There's a big craft sale in 2 weeks. I'm looking forward to doing a little shopping, having lunch with a friend, and maybe soaking up some late autumn sunshine. My friend and I both have kids and crazy schedules with lots going on so it will take us a good 40 minutes over Cobb Salads to get through all the family stories, the gossip and all the big news.We'll hit the craft fair all talked out and ready to shop.
These craft fairs can sometimes plague me for days after. I'll be inching along the tables oohing and aahing over the handmade jewelry, the gorgeous hats or the brilliant scarves until I spot that one item that stops me in my tracks. I'll see something so perfect, so different, and so ------attainable -----that I won't buy it but instead I will determine that I will make that for Christmas gifts this year! Yes, I'll buy the supplies and set up my table and kick out 15 of those for my BFFS and Peeps for the holidays. The adrenaline starts pumping and I rush through the next week chomping at the bit, eager to make that drive after work to Michael's Craft Store to secure all the preliminaries. I'm guessing at the quantities but I fill up my cart with supplies, a quick stop for takeout Pad Thai, and I'm driving home a happy camper.
The next day is Saturday and I unpack my new treasures. I open up the cabinets and bins that host leftover craft supplies from other brainstorms and I add to the pile on the table. I have bits of quilting supplies still from the 1 quilt I finished and the second quilt that is an 8 year work in progress. Next to the card making stamps and markers are the Creative Memories scrap booking tools and papers that I use religiously. And buried deeply in the bin beyond the yarn, the glitter, and the paints is my favorite of all, my hot glue gun. I wielded that gun with power as I transformed my little pieces of junk into little pieces of treasures aka Christmas gifts in the 90's.
It didn't take long to survey the contents and map out my strategy for replicating this little klotchkey with assembly line efficiency. But then I answered the phone, and the dog needed to go poo, and then the doorbell rang and by then it was lunch time and the floor needed sweeping and the next thing I knew my son was back from his dad's looking to play and I hadn't accomplished a thing!
It's a slippery slope when you're crafting. You can have too much, too fast, too soon and then nothing gets done, ha. So the bins and the cabinets will remain closed this month. I'm not going to be suckered in by my own imagination this year. I will keep a full metal jacket of self control on me as I maneuver past the stacks of crocheted dishcloths and dog sweaters, and no, I will not be tempted to start a new craft this year. I will not. But just in case, I'm going to hang onto this 20% off coupon at Michael's.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The One Finger Salute
I was driving in southern MN a few years back and discovered a little road gesture that was only shared by males and that was only displayed from their moving vehicles.
NO NOT THAT ONE
It really was a beautiful day with the sun streaming in the windows and farmland as far as the eye could see. I won't lie, I can't pinpoint wheat from alfalfa or from young corn - I had to be schooled on what was out there. So there we were driving these slow country roads and being a curious person (that is often rewarded) I did my usual thing of checking out the approaching car, then checking out the driver and all the occupants. In my years of living in Richfield and then in St. Cloud, I had great luck seeing people I knew in all those cars, so it became my M.O.
Well on this day as I'm minding my own business I see this truck advancing towards me and just as we're abreast of each other he gives me the finger.
NO NOT THAT ONE
He ever so casually raises his right index finger in the air and then quickly flips it down. What was this? I'd been flipped off but in a new way??? My co-pilot in the car explained that it was a MN-Nice thing, it was a farm family thing, maybe even a secret code among those in the know.......well that's going too far. Heck, the guy was saying Hello! Well wasn't that special? I had to try it out for myself. The next 3 cars that were coming in the distance towards me were going to get my new one finger salute.
NO NOT THAT ONE
It is a sweet country thing. I love to do it now and in the instant that you start saluting it's funny how quickly they salute right back to you. Oh it made my day to somehow break the barrier and find myself in this secret world of driving salutation. With the migration of farmers up to the cities over the years, I find I can play my little driving hello game with older male drivers in the metro. They seem to be clued in, they know the move, and sure enough they smile big after - pleased to find another driver in the know.
