sueeeus

Show and Tell this week is our favorite room. This is my first house and I love that I finally have a house, although it’s by far nothing like my dream home. It has a somewhat typical American suburban development tract floor plan that doesn’t make much sense to me, but given my options and budget, this is what I have. I don’t have a favorite room, per se. I thought of posting a picture of my bedroom, as I long, LONG, for a good and full night’s sleep. But I spend almost no time there, unless I am sleeping. I thought of posting my kitchen, which I love, in that it is much bigger than anything I’ve ever had, has a pantry and an island and a deep sink. But it’s messy, and really sort of average, all in all. Plus, I feel like a slave to the chore of feeding the family sometimes, so it’s not always my favorite place. Especially when I don’t get as much help keeping things clean and tidy as I would like. The other living room used to be my favorite, but then we got this ridiculously big tv that doesn’t fit inside the armoire (I like things tidy and electronics concealed — it’s good feng shui, you know), so I had to move the armoire out, which is a very pleasing article, with nice bookshelf units on each side. The room used to be balanced and nice. Now we have a very comfy sectional sofa to go with the tv, but the room is too small for it, so it just doesn’t work. Plus, we also have a crib next to the sofa. It’s very crowded in that little room, so I don’t like it’s looks at all any more. But the function is nice. Many people can hang out in comfort and ooh and ahh at the amazing detail one can see in high definition tv. But. Not my favorite room any more. I therefore offer this picture. This is taken from the sofa in the diaper changing living room. I like to sit there on occasion and look up at all the crazy lines and angles in the ceiling. (Floor level is more cluttered than I like.) I like the tiffany style pendant lamps and the vaulted ceiling and the skinny rectangular windows. I like the skylights in the upstairs loft. I like to sit here and daydream about what kind of crazy lines and angles I want to build into my dream home. They will be more meaningful lines, though, with practical and useful features and functions.

Go see Blackbird for more show and tell!

Today you would have turned 35.

I hope you are singing showtunes in heaven
Surfing the waves of the Aurora Borealis
Dancing amidst the stars
Soaring through the universe
Smiling
Laughing
Now and forevermore

I think of you every day.

Self Portrait Tuesday – Personal History II
In 1971, Professor Pig followed his heart and sold his home in a quaint university town, gathered up his Honorable Bag and tribe of unruly children (number seven in utero), and journeyed to the Sceptred Isle to spend a year in the sacred walls and halls of the esteemed Cambridge University. The Professor had his own passport, and his family shared one. This is the family passport photo, although it’s missing one child (who is, sadly, missing once more; this time, forever).

The band of foreigners made their home in a humble flat on Norwich Street. Number 19. A young Squished Piggy, a misfit in her own land, found herself somewhat of a celebrity. After all, the English children had never seen an American before. Are you a North American or a South American she was asked, time and again. The shy girl who had no friends in her home land found herself befriended by two young girls, Bernadette and Elizabeth. There were afternoons with tea and toast and walks along cobbled roads lined with berry bushes. It was the happiest year of a young Squished Piggy’s life.

Years later, in 1994, a grown Squished Piggy made her way back to 19 Norwich Street. She walked the streets of Cambridge, and marveled at the majesty of the university –the grounds, the architecture, the history. No wonder Professor Pig was so enamored with the place.

Fast forward another ten years and a few more travels. Warsaw. Manchester. Mexico. Paris. Rome. By 2004 the Squished Piggy passport had run its course and finally expired. Present day. A new life. A new look. A new passport.

Blackbird and several of her faithful readers commented about this meme, so I thought I’d give it a go myself…

My name….SueeeuS

childhood memory….A kiss on the forehead and a whispered “You’re a good kid” from my Grandpa while I was pretending to be asleep on Christmas Eve

fondest memory….Staying up late playing games and drinking tea with my brothers and sisters

soundtrack….The slap slap slap slap of my baby’s hands on the hardwood floors as he crawls to me as fast as his mighty little body can move

retreat….A woodsy place with a view of water, mountains, trees, blue skies, and white fluffy clouds

wildest dream….Look good in lingerie while performing lead guitar and vocals in a rock band

proudest moment….January 14, 2005, holding my son for the very first time

biggest challenge….Raising my child to be kind, strong, gentle, considerate, decent, and loving without giving him my ugly baggage

alarm clock….Set to wake to music on very very low volume

perfect day….The best of all possible worlds

first job….Youth Conservation Corps

indulgence….Blogging and TV

last purchase….Rapid rising yeast

favorite movie….Gigi, My Fair Lady

inspiration….hope of a brighter tomorrow

My life….is so much better than I give it credit for

My card is….American Express in the Costco 2% cash back flavor

This year I told suggested the cool cat make me something for Christmas. I tried to make him something as well. I had visions of making a photo holder with a concrete base, where the base is a hand or foot print, and there is either a notch or a stem to hold a photo (of the Boo, of course). I first tried making a sand casting. I mixed the sand to the proper wetness for forming, and I covered it with plastic wrap to keep down the mess, and also to produce a smooth finish. Unfortunately, it takes quite a bit of pressure to make a clear impression in the sand, and Boo, Mr. Magooboo, didn’t take kindly to that. I poured it anyway, to see what I’d get (which was an undefined lumpy foot). Not what I had in mind. Next, I made play doh, because it would be softer than sand and easier to make the impression. I found a recipe on the internet, and what do you know, it worked. Since I didn’t have the plastic film this time, the finished product didn’t turn out smooth. It looks sandy and coarse. But much more like a hand and foot print. I gave up on the photo holder details, and decided that these would just be paperweights or garden stones or something.
I tried, anyway. On the left are the play doh castings. They haven’t cured as long, and are a dark color with a coarse finish. On the right are the sand castings. They are smooth and white, having cured a week longer. Also, their color may be more white because of the smoothness factor. I like the smoothness and color of the sand casting better, but I like the definition of the play doh casting.
This is what the cool cat made me. Bless his heart. My BIL is an excellent craftsman, having built an incredibly beautiful and amazing home and furniture and whatnot. So. When the cool one presented me with my gift, he didn’t say, Merry Christmas, Honey. No. Instead, he said, I’m not D. By way of apology, I guess. Silly man. I love that he made me something. That he thought it out and made it happen. It’s a box that holds my ribbons. (I had mentioned that I’d like something to spool my ribbons on, as it would make gift wrapping so much easier.)
Now my ribbons spool oh so nicely. I like this gift quite a lot.
Since he was on a roll, he made me a spindle for the gift wrap as well. He got a little carried away with the dowels, bless his heart. It works, and holds quite a lot of paper. Incidentally, this was the baby’s favorite item on Christmas day. He kept pulling dowels out and swinging them about like a Kung Fu master. He had loads of fun.

Go see Blackbird for more show and tell!