Irony.

Sam bought me an iPod for my birthday. I love this thing! I am an 80's girl to be sure, and I love that I can pour all my [now vintage] classics into a teeny portable player.

I picked up running again. Got me one of those [extra large] tourniquet-type arm straps, and go out almost every morning. Before you roll your eyeballs...keep reading...

I have not been a real fan of running. But then again, I don't like exercise in general. I wish I did. I wish I was like those people who loooove a good game of tennis or soft-ball. But I am not. I hate the sweating, and the being tired, and the little voice inside my head that says "this is stupid, just quit. For the love of PETE, QUIT." And I always listen to the voice--the same voice that thinks since cookies have eggs and milk and flour in them, they are a suitable breakfast item.

Since the iPod, I actually enjoy the running. The 80's tunes, the fresh air, the thinking and planning of the day. I am up to 3 miles. Which, really, isn't terrible. I mean, I am not ever going to do the marathon thing, so I am okay with 3 miles. I look forward to the running--and the playlists I make for the running.

So I am thinking this could be it. The exercise that I like to do. And I am feeling pretty pumped about it during mile two, and then...

...my knee blows out. Seriously. If I would have had my cell phone with me, I would have made someone come pick my dumb butt up. As it were, I had to limp home. All day long my knee has been in pain. Not serious, but that up and down stairs takes a long time pain. Getting old sucks.

Irony. That I struggle with exercise, but do it anyway, and I am fine. Then once I find something I like...I can't do it.

I think it is God's way of telling me to just stay fluffy.

SInce it is now up on the Karen Foster site....

I am going to sneak peek a couple of layouts I did using the brand new product that will debut at Memory Trends. The second is from the Little Girl collection. Pinky and happy. The first is from the funky new Christmas collection. You can see the rest of the collection as well as all the other new releases here:

http://http://www.karenfosterdesign.com/tek9.asp?pg=products

And if you happen upon the home page, they are featuring my layout. Thank you, thank you, I will be here all week....

I just finished up 36 layouts using nine of the new lines! Whew! And they went postal today. I hope they make it there, it was hard to part with my "babies." I would just die if that box got lost somewhere.

Major cleaning day here. Everything is in shambles since the scrapbooking frenzy. Things smell funky and everything.

Update on the house...we have a four-way inspection on Monday, when that passes, we get insulation and sheetrock! YAY! There is a light, a faint light, at the end of this sawdust spewing tunnel. Can't wait to get settled in. I am getting excited. I need to start picking out some cool paint combos---any suggestions?

I am still here.

This is sad on so many levels.

First of all, cause this is my current scrap space. A Lifetime folding banquet table. It is in the kitchen, right in the main drag.

I am feverishly working on Memory Trends deadlines. Occasionally I have to cook food for the others that live here, and then I am a nervous wreck...."DON'T YOU FLING THAT CARROT!" This I say huddled over my pile of sacred scraps. Most nights I try to get away with putting a vitamin in their pocket, and sending them out to see what the neighbors are having for dinner. Mommy has work to do! And Mommy's job sends us all on vacations.

The second sadness of the photo is that I have workers in and out of the house due to the never-ending remodel that is still going on. And I know, they think I am a lunatic. I get up, send the kids off, and start a project, then I break, shower, and I am at it again. I feel like I need to explain myself. This is my "job." Cutting and pasting and drinking Mountain Dew by the two liter bottle. This is my job. But I just don't say anything, unless they need to scoot my table-studio to reach something. Or drop sawdust on me.

The next sad thing about the picture is that what you are looking at was after I cleaned up. I am the worlds messiest. Period. Somewhere in that stack is a child I am sure, probably looking for that carrot.

Anyway, back at it. 24 down, and twelve more to go...and then another manufacturer. If I didn't love what I did, I would be overwhelmed...but it is so fun, to play with new product.

Love my job.

Some good signs.

You know that I collect pictures of signs that make us laugh when I travel, and San Diego provided us with a few. They *may* have just been funny to us, what with our fine nights sleep on a motel 6 bed/rock, the five arguing kids in the back of a van, and lack of caffeine.

We had many dirty jokes that centered around the "Tickled Trout." The hair place looks like something straight out of a SNL skit. And who, seriously is the stick figure artist, cause they are a guaranteed laugh almost every time.

Anyway, just thought I would share.

Just a quick note.

I am still here, and alive and well. I guess I am not well, actually. I have a stupid cold thing, sinus, sneezing watery eyes, sore throat and body aches.

I am hoping I've contracted the West Nile Virus, cause I heard they are paying big bucks for people who have lived through that, and can give blood for them to study. HA!

Anyway....we got back from San Diego yesterday. More fun than you can shake a stick at. Whatever that means.

The kids! First time on a plane.
First time on a beach.
Good stuff.

I took a lot of pictures which need editing, and I am just starting the mad rush of layout assignments for Memory Trends, so please bear with me while I ignore this blog for a bit.


For your boredom relief...one of my favorite time-wasting sites.

http://www.husnain.com/budlight.htm

Might I suggest, in honor of my recent trip to the beach..."Mr. Paranoid of the Ocean Guy." Cause that is me, a little frightened of what lies beneath emphasized by the tickly sea grass.

TV watching.

Sam watches golf on TV every Sunday.

There really is nothing worse. And it goes on….and on….When they break for commercials, he switches the channel to the Bowling tournament. (Oh yes. He does.)