NO NOT THAT ONE
It really was a beautiful day with the sun streaming in the windows and farmland as far as the eye could see. I won't lie, I can't pinpoint wheat from alfalfa or from young corn - I had to be schooled on what was out there. So there we were driving these slow country roads and being a curious person (that is often rewarded) I did my usual thing of checking out the approaching car, then checking out the driver and all the occupants. In my years of living in Richfield and then in St. Cloud, I had great luck seeing people I knew in all those cars, so it became my M.O.
Well on this day as I'm minding my own business I see this truck advancing towards me and just as we're abreast of each other he gives me the finger.
NO NOT THAT ONE
He ever so casually raises his right index finger in the air and then quickly flips it down. What was this? I'd been flipped off but in a new way??? My co-pilot in the car explained that it was a MN-Nice thing, it was a farm family thing, maybe even a secret code among those in the know.......well that's going too far. Heck, the guy was saying Hello! Well wasn't that special? I had to try it out for myself. The next 3 cars that were coming in the distance towards me were going to get my new one finger salute.
NO NOT THAT ONE
It is a sweet country thing. I love to do it now and in the instant that you start saluting it's funny how quickly they salute right back to you. Oh it made my day to somehow break the barrier and find myself in this secret world of driving salutation. With the migration of farmers up to the cities over the years, I find I can play my little driving hello game with older male drivers in the metro. They seem to be clued in, they know the move, and sure enough they smile big after - pleased to find another driver in the know.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
School Bus circa 1973
We were too young to drive, our parents all worked, and our older siblings were too cool to sport around a little kid in the car so the school bus was the only way to get to school - back in the day.
Whether the bus stop was north or south of my house it reached a wide radius, kids from probably 3 square blocks would line up on the corner. Funny how by Jr. high I wasn't actively hanging with most of them but I had a history with every one of them. Those immediately on my block had all survived non stop games of freeze tag, street hockey, doorbell ditch, kick the can and blind man's bluff. As summers came and went we upgraded to truth or dare, first kisses in the hedge of trees, streaking across the yards at midnight, seances and raising Mary Worth (who was she anyway) and bike rides to the outer most parts as long we were home by dinner.
Was it just me or can you remember the exciting adrenaline rush of being invited to play on a new block with a new group of kids? I can still picture running as a pack of wolves (us kids) through a backyard, past a lonely swing set, across another street, through an unfamiliar backyard leaping in pursuit while avoiding piles of dog poop only to find yourself smack dab into unknown territory. It was the equivalent of going to bed in North Dakota and waking up in Hawaii.
The whole night was filled with possibilities as we drew up teams and set the boundaries of how far you could run and hide and still be considered "in bounds." There was always a boy who pushed the limits and would be just one house over and would strut out smugly at the end of the game saying HE WON since no one found him.
Looking back, we had some really great times growing up together. We knew which moms had the best treats, we knew which moms allowed sleepovers and which ones didn't (mine - sigh). We knew how to play our mothers to get rides to the pool or pick around in their purses for loose change for when we biked to Kenny's and Roith's - the 2 stores to get candy and hang out at.
Dads were a big factor too. My dad had a certain few notes he would whistle when it was time to go in. I could be hiding in a bush, biking down the street, or planning a haunted house in someones garage.....but when I heard that whistle I knew it was time to call it a night and go home. There was a dad a block over that was handsome like Captain Von Trap and another that farted loudly and blamed us while laughing behind our backs. On any given night in the summer you'd see the parents chatting out front, walking over with coffee in their hands, checking out some new power tool or lawn gadget. It was a safe place and idyllic, really.
By high school most of us were driving or carpooling with friends with only the random bus ride as a last resort. It wasn't cool to ride the bus anymore. But even then if I got on and found myself in the back of the bus chances were good I would know someone from my bus stop. Oh that someone might look cool in his Members Only jacket wearing Levis jeans and sporting Adidas tennies but I knew the back story. I knew that under that Tom Selleck cool exterior was a sweet young boy who played Barbies with me when no one was looking, who made me snort milk out my nose from laughing, and most importantly gave me the hope of having a best friend just like him that I could call my own.
