5 scrambled eggs

1/4 of what was left of a “seasoning” bag of frozen veggies (chopped onion and peppers).

Dinner for less than $3 bucks. Hel-lo. (And NO complaints!!!)

Wouldn’t you know, my husband nabbed it and slyly brought it to the checkout? Ten bucks. “Hey, a guy at work brought one of these for the breakroom a few years ago (at his old job), and it was the best drip coffeemaker.”

Normally I would have let it leave my house and not complained. I have no problem using cups, plates, bowls from Goodwill. I do have a some reservations about using things I can’t scour clean, that have inside mechanisms that I can’t inspect with my own eyeballs… Irrational thoughts of someone running their own urine through a coffeemaker. You know, things like that.

So, being the good wife I am (and having a strange magnetism towards this happy-looking little coffeemaker), I took it upon myself to clean any imaginary urine out of it by running vinegar through it 8000 times. It honestly didn’t look like it had been used at all. Although each time I ran the vinegar through there was always a bit of sediment (looked like dust) floating on top of the water. Finally I just went to the store and got some official coffee cleaner. Ran that through a few times and the water was crystal, spanking, clear.

After all that cleansing care, it seemed right to also do a “test run” and make some coffee.

“You like the coffeemaker, don’t you?” Frank sighed, seeing the signs on the wall.

I ignored his insinuating question.

In turn it seemed right to actually drink the coffee.

Frank’s eyes rolled, accusing me of latching on to the maker, and also assuming his search for a coffeemaker was not over, as it seemed it was when he walked out of Goodwill with his Norelco DIAL-a-BREW II.

Thankfully, we found a cheap-o special deal during the Christmas Special Frenzies a couple weeks back, ’cause that DIAL-a-BREW makes one mean cup of coffee, and I’m not letting it go.

When he got home, we went to the wireless store and picked him out a new phone (his old one was so crappy, and that’s all he wanted was a new phone – well and an iPod Touch, but, you know, money we are not made of). I used my “new every two” upgrade, but transferred the phone to him. Unfortunately the phone wasn’t in stock and we had to order it to be shipped to our house. The sale took a while, which frustrated him because he wanted to get going. He humored us with dinner – the whole family, which was nice; they brought out a sundae and did some clappy-clappy sing-song for him. Thrilled, you can imagine.

Then he went to hang out with his friends. Our daughter, we dropped at her friend’s house, him at his friend’s house, and the rest of us drove home, stopping to see the Christmas lights (on display each year in one of the city parks).

Parenting, raising children, is a strange process. When they were all young (oldest 11, youngest 3) it seemed like we would be there forever. It was stressful and exhausting, but wonderful at the same time. Having teenaged kids was just unfathomable. And here we are, our oldest 18, youngest 10). Moving out, driving, having relationships, employment issues… some of it is almost a flashback to my own youth, being 15, turning 16, meeting my future spouse, having kids, marrying. I look at parents of young children and wonder how I was them a blink ago, and here I am now. But then, really I’m just the same little girl in the blue dress and cap, 30 years later playing house and looking around in awe.

But now I’m talking about me. Wasn’t I just talking about birthdays?

In comes the new Toyota (the oil-leaker has since been retired), a little snow and the absence of a candle being made in the past couple years.

In comes a husband who listened to my pleas to knock off a couple items on the Honey-do list.

I definitely don’t give him enough credit; guilty as charged, because he surprised me one day.

Pulling in to the driveway, as I do most every day after work, entering the garage, I can see the floor. He had boxed up my shop stragglers, threw out the garbage that was taking up space, and neatly stacked the rest against the wall. Not quite enough to get the car in, but enough to motivate me to finish the job (just… whatever, you can’t have perfection all the time).

It took a bit more compacting, a bit more rearranging, a couple of choice words mixed with sweat and determination, and finally. Finally, we are able to put a car out of the snow, into the garage.

The sight of it made his father teary-eyed. Yeah, that was written correctly. Made. His. Father. Cry.

Frankie. The garage… it’s clean?! (choking up) Your grandpa would be SO proud, Frankie. So proud. He loved a neat, clean garage.

Ten years ago I probably would have rolled my eyes and upchucked a bit. Today, it warms my heart in a funny, gotta love ‘em sort of way. Happy to have given that gift to him, as it was also a gift to me.

Lights, twinkling.

Snow? Falling by the bucketful.

Under a blanket with a big bowl of peppermint ice cream. Frosty, silky, the color of cotton candy, crunches of red and green speckled throughout. My lips are chilled, my teeth polar steel. Stomach revolts, ever so quietly. Process repeated many times throughout the days of Christmastime. To think, ice cream really isn’t even my thing.

Adding to the Christmas spirit – it snowed today. Since I rarely check the weather anymore, it was a surprise to me. I was putzing about the house, cleaning and decluttering, when the kids came home and screamed something about it snowing out. Really? A glance out the window confirmed that traffic was slowing as sheets of white flakes hit the pavement, gathering on the cars and sidewalks.

