Quiet dignity

I like that their begging has a certain... dignity.

Finds

Vintage ads by Moma via unplggd.



By now, you've likely seen the viral "How To Be Alone" clip. (It is embedded below, in case you haven't.) I often used to attend movies alone, and I have visited cities alone. I never dined solo, but she makes it seem effortless. We all have "alone" periods in life. Here's how to do it beautifully:



Happy Monday!

Bright eyes

Happy go lucky

Dance update

This week the girls had their first dance class. As the below picture indicates, there were some tears involved. (Remember that there were tears at the open house.) When Lauren got dressed with her "le-tard" and tights, she looked down at her tights and started crying uncontrollably. They were a little loose. Next, her pony tail wasn't "perfect," the new standard she has implemented for her hair. Personally, I would like to have that standard for my hair, too, but the reality is that "perfection" is definitely the exception -- the good hair day -- and not the rule.



After Lauren erupted into tears, she was sent to time out to cool off while I got Gracie dressed. She put on her le-tard and tights. I said, "Gracie! You're a ballerina!" She looked down at herself and then back up at me, flashing a beatific smile. It looked a little like this:



Lauren finally calmed down. She was very excited about going to dance; she merely had a very high standard for how everything should unfold, e.g., how her clothes would fit, how her hair would be styled and the timing of it all.



Of course, they had to closely inspect one another's leotards. Here is the sequin count:




Once we arrived, everyone's mood was lifted, and they had a great first class. Here they are with their group:



We are hopeful that next week's class will be tear-free.

Friday's quote

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

John Lennon

The fab four

Today, Rolling Stone releases a collectors issue of the Beatles 100 greatest songs. I will definitely be picking it up. Read about it here.

Attire

Looking at all of the "back to school" photos makes me contemplate fall and winter clothing for the girls. Most of their clothing has already been purchased (sometimes by as much as a couple of years ago) on consignment, either via sales or eBay, or inherited from an older cousin. There are a couple of consignment sales in our area this week, and I have yet to even look to see what we already have on hand for fall/winter. It will definitely come together, but not until the end of September or beginning of October, when cooler weather dictates.

For a host of reasons, it is impractical to purchase back-to-school clothing for preschoolers. Currently, the girls are still marching along, happily, in their summer clothes. However, if I did, I would want to chronicle the first few days (and outfits), as Gabrielle Blair has done on her site, DesignMom.

Upgrade

One of the funny quirks of our home is its age. It was 13 years old when we moved in, and we have been here for four years. The home's age is approaching the point when certain hardware, appliances and fixtures give up the ghost as they near the 15 - 20 year mark. Basically, we are at the "sweet spot" for everything breaking.

The house was in phenomenal shape when we arrived. The home inspector had a difficult time locating any objectionable items, and relied, instead, on routine comments about the life expectancy of various systems, i.e., the heat pump (recently replaced), etc. At the time, I thought he was, well, a little "full of it," as they say, but there has been truth to what he documented.

We noticed rather immediately that the kitchen sink was an original feature. Approximately two months after moving in, the faucet simply disconnected at the base, sending water into the air. We patched it up (crammed it back together) and have allowed it to limp along while we search for a replacement (it is an odd design). My system with the sink has been to never, ever move the spout around (or else prepare to be drenched). I never left the room with the sink running, and the girls were not allowed any unsupervised use of the faucet at all.

We had some plumbing repairs completed a couple of months ago, and I bemoaned the status of the faucet to the plumber. He put me in touch with some replacement options (again, odd style), and I began getting emotionally prepared to make the purchase. (I really had no idea how much faucets cost. No wonder we were staring at the original faucet!) So we raised the money and braced ourselves to spend it. Now, we are enjoying the new set up. Sure, this faucet doesn't have that dangerous edge, always threatening to douse us with water, but the girls are really enjoying increased access. They are really loving being able to wash dishes.

Shopping!

We will be shopping Friday night. If you are local and interested in the consignment sale, the Friday night invitation can be found here.

I wrote about the last sale here.

Happy shopping!

Charlie

Last week I returned home with the girls in tow and stopped on the street to get the mail. As I glanced up at the yard, I noticed Charlie in the grass. Our home looked so tranquil, and Charlie playing in the grass made for a nice tableaux.

I got back in the car, reached inside our bag for my camera and took a couple of pics of Charlie. The girls shrieked with joy as he began playing, flipping over in the grass and swatting with his paws.

Charlie had a mouse. The nice tranquil scene I had observed was of Charlie toying with his latest kill. (Although, with all the commotion, I think his prey may have escaped.)