Whether the bus stop was north or south of my house it reached a wide radius, kids from probably 3 square blocks would line up on the corner. Funny how by Jr. high I wasn't actively hanging with most of them but I had a history with every one of them. Those immediately on my block had all survived non stop games of freeze tag, street hockey, doorbell ditch, kick the can and blind man's bluff. As summers came and went we upgraded to truth or dare, first kisses in the hedge of trees, streaking across the yards at midnight, seances and raising Mary Worth (who was she anyway) and bike rides to the outer most parts as long we were home by dinner.
Was it just me or can you remember the exciting adrenaline rush of being invited to play on a new block with a new group of kids? I can still picture running as a pack of wolves (us kids) through a backyard, past a lonely swing set, across another street, through an unfamiliar backyard leaping in pursuit while avoiding piles of dog poop only to find yourself smack dab into unknown territory. It was the equivalent of going to bed in North Dakota and waking up in Hawaii.
The whole night was filled with possibilities as we drew up teams and set the boundaries of how far you could run and hide and still be considered "in bounds." There was always a boy who pushed the limits and would be just one house over and would strut out smugly at the end of the game saying HE WON since no one found him.
Looking back, we had some really great times growing up together. We knew which moms had the best treats, we knew which moms allowed sleepovers and which ones didn't (mine - sigh). We knew how to play our mothers to get rides to the pool or pick around in their purses for loose change for when we biked to Kenny's and Roith's - the 2 stores to get candy and hang out at.
Dads were a big factor too. My dad had a certain few notes he would whistle when it was time to go in. I could be hiding in a bush, biking down the street, or planning a haunted house in someones garage.....but when I heard that whistle I knew it was time to call it a night and go home. There was a dad a block over that was handsome like Captain Von Trap and another that farted loudly and blamed us while laughing behind our backs. On any given night in the summer you'd see the parents chatting out front, walking over with coffee in their hands, checking out some new power tool or lawn gadget. It was a safe place and idyllic, really.
By high school most of us were driving or carpooling with friends with only the random bus ride as a last resort. It wasn't cool to ride the bus anymore. But even then if I got on and found myself in the back of the bus chances were good I would know someone from my bus stop. Oh that someone might look cool in his Members Only jacket wearing Levis jeans and sporting Adidas tennies but I knew the back story. I knew that under that Tom Selleck cool exterior was a sweet young boy who played Barbies with me when no one was looking, who made me snort milk out my nose from laughing, and most importantly gave me the hope of having a best friend just like him that I could call my own.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Traffic Signal Control Change Ahead
Recently, I was driving in new construction and saw the road sign: TRAFFIC SIGNAL CONTROL CHANGE AHEAD. The word CHANGE Tweeted in my head all day. What if God sent *IM* messages to our screens alerting us to the changes down the road, would we switch lanes and take the first exit?
What if 17 years ago while I was working on my brand new IBM word processor, with the typewriter still on the counter behind me, God had sent this *IM* to my screen, The wedding you're planning, it's not going to last.
Then fast forward 3 years and I'm in a conference room where the software engineers are joking that this new video conferencing chip will be on handheld devices someday (yeah right and Spock will beam me up). Meanwhile back at my desk, God sends His *IM* saying The baby you're hoping for, it will take 5 years and your mom will pass away one year later.
Four years later I'm seeing ads on my MAC computer for this new little show called American Idol and there on the screen God sends the *IM* Hey cat lover, you're going to get a dog in 9 years.
Would we better off if God gave us these little heads up messages? If we are forewarned are we really forearmed? Looking back and seeing the road map of changes that transpired I don't think the added *IM* messages would have made me bail and ditch my car. Faith is all about trusting the GPS that God puts in our hearts in spite of road conditions and detours ahead. I'm proud of the dents and scratches on my car -- I think it's proof of a life well loved, a car that's been around the block. That big Richfield Tour bus in the sky is moving forward and it's comforting to know who's driving the bus. As a future ticket holder, I know He's saving my seat.
