I have good excuses.

Came home from vacation, to turn the corner right into Summer CHA crunch.

I am receiving manufacturer boxes almost daily, with projects to work on for the trade show.

This is one reason why my blog is sadly being neglected.
I am here. I promise.
Just buried under paper, and brads, and delicious glitter.

Summer officially started!

I have mixed feelings about this.

The kids had their last day of school yesterday.

As a result, two of my five kids are currently grounded.

Jayden had a sixth grade swim party at the local swimming pool. It is within walking distance from the house. It went from 10:00 to 2:00. Jayden didn't stroll into our house until 5:00.
Yeah, he had been wandering around town like the King Turd of America for three hours.
Didn't call me.
Didn't check in.
It's not that I am a control freak....well, okay, I guess I am. But he is ELEVEN! For Pete Sake! He does not need to be wandering about like a common hoodlum.
He's grounded.
So yesterday, I sent him out to weed the flowerbeds. He doesn't know a weed from a bush, so in my absolute brilliance...I took a bottle of spray paint, and spritzed all the weeds with day-glo orange spray paint.
Pick THOSE, I said.
He wasn't happy.
Today he will be vacuuming the house, and I think cleaning out the fridge.
Love me a good, albeit disgruntled slave.

And Shianne is grounded too.
She was supposed to take her clean basket of clothes, and put them away.
Three hours later, I went to check on her progress.
Yes, I did say three hours. This is typical of her.
She can't focus to save her life, so if she sees something shiny on the way to the toilet, she may pee her pants whilst toying with said shiny object because she plain FORGOT SHE WAS HEADED TO THE CAN.

So three hours later, the basket was forgotten, and she had taken it upon herself to cut an ink pen in half with scissors and explode the ink all over her carpet in her bedroom.

Then, she took a sock, and smeared the ink into a 12"x12" circle of ink.

I lost it.

Sam had to come home early. For the sake of the children.
And long story short, we are using our tax return for new carpet.
So I have been busy dividing my time between carpet warehouses, and the liquor store.

And that is also why I haven't been here.

I'm back! And also IT'S TOOLSDAY!

Um, okay...it's actually Wednesday, and this would have had so much more impact had I posted it yesterday, on Tuesday. Get it? Tuesday=TOOLSday? It's cute, right? It's not cheesy like ROCKTOBERFEST!

Alright, it's a little on the cheesy side. Nevertheless, whilst I was packing my scrappy stuff for the weekend in the sticks, I was limited on space, but there seemed to be a handful of tools that I cannot scrap without. Cannot.

So I thought for the next few Tuesdays, I would blog about my vital tools.

They may be scrappy tools.
They may be household tools.
And before you go on thinking that every week I am just going to post a swooning review of my Dyson or Dyson accessories. Think again. Although the Dyson is the greatest thing to hit my house since my IUD.

And perhaps, I will throw in a few human "tools" which we all know is slang for (roughly translated) complete morons. Like the pizza guy who WOULD NOT deliver pizza to my kids the other night. It was PRE-PAID by credit card, but since there were no adults to answer the door, he couldn't leave it with the kids.

He was a tool.

Let's commence, shall we?

Also, there will be stolen pictures from the Internet.
This allows me to sit here in the comfort of my fluffy butt rather than taking the pictures, downloading them, and then posting.

Here is my first beloved tool.
It is a Quilting Awl or Tailors Awl.
You can get your own right here. (Also, I see it is only THREE BUCKS!)
My friend Laura got me this many years ago.

I have not scrapped without it since.

It is perfect for poking holes for brads.
It will poke holes for ribbon, and even eyelets.
I like it for digging out the hardened gunky glue in the nozzle of glue bottles.
I use it to poke out the middles of die cut letters.
I use it to punch holes in chipboard.
I like it for smooshing ribbon through loopy brads.
I use it to pick off excess glue from around stuck on letters or embellishments.
I love this tool!

It is also handy for walking out to your car in the dark parking lot after a crop.
Hence, the Quilters Awl.
My tool for this TOOLSDAY.

Are you going to miss me?

This is what I am going to be doing this next week:
Some packing--

Although, this photo was from last year, and we drove our ex-car, the Suburban. This year we have the van, which literally has enough cargo space for two gallons of milk.
Skim.

We like to think, Sam and I, that we are still pretty cool. However, this trip is forcing us to take a sharp left turn smack-dab into nerd-dom, cause we are borrowing one of those van-pods. You know, those roof-rack luggage things? We need one. We are borrowing one. Which still leaves us that shred of dignity for not actually owning one, right? Right? Okay.
We have a lot of crap to pack.
Some driving--
Except this time, we have the DVD player. (Cue choir of angels.)


