Tuesday, July 27, 2010


While the boys have been working out…

I've been working in - in an entertainment center.

These past couple of weekends we've had a quiet block and therefore kept ourselves busy with home projects instead. We cleaned out the garage and reorganized it. We offloaded our old loveseat and a florescent lamp from the garage, thanks to Craigslist. Shawn repaired the garage door thanks to a busted cable. We sanded, painted and rehardwared the end table we've had forever because I can't find anything I like and am too cheap to purchase anything brand new. We bought a new living room rug but quickly discovered it was too big and are therefore on the search again. Finally, we sanded and primed the entertainment center that we've also had forever but are too cheap to replace. All it needs now are a couple coats of nice semi-gloss white paint and it will be finished! Both it and the end table were of the 80's generation - fake oak and brassy gold hardware. Although they matched some of the decor of our 1950's house, it was time for a change.

As soon as the entertainment center is done, I hope to post after photos of it and the end table and hopefully a new rug and thus a new living room! Hopefully this motivation leads me right into painting the trim and baseboards, hanging the curtains back up and FINALLY replacing the light fixture in our dining room! After that… let's see… there's new window treatments for the bedrooms, new hardware for the doors, new covers for the outlets, redoing the fireplace, finishing the basement, repainting some rooms, replacing our mini deck with a patio, replacing the back door of the garage…

Wednesday, July 21, 2010


I've put off posting this for quite some time. Tonight I've decided – I've festered enough. I'm not shy. I'm not afraid of speaking my mind. Why worry about posting my thoughts about something that has come to affect me no matter how hard I've tried to put it at bay. I told my Mom blogging is therapy. Here goes today's session.

No one, I repeat, no one has the right to judge anyone else. I'm not saying I'm a saint and haven't been guilty of this on occasion. No one is perfect. However this time, it's personal. No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, I ended up having to hear others judgments of my Dad. In the midst of dealing with the greatest loss I've ever had to encounter and saying goodbye to half of the reason I exist today, rumors seeped into conversations around me. We didn't even get through the lunch after the funeral without people opening their mouths in speculation. Now, three months later, people still haven't shut up. I've said time and time again I know gossip is going around but I really, really, really don't care and don't want to hear it. Truth is, it's inevitable.

I know small towns are great. Don't misunderstand my intentions as I'm not trying to downplay the help we received. I know, felt and was touched by the love and support of my friends and family and our community. Understandably, most have gone back to their daily lives but unfortunately, I'm left, at times, with a sour taste in my mouth and anger in my head. Sometimes a small town doesn't seem to know when to mind their own business. Why? Why do others concern themselves with what happened or speculate as to why or how it happened? Why do people feel it's their place to judge someone they knew absolutely nothing about? Why do people not think before they open their mouths? Why is my family not considered when everyone feels the need to know? I know the world does not revolve around me or my problems so why should someone else's coffee conversation?

No matter what anyone has thought or said out loud, people need to remember one thing. My Dad is someone to somebody. He is still someone's son, brother, husband, grandpa, coworker, cousin, uncle, friend. He is my Dad. If you respect that at all, you will know that that is enough and that is all you need to know. He was a person, not a headline. Ironically, he would've never wanted any of this attention and is probably wreaking havoc with the Man upstairs that I'm opening my mouth about this but I can't help it. He raised an outspoken daughter. I'm not staying quiet any more… but I am asking you to, at least where gossip is concerned.

One of the positives I've come to think fondly of is my Dad will always be 50 to me. I will always remember him at the peak of his existence. Everything gets better with age and my Dad was no exception. I always think and wonder what Dad's been up to. I had a hard time flying home from Virginia because as the wings cut through the clouds I couldn't help but smile knowing I was a little closer to Dad up in heaven. I bowed my head, pulled the rim of my hat down real low, turned up Spirit in the Sky and cried all the way home. I'd give anything to be able to talk to him again… even if it's just about hunting.

Sunday, July 11, 2010


Being an aunt can be hard work. You have to sustain your giggles when a niece gets put into time out. It was simply too cute.

Thursday, July 8, 2010


I recently finished The Book Theif by Marcus Zusak. If you have not read it, do. If you have not heard of it, click here. Learn. It's an incredible book. Set in Nazi Germany during WWII, death, of all things, narrates the story. I won't attempt to spin my own review (Amazon takes care of that), but I did want to mention it because I was struck by something.

The narrator begins the book by describing days as colors. Not necessarily the color of the sky or the surroundings, but the color of the feeling the day has. Being a graphic designer by trade, I've often found myself looking at colors in excess, but never as a descriptor of a day. It's a common fact that colors can influence mood. For instance, red/orange are typical kitchen colors because they represent energy. Blue/green are common bedroom colors because they represent calm. Pink also represents calm. That's why Hayden Fry painted the opponent's locker room pink. But days described as colors? That's a new one by me. Obviously a good one too as it's stuck with me since. Now, at one point during my day, every day, I assess it's color.