What if 17 years ago while I was working on my brand new IBM word processor, with the typewriter still on the counter behind me, God had sent this *IM* to my screen, The wedding you're planning, it's not going to last.
Then fast forward 3 years and I'm in a conference room where the software engineers are joking that this new video conferencing chip will be on handheld devices someday (yeah right and Spock will beam me up). Meanwhile back at my desk, God sends His *IM* saying The baby you're hoping for, it will take 5 years and your mom will pass away one year later.
Four years later I'm seeing ads on my MAC computer for this new little show called American Idol and there on the screen God sends the *IM* Hey cat lover, you're going to get a dog in 9 years.
Would we better off if God gave us these little heads up messages? If we are forewarned are we really forearmed? Looking back and seeing the road map of changes that transpired I don't think the added *IM* messages would have made me bail and ditch my car. Faith is all about trusting the GPS that God puts in our hearts in spite of road conditions and detours ahead. I'm proud of the dents and scratches on my car -- I think it's proof of a life well loved, a car that's been around the block. That big Richfield Tour bus in the sky is moving forward and it's comforting to know who's driving the bus. As a future ticket holder, I know He's saving my seat.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Title Change
A person wears many hats and carries many titles. I've changed a few hats over the years and I'm busy changing titles also.
In the last year I went from Mrs. to Ms. I went from my married name to my maiden name again. I've changed the title of my checking accounts, my house bills, even the dog license for Gizmo reflects my new title: Ms. Sara Houser (single again). Today it was the the title on my car that changed from 2 drivers names to just mine. Some titles are great to have back again.
I have some people in my life that I always refer to with a title. I wonder why that is? There's Mr. Johnson, the hardworking dad and provider of an ever growing family who is my same age. And there's Mrs. Zoellner, my son's teacher who I could call Amy but instead refer to her title out of respect. And there's Miss Becki, my BFF at work who all the gals affectionately refer to as Miss even though she's a mom of college aged kids. Funny how titles come and go in style.
There was a time when you would never call your BFF's mom by her first name : Well hello there Corrine, how are you doing today. That would never fly. No, we used the Eddie Haskell approach instead saying, Well hello there Mrs. Cleaver how are you doing today? Yet even though I grew up with that formality, I've always insisted that the neighbor kids call me Sara, or Brady's mom, but never Ms. Houser. That was my mom's name and I don't associate with that. I feel a first name is more approachable.
There are some titles I'll never miss, for example: Mrs. George Clooney, Miss America, or Dr. Houser. That's fine with me. After a few more months tho, I might want to seek out just one more title ------and that's Mr. Right.
In the last year I went from Mrs. to Ms. I went from my married name to my maiden name again. I've changed the title of my checking accounts, my house bills, even the dog license for Gizmo reflects my new title: Ms. Sara Houser (single again). Today it was the the title on my car that changed from 2 drivers names to just mine. Some titles are great to have back again.
I have some people in my life that I always refer to with a title. I wonder why that is? There's Mr. Johnson, the hardworking dad and provider of an ever growing family who is my same age. And there's Mrs. Zoellner, my son's teacher who I could call Amy but instead refer to her title out of respect. And there's Miss Becki, my BFF at work who all the gals affectionately refer to as Miss even though she's a mom of college aged kids. Funny how titles come and go in style.
There was a time when you would never call your BFF's mom by her first name : Well hello there Corrine, how are you doing today. That would never fly. No, we used the Eddie Haskell approach instead saying, Well hello there Mrs. Cleaver how are you doing today? Yet even though I grew up with that formality, I've always insisted that the neighbor kids call me Sara, or Brady's mom, but never Ms. Houser. That was my mom's name and I don't associate with that. I feel a first name is more approachable.
