The Gift That Keeps On Giving

A statute of limitations is a statute in a common law legal system that sets forth the maximum period of time, after certain events, that legal proceedings based on those events may be initiated.

There needs to be an Statute of Expiration. A set period of time after which you are no longer obligated, or required, to keep gifts. I find myself anxious over the sheer quantity of things we own. Daily I move Pile A to Location B. I lift, I sift, I sort. "Do we need this?" I find myself thinking. "Can I throw it away? Can I recycle it? Does anyone else want it?"

"Put it in the Basement" Doug says.
"No no no," I say. "The basement is an extension of our home! I refuse to let it be dead storage."

The issue is, I hate outright throwing things way. I'm not a collector, or a pack rat. In fact, I'm just the opposite. I can't have yardsales because the house is too empty as it is. I just hate waste. I hate excess. And I hate contributing to a landfill just because I'm bored with something. My policy is "If you can't eat it, wear it or use it within 7 days, you shouldn't own it." Snowblowers and their ilk being the exception.

"Throw it away then" he says.
"I can't! It's wasteful."
"You're just making more work for yourself."
"I know, I know" I mutter as I gather the plastic grocery bags to donate to the cobbler.

After the birth of Ellie we were inundated with presents. From hand painted bookends, to piggybanks, clothing, beach towels, hand knit afghans, onesies, bibs, socks, dolls, toys, leftover outgrown play equipment..you name it. Oh goodness, yes we were grateful. And yes, we saved, conservatively, over $2000 in items. So I thanked everyone (metaphorically that is, the notes are still forthcoming). But it was, and remains, a nightmare. I think there's a circle of hell called "Baby Returns" I was in a two month frenzy of returns. Every item had a potential value so nothing could be discarded.

"Donate it" he'd say.
"I can't! She spent (insert amount) on this. I should return it. Get a credit or something."

Off I drove - to JC Penneys, to Babies R Us, to Target, to Macys.

"It's costing you more in billable hours then she spent. Your taking two hours to return a $30 item." he mentioned one day.
"I know, I KNOW" I panted anxiously as I carried the pink and white bags to the trunk. "Receipt receipt" I mutter...

If they really loved me, I thought, they wouldn't inundate me with these things.
They haunt me.

"Save the credits for Christmas" my sister says.
I hyperventilate. Even the credits are talking up space. One more thing to track, to follow up on.

"People WANT to give you things" I hear over and over. "It's better to give then to receive.

"But I don't WANT things" I stamp out.
"They aren't for you, they're for Ellie."

ELLIE'S 4 MONTHS OLD. She plays with her opposable thumb for cryin' out loud. She doesn't "need" anything.

breathe breathe...

Jinxing the Band

So Ellie just started napping, which is seriously, one of the coolest things ever. I mean, I noticed that she slept from around 8:30am to 10am but I always assumed it was because I was wheeling her around the lake, and that the motion, and fresh air were to thank. But lo and behold (or hold me below as my old, exfriend Arianne used to say), this weekend, sans lake walk, she slept regardless. Hmm.

We woke up late, 7:30 vs 6am, after a day of swimming yesterday at my sister's complex's pool. Which is probably the cleanest public pool I have ever, ever, ever see. Nicer then a hotel's even. If we had a pool, I'd be in it ALL the time b/c Miss Ellie was tuckered out! Plus she moved her legs like a trouper in the water and LOVED it. So cute. And my feet didn't actually ache this morning...but I digress.

So picture it. It's Sunday. Doug is home. We get up, oh, say 7:30 am. Doug makes coffee, we give Ellie her medicine, there's a gentle breeze coming in the window. No one is mowing their lawn, doors aren't slamming. It's fabulous. The house is clean(ish), errands are run, nothing is looming. It's going to be an at home day. I get up and take a shower, then ask Doug to hand Ellie in. We shower for a bit, then sit for soaping. I hand her out, Daddy dries her off. (And dresses her in an abominable onesie but I say nothing because, hey, at least he tries)After a nice little feeding and a few books, Ellie falls gently asleep.

It's clear skies, and about 72 degrees. God's weather as they say. (This is a long set up for a very unrelated punchline by the way) Anyway, so I download some photo's, put away laundry, and then it suddenly occurs to me. "HEY, Ellie is asleep. As in napping." gasp! Then further..."I bet I could actually dry my hair today."

I peer out at Doug, who's been happily puttering away. "You need me?" I ask. Nope, he says. I dry my hair. Dry dry dry. Dry dry dry. Wow, I think, my hairs gotten really long. Dry dry dry. I notice gray. Dry dry dry. "I should get it colored." Dry dry dry. "Coloring is expensive," I think. "Who's going to watch Ellie if I go? When was the last time I went? It was after Ellie so it was within 3 months I know that. Maybe after August 15 I'll make an appt. Dry dry dry.

I notice, post dry, that there is a slight nimbus of frizz. Ah the humidity (you're supposed to read that as if it says "Ah the humanity".) Anyway, so then I remember that I saw, on the Style Network, this flat iron trick. "Hey," I think, "I have a flat iron" purchased at the end of the trend and never used I might add. Out it comes, I check Ellie. Still sleeping. Plug it in. Section hair. Straight straight straight. dum de dum. I'm wasting time, I think. I should be writing thank yous. But I continue. I mean, really, when am I going to get another chance? So I flat iron my hair. In my ratty tshirt and shorts. We are going nowhere, doing nothing - but dammit, I have time and I'm gonna do this.

Meanwhile, Doug putters on. Deleting files, then trying to retrieve video off the camcorder. He plays electronically. I finish.

"Do you want a muffin" I ask.
"Oh yeah, I forgot I had one" he says
(I mean this is REALLY a long set up)
So I go downstairs to the kitchen. I hear a song I love. I'm amazed that it's playing on the radio. I hum along. Then I hear a second song. That I love. Now I'm doubly amazed that it's playing on the radio. Irish folk music followed by Metallica? How can it be. then I spy my ipod nano. Plugged into an ihome base (radio thingie). First time. Who knew that that's how it worked?

I think that I just love this man with all his electronic Sunday fun.

So I start dancing a bit in place. Cleaning the kitchen, shimmy shimmy. I turn the music up louder. Singing a bit a'loud. Shimmy shimmy to 1991's "Hero of The Day"

Doug walks in. I stop dancing.

"Hey, did you straighten your hair" he asks.
I fidget self consciously. "Yes, but only a little. It was frizzy..." I stammer to a stop., embarrassed.
He comes up to hug me.
"I like it. You look cute" he reassures me. "You look like..." he pauses "It's someone from, like, before..."
I know he means when we were younger.
"Lisa Loeb? Katie Holmes?" I ask amusedly
"No no," he puzzles, then slowly, "From The Wedding Singer. That girl with the ..."
"Not the Van Halen TShirt?"
"Yes! That's it! You look like her"

I wince. NOT the look I was going for...

Jesus Take the Meal

Isn't there some thing in the Bible about people being hungry and jesus replenishing the bread and wine? Was there fish involved too? My question is "Did he really MAKE more fish appear or did the house just smell like it for 5 days"

For Christ's Sakes - it's past midnight on THURSDAY. I made haddock Monday. Where is that smell coming from????

Steve Irwin

I'm going on a picnic and I'm going to bring...an Apple.
I'm going on a picnic and I'm going to bring...an Apple, and a Banana.
I'm going on a picnic and I'm going to bring...an Apple, a Banana, and a Cantaloupe.

So Ellie, I'm going on a car trip and I'm going to bring, um, what? Every primary colored toy in the house?
Tell me she doesn't look like she's going on a Gymboree Safari...