no mistake, I am content (most of the time) with everything I have now.  And I am blessed beyond measure.  But, a girl can dream, right?

This next home on Apartment Therapy sort of had me drooling.  The color!  The artwork!  The antiques!  The color (it needs to be said twice)!

It's true, I think, what I've heard decorators/designers say: "If you love it, use it, and it will all work together" (or something like that... I mean, I meet sooo many decorators in my daily life, it's hard to keep them all straight.  Right.)  This house makes me trust that statement.

{Like here for instance.  I'm not sure I would've trusted that an old oriental rug would've looked good here.  But alas, it works.  Oh, those silly designers know what they're talkin' bout.}

{One day I'd like a steel kitchen island like so, but only two or three times bigger than this one.  Go big or go home, right?}

{Such whimsy!  Such color (three times, now)!}

This house is somewhere in the Boston-area.  So, would they mind if I just showed up for coffee?

------------------------------

{Sure, they look cute.  But looks do deceive.}

I went to Costco yesterday evening.  It was that 5-6 o'clock hour where you're totally aware of the fact that everyone is home eating dinner and that's where you should be too.  But, kids needed to be picked up, husband was still teaching, and a tire needed to be fixed (Yes, at Costco.  They're a multi-purpose facility).

The two older boys had just finished b-ball.  They were hungry.  I understand.  Hunger is something I've experienced too, boys.  But, there was going to be dinner at home.  And $200 of groceries bought that very day.  Pizza at Costco wasn't on my radar.

One came close to tears.  The other begged.  And begged.  And begged.  The other tried to go back for a second sample moments after taking the first.  I tried to lose them--racing through the aisles before they caught which direction I was heading.  The other climbed up the tires in the tire section.

"Don't climb on the tires."

"I'm not."

My eyes were deceiving me, I guess.

"Pizza is just $2!"

"No, it's $2 times 4.  There are four of you."

"I'll pay for everyone!"

"You don't have any money!"

Begging didn't stop.

"I am dedicated to my 'no' now more than ever.  Otherwise, you'd believe this begging and whining worked."

"Can we get cinnamon toast crunch?" (in bulk, mind you.  It's Costco after all.)

"I don't do cinnamon toast crunch." (It's dessert, masking itself as breakfast cereal.)

"Why not?!?!?!?"

"Tell you what.  You feed your future kids cinnamon toast crunch until they are blue in the face."

"Oh, I will."

"Good."

"Good."

As we finished shopping and waited in the tire section I declared to them and hundreds of surrounding rubber-smelling tires:

"I will never come to Costco with all four of you ever again, so help me God."

And mark my words, it is true.

There really aren't enough ways to say all the things I'd like to say to and about my mother on her 62nd birthday.  I know some people say that, but I say it and I really mean it.

My mother is my best friend (except for my husband, but that's different).  She's wise, sophisticated, kind, and lovely.  She overcame a lot to give her four daughters a life they deserved, and a much better childhood than her own.  She is great in the best of circumstances and will shine in the worst.  She brings me peace.  She's someone I can only hope to resemble as I grow up.  I'd like her knowledge on all things health (if they could give a PhD for self-learned health and nutrition, she would have it), on her never-ceasing faith in Jesus, and on how to do the perfect split.  I love you so much, Mom.  Happy, happy birthday.

..........................

Today is another important person's birthday.

We only met one brief time, and neither of us knew then how a few short years later our lives would be
so intertwined... without ever meeting again (at least not here on this earth).

Happy birthday to Shannon who isn't here anymore, but who is probably celebrating her birthday in heaven right now.

She was a wife, mother, daughter, and friend.  And, as I understand it, she was really good at all of them.

Shannon, I really can't wait to talk to you one day.

William came home from school a bit ago.  He has been completely obsessed with telling everyone and their mother about the fact that I have this small (very small, smaller than he's even aware of) home art business going.  I think he dreams of big dollar signs to buy that yacht (for real, he's obsessed with the idea of owning a multi-million dollar yacht and talks about it like it's a real possibility) he's been eyeing.  His latest marketing victim?  His 4th grade teacher.  He came home happily announcing that his teacher would like me to make her a Silly & Sage something.

This should be interesting.

"What does she want, William?"

"A beach scene," he says.

I told him I don't do beach scenes, I don't have true artistic talent, free-hand painting is my not something I'm good at, and that this sale (that he, no doubt, would want a portion of) he had in mind just wouldn't be happening.

He really didn't get it.

Moral of the story: Don't hire a 9-year old to do your marketing (or, as the case may be, don't let them hire themselves).

the weekend in pictures.

And, last but not least, this week I am going to get started on a project.

Making our computer room look more like this (roughly... very roughly):

{photo via designsponge}

how was your weekend?

smart girl.

always prepared.

the next bear grylls.

hearts for haiti.

etsy has compiled a bunch of their sellers' lovely items into a shop called

hearts for haiti

where 100% of the proceeds will be donated

there are some fabulous finds.  do check it out.

some of my favorites?

buttoned up neckbone

minimalist bare bulb pendant

my little h will be showing up 

there soon too!

house envy.

{found via this lovely blog}

and a song for good measure

{1901 by phoenix}

. . . cause this is what i'm drinking today!