Patterns have already started to form. Mondays tend to be black, gray or brown or red. Shocking, I know. Weekends lend themselves to shades of blue. Fittingly, the days I can't stop thinking about Dad are green and the days I miss Mom are pink. Some days are obvious, some are not. Some are a combination. The color is not always decided by one singular criteria either. It's not always based on my mood, environment or who I'm surrounded by. It's a culmination of everything really. Although the patterns above seem logical, others come out of no where. It's all about gut feelings and as they say, you should always trust your gut.

Today? Today was tie-dye.


Holy blogging Batman! I was reading a fellow blogger's recent post about her blog's one year anniversary and got the itch to see how long I've had this blog. Turns out… three years and three months! Again, holy blogging Batman! I didn't realize it has been that long! That means that my our kitchen remodel started that long ago and isn't technically finished yet. What remains? The quarter round. After Team DeBoer's treacherous tries at trim, we've put off trying anything else in that kitchen. Any volunteers? Better yet, any professional volunteers? Here's the post that started it all.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


What problem? Seems to me Leo loves kids.
If you aren't sure what the heck I'm talking about, catch up on Leo here.

Thursday, July 1, 2010


Obviously, I'm not going to talk about those of the denim kind. I'm actually not even going to talk about real genetics. I'm going to talk about a made-up gene. It's a gene I possess, but Shawn does not. I'm referring to the ever powerful, ever popular, (pardon the language) "f*ck it!" gene. It's the gene that allows a person, no matter the length of their to-do list or roll of responsibilities, to just drop everything and do something they want to do or better yet, to do absolutely nothing at all.

As I eluded to, I have this very gene. I believe I've come to possess it later in life, however, because I vividly remember Michelle, my college roommate, telling me on a number of occasions to "f*ck it!" and me not being able to for a plethora of reasons. Of course whenever she suggested it, it usually pertained to school work and, ummmm, how do I say this… she wasn't necessarily as academic as I? She would probably say she wasn't as big of a nerd as I was so whichever way you want to slice it, you get the point. I couldn't say screw it to my studies. Whatever the reason, I forged on with what needed to be done as opposed to what I wanted to get done. And sure, I thought about playing hookie on an occasional Saturday as opposed to working for ten hours but I didn't. Ever. What I'm trying to say is, I can't remember ever activating this gene in college.

Now? Presently I can call this gene to duty at the sound of a light sprinkle, the end of a stressful day, the middle of a lazy weekend or just when I'm taking a walk with a friend. I have no problem watching a movie instead of cleaning, enjoying a lovely brew with comrades to vent about work instead of going straight to bed, taking a nap in the middle of the day even though I slept until Noon or enjoying a couple of Oreos whilst I try and walk my dogs, instead of actually burning calories. I know recent events have polished off my real priorities so it's easier to do things I want to do as opposed to things I feel I need to do, but it's more then that. I know this because Shawn went through the exact same events and still, he does not possess this gene.

I often kid with him that we've morphed into each other's former self. In other words, I'm slowly fading to type B (with the exception of a few OCD tendencies) and he's morphing to type A, thanks largely in part to his educational responsibilities. Maybe that's why he does not possess this gene. Maybe because he's always wanting to practice what he preaches? Maybe because he can't justify a nap when there's always homework to be done. Maybe because he only eats discretionary calories on the weekends so it's pointless to think about them any other time, no matter his stress level, because let's face it, the man teaches health. We'll just have to wait for him to weigh in. The important thing to learn from Shawn is that the arch enemy to the "f*ck it!" gene is self control or self discipline. I'm not venturing to say which is better or more accurate but merely pointing out they are opposites. I would say I'm capable of  dropping everything and doing something relaxing and Shawn would say he's got enough self control to skip dessert.

Ironically, it's surprising any woman would possess the "f*ck it!" gene. Why? Because women never shut their minds off. **Men Read: Women never shut up.** Think of the rolling credits after a movie. That's what a woman's mind is like. All day. Every day. Without end. On my recent trip to Virginia, I put my book away on my flight home and tried to just listen to music, relax and blank everything else out. Instead, I nearly filled my entire notepad on my iPod with thoughts, ideas, to-dos, to-buys, tweedle-dee-de and everything in between. It was absurd. I could feel my stress level rising as I typed and thought and typed and thought and immediately, I needed Lysine (the vitamin that prevents cold sores).

I don't know that irony is the right label because it seems I'm able to choose when I say screw it to everything, yet, I build on my lists as if they're my life raft. I have a constant stream of thoughts at all times, yet, for the right mood, time or purpose, I can and will say "f*ck it!" Is it mood swings? My emotions? A wave of realization to what really matters? My lack of self control or self discipline? Or is it that I am an extremely healthy human being because I can and choose to do both and therefore my life is more holistic? Is it even healthy to let everything go for a while if remorse for wasted time will inevitably follow? Does it really just all boil down to perspective? Is it sad that as I type this, I now I should really be packing?


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