Posted by: Marge | February 25, 2011

Clearly, I’m not Irish

For you, Miss Lavender Luz.

I once thought I had it together
I had planned for all of life’s weather
Now with husband and son
No housework gets done
I think sometimes I wasn’t so clever

My Contest Entry

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Family is just what you make it
You can love what you have or forsake it
When you’re loved by your friends
You can take what life sends
If it’s real love, you’ll never mistake it

On the subject of contests, go on over to GreebleMonkey and vote for your favorite photo!

Posted by: Marge | March 16, 2010

A Little Life Left In Him Yet – Greeblpix Entry

Little Orley


Posted by: Marge | May 19, 2009

A Scandalous Affair

A lot of bloggers have made the observation that when life is happy/busy, aside from having less time, they also feel less inspired to write. I confess I have noticed the same thing. I wouldn’t be being completely honest with you though if I didn’t confess to a scandalous little affair I’ve been having on the side. 

Facebook. There, I said it. I’ve been cheating on my blog with FB. I don’t feel guilty though. As time goes by, I’m finding there are things I really like about it that I can’t get here. I have needs, you know. For example, FB is real interactions with people I know IRL. I know who my readers are which allows me to drop the whole Simpsonsesque pretense. Sure it’s cute and fun, but it gets a little old sometimes.  I never had delusions of fame or monumental readership here on my blog and I never had hopes of making money from ads. It’s just a place where I can share my life with people who, for the most part, already know me IRL anyway. I’m grateful for the handful of wonderful friends I’ve made via the blogosphere but it feels weird being known only as Marge.

Many of you have already connected with me on FB, but for those of you who have not friended me (or, heaven forbid, are not FB members yet), I encourage you to come find me. Don’t know my IRL name? Drop me a comment here and I’ll email it to you, k?

I’m not giving up on my blog, just giving in to the realization that it’s not the priority it once was and until inspiration knocks at my door again, the lights will be turned down low.

I’m making daily appearances on FB and look forward to seeing you there!

Posted by: Marge | April 2, 2009

Thank Bob I Only Have One Kid!

Working very long hours and gardening have pretty much taken up all my time lately (but not for nothing. My peas, spinach and lettuce are in and the peat pots will be sprouting any day now). I’d forget to eat, bathe, and sleep if wasn’t on the calendar. Today I took a few minutes to consider the Summer Schedule. My heart is still pounding. To give you an idea, the craziness apparently started last weekend.

  • Last weekend – drive Bart to Grandma & Grandpa’s for Spring Break week (6 hours roundtrip)
  • This week – redecorate Bart’s room as a surprise. Includes paint and a redesign of his bed
  • This weekend – pick up Bart (another 6 hours of driving)
  • Mid April – Baseball registration and Bart goes off to Estes Park for his Outdoor Education trip
  • Day after Estes Park – Leave for 10 days in Moab
  • Between now and mid May – register for summer camp, register for summer pottery class, plan birthday fossil digging trip and send out invitations, schedule doc visit for 11-yr shots, sched dentist to evaluate for braces, register for bike races in June & July, plan Wyoming trip with Grandma, buy new baseball uniform and gear…
  • End of May – Continuation Ceremony & Field Day
  • June 1 – Baseball starts – one practice during the week, one game every weekend until Aug 1
  • Mid-June – Birthday fossil trip & Elephant Rock Bike Race
  • End of June – Bart trip to IL to see aunt & cousins
  • July – summer camp (horse riding for a week!), pottery class, multiple jeep/camping trips, Moonlight Classic (with you – yay), and holiday fun.
  • August – back-to-school prep, long weekend rodatrip (maybe), hopefully more camping, the dreaded start of middle school

I’m tired just thinking about it. If you’re lucky I’ll sneak in a few blog posts with photos of the fun and insanity (mostly the latter).

 ___

And in the back of my head DJ Hampster sings: “Walk right in it’s around the back, just a half a mile from the railroad track, you can get anything you want {sing it with me now} at Alice’s Restaurant!”

Posted by: Marge | March 18, 2009

Madness By The Light Of The Moon

Mark your calendar. July 18th is going to be another Marge Madness.
If you are in Denver, have a bicycle, and are up for pulling an all-nighter, you’ll love this.

Bart and I did this with a friend two years ago and it was a blast!

More details to come as we get closer. To whet your appetite, visit the event website .

Posted by: Marge | March 18, 2009

DUDE

Over bowls of pesto cavatappi earlier this evening, Bart and I were enjoying a game of trivia. You get a point each time you stump your partner or answer their question correctly. First one to 15 wins.

I was down by 3 points when he threw an easy one at me.

“What does ‘dude’ mean?”
I scowled at him. “Um, somebody really cool?”
“Nope, it’s the hair on an elephant’s butt.”

elephant-butt

“What?! No. Where did you hear that?”
“It’s true!” And he was so sure of it that he had me going for a few seconds.
“No way dude! (no insult intended). Very funny, but I don’t believe it. When we get home I’m totally looking it up.”