Sometimes I make dirty comments. (whispering like those stupid commentators) “Oooo, looks like he used his steel shaft for that hole” (polite clapping) Heh, heh. Sam is never amused.

One day, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Honey, is something else on?”
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
“I want to watch this.”

“Well, don’t you think if we are both watching TV together, maybe we could try to find something we are both interested in. I never watch TV, the least you could do is find a movie or something?”

“Are you kidding me? Did you happen to forget the YEAR you were obsessed with Trading Spaces, and never once did I complain when I had to watch that freak Frank sponge-paint whimsical borders or that ding-dong Doug and his big nose. (Good gads…he knew their names…) And just last week I didn’t say a word when you subjected me to a RIVETING hour long COOKIE BAKE-OFF on the Food Network! The Food Network….”(shaking head in disbelief)

Touché.

Labor Day weekend.

We went on an impromptu camping trip for labor day weekend. We dragged my mom and dad along with us.

We went to a spot up American Fork Canyon called Forest Lake. It is accessible only by off-road vehicles. We had to take the Jeep up. My husband, and my kids love taking the Jeep. Sam goes every year to Jeep Safari weekend in Moab. They love it!

I don't like the Jeep. I hate my hair in my face and my eyes and my mouth. I can't take the dust and the heat. But more than that, I don't like the hairy trails that we go on. And really, I don't understand why Sam felt compelled to take this trip. His Jeep isn't fixed from his last fiasco. It is technically only a two wheel drive right now, and with some thing-a-ma-bob he put on the wheels, it is only a one wheel drive. He explained the thing-a-ma-bob to me in great detail, and for survival purposes I blocked him out. Jeep talk is worse than an insurance salesman droning on....and on....and on....


Sure enough, about half way there, Sam scraped over a boulder and dropped his driveline. After we got it fixed, we had my dad tow us through the rest of the bad spots. Don't tell Sam I told you that. Somehow, being towed by someone else is damaging to your manhood.

We got there, and my mom and I threw tinfoil dinners in the fire while the men set up the tent. The tinfoil dinners were good. At least most of them. A couple were a little over-cooked and the meat was "butt-hard"--Jayden, 10.

One roasted hot-dog per year is all my arteries will allow.
Nothing like a good toasted marshmallow, though. I ate plenty of those.

They proceeded to blow up the air mattresses, one of which had a hole. Heeeeere is your bed, kids! Heh, heh. We went to bed, not to sleep, but to freeze all night...The joys. Not to mention, when Sam rolled over, it would literally fling me, and sharing a sleeping bag with a man is never recommended--what with the fondling and the gas.

The next morning the kids put their swimming suits on and waded all day in the disease infested puddle of a lake. It is quite pretty from a distance, but when you get closer, it is thick and green, and full of these slimy hideous creatures. We called them newts, but some other little boy who was there with his family called them salamanders. I am not really sure what they are. They were half fish and half lizard. So glad I brought hand sanitizer and wipes.

"Mom, here is how you catch a newt. You look at the water, and you see it turn into rings, then you look in the middle of the rings, and there will be a newt, wobbling. Then you can just grab it, it won't try to escape, cause they are kinda dumb."--Shayne, 7.

I am not a clean freak by any means. But one day and one night of camping is all I can muster. The next morning I was packing up as soon as I got up. All I kept thinking of was a hot shower. I am so not pioneer material. Neither is my mom. She hadn't been camping for 20 years. It had only been about 10 for me. I don't think either one of us is sad about what we might have missed out on all these years.

So, today...I am still doing the laundry from the camping trip. Shianne left her good leather sandals "behind that tall gray rock." I am still digesting that hot dog, and I still have dirt in my nose, which manifests itself each time I blow.

Good holiday weekend fun had by almost all.

My collection.

I don't know what any of this crap is.

You know, the whole house remodel thing is still going on. And each time one of the subs leave, I go around and try to tidy up a bit. I throw away their half-empty drink bottles, and lunch wrappers, and occasionally I find something to add to my collection, part of which is above. I don't know what any of it is. I don't know if it is important, or if I should be concerned that it wasn't replaced where it originally belonged. I just toss it all into "the box", which is becoming quite heavy.

I am discouraged. I am sick of nothing working. I am tired of plugging my curling iron into a shop light cord. My garbage disposal used to be on a switch, now that switch turns on a light, and I have no idea which switch will flip the disposal on. Each time I flip a switch or turn on water it is a crap shoot. I never know what is going on.

My washer was a disaster. It was hooked up, which was great considering the kids had resorted to wearing things out of my closet. "It's ready to go" they told me. So I waited until everyone left to unveil the embarrassing heaping pile of filth. I loaded the machine, and off it went! Granted, there is no hot water hooked up, but cold is good, when you are desperate.

I am sitting next to the machine, fascinated that it really is working and then, it begins to drain. And it sounds funny...but then again, I have never sat next to the machine listening to it work. And the water level rises, and I can hear it bubble up, and then it comes spewing out of a hole in the wall. I turn the valve off, and lift the lid of the machine, and call Sam.

"Dude. The washer just flooded the basement."
"Are you kidding?"
"Yeah, not much else going on tonight"

So I have to leave it, until the next day when he can look at it. Apparently when the line is installed it has a plug in it, that needs to be removed upon inspection.

Remember when they told me "It's ready to go?"

I guess in man-talk, that is not a literal phrase. That means, theoretically it *could* go, but needs more work before it WON'T FLOOD YOUR BASEMENT.