Eventually we end up here:

Which doesn't look like much at first glance.
But there is this:





I am just realizing that I never edited our photos from last year, hence the sub-standard pics. I've been too busy with my facial landscaping.
We go up with some good friends of ours. They have kids the same age as my bunch.
So there are lots of kids running free.
Moms scrapping and taking naps.
Dads playing cards. And fishing.
Lots of down time.
Eating.
Laughing.
Talking.
Its just a relaxing, peaceful week.
I am taking a few scrappy assignments if I get to them, and the new Stephenie Meyer book. Yipee!
So, in the meantime, here are some new scrappy projects I did recently to tide you over until I get back.
School themed stuff, betcha couldn't guess that.





Hopefully we will have good weather.
And my lip will heal.
Be good.

Sally Hansen can bite me.

Since my MOLE POST, I have been obsessed with facial hair.
I think I am going through what I am hoping is early menopause (how else would you explain the waking up in the middle of the night sweating to death for no apparent reason? And the mood swings?)
And the random sprinkling of facial hair.
I invested in a home wax kit on Saturday.
Plunked down my $4.99 at Target.
This kit came with pre-cut and pre-waxed strips.
NO Microwave needed!!
20% more strips! FREE!

Sold.

How hard could it be, right?

I had plenty of strips. Figured I would take care of the peach-fuzz mustache, and move on to other regions.

Slapped that strip on, and as the directions instructed, ripped it off in the direction the hair was growing, in one swift motion.

Oh Sweet Mama. The pain.
The instantaneous, involuntary tears...

Totally took the hair.
AND MY SKIN!

Nice.

So I went to church today looking like that kid in the winter that habitually licks his lips until they are raw and slap-red.

I called Sam post-trauma to tell him about it.
I started out the conversation with "Hey, I tried to wax that little mustache thing I have going on..."
He said "Oh, cool."
What he did NOT say was: "Mustache? What? What are you talking about?"

This would have been the correct response to my conversation starter.

I still have a few stubborn hairs that somehow survived.
They are staying.
I don't care.

Solid Gold

It was 1980.
I was in sixth grade.
This was also the year I won the town Roller Derby.
I took first place, and got a bronze medal.
I aspired to be a back-up dancer for Solid Gold.
I think I had the right look.
Ruffled shirt. (Check!)
Feathered hair. (Check!)
Beaded gold elastic headband. (Check, check, check!!!)

And lovin' the thoughtful vignetted second "me" pondering her limitless future, which sadly, due to extreme incoordination and no redeeming dance moves whatsoever, did not net her that sexy back-up dancer gig.

Beauty Mark, my butt.

The summer before seventh grade, I was the epitome of cool.
I had a sweet new mullet haircut.
I wore super classy bow ties.
I sported the latest in blue/pink Maybelline eyeshadow.
I. HAD. IT. GOIN'. ON.

Look out Junior High--
You have no idea what is hittin' you this year. This babe.
It was right around this time, I took an interest in beauty and fashion. Duh, you can like, totally tell, I know.

I subscribed to Seventeen, after all.

I read about potions to fade my freckles. (didn't work)
I saved all my babysitting money to buy myself some Kangaroos (they are making a come-back!) and Swatches(I had two).
I pored over the pages learning "How to Make Him Notice You", and "Facing That First Kiss."
I faithfully followed the step-by-step lessons on applying daytime vs. nighttime eyeshadow. I practiced with my magnifying mirror to perfect the process.

I cursed my pores. I loathed my freckles, which were magnified, along with the Maybelline in this mirror. And then I saw IT.
The mole.
Not just a mole.
I can't believe I hadn't noticed it before!
It was giant!
And worse...it had....
(gulp)
Hairs growing out of it.
There I said it.
Tiny, white hairs.
It was hideous!
I was HIDEOUS!

There was no way I was going to "Face My First Kiss" with that...THAT...MOLE!
I was a little panicked. At the very least, I needed those hairs gone.
So I grabbed myself a pink Lady Bic, to shave the hairs.

Ladies, and I guess gentlemen--(sorry guys)the Lady Bic, with all it's self-lubricating genius, is NOT a precision instrument.

It lopped that mole off. Not just the hairs. BUT THE WHOLE MOLE.
The mole did not grow back.
But the hairs did.
Oh yes.
The hairs did.
Only they were angry about being evicted from their home.
They come in black now.
Thick man-beard whiskers.
And have to be plucked. Often.
It is a curse.
Thank you, Seventeen.