My kid is smarter than I thought. It helps that he’s an audio learner. I couldn’t stump him by asking where the delta of the Colorado River was, what family of instruments the piano belongs to, or what is the main staple of a panda’s diet. Slowly though, I made my questions tougher and caught up on the points. I finally won with what mineral are diamonds made from. Totally got him.

Back at home I did my research and discovered that the whole elephant butt hair business is nothing more than a myth, often perpetuated by fifth-graders. Go figure.

Posted by: Marge | March 18, 2009

Joe?

You already know this, but just to set the record straight, I’m not Catholic (and neither is the author of that fantasticly irreverent penis comment yesterday). When we started this thing, none of us involved were Catholic and we certainly meant no disrespect to their tradition, we just found it served our purposes to abscond with their holiday seeing as how no one appeared to be making good use of it anyway.

I’ve lost touch with Gavin over the years. St. Joe’s Day always makes me think of her because although she was half Mexican, her heart was completely Irish. She was obsessed with green, listened almost exclusively to U2, and come March, she was all about St. Patrick’s Day. She would hand out greeting cards with leprechauns on them to her friends and hassle us for not wearing green. It was unthinkable the year that her boyfriend forgot the holiday. I suspect he was attempting to compensate for the oversight two days later when he began wishing everyone a happy St. Joe’s Day and handed me a card.

I still have the card. Er, somewhere. I swear. And I looked for it in earnest so that I could show you. It had a picture on the front with horses in the mist. Inside he had written a whimsical, nonsinsical note, the essence of which escapes me at the moment. Joshman was always doing things like that and I’d learned to wait quietly for an explanation. All I got was “It’s St. Joe’s Day. See, it’s on the calendar!” And sure enough it was. We didn’t know what it meant exactly but at that imaginative stage in our lives, not knowing was a fabulous excuse for making something up. Which we did (although just think of the fun we’d have had if Wikipedia had only been around back then).

Our very own holiday. Who needs four-leaf clovers and such? Rather randomly, we decided that the official color of the day is blue. You must wear blue. If there was more to it, I don’t recall it. For years after, a few of us would exchange cards. I always tried to find something with blue flowers on it. I have a vague recollection also of discovering that on that day the swallows migrate back to San Juan Capistrano and I always said I’d like to see that. One of these days….

I’m sorry. I know you were expecting something outlandish. It was just a silly thing we did, but it was fun.

HAPPY

Oh, and as an interesting side note, it’s also Birthday Eve for Mr Lady. Tomorrow she turns … um, 27. So hop on over to her place and give her some grief love.

Posted by: Marge | March 17, 2009

Almost As Dorky As The CLF

Some years it comes and goes and I barely notice (more often than not these days). While everyone else is wearing green, drinking lots of FD&C Yellow #5, and kissing stones, I’m thinking of another tradition coming up in two days. I could ignore it this year like I did last year. Who knows, maybe it’s time to let this silly high school tradition find a dignified end. Or maybe y’all want to read more tales of teenage dorkiness despite the risk of your eyes bleeding. You tell me.

And right here in this very spot is where I would put a cute little polling widget. That is, if WP would play nice. Which it doesn’t seem to want to.

Plan B: Leave me a comment. Your enthusiasm level will indicate whether I should make a St. Joe’s Day post on Thursday.

Posted by: Marge | March 4, 2009

The Bucket List of Parenting

It all came together nicely; Bart had a day off school, my boss owed me comp time for making me work on my birthday day off, and the weather was unbelievable. So I took yesterday off and Bart and I headed to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science for a marathon day of endless walking and stairs shows and exhibits. It was a Perfect Moment Monday. Aside from the sudden urges to randomly strangle the screaming and unruly bus-loads of school children, the experience was delightful. The planetarium show was short but enlightening, the natural disasters exhibit was sad but thought-provoking, hunting for leprechauns in the dioramas and being dazzled by the gems and minerals never gets old, and the IMAX was a crowd-pleaser as always.

In a  recent conversation with Bart, it came to light that the few years we have together before his Great Emancipation will fly by so quickly. Ten seems so young and innocent but in the blink of an eye he will be seventeen, dating, working, and itching for more independence than living at home with Mom can offer. These outings together are memories I will cling to desperately one day.

Nature Unleashed

We watched the IMAX film about the Grand Canyon and followed the explorations of an author/photographer and his teen-aged daughter as they set out on their last trip together before she left for college. When the water splashed the camera over the edge of the raft, or a kayaker went over a waterfall, Bart gripped my hand tightly.