Joy!!!

More joy – Amazon.com is, once again, having their 25 days of Free MP3 Downloads- you gotta love that. Last year I downloaded nearly all the songs, and got aquainted with a few new artists that I enjoyed very much. Each day they uncover a new little gift – a new MP3. I love it. Easy peasy.

Goodness.

Still, I am greatful for the day, blessed by family, health, and warmed in spirit. This is the first “vacation” we’ve taken that I haven’t used our credit card for. I purchased it months ago with cash and am taking cash with. I hope that is a preview of our finances to come – increased responsibility with our money, and the ability to live without being indebted to anyone. It is a big goal, but I don’t feel as if it is unreasonable.

The house is filled with delicious smells, sounds, and the excitement of a change, a ruffle in the regular mechanics of day-to-day life. It is pleasing, and I am filled with gratitude.

I can’t drink a glass of wine without covering it up. Maybe I’ll use that as a trap.

I found this discussion in a quick google search, but am looking for something (hopefully) without using chemicals.

Any suggestions?

What’s for dinner?

Easy Roast Beef Subs

Busy night, thank goodness for pre-planning a meal. What could have turned into a$20 plus drive-thru meal, was instead a 15-minute prep and eat meal. And it was good, just as good as if we were to eat out. It is satisfying to save a little bit of money. I realize that there are definitely times where our family needs to stop somewhere, shove some food in the kiddo’s mouths so they can eat and get some shut-eye, but I would much rather those days be lessened, and not feel like they are forced. I really prefer it to be enjoyable to eat out, rather than necessity.

I’m a freak.

I love a clean bathroom. I could tell you all the businesses in Madison that have bathrooms you want to rest your bottom in, and all the places that you should hovercraft OR avoid, for fear of losing your cheeks. It might be considered an obsession or phobia. I don’t really care, honestly. It’s me and I can’t seem to change it. I’ve (literally) lived in fear of the possibility of peeing my pants after entering a bathroom, finding the facilities not up to par. Wetness on the seat, crud around the base, dampness in front of the toilet… I’m having a hard time typing it because the visuals come to mind. Not to mention the sink – if it looks like my hands will get dirtier by using the sink – oh no. No thank you.

My obsession knows no boundaries — public or private bathrooms, must be clean.

Yes, give me a cool, shiny bathroom (warmth and humidity exacerbates any unsightly, uncleanliness in a bathroom, in my opinion) with sparkling throne, clean scent, wash basin and towels… ah. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Perfectly clean and sanitized is a bonus, but absence of P & P (figure it out), clean smell, clean throne and floor, sink… I can do it. I had a friend who would scour her bathroom before I came over, concerned it would not be “good enough” for me. I didn’t know I was that transparent.

At home, for the longest time, Frank would clean the bathroom, bless his heart. I was either pregnant or nursing, or cleaning other things. But, honestly he didn’t do a job up to par with what I like. Some days I wouldn’t want to use my own bathroom. Yeah. It was like that. So I started doing it myself again. I’ll tell you, do it often, and it isn’t so bad, but let it go and pay the price. We ended up getting yellowish scum under the rim of the toilet and around the prongs on the seat, which gave me heebie jeebies. I think it smelled, too. “Frank, do you smell that? The toilet? No? I can smell it. It’s disgusting.”

I clean the bathroom about once every other day, wiping down the base, giving the inside a good once-over, and Swiffer-ing the floor. Even though I’d clean the bathroom, though, there was this nagging sense (and scent), saying something wasn’t right.

It was the stuck on yellow scum on the inside of the toilet, I was sure of it. Five man boys using a toilet over an extended period of time, and you’ve got ring-around-the-toilet. No matter how hard I scrubbed, how much I cursed, or how many drop-in toilet bombs I lit off, it remained. Until this – taking a pumice stone to the toilet.

One day while cleaning the bathroom, close to blacking out from the realization of it all, it dawned on my brain to try a pumice stone. I had either heard, read or seen it referenced somewhere as THE best way to clean toilet scum, filed it in the messy cabinets of my brain, and without knowing it, sent a page to retrieve it that day. Good boy.

Pumice stone, pumice stone? Where can I find a pumice stone? Like a headless chicken I circled and clucked, asking my brain page to help me out once again… All I had was the old stone I’d used on my feet a few times, but it would do. I gloved up, grabbed some baking soda (figured a paste of soda would help?) and got to scrubbing. By golly. The sight of flaky, crusted peediddle, and the stench of it’s wonder being released into the air was enough to let me know it was working. I scrubbed and scrubbed that stone down to a little nub, cleanliness as motivation. I likened it to a diaper explosion where you KNOW you have to clean it, vile as it is, but once you’re done you’ll be very pleased.

And I was. It was as if I had received a brand new toilet. The smell is gone, the unsightly piss ring is gone, and now when I clean my toilet you see sparkling porcelain and smell clean air.