(it actually tastes so good - plus, it's other purpose isn't so bad either)

. . . courtesy of (500) days of summer
. . . and potentially winning a giveaway makes me happy too

maybe winter's not so bad.

this morning steve ran in 

and said we all had to come out and see how pretty 

the sun looked shining through the snow-covered trees.

though i'm not the hugest fan of winter, 

he was right.

and the pretty morning was made prettier 

when william came in this morning

(i was still in bed)

he said: "mom, you can stay in bed this morning.  i already made our lunches."

he is going to be the best husband some day.

. . . it's true

. . . but i guess it's been this way for awhile

. . . either way, i want to make them all mine!

top to bottom: express, anthropologie (x2), free people (x2), and ikea

. . . and just for good measure because they're so pretty

urban outfitters (but good luck snagging a pair!)

. . . and in keeping with the spirit of stripes

found on my etsy shop

(and yes, this means the supplies finally arrived!!)

a warning for me, for you.

say no to drinking texting and driving???

(drinking and driving is still off-limits, but listen to this...)

i was just watching yesterday's oprah and here's what i learned:

• talking on the phone while driving (even on a headset!!) = 4x more likely to get in an accident

• drinking and driving = 4x more likely to get in an accident (equal to talking--who knew?)

• texting and driving = 8x more likely to get in an accident!!!!

i really don't want this blog to be a platform for my opinions

about what you and yours do in your daily lives, but really... 8x more likely.

i will not text while driving ever again 

(i'm not a big texter at this point, so this shouldn't be too hard)

i will do my very best to limit my phone conversations in a car

(and at this point, i confess, i am on the phone in the car all the time).

these aren't some random studies... "they" (the infamous "they) have done actual studies proving that your brain is not seeing as much periphery when you are even talking on the phone as when you are off the phone entirely.

so, in the words of the lovely ellen degeneres,

Now we have hands-free phones, so you can focus on the thing you're really supposed to be doing ... chances are, if you need both of your hands to do something, your brain should be in on it too (here & now).

thank you, mlk.

(and wouldn't he think it cool that we have a black president?

i know i do.  whether or not i agree with him all the time.)

gracie is still alive.  

as evidenced by this picture taken of her just a few moments ago.

has yet to upchuck a bone though (or have it come out the other end).

steve snow-blows in his pjs and slippers.

it's the massachusetts way.

no surprise here.

she looked gorgeous.  also, i think steve carrell should've won

instead of alec baldwin.  like them both, but michael scott is the best.

and what was up with the DOWNPOUR in L.A., ahnika?!

thought that never happened there.

Gracie had a UTI about 2 months ago.  Dogs can get those.  After about a week of peeing way more frequently, squatting to only have a drop come out, and frequent accidents in the house, it was determined that a UTI was the likely cause.  When I got her pee checked out, however, it was very diluted and showed no sign of blood or anything that would indicate a UTI.

"Well, what would it be, then?" I asked the vet.

"We'll just watch her and if it continues, at her age, it'd most likely be related to her kidneys."

When I got home, I googled (NEVER use Google to diagnose a medical illness.  But, even as I say this, I will definitely do it again.  Using Google for these things is an illness unto itself.) kidney issues in a puppy which then led me to juvenile renal failure which then led me to numbering the days Gracie had left and crying at the prospect of her quickly approaching death.  All of this on my birthday weekend.  Lovely.  And last year on the night of my birthday, guess what arrived in the mail?  Allie's ashes.  Bad sign.

(I don't completely keep my wits about me when it comes to dog's potential illnesses since Allie's death.  I admit it.  Guilty as charged.)

I even had my Mom's friend doing Reiki on her from afar.  Yes, that is possible, and yes, that really did happen.

So, I put Gracie on antibiotics for a UTI and hoped that it would cure her ailment.

It did.  The UTI symptoms stopped and she was a happy puppy.  And I was a very happy puppy owner.

Now, a few months later, she is showing more signs of a UTI.  Great.

(Maybe it's a weird fluke thing she's going through.  Let's hope.)

But, just when a UTI seemed like the big concern, Gracie went and trumped it when she swallowed a 4 x 1 inch marrow bone last night.  I put some peanut butter on one end to get her interested, turned around for 1 second, and looked back to see her doing that snake swallow thing as the entire bone journeyed its way down into her stomach.

I hate you, Gracie.

(I totally love her actually, which makes this all the more annoying.)

I almost lunged with an outstretched arm ready to plunge right down her throat, hook the aforementioned bone, and rescue her poor stomach from days of unrest.

I didn't.  It was too late.

So, after a sleepless night--completely with Gracie's guttural noises and heaving followed by throw up by our bedside at, oh, 2 am, 3 am, 4 am, and 5 am and me, tired and in the dark, sticking my hand right in the throw-up to fish for a bone (that never made its way out)--we are awake and waiting.  Waiting for what you ask?  For her stomach acids to break down this nuisance of a bone, hopefully, and let her pass it.  Then we'll tackle the UTI.  Happy happy joy joy!

(Somewhere in there I also googled dogs swallowing bones, and apparently, it can be okay.  We have to wait and see.  I think this was all in her grand plan to force me to stay home and play with her.)

That's where we are on this Sunday morning as Gracie runs around chewing on her squeaker ball, all the while giggling to herself that she has our undivided attention.  Skipping church, and stuck home to observe a dog.  It is a good thing I love her so.

The morning was made a little brighter when these two brought us breakfast in bed.

They really are so sweet, even when I'm a crank in the morning.  Which I can be.  Whether or not I've been fishing for a bone in dog vomit all night.