Saturday, January 26, 2008


As I type the, first of 5 rooms is getting it's second coat of reddish (okay, really dark pink, but don't tell P, she wants red) paint.  And all I have to do is write the check.
The very thought of painting was making me cry and the thought of painting 4 rooms in some shade of red, which seems to be an insanely difficult color with which to get good coverage, was making me think it would be easier to move rather than paint, but moving would probably require painting and, well that leads back to tears.
So I called a friend of my brother's to get a quote, knowing that I probably really couldn't afford to have someone else paint, but I could dream and then her quote was so extrordinarly reasonable that I asked how soon she could start and here we are getting the first room done and I don't have to to anything.
I may never paint again - yup, her prices are that good.

Monday, January 14, 2008

The Great Move

Saturday was The Great Move. 6 people live in the 4 upstairs bedrooms of my house and not one of them went to bed in the same room in which they woke up that morning.  3 bags of trash and 2 bags for donation later, the boys are in the lime green room, using the pink bathroom and the girls are in the blue rooms using the blue bathroom and eveyone (except my mother who is quite happy to be back in the purple room she moved out of less than a year ago) is begging for paint.  Strangely enough 4 of the 5 children would like red walls) but that's another weekend or two or three or four.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Maybe It's the Hair

Today I took P to the doctor, although he was booked so we actually saw the nurse practitioner, whom we rarely see (maybe only once before) so I'll give her a little lee way for not being familiar with my family, who asked as she walked into the room, "Are you the child's grandmother (slight pause as she took in the horror in my expression) or mother?"
Now I do live in the Deep South and I will admit that my appearance was more pre-Stacy-and-Clinton-makeover than post, but I am only 34!  (Ack, maybe I really to be on "Ten Years Younger!")
Now had I had my first child when I was 16 (rather than 23), and that child had chosen to procreate at the same age, it is possible that I could be a grandmother to a 2 year old (but P is 3 and my youngest).
Either way I am mortified.