So, I’ve been absent for awhile, but it has been for good reason. We had our ceiling scraped of all the cottage cheese looking stuff and painted. As you can see, it was a complete disaster.
About a year and a half ago, our ceiling leaked during a rainstorm and the roof was repaired, but the HOA dragged their feet in getting the 2 foot long rip in the ceiling of our living room replaced. They then wanted to just do a tape repair and put more cottage cheese up to replace the now drooping cottage cheese. Our landlord did not think that was acceptable and so began a war that lasted until last week, when the landlord hired someone to come in to scrape the ceiling. We had been warned that it would be a mess, but I really don’t think I knew what I would be facing. It took 3 and a half days to complete the job and it was BEYOND messy, as you can clearly see in the picture. The white dust you see on the floor was EVERYWHERE. He had put plastic sheeting up over all the openings to other rooms that were not being done, but alas, it did not deter the persistent lung clogging dust from covering every single item in my home. I thought I had finshed with the clean up, when I opened up a kitchen cabinet to get a pot to cook in and all of my pots and pans INSIDE the cabinets were covered in dust. If I possessed the ability to post more than one picture per entry I would show you a normal picture, but I haven’t figured that one out yet.
Originally uploaded by spuncrack.
I love Valentines Day. I truly do. I think it’s pretty great that there is a day set aside to say “I Love You”. It has never just been about a sweetheart for me (though he is pretty sweet), but for everyone that you love.
After dinner, we’ll be stuffing this cake in our mouths. Jealous? 🙂 I was going to make a Red Velvet cake, but decided to go with a strawberry cake mix instead. I think it was cake fatigue. I made a Guinness cake a couple of days ago from scratch that was fantastic. It was from a vegetarian magazine and I’m not sure I can post the recipe without getting into trouble. Much love to you.
If you haven’t already, you must check out John Mayer’s new album, Continuum, because it’s awesome. So there. Especially, but not limited to, track 7 entitled “Stop This Train”. Just wow.
I have a habit of trying to take mental pictures. I want so badly to remember something forever that I try to burn the image into my memory. I soak it all in (how the light is falling, the temperature, what people are wearing, the sounds, how I’m feeling) so that when I want to go back there, I can. Sadly, this practice almost always fails. My mind remembers what it wants to. The one time it actually worked was when we left our house to go to the hospital to have DQ (the first time-we got sent back home once). I made a point to stand in the doorway and turn around and remember what the house, and we, looked like before she arrived. I remember every single detail. Where the couch was, how I felt (terrified), the sun shining in through the kitchen window and falling onto the countertops, birds and traffic. It’s all there.
We recently took down the crib, when we moved TM to a bed. I didn’t think I would have a problem with this as the room they share is small, and removing the crib would provide more play space. As it turns out, I pretty much lost it when my husband took the crib to the garage. Not really because TM is no longer a baby, but because I could not for the life of me remember what the room looked like before the he was here. I stood in the middle of the room and cried and shook because my memory failed me. They are 5 and 3 and I was certain that I had missed it. Every moment of the past 5 years were gone because my memory chose instead to remember arguing with DQ or wishing TM would go on the toilet, or meals they refused to eat. My husband came back up and tried to console me by jogging my memory with the details he never forgets. I finally remembered and all was o.k. again.
Filed under Angst, DQ and TM
We had pasta for dinner tonight. Specifically, Ravioli Lasagna from Rachael Ray, although I did alter the recipe quite a bit. It was a hit by the way. Everyone liked it, which is an extreme rarity in our house. It made me think of another time we had pasta that did not have the same happy ending.
A while back I made tortellini for dinner with a marinara sauce to go on top. Everyone thought it was great except DQ who took one look at it and turned up her nose. At the time DQ loved pasta, cottage cheese, and marinara (without chunks or “seeds” aka herbs) so I thought, “Perfect!”. Not so much. At the time we were doing the “you must clean your plate” thing, and told her that if she did not eat her 10 mini tortellini, than she would be having it for breakfast. Thinking we were bluffing, she proceeded to agree to these terms and went to bed. When she woke up the next morning, she asked for her usual Cheerios with honey. I reminded her that she had to have the tortellini for breakfast, and she wailed for awhile, but eventually sat at the table with her plate of tortellini in front of her. I told her (knowing I had time on my side now) that she could not get up from the table until she had finished her tortellini. This was at about 8:30 a.m. She finished her tortellini and left the table at 1:00 p.m.!!! Yes, you read that correctly. That was the day I decided the fighting about the food was not worth it. The new rule (that has remained to this day) is that two bites must be put into the mouth, chewed and swallowed to get up from the table. Now that she’s a bit older, she usually abides by this rule without fussing about 2 nights per week. To be honest we are happy we have those 2 nights of dinner in peace, because it was 5 (almost 6) years before we had even one, not counting the nights with Mac and Cheese on the menu.
I remembered this tonight specifically because the dinner that was so vile 2 years ago was cheese filled pasta topped with marnara sauce, and the dinner served tonight was cheese filled pasta layered with marinara sauce. She never ceases to amaze me. And to those that would say she’s just like me, these words came out of the husband’s mouth the other night: “The Angel Hair pasta is better.” We were having spaghetti. Same brand. Same type. Just 1/2 a millimeter thicker. I think I have made my point.