One of Skip's colleagues has been apprised of our loss of Brownie, and she lobbied for a replacement cat. Of course, there is no replacement for Brownie. There will never be another cat that sees me through my 20's; flies with me, cross-country, twice; and takes naps with me when I am pregnant with twins. Aside from that, as Skip says all the time, "He's no Brownie. I wasn't a huge fan of Brownie, but that? That trifling cat is no Brownie."

He's not regal like Brownie, that's for sure. But, he is cute, nonetheless, in a street-cat, kind of way:

Current

We have an obsessive tendency to subscribe to magazines. Over the last week to 10 days, all of the Fall fashion magazines have landed -- with a huge THUD! -- in the mailbox. They have been collecting in a towering stack, unread.

This past weekend, Gracie had a nasty stomach bug, and we were homebound. (She has fully recovered and is back to her regular self now.) I tackled about half of the stack, and am on "information overload" with regards to pop culture and fashion trends.

Some noteworthy finds (in no particular order):

1) "True Prep," a sequel of sorts to "The Preppy Handbook" is coming out soon. While I'm certainly not preppy (I'm not really anything), it's sure to be a funny read.

2) There are a couple of alternatives to evite that are worth looking into: paperlesspost.com and cocodot.com.

3) Apparently, we're supposed to be wearing a primer under our foundation now. I was aware of this product (primer) already but had been actively ignoring it because I simply did not want to add another cosmetic to my list of things to buy. However, I stumbled onto the merits of this product while perusing an article on age, and I'm thinking it might decrease the amount of concealer I use.

4) I read an article about Cindy Crawford, also on an age-related topic, and when asked what she does differently (now that she's older) she demurred for the most part. However, she did say that she takes great care not to go out 1) without first fixing her hair or 2) wearing sweatpants, that she cannot get away with that now that she's older. Hmmm. Does that mean I shouldn't go out like that? What about when I'm just dropping the girls at school? Wouldn't that be ok?

5) I am reminded that I like Julia Roberts.

6) I am ready for Fall. So ready.

The thing with magazines is that their delivery should be staggered so that this information trickles into your home each week instead of in a massive delivery because, really, no one can absorb this much trivial information.

Friday's quote

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love."

Mother Teresa

Improv

When we attended open house for ballet, Skip joked with the ladies not to worry, that the girls have been training for years at home. While they may be entering pre-ballet, they have actually been dancing for quite some time. Skip was concerned about some of the skeptical glances he received.

I think the nice instructors were picturing something like this occurring at home:

Seen the Light Improv from Cathi Lindsey on Vimeo.

performed to "Seen the Light" by Supergrass.

The (not so) friendly skies

A few weeks ago Skip returned home from a brief business trip. While unpacking, he brandished a new, travel sized tube of toothpaste that he picked up for free on the road. He said that he forgot to pack his toothpaste and went down to the hotel lobby to see if they had a complimentary tube. Unfortunately, they did not, and he was resigning himself to venture out to a drug store when a biker leaned forward. "Hey dude, do you need some toothpaste?" he asked.

Skip said that he, in fact, did.

"Wait a second man. I got some right here," he said, rummaging through a back pack. He then produced a perfectly new, travel sized pack of toothpaste.

"Thanks. I appreciate it. That's very cool," Skip said.

"No problem, man. Just pay it forward, brother. Pay it forward," he replied.

Fast forward a few weeks. So Skip is friendly and enjoys a good conversation. As they say here in the south, he doesn't meet a stranger.

When he travels, he chats up the fellow passengers, and he always returns home saying how he "met the most interesting man/woman/kid/nun/priest/doctor" on the flight out/connecting/return flight. Yes, he's one of those people -- the people who talk on planes. But, he's a good conversationalist, and I think it's probably a productive way to pass the time. Recently he returned with Chick-fil-A coupons after having sat next to a marketing executive with CFA and regaling him with our CFA trivia (we are ardent fans).

Earlier this week he traveled for work, and he found himself seated in a three-seat row on a plane. Skip had the window seat, a gentleman had the middle, and a woman had the aisle. While casually chatting up his neighbor, he learned that the gentleman works for one of his clients, and they began an easy, organic rapport. (Skip confirms that they were talking quietly, weren't laughing loudly, etc.)

At some point, aisle seat (the woman) reached for the flight attendant button. When the flight attendant arrived the woman requested another seat because "these two are driving me crazy" with all the nonstop talk.

I guess she doesn't buy the pay-it-forward philosophy?

Back to school

All of this can only mean one thing:



Preschool resumed yesterday!



