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I swiped this from one of my favorite blogs.  Things?  Who needs ’em?  Enjoy………….

The advantage of having a house smack dab on the corner is that it is prone to drive-bys.

That was the case last week when an old friend was riding by on her bike and decided to stop and say hello.  She was in my writers group for awhile, but dropped out and I really miss her input as she was a good problem solver in this writing thing.

She came to tell me that she was leaving her job with the school district, so if I was interested……………..  I went on three interviews in the last year with the school district.  Each one I was qualified for and each time I got the “sorry but……….” call.  Three strikes and Sweet Jesus, give me some direction in this job thing because I’ve been flailing for a year.

We chatted about many things including being of a certain age that is not so employable as the years pass.  She looked around my house and said, “Why aren’t you writing a blog about decorating?”   I’ve thought about it and done a little bit here, but full-on, how-to, before and after……………haven’t gone there.

“Well, it’s about time you did,” she said.  “You’re creative, talented and you know how to write.  You have big things on your horizon.  I’ve always thought that about you.”

Oh. My. Goodness.  Could there be a more stellar start to my day than to have a friend drop by and say that?  This corner house that I loved from the minute I saw it keeps giving back, and maybe Sweet Jesus sent a messenger to my door to point me in the right direction.

Back in my single days, I worked for a utility company in Chicago.  I was in the employee benefits office where we processed health insurance claims.  It was a parade of employees all day long checking on their deductible, adding a new baby, turning in bills to be paid.

One older guy whose wife was ill came in often.  He carried a couple of pounds of change in his pocket and jingled it constantly while he was talking to you.  Never stopped.  Just kept jingling that change the whole time.  It made me so crazy that I wanted to scream.  Hey, Mr. Bojangles……….how ’bout you put a lid on the pants pocket concert???!!!

In recent years, The Big Daddy has become a whistler.  He whistles from the time he gets up to the time he goes to bed.  Mindless, annoying whistling that makes me want to hit him in the head with a shovel.   Most of the time I can ignore it, but when I’m trying to concentrate or proceeding to checkout it makes me want to scream.  Hey, why don’t you hi-ho, hi-ho yourself off to work with the other dwarfs and take that whistle with you???!!!!

I noticed awhile ago that sometimes just before I fall asleep I make this gutteral groaning noise that comes from way back in my throat.  The other day I thought I heard it while I was up and about.  WHAT. THE. HELL.

As God is my witness, I’ll suffocate myself before anyone has to do the deed for me.

I read on this blog that writing a manifesto for your life could change the way you look at things.  What’s important to you?  What makes your heart sing?  What do you let stand in the way of doing those things?  I’ve been mulling that one over for the last week and I intend to write one myself, but I’m not sure if it will ever see the light of day.

I read this one today and nearly every bit of it applies to me.  And probably to you as well.

http://muralmaker1.blogspot.com/2012/05/my-manifesto-you-are-light-of-world.html

I have one photo from the Prairie Girls sale this weekend and it doesn’t show much of what we had, but take my word for it…………….it was a doozy.

From the minute I pulled the garage door up at 7:30 it was crazy.  The first few people were dealers.  Jerks of great magnitude.  One guy told me I was charging retail prices.  Oh, so let me get this straight………….you want everything dirt cheap so you can charge retail prices. 

It never slowed down the whole day.  Someone even wanted to buy a hanging basket of impatiens that I had bought the day before at a nursery.  I answered dozens and dozens of questions about my hydrangeas.  I have no secret.  I do nothing to them.  Now how ’bout some handsome vintage picnic baskets?   I bartered and got the better end on some deals and the losing end of others.  Every piece of furniture was gone by the end of the day.

Just when we girls thought we lost our picker’s eye………….our mojo was restored.  So was our bank account.  And our creative juices.  And we’ll do it again and it will be just as grand.

Oh, and the best part?  Nancy introduced me to an old friend of hers who just so happens to be the sister of Claire McCaskill.  Senator Claire McCaskill from Missouri.   

I told you everybody came.

I am one of those people that strangers talk to.  Pour out their heart.  Lay it all down.  I have no idea why but it happens all the time.

I went to the Macy’s counter to find out about something called Beauty Balm.  Cuz I’m such a girl and love skin products.  In the midst of helping me, my salesperson got a phone call of the personal nature.