There are some titles I'll never miss, for example: Mrs. George Clooney, Miss America, or Dr. Houser. That's fine with me. After a few more months tho, I might want to seek out just one more title ------and that's Mr. Right.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Garage Sale Bumper Stickers
Have you seen those bumper stickers that say: Caution this vehicle stops for all garage sales.
I used to be a big garage sale person . When my son was small I would pack him in the car seat and off we'd go -- in and out and in and out of the car stopping at each house for a quick peek at all the goods.
Well thank goodness the days of in and out are over. Now I've discovered Craigslist. Holy Smokes! It is the most fun I've had shopping in ages. I love discovering new categories on Craigslist. I found my roommate under the "housing wanted" link. I found my leather sectional couch under the "general" link (but talked her into giving it to me for free). The Judds concert tickets came at a huge discount under the "tickets" link and both of the beds in my house came gently used from the Craigslist "household" link.
Today I happened to find the "clothing and accessories" link. I think I may have found my son's new winter jacket, a year's worth of jeans for him, and a designer purse for me.
I'm not shy about shopping. I'll admit it, I love to shop. It has to be discounted tho, I'm all about the bargains. That's why I love the FREE link on Craigslist. It's a booty call for those of us that love to shop, ha.
I used to be a big garage sale person . When my son was small I would pack him in the car seat and off we'd go -- in and out and in and out of the car stopping at each house for a quick peek at all the goods.
Well thank goodness the days of in and out are over. Now I've discovered Craigslist. Holy Smokes! It is the most fun I've had shopping in ages. I love discovering new categories on Craigslist. I found my roommate under the "housing wanted" link. I found my leather sectional couch under the "general" link (but talked her into giving it to me for free). The Judds concert tickets came at a huge discount under the "tickets" link and both of the beds in my house came gently used from the Craigslist "household" link.
Today I happened to find the "clothing and accessories" link. I think I may have found my son's new winter jacket, a year's worth of jeans for him, and a designer purse for me.
I'm not shy about shopping. I'll admit it, I love to shop. It has to be discounted tho, I'm all about the bargains. That's why I love the FREE link on Craigslist. It's a booty call for those of us that love to shop, ha.
Monday, September 19, 2011
School Safety Zone - 25 MPH -
I used to be inconvenienced by those school safety zones in front of schools. You know, the short stretch of road near an elementary school which requires you to slow way down? Oh I was too busy to be bothered to slow down. I didn't have children. I would never hit a child with my car. I could still be careful driving faster than 25 MPH I justified. I was speeding over the school safety speed limit with that kind of rationalization. I got away with it until I became a mom 9 years ago.
Now if you asked me how I felt about those school safety zones today - post motherhood - I would have a totally different rationale.
My mornings are a horse race. I'm running through my morning routine every day trying to squeeze out a little more time for walking the dog or vacuuming the carpet. I'm brushing my teeth with an eye on the hair balls that are forming in the corner of the floor. Breakfast is short and sweet as I half listen to the weather report, wolf down some cereal, and slap PB&J together for lunch. It's full throttle to get out the door and drop my son at school and still make it to work on time.
As I'm accelerating down the street my head is still checking off the items on my morning checklist. But now when I see those yellow flags in the distance it's actually a reminder to slow ME down, not just the car. I take my foot off the gas and as I slowly approach the school I feel my blood pressure dropping, my breath is even, I can even hear the songs on the radio and for a second I can daydream and go to a happy place. All that happens while I'm watching the kids in the crosswalk being flagged across by their loving parents and humming to Fleetwood Mac.
Maybe when you see those school safety zones you'll slow down too. Use that time in the car to switch gears, literally, and relax a bit and maybe you'll find yourself in a happy place with Stevie Nicks and the band.
Now if you asked me how I felt about those school safety zones today - post motherhood - I would have a totally different rationale.
My mornings are a horse race. I'm running through my morning routine every day trying to squeeze out a little more time for walking the dog or vacuuming the carpet. I'm brushing my teeth with an eye on the hair balls that are forming in the corner of the floor. Breakfast is short and sweet as I half listen to the weather report, wolf down some cereal, and slap PB&J together for lunch. It's full throttle to get out the door and drop my son at school and still make it to work on time.