For fun, we let the girls pick out their clothes for the first day back. Some might say pink-on-pink is too daring, and others might argue that Gracie's Cookie Monster barrette clashes with the rest of her outfit. We thought they looked divine.

Soap

I was late in the game with my discovery of Diapers.com so I want to be sure to scream Soap.com's existence from the rooftops.

Back when we were still enslaved to the expense of diapers and pull ups, ordering from Diapers.com was truly a lifesaver. Sure, the absolute cheapest route is to make the trek to the big box store of your choice. There's no question that, per item, you'll make out cheaper by simply making the journey to an actual store. However, since our big box store of choice, Costco, is a lengthy commute, ordering online, with delivery within 48 hours, is the very definition of sanity and goodness.

There is the compelling argument that while a shopper may pay slightly more per item, the overall expense will be significantly less because impulse shopping is curtailed. My entire money-saving strategy hinges on the simple precept of staying out of stores. Therefore, the above argument is completely true for me.

We have left the diaper/pull-up days behind us (thank goodness!). So imagine my surprise when I received a promotion for Soap.com. I have only briefly perused the site. While I envision using the site infrequently, I have bookmarked this for emergencies (sick children immediately springs to mind).

Happy shopping at Soap!

And then there were two

As documented previously, Charlie has made himself at home here. Daily, the girls peer out the front windows and talk to Charlie. The other day, they kept referring to "two Charlies".

Interesting, huh?

Do you notice anything unusual in the below pics?




Any guesses as to how much trouble I am in with Skip over this second cat? He had been successfully ignoring the first Charlie, but two Charlies are harder to overlook.

Merciful end

Several weeks ago, I decided the heat was no longer bearable, and therefore, I put a merciful end to "Camp Mom". We had a great summer, but simply could not tolerate the high temperatures any longer.

We still had a few weeks until school started, though. Because I had been collecting resources to resume the work we do at home, we started our own version of school within the comfort of our air conditioning. The last two weeks of July were a warm-up, and we started hitting the work books at the beginning of August.

These tools are making it so easy, and the girls enjoy working out of their "kitty," "gorilla," and "doggy" books.

The mall

A couple of weekends ago, we went to the mall to run some errands. The children's rides were spotted, and the girls climbed into the ice cream truck:

Ice Cream Truck from Cathi Lindsey on Vimeo.

Friday's quote

"Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does."

William James

Tiny dancers

A couple of weeks ago I registered the girls for ballet. The class is for beginners, and spans from the end of August to May, concluding with a recital in May. The girls' cousin, Lexy (LEXY!!!!) attended this school for many years, and that endorsement has carried significant weight. The girls have been so excited about dance and have enjoyed talking about it at length.

This past weekend the school had an open house. I carefully tried to manage expectations as much as possible. In fact, I did not even tell them it was open house, merely that we were going to see where the class would be held and may peak inside so that they could see what to expect.

As an aside, many of you know that I worked for years (many, many years) until recently. Negotiation was a fundamental aspect of my job and, with past employers, I was the lucky recipient of some valuable training. One such course was a seminar created and presented by professors from Pepperdine University. One key takeaway from their three day seminar was expectations management. To me, it is the Holy Grail. I was a believer before the seminar, and I left more sure than ever.

Skip is an expectations management devotee as well, and we tend to map things out for the girls so that they largely know what to expect. The ballet open house was handled with extra care to manage what they could -- and could not -- expect once there. I told them that we would see where the class would be held and that we might be able to look inside. When queried, I confirmed that leotards would not be worn because there would absolutely not be class that day.

We arrived, and everything was quite lovely. Balloons led the way to the door. Once inside, several of the much older students were there to help register new students. Their teacher fitted them for ballet shoes, and we placed an order. Lauren greeted everyone with a hug, and promptly asked, "What's your name?" Gracie liked the refreshments, and Skip guessed (correctly, I'm sure) that she is going to expect cookies every week when she attends class.

Everything was going great until Lauren asked to dance. The older girls giggled and said, "Oh, how sweet! She wants to dance today!" Lauren is not one to let go of an idea so she became fixated on dancing. The owner overheard and said, "Well, we have the back room set up with music, and she's welcomed to dance in there."

Problem solved.

But not really. As I said, when Lauren has an idea, it is firmly and specifically fixed in her mind. She wanted to dance in costume -- in her leotard. Lauren wanted to transform into a ballerina on the spot, and we -- her parents -- were holding her back!

Here she is, crying that she wants to wear her leotard:



Receiving some consolation from Skip:



Gracie, on the other hand, made full use of the music, open space and mirrors. She had a good time dancing.