I’ve taken two white-water rafting trips, one down a class IV rapids not so long ago. I’m a hopeless adrenaline junkie and seriously frustrated sometimes by my son’s apparent lack of such desires. I’ve tried so hard to interest him in rafting or kayaking but alas, even crawling over steep obstacles in a Jeep is enough to make him get out and walk. Sigh. Have I mentioned that I’m a mean mom? I have this insatiable urge to push him out of his little paternally inherited comfort zone. He needs to live a little, for pete’s sake. Sitting there in that dark theater I made a decision. The boy is going rafting. This summer. Come hell (or preferably) high water.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “We’re gonna do that.” And over lunch I brought it up again. I made it clear that it was not optional. And no, it wouldn’t be class IV or anything, and it would only be a little tiny bit scary, and I promised he’d survive. He took the news surprisingly well. In the back of my mind a ball had begun rolling. As I thought about it, I came up with a few things I want him to learn or experience before he leaves home. On my way to work this morning I thought of more things and I realised that a list was forming … a bucket list of parenting you might say.

Oh no!

Before his eighteenth birthday I want him to:

  • take a rafting trip with me and learn to kayak
  • take a gun safety and marksmanship class
  • learn and demonstrate basic survival skills
  • take a first aid course
  • learn proper gentleman’s etiquette (ya know – how to “clean up nice”, smell good, dress with some taste, open doors, and give a firm handshake, etc)
  • try to learn to play a musical instrument
  • learn basic dancing skills
  • and as long as I’m enjoying this little pipe dream, he can promise me he won’t get married or knock up any girl before he’s 25. Yeah right.

Seriously though, there are some things a guy needs to know. He may hate me for making him do some of it (it might surprise you which things), but he’ll thank me some day.

What’s on your parenting bucket list?

Posted by: Marge | February 26, 2009

Invalid

First a nasty lung bug settled into my chest. I wasn’t sick sick like sore throat and scratchy voice and stuff, just a miserable really deep cough and lethargy. Then while I was trying hard not to be sick because moms aren’t allowed to be sick when their kids are sick too, I twisted my ankle while I was innocently walking into the mailhouse. I’m tough and told myself to get over it because I’m not in the mood to be hobbled up. That was two weeks ago and it still hurts like the dickens. Then last weekend I pissed off my back. I’m not entirely sure how since it could have been while I was man-handling a Vega motor that got in my way, or maybe single-handedly removing a super-heavy chunk of shed roof, or bending over my workbench trying to teach myself how to use a router, or while I was working on my truck…hell, all I know is that I have a pinched nerve and sitting on anything other than the sofa (including the toilet) hurts. Really bad.

Grumble grumble. It’s nice outside, it’s spring, I even feel like getting exercise but my body won’t cooperate. Irk. Last night I needed a sheet of plexiglass for a project so I went to Lowes. It was a recipe for disaster now that I think about it. I had lots of time, a restless head-full of project ideas, and not sitting felt very good. So I grabbed a buggy and started at the lumber end of the store. I wandered mostly aimlessly up one aisle and down the next, giving the occasional “thanks, but I’m just browsing” or “yes thanks, I’m finding everything I need” (smirk). Everything indeed. I drank in the scent of cedar posts and commercial 5 gallon buckets of Pinesol. I made note of the current price of various plywood and scowled at the boring earth-tones of the Armstrong tiles. There were discount racks to peruse and things to think about like maybe new hardware for the kitchen sink and cool things I might be able to do with one of these connected to one of those, and a bazillion other absolutely not affordable ideas.

And then I found myself at the other end of the store. Do you know what is at the other end of the store? Lawn and Garden, that’s what. But it’s only February, nothin’ to see, right? Wrong. I ventured through the automatic sliding doors and out onto the patio. No one else was out there. The long rows of platforms had been set up but it was too cold to stock plants just yet. But there were many varieties of soil, pavers, and ornamental hummingbird feeders and faux-wrought iron trellises and supplies for a DIY water feature. I wandered around, found a few bags of soil for my seedlings, and exited through a different door than I came in. Right into seeds heaven.  And there were tubers for iris and lilies and starter packs for rhubarb and strawberries and asparagus and and and. Ooooh and an electronic reusable soil tester – way cool!

I had parked on the lumber end and had to walk all the way back across the store. The annoying door alarm kept sounding at the main registers so I decided to check out in the lumber dept. The cashier girl was chatty and joked that I probably didn’t have all those items in the basket on my list. She didn’t know the half of it!

So I left feeling giddy about my purchases and slowly, as I drove home shifting uncomfortably in the seat I began to remember why I have accomplished almost nothing in the past two weeks. By the time I got home and unfolded myself painfully from the truck, I had lost all the enthusiasm about gardening and building stuff. I carried the smaller bags into the house and dropped them in a heap on the kitchen floor. Ow. ow. Dammit it took more than 45 minutes of stretching and heat packs on the floor to make me comfortable enough to sleep.

ow ow ow

I don’t make a very good invalid. I gave myself another stern talking-to about getting healthy again already. That garden won’t plant itself you know.

warning

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