And this is my final reminder for all my close friends.

If I am ever in some accident that renders me comatose, and you feel compelled to come see me, lying tragically in my bed in a coma...please bring some tweezers. Please?
Help a girlfriend out.

My Mother's Day Haiku(s)

Mother's Day is work.
Plan, shop, cook--dress kids for church.
While Dad takes a nap.

I have never had
that perfect Hallmark Sunday
bet I never will

Mother's Day is crap.
But I like sticky kisses
and the homemade cards.

It's a reminder
of just how lucky I am
to have five to love.

Edited to add:
Sharyn my scrappy friend added her own Haiku in my comments shortly after I posted. I LOVE IT!
Here it is:
It should be a law
no rain allowed on Mom's Day
kids indoor is mad

Which makes me think...YOU should add your own Haiku in the comments. I know you have one brewing...about your own Mother's Day.

Hit me with it.

In case anyone was wondering.

I have been absent most of this week.
I had a crappy busy week.

I am on the PTA, you know, and this year my "job" was to spearhead all the room-moms, and be over Teacher Appreciation Week.

I have spent more time at the school than my kids this week.

Tuesday was teacher breakfast.
Wednesday was bring a flower to teacher day.
Thursday was teacher lunch.
Friday, was nothing I needed to go to the school for, but I had to come in anyway, because the third grade did a Mother's Day program.

I am pooped!

Earlier this week, I went thrift store shopping.
It's my new favorite.
I have stooped to an all time new low, cause I am actually buying clothes.
From a thrift store.
Of course they all get bleached and oxy-cleaned in hot water...
But dang if I haven't scored some finds.
I bought a brand new looking pair of 7 for all mankind jeans in my size, for SIX BUCKS! I was trying to tell Sam about it on the way home, and he didn't know what these jeans were. I knew of course, you know, being an avid People/In Touch magazine reader. I am savvy like that.
He asked me if they looked good on.
I told him not really, but who cares, cause they are $189.00 jeans!
For six bucks.
I am excited to look cool.
Except I blew the whole looking cool thing, JUST NOW, when I just told you all that I got them for six bucks. Pretend I am still cool when you see me in them, okay?

What else?
Oh, I joined Facebook.
I am still trying to figure it all out.
I wasted like two hours today finding Flair for my bulletin board.
Like I need another time-sucker in my life.
But I found a few friends from my past, so it could be cool, right?
If YOU join, let me know and I will add you to my "friends."
Good gravy.
Facebook has me digging for "friends"--it sounds so desperate.

I have been vacuuming a lot. With the Dyson. I can't even tell you how much I *heart* my vacuum. Seriously. I let it sleep on Sam's side of the bed, when he is working graveyard shift.

I was asked to join a new design team.
Core-dinations Cardstock.
Very cool stuff.
It is cardstock that is black, with a colored core. So if you tear, emboss or sand it, the color comes through. There is also colored cardstock with a white core, but I am liking the black.
You can see it HERE.

Other than that, I got nothin'

I bet you are glad you came over here.
That was five minutes of your life you will never get back.
Just join facebook.
And you too, can watch your laundry pile up. Heh.

The bookstore. (alternately titled another embarrassing moment.)

Once Sam and I went on a little weekend trip that took us through St. George, UT. I can't remember exactly why.

I do know that we hit the outlet stores that are there.

I especially loved the bookstore. I had several books picked out. It must have been April, because I had books picked out for my Mom and Mother-in-Law for Mother's Day.

Anyway...I had this stack of books, and was in the check-out line waiting to pay.

There were a couple of people in front of me. We were all lined up in front of the check-out counter. The cashier was behind the counter that was a little over waist-high, and wrapped around almost the whole front of the store. There were little shelves in the front of the counter, and they contained those cute little itty-bitty books.
"A mini-book of Haiku" "How to Make Shadow Puppets." "A Creepy-Crawly Field Guide."

I love those. I don't know why.

The person in front of me got finished, and left. The cashier was finishing up. I was up next.

At that moment...Sam let this HUGE fart.
It was so loud, I can't believe the reverberation didn't knock those little mini-books off the shelf.
And then...
HE DUCKED DOWN!! Below the counter, and out of view.

And left me.
Standing there.
Holding my books.

LIKE I WAS THE FARTER!

There was no where to go, and by this time Sam had scuttled off like the vermin that he is.
The cashier is staring at me, wide-eyed.

