Friday, November 26, 2010


Leo is thankful we gave him a home and continue to give him love, for Norman licking him clean, that he can reach the top of our buffet where the candy lives, for our sofas he enjoys when we're not home, and for the fireplace that is always running.

Norman is thankful he has such great parents, for peanut butter, marshmallows and anything that "accidentally" drops on the kitchen floor, for his new buddy Leo and his daily walks, and for the fireplace that is always running.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


Hey, you! Yeah, I'm talking to you. What gives? Why won't you be a follower on my blog? Are you having technical difficulties? Are you not even seeing the followers section to the right there? Are you offended by my postings? Have you just never thought to become an official follower? Would you rather remain an anonymous stalker? Are you allergic? Why you no follow me? Me sad.

Let me know if there is an actual, pertinent reasoning by commenting below. If not, add yourself as a follower dammit! *ahem* I mean, will you please add yourself as a fellow follower and participate in this lovely little project of mine? Thank you in advance for your time and effort and for making me squeeze some sincerity into at least this one post.

While my ramblings have been just that, random, we are undergoing a new remodel project and going back to the roots of what started this whole blogging in the first place. We're tackling the basement. By we, I mean professionals. Stay tuned…


My to-do list is haunting me. It has taken on a personality of it's own and frankly, it's starting to piss me off. Every time I check something off, something else gets added. Part of my problem is I have to write EVERYTHING down on the list or I will forget. I seem to have lost all memory function. Last week I was trying to decide what to wear and naturally, I pulled out my favorite black tee. I stared in the mirror and was like crap! Did I wear this already this week? It was Wednesday. I couldn't remember two freaking days prior. So, when something pops into my brain, I write it down. It's a curse because I literally have like 86 things on my to-do list. Some big, some small, some ridiculously quick, some that have been there for months (maybe years).

Example: I need to paint our new window trim. We got new windows last April. That's pushing eight months of no paint, no window coverings and the Team DeBoer fishbowl. We really don't mind that everyone can see into all parts of our house. Frankly, we're used to it. It's also pretty common on Ruggles. We're a close bunch. Either that we all just enjoy being voyeurs. Anyway, back to my point, I need to paint. If for no other reason then to solve the bathroom debacle. Shawn has started hanging his bath robe on a hanger and hanging it on the bathroom window so no one can see in. While it looks classy as hell, it scared the bajesus out of me the other day when I walked into a dark house and passed the bathroom and nearly punched what I thought was an invisible intruder. It was just the damn robe. Bathroom is priority one, bedroom priority two. Maybe if I just get those two windows done this year, I'll be satisfied. Maybe if I get one window done I'll be satisfied. Maybe.

Example: A couple weekends ago when it snowed about eight inches of wet, heavy ass snow, the weight took down a ginormous branch off our back tree. Luckily it landed between our house and the neighbors but some of it is still technically residing on their property. Shawn has since tried to move it but it's so heavy it still sits in it's original fallen location. Those same neighbors have been bitching about that tree since we moved in so we don't want to add fuel to their fire. At the very least, we need to drag the sucker so it sits on our lawn and our lawn alone. It can sit there all winter for all I care. At least it will eliminate a section of the lawn the dogs can poop on. Shit. Pick up poop, aka de-mine, that's also on the list.

Example: Team Cornstuble has again taken new photos and again, they're all so god damn adorable I have to order some but haven't gotten around to it yet because I've encountered another snafu. The other Team DeBoer had their little baby girl last Wednesday (Jordyn Grace DeBoer, 7lbs. 5ozs., 19.75" long with hair and most importantly, dimples!) so I need to reconfigure my frame display situation. The Cornstuble brood no longer fits on one shelf and Team DeBoer II doesn't quite take up another shelf and my OCD won't let me mix and match families so I'm currently without an answer. Such a problem I know. An expanding family with beautiful children. But again, despite the greatness this situation brings, it still brings another line on my to do list.