We left before the full blown wailing erupted so we managed to leave on a high note. (Actually, we quickly pushed Lauren through the exit and made it outside before the open-mouthed screaming erupted in earnest.) An afternoon nap allowed for more logical thinking to prevail, and she is, once again, very excited that class will begin in a couple of weeks. Let's just hope we don't have to make the same exit after the first class. In the meantime, I will be working to manage Gracie's cookie expectations.

By way of explanation

Maybe the above photo explains Gracie's new philosophy viz Lauren's maneuvering (note Lauren's hands around Gracie's neck). Gracie would like for this photo to be marked "Exhibit A".



Lauren, above, contemplating a "self defense" defense.

The weekend in pictures

500

Today marks our humble blog's 500th post. When I logged onto blogger in November of 2007, my purpose was to post a few pictures, and I spent the next year and a half doing exactly that. I like to think of our blog as a silent movie during that time. The girls were 13 months old when this started, and we were still pressed for time in every way imaginable. We were still struggling to find time to shower, much less log onto a computer, load pics and type.

Oh, they were adorable, but very, very high maintenance. They looked like this at the time:



Oh sure, side with them. Everyone does.

Posting was infrequent and sporadic in nature. Little by little, I managed to carve out some time to post with greater frequency, and add some content here and there. What started as a way to share photos with far-flung family and friends became something more of a... dare I even say it... a scrapbook of sorts, although even that word makes me twitch a little. I'm not very crafty. Not crafty at all.

Over the past few months, since leaving the workplace, posting has become more of a hobby and a way to stay in touch. Thank you for indulging me. We appreciate you checking in and wish more of you would say hello via the comments or e-mail so that we can hear what is happening with you as well.

Have a great Monday, and thanks so much for reading.

Friday's quote

"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world."

Anne Frank

Presents and the forgotten

This morning I was reminded of the idiosyncrasies of animals who live in the great outdoors. Charlie, mentioned previously here and here, is an outdoor cat. He shuns most of the rituals domesticated cats crave (a regular feeding schedule, loyalty, etc.) and is still, for the most part, feral.

I went outside through the basement this morning to water all of the plants with the hose. Keeping up with this wretched heat and the even more offensive heat index is misery, and it took a while to revive all of the plants. I must have left the basement door open because when I went back through the basement, I saw an orange blur sprint across the basement and across the stairs. After reassuring myself that I had closed the door leading into the house, I was able to lead Charlie back outdoors where he belongs. Skip has made serious threats about what would occur -- to both Charlie and me -- if Charlie is allowed indoors. We have had indoor pets previously, but Charlie, again, is not of the indoor ilk. It would be like having a bobcat perched on the sofa.

Anyrate, so Charlie was back outdoors. Don't feel too sorry for him, he has a shaded front porch to lounge on, and I have been giving him a big bowl of ice water every day.

Our routine is that Charlie appears on the front porch, outside of the kitchen casement door, sometime during breakfast. At that time, I will deliver Sir Charles his morning food and refresh his water. This morning, for whatever reason, he never materialized. After the basement incident, I came upstairs to get his food, assuming he would make the move from the basement to the front. Long story short (too late for that, I know), Charlie left a "present" on the porch in the form of a mouse. I know I'm supposed to feel honored that Charlie delivered food for me, but oh man, it's just so disgusting.

I am reminded of a cat that my mom used to have. I don't recall the cat's original name (something cute like... Whiskers, Boots, or Kitty... something like that), but it was promptly changed to "Trouble". Trouble would avail himself of the doggy door and would bring birds and other various wildlife into the house. His encore involved bringing a baby rabbit into the house. All of these incidents quickly turned into an amateur animal rescue scene (the bunny survived, and the overall survival rate, while not 100%, was very, very high).

My point with all of this is that my philosophy has always been that the pets should have a consistent environment. In or out. Once they straddle the line between life on the outside and trying to live indoors, something snaps inside them, and they simply cannot do it. They start to think, "Well, I've captured this rabbit so naturally I am going to take it inside so everyone else can see it, too."

I congratulated Charlie for catching the mouse and have thanked him for delivering it to our family. For him, I'm sure it was anti-climactic. For me, I am dreading the removal process that will occur at some point today.

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

Until this past year, Gracie had a reputation for being sweet, good-natured, compliant and easy-going. With only a handful of exceptions, she rarely displayed any temper tantrums or dislike. Her doctor, teacher, etc., all commented on how good natured she is, and it was very accurate -- at the time.

She even seemed immune to the "terrible two's" cliche.