There was nothing I could say or do.
"Hey, man...that wasn't ME."
Um, yeah, I believe you...being that there is NO ONE ELSE AROUND.

And I really wanted those books...

I mentally bolstered myself, and reluctantly stepped up to the counter and paid.

Meanwhile, Sam went out to the car to wait. He was laughing his butt off.
His NOW EMPTY butt.

Do you see what I have to go through?

My first cruise. (Alternately titled why I feel inclined to occasionally make fun of Sam on my blog.)

Sam won this cruise back in 1996.

I know it was 1996, cause I was eight months pregnant with Jayden, our first-born.
I was big.
I worked back then for a Title Company. We did closings on mortgages and properties. We entertained a lot of clients, therefore, we went on client lunches almost everyday. We went to Olive Garden, and Chili's and The Outback.

I gained fifty pounds.
Jayden weighed in at a whopping 8 1/2 pounds, and not the 38 1/2 pounds that I was hoping he would weigh...so well, you do the math.
I was big.

Plus, I got what they call Toxemia. Which is nothing more that extreme bloating. That was pretty.

Anyway, Sam won this cruise.
We were excited about it!

So we flew in and boarded the boat.
It was huge!
We were feeling pretty ritzy.

Apparently Sam was feeling really ritzy.
I am not sure what those shorts were.
I don't remember them, but I am sure Bill Cosby wants them back.
Lets go in for a closer look, shall we?

And before you comment on my maternity, um, jumper? Take a good look. It is crucial to the story that will unfold.

Ah, the maternity jumper.

When you are as large as a barge, there is not much in the tent and awning department to fit you at eight months. And bear in mind, this was the 90's.
Floral was hot, baby. I wore that jumper a lot.

So much in fact, that all I had to do was stand it in the corner at night, and then in the morning, I would whistle and say "Here, girl!" and it would walk on over to me.
"Good jumper."

I wore it to embark on the cruise ship, obviously.

And we got on the boat, and we watched as the boat pulled away from the dock, and cheered with everyone else. Giddy to be on vay-cay....

Then we went back to the room, and unpacked.
The room was the size of a broom closet. Very hard to maneuver when you are as round as you are tall. The bathroom was very small and had one of those swooshy sucky toilets like they have on airplanes. With the blue water.

Anyway, back to unpacking.
Well guess what was in my bag?

Maternity shirt A.
Maternity shirt B.
Maternity shirt C.
Socks.
Undies.

NO PANTS.
None.

I looked again, I shook the bag. I said a little prayer for my maternity pants to magically appear...ohpleaseohpleaseohplease...

I was stuck, in the middle of the ocean.
With only my jumper.

I was the only pregnant lady on board, but I still checked the gift shop. Maybe, oh maybe they had some XXL black drawstring pants? Maybe?
No, they did not.

Needless to say, what little self-esteem I had jumped overboard and drown in the churning wake of the cruise ship.

Every morning I begrudgingly put on the jumper.
There is NO possible way a very pregnant lady can be inconspicuous in a floral jumper. And I felt so guilty eating at the buffets. The preggo jumper lady? Again?

Our first port was in Mexico.
Here is the jumper.
Oh, and me.

I am buying some accessories to go with the jumper. You know, there is nothing like some good accessories to change your look up. (eyeroll)

When we got back on the boat, we made a beeline for our room.
Sam had to use the *ahem* facilities.
And use them he did.
He clogged up the whole toilet.
He clogged it good.
He clogged it somehow so the flap thingie that flushes was clogged wide open.
It was whoooshing and whoooshing...
I am not sure what he was thinking, but he grabbed a coat hanger and tried to um, plunge things down with that.
So now, picture this, clogged toilet, and um, coat hanger.
I told him he needed to call housekeeping.
They assign workers to each room, and our little workers could come fix it.
He said he was too embarrassed to do that.
It was time for dinner, and my jumper was hungry.
I told him to call, and we could leave, and have them fix it by the time we get back.

Here is how it went down:

(Him) "I am NOT calling, you call."
(me) "I didn't clog it, you call."
(him) "Oh, fine." <---all huffy and stuff
(him) "Hello? Yeah, this is room XXX and I just needed to call and see if someone could fix our toilet. My wife is pregnant, and she clogged it up real good."

Yep.
He really did.

So the rest of the cruise, I just know those guys talked about me.
And the coat hanger.

So this is why, my blog reading friends, every so often, I tell you stories about my dear husband that are not 100 percent complimentary to him.

I owe him a lot of payback.