Example: We're forever fixing cars. We own two '94 Chevys so it's not like this is surprising but it seems when it rains it pours for these hunks of junk we love. They all need to be fixed at the same damn time. The Cavalier was just fixed by my Uncle Tod (surrogate family mechanic since the passing of my Dad) and the Beretta will be headed north to a coworkers on Wednesday. The Camry's in good shape but our lease is nearing it's end so we have lots of last minute details to attend to. For example, we had the dent in the bumper pushed back out. All the other dents I put in the car (YES, they were ALL my doing) weren't as noticeable so we left them alone. We also had to get the oil changed, tires rotated, schedule an inspection for our lease end, debate whether or not to have it detailed, etc. So even the good, safe, reliable car is on my list.

My earlier declaration that I have the f*ck-it gene can also really be labeled as procrastination and laziness and while I enjoy my down time sitting in my sweats in front of the fireplace watching How To Train Your Dragon with Shawn, I should really know better. I should get off my ass. I should get to work. I should attend to my lists! I should…

Thursday, November 4, 2010


I find it odd people get emotionally attached to the most abstract materials. Or even concrete materials for that matter. It doesn't make sense to me, especially if it's something you can remedy fairly effortlessly if you end up unhappy. Hair… paint on a wall… blankets… chachkies…

(Prepare yourself, clichés are a comin.)

Shit or get off the pot. Go big or go home. Bite the bullet. Put on your big boy/girl pants. Face your fear. Walk the plank! Did I forget anything?

Cut your damn hair! Paint a wall blindingly bright green! Let the world's next cutest baby enjoy your soft, warm, security cape! Dust off the shelves and make room for new treasures!

That's what I say. I'm okay if I'm alone in this arena but I just don't get emotionally attached to much. Don't misunderstand me. I'm no curmudgeon with no soul or heart to speak of. I have feelings and do have a keepsake or two but on the attachment spectrum as a whole, I lean heavily towards detached. The only exception is my current devotion to anything "Dad." With good reason, and good advice from my counselor, I'm holding everything he's ever touched, given, worn, drove, thought, built, breathed on and been near hostage until I'm ready to release it. I'm not ready yet.

But back to my point. I have no problem cutting my hair. It's hair. It grows back. I have no problem painting the walls in my house a bold color. If you get sick of it, guess what? Paint is cheap. You can paint over it. If you have some ultimate keepsake that isn't properly displayed or paid tribute to and is instead collecting spider eggs in your closet, get rid of it. You're not doing it any justice and instead are just humoring your feelings of guilt by keeping it.

Purge! Purging is cleansing. Purge your split ends, beige walls and lace doilies! Purge your blond locks, white ceilings and tattered blankets! Make room for new experiences. I promise… you won't feel a thing. If you do, it will only hurt for a second.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


It's ironic. My Dad spent something like seven years, in a blind, in the cold, in the wee hours of the morning, in the woods, calling, sitting and waiting for a turkey to come close enough for him to kill it with his bow.

Had he been at my house, in my living room, in the middle of a random day, he could have taken the shot.

These two turkeys roamed Roseville for a better part of last fall, which is when the photo above was taken. I also happened to spot them at my place of employment, right outside my window in fact. Not a big deal except my office was on the second floor and my window overlooked the roof. It was pretty hysterical to see a random turkey just waddling by as if on it's way to the supermarket or something. I half expected it to wave or tip it's hat or even say, "How do you do?"

I thought I'd seen the last of these turkeys last year but not to worry! I spotted them just last week on my way home, cruising down Larpenteur. Except now, now there are three. It's like they know Thanksgiving is around the corner. They're either playing a dangerous dare on passerbys or merely reminding people that even though we live in a metropolis surrounded by concrete and metal, nature exists and it too simply likes to explore.

As I saw them I had the split inclination to phone Dad. I quickly came back to reality, swiftly grew sad and then just as promptly rebounded deciding it was instead a sign that Dad was watching. In fact, he was probably dawned in camo, taking aim with his bow.


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