As I'm accelerating down the street my head is still checking off the items on my morning checklist. But now when I see those yellow flags in the distance it's actually a reminder to slow ME down, not just the car. I take my foot off the gas and as I slowly approach the school I feel my blood pressure dropping, my breath is even, I can even hear the songs on the radio and for a second I can daydream and go to a happy place. All that happens while I'm watching the kids in the crosswalk being flagged across by their loving parents and humming to Fleetwood Mac.
Maybe when you see those school safety zones you'll slow down too. Use that time in the car to switch gears, literally, and relax a bit and maybe you'll find yourself in a happy place with Stevie Nicks and the band.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Duluth Road Trip last July
I saw Duluth yesterday. I forgot how much I love being there and driving along the Scenic Route and just taking in the view of the lake. It is so magnificent, it makes you feel small and humble and awestruck. Brady, my son, was with his dad and I was feeling adventurous.
Once I got on the highway a pretty little battery light came flashing onto my dashboard but I determined I was going to avoid it and just see.......I dropped Gizmo, our dog, at the Duluth Boarding Kennels to play for the day and continued up to the Split rock Lighthouse as the cute little red light kept flashing.
The Lighthouse wasn't at all as I remembered it. I guess I was picturing something in my head from a romantic movie or maybe from a Scooby Do cartoon. It was impressive, just not what I remembered. On the way out, cars were lining up to enter, good thing I beat the crowd.
I turned back south because I had a 12:30 tour at Glensheen to make so I regretfully thought - bummer - can't do Gooseberry Falls this time.
With the red light still flashing I got closer and closer to Gooseberry Falls when the voltage indicator started dropping. Yeah, it was making me nervous, so I make a lickety split decision and I pulled off the highway into Gooseberry and right there in the parking lot, in a primo STAFF parking spot, all the gauges went to zero and my truck died, ha.
On the bright side, I got to see Gooseberry Falls while waiting for the tow.
It took 3 hours for the tow, the ride to Two Harbors, and the new alternator and new battery to be installed. Sigh. It was my vacation money that I had pinched together over the spring and summer. Sigh,sniff, boo hoo hoo. I"ll probably cry real tears later today. But I was just so thankful to be safe, have my car fixed, and able to enjoy the rest of the day that I put all that behind me.
Glensheen was gracious enough to bump me to the 4pm tour so that was a cool thing.What a gorgeous house. I do wish they would have talked about the Murders. They sold the book right in the Gift Shop but no mention of it on the tour. The house was so grand, it must have seemed very opulent in its day.
Oh, one side note:
There was a storm brewing in Sturgeon Lake so I saw it in my rear view mirror all the way home. I stopped in Hinckley for gas and a burger (no Tobey caramel rolls this time). I was in the drive through at Hardees and this car ahead of me was taking forever!! It was like she was telling them the story of her life. How hard is it to order a few burgers? So I'm nervous about the storm and seeing some raindrops on my window and without thinking about it......I honked at them. They turned around seething at me and I rolled my hand at them, as if to indicate ---hurry along. Somehow their order was still on the screen when I got up there and I saw the couple had ordered $20 worth of burgers. That should have prepared me for what came next......
The passenger in the car steps out of the car and he's MAMMOTH. Like a WWF wrestler with bulging muscles and angry face and arms like cement walls. He comes up to my drivers window and says, "You F****ing bitch, you honked at us in the drive through? What's up with you, you bitch!" And I'm all cocky and tired and go, well you seemed to be taking soooo long up there and I'm trying to beat the storm. And he called me a bitch again and my big retort was, "WELL JEEPERS CREEPERS, GO ON WITH YA." Ha ha ha. I wasn't even thinking that my life was at stake over a few burgers, ha ha.
Overall a triumphant day of big girl panty duties - with no tears.
I'm going to rest today with a few Advil for my tourist feet and driver's backache.
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