However, lately, Gracie has really become quite bold and has been asserting her boldness to those close to her. Lauren tends to take the brunt of her newfound assertion. Before you feel sorry for Lauren, the reality is that Lauren has been herding Gracie around for the last three years. Occasionally Gracie would put Lauren back "in her place," but most of the time she just went with the flow.

She no longer defers to Lauren, and she makes sure Lauren knows the era of her compliance has ended. I think she announced, much like boxers announce their intentions in upcoming fights. In the version I have in my head, I see Gracie channeling Mohammed Ali.

After observing some infraction or other, we often mumble, "Well, Lauren does have that coming to her..." Or, as Skip has grown fond of saying whenever Gracie thrashes Lauren about, "When you mess with the bull, you get the horn!" Not that Gracie is a bull (except that she can be sometimes) and not that she has horns (well... maybe). Obviously, we have a "no hitting" policy, and we police that carefully. Disputes occasionally arise, though, usually when our backs are turned for split seconds of time. Those two can be very crafty.

A month or so ago, our sweet Grace-bug even picked up some colorful language from one of the adults in her life (we're all looking at you, Skip) -- one of the more inflammatory selections, of course. We have been holding our breath that she doesn't use that new word at church or at school when it resumes in a few weeks. And that she doesn't yell "I'm the greatest!" at a classmate during a routine dispute.

Ready or not

We have embraced the fun of hide and seek:

Ready or not! from Cathi Lindsey on Vimeo.

Flops

Several weeks ago, the girls received the above flip flops (with hand crafted embellishment) from their beloved "Miss Eva," my stepmother. Miss Eva has crazy mad skills and has made the girls innumerous goodies over the years, beginning with their stunning baby blankets, receiving blankets and crocheted socks. Miss Eva is a crafting genius, and I really should mention the Etsy site to her, now that I think about it. Miss Eva is the type of craftsman that almost makes me want to peruse the Purl website. But, then I remember I lack any sort of talent w/r/t creating something with my bare hands.

Anyrate, back to the flops, they have been a huge hit. HUGE! Luckily, I photographed them before they were worn because they have seen a lot of action this summer. So... imagine the girls' surprise when Miss Eva presented them with a new pair when we met my dad for lunch this past Saturday. Oh, the joy! They held them all the way home, chattering happily about their new shoes.

Monday, Monday

Last week was not an especially good one. It seemed like the bad news just kept coming and coming, on an auto-repeat loop.

First, to kick the week off, my uncle passed away. Indeed, as his wife and adult children will tell you, he is restored now, perfected even, after years of battling an unforgiving disease (Alzheimer's disease). Still, it was tough, and tougher still to look into the eyes of his wife of 60 years and see such grief.

The funeral consisted of a beautiful eulogy, filled with reminisces of better days, and continued with a "life celebration" theme. As an extended family member or friend, bias is tempting. However, from my seat at the funeral, I could see the funeral director through the doorway, where he was seated on a sofa, in the event that assistance was needed. My uncle was humble, a quiet character, but definitely a prankster who loved to laugh. Therefore, many of the stories were comical. From my vantage point, I could see that the director was smiling most of the time, and even chuckled from time to time whenever the stories reached their punchline. Seeing an objective party respond to the life history further reinforced for me and those of us inside the parlor what I already knew: we lost a good one last week. I would consider myself lucky to be eulogized in that way.

The next wave of news brought my dad's diagnosis of prostate cancer, for which he will have an evaluation this Thursday. So, there's that.

Finally, there was more news concerning lovely Sarah.

Too much. Too much to comprehend.

At one point, when we were making the hour drive to my uncle's funeral, our windshield was cracked badly by a dump truck who was dangerously over capacity and losing a good bit of the boulders (ok... rocks, but they were large ones) he was carrying. On the one hand, I was surprised that our windshield now had a huge crack from top to bottom, but it would have seemed fitting if the windshield had completely shattered and pelted the dash. It was that kind of week.

This week will be better. I am resolving to pray for the above issues. I am praying for comfort and relief for my uncle's family. For my dad, I am praying that his treatment options are straightforward, and that the folks providing treatment are precise and thorough. For Sarah and her family, prayers continue, many of which are led by Gracie.

At each meal, you see, Gracie and Lauren say the blessing (e.g., "God is great... God is good..."). Following the "a-men" on that prayer, Gracie, very seriously, says, "Let's say a prayer for Sarah," and then she starts off with a prayer for Sarah ("God take care of Sarah..."). Sometimes her prayer is lengthy, and she will start naming off all of our family members by name. Eventually, Lauren will cut her off by lifting her head and declaring AMEN!!!