When she hung up, I learned that it was her brother who was on the phone and he was having a bad day.  He’s an alcoholic with some drug abuse sprinkled on top.  He hurt himself on the job – a cut on the forearm that went clear to the bone.   He has not been taking his antibiotics.  His daughter won’t speak to him until he stops drinking and didn’t invite him to her graduation.  He didn’t have to sit with the family but she should have invited him don’t you think?  It has made him more depressed.  If he doesn’t take his antibiotics he will get an infection and might never work again.  Her parents died in the last year.  Five months apart.  The house they were living in got foreclosed because the brother didn’t make the payments.  They had nine days to clear the house.  Her sister came to live with her and then her car got repossessed.  She often walks to work if her sister needs to borrow her car.  Her puppy died unexpectedly. 

The Beauty Balm in my shade was not in stock but I got a free sample from the tester.

Sort of.

This may or may not have happened to me in the last 24 hours…………………..

Had three adult children, two dogs and two cats in the house all afternoon after an awful night’s sleep.  Locked myself in the bedroom just so they would leave me alone.  They did not.

Have run a one-person shuttle service with multiple trips here and there every day.

Nearly lost it at the local hardware store because they don’t give a shit about shit.

Painted half the staircase.  Left the other half unpainted for traffic.  Had a cat run up the painted side AS I WAS PAINTING IT and chased him under the bed.  Dropped the ef bomb about twenty times then laughed hysterically on the floor of the living room for twenty minutes.  Crazy, scary, irrational laughing.

Have no recollection of brushing my teeth today.  Did I?

Went to pay some bills.  Checking account is a complete cluster and hemorrhaging money.

Ate the entire day, including frosting out of the can every time I opened the fridge and a couple more spoonfuls before bed.

Am hoping this is the cure but skipping the candles due to mildew.

The Big Daddy and I were invited to a going-away party this weekend for one of the guys in his bike group that is moving.  He loves these guys, but I don’t know them very well and let’s face it……………..I crack on bikers rather often.  Add to that, I am not a good mingler, and oh how I wished I could stay home.

When we got there, The BD immediately made his way to his posse and other than saying “hi” I didn’t converse with them very much.  They inevitably start talking the bike lingo………….hills, sustained m.p.h., bonking……..and it is a subject which I am not interested in.  I ended up eating at a table on the screened porch and had a lovely conversation with my table mates.

Two of the other wives that I have recently gotten to know in this group we’re in the family room and I walked into their conversation about mother-in-laws (MIL).  That’s when I heard the story of Classic Peg (name changed for reasons you’ll know soon).

Classic Peg had no filter when it came to talking about personal matters and while they were in the car one day with two young girls in the backseat, Classic Peg started discussing her vaginal dryness.  Oh, you can’t believe it.  I’m so dry up there it’s like it’s cracking.  Don’t even talk to me about sex.  Hurts like hell.  Daughter-In-Law tried numerous times to divert the conversation to something else, but Classic Peg wouldn’t hear of it.  I got some of that Prempro from the doctor.  You put it in the applicator, and squirt it way up into your vagina and let me tell you it does the trick.  Sex is much better once you get a few doses of Prempro up there because it’s not so dry anymore.  You’ve got to keep up with it, though.  If you miss a few doses you’re back to Crustyville in no time, and the sex starts hurting again.

She wasn’t done.

I never moved from the couch the rest of the night.  I had found my peeps.

We are less than a month away from our big wedding and there is much to do.  I am not a list maker, but this is one big party that requires a whole lot of coordination, taking care of the deets and oh those logistics.  That is the part that is seriously messing up my brain.

I am feeling overwhelmed so…………..

The Boy Child, Mallie Bee and I tore the carpet off the stairs.  I have hated it forever and so a couple of weeks ago I pulled it up off one stair and The Boy Child said, “Oh geez, no Mom, this is NOT a good idea.”  I let that percolate awhile then showed The Big Daddy.  He told me to go for it.  When he was out of town.  And the day came when that carpet bug crawled up my butt and it had to go.  Now.  It was some kind of job and The Boy Child yanked and yanked that carpet and Mallie Bee and I pulled staples until the cows came home.  It was a group effort and at times the group couldn’t stand each other, but we got the job done.

The risers have been stained and I need to decide what color to paint the stairs.  My original idea of black won’t work because the stain is so dark it looks black.  I thought about white but that is so uninteresting.  When I went to the paint shop I found out I could get floor paint in any color I wanted and I am thinking turquoise………..an aged-up, weathered turquoise. 

It’s either crazy of brilliant……….a place I often find myself.