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July 22, 2007

Farmer's Market

We took the kiddos to the Rochester Farmer's Market yesterday morning. We were armed with fifty bucks, a double stroller (thanks for sharing, Tim and Karin!) and one life-saving lollipop. Elizabeth was entranced. For 28 seconds.

Then she wanted to GET OUT (sounds like "IYANTOGETOUT" as she flails her arms and legs about, trying to Houdini her way out of the belt straps). I was not willing to let her get out and wander around a crowd of hundreds of strangers.

Strangers to Elizabeth = "Audience."

I whipped out the bright red lollipop, handed to her, and for the rest of the morning she LOVED the stroller. She also found discovered that is she sits in the front seat of the stoller, nobody can see her little brother ADAM, and the hundreds of audience members all pay attention to HER, not HIM. This was a Very Good Thing.

Anyway, we blew the cash with much excitement. We came home with a couple dozen fresh peppers, cukes, garlic, hot pepper plants, a chocolate mint plant, local popcorn, steel cut oats, soy wasabi peas, a dozen other natural grains and dried beans, Amish raisin bread, a bucket of raspberries, oranges (for my orange/flaxseed muffins!) and two pounds of chorizo.

Yeah, you can't expect me to deprive myself of chorizo. It's been about 15 years since I've had some, and this is the first time I've ever found the stuff in that entire 15-year span. We agonized over the decision (not really) to buy it, and we decided that we must allow ourselves a few indulgences now and again to keep life fun. Plus, we shared a pound of it with our wonderful neighbors.

Today we're relaxing. Next week, and for about 5 weeks after, we've got events going on every weekend.
Brown Family reunion
Another farmer's market trip
Syracuse highland games
Chico's wedding
Pennsylvania for a weekend-long camping trip
Sterling Renaissance festival

And starting on August 3, we're doing a weekly (weather permitting) Friday night themed family movie night and showing movies under the stars!

So, here's hoping you're making the most of this great summer, 2007, and maybe we'll see you at faire!

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 08:26 AM | | Comments (0)

March 28, 2007

Nearing Completion

Carpet is being installed today. Carpet = the end of the current remodeling project.

*EXHALE*

Now, on to the next project: The completion of the upstairs bathroom and the installation of a new bathtub in the downstairs bathroom.

After that, the only room left for renovation is the living room, and WE'RE LEAVING for that one. The plan is to go on vacation for a week while the crew comes in to gut, insulate (there was absolutely no insulation in this house when we moved in), drywall, install the fireplace and carpet.

When we come home, everything will be finished. Life will be good.

We've learned so much about remodeling over the past four years. Most importantly: The best thing to do (if you want to avoid divorce and keep your sanity) is to hire someone else to do it.

On a side note, young Adam has outgrown almost all of his 0-3 month clothes. He's only 7 weeks old. Last night he slept from 10 pm to 4 am. Is it possible he was switched at birth? We're not used to babies who gain weight and sleep all night. Weird.

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 07:22 AM | | Comments (0)

February 20, 2007

Long overdue, random nothingness

My abundantly awesome husband, in an effort to do his part to keep the earth a healthy place in which to live, has done his part to contribute to "green" living, by replacing all of the household lightbulbs with flourescent, bought recycled paper towels and recycled toilet paper. However, after trying the recycled toilet paper, we've decided that there is a limit to how "green: we're willing to be. Our delicate tushies are not accustomed to the rough sandpapery texture of recycled TP, and we've gone back to aloe-cushioned softness.

My sister, Erin, descibed the feeling of recycled TP best: "Yeah, just hand me that splintery two-by-four so I can wipe my ass, please."

E-Beth is an angel. I'm convinced we have The Perfect Child.
happybeth01.jpg

And now we have a second Perfect Child. He eats, falls asleep, poops, farts, wakes up four hours later grunting softly for more food (no crying) and eats again. No joke - this is his life and he seems to be ok with it. I feel a little guilty about having a child who sleeps instead of spending most of the day screaming from colic and needing constant comfort. But I've been told this is what second children expect from their parents. They don't know any better, so it's How It Should Be.

I will be going back to work for one day this week just to test the waters and see how much I can handle right now. Next week I'll be working two days, and will continue to do so until summer season, and then I'll pick up another half day. My goal is to work only two days a week whenever possible so I can spend three full days a week with my babes. I'm a pretty lucky woman to be able to do this - don't think I don't realize this, because I do.

I've lost 30 lbs already. What other diet allows you to lose ten pounds a week in three weeks? Childbirth is the greatest weight loss program on earth - but it's not for everyone.

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 08:32 AM | | Comments (0)

October 11, 2006

Hallowe'ening

Each year we throw a big Halloween party for all the kids we know (family and friends). We do a dozen games, including the annual pinata beating. Then we set up the big tent in the backyard and show a movie on a big screen, under the stars. We throw all the pillows on a tarp on the ground, give the kids blankets and sleeping bags to wrap themselves during the movie. The parents hover on the sidelines and gorge on pizza and chili dogs, while the kids load up on the 30-something pounds of candy that Brian always buys.

This year we'll be doing a Star Wars theme for the Piper family costumes. Brian is going is Obi Wan, I will be Leia (because she wears a big white tent-dress that I'll fit into), and Elizabeth will be Yoda. I'm not going as pregnant Padme. Her costumes are a little too skimpy for chilly NY Halloweens. I will post pictures, I promise.

I broke my rule about never making costumes for myself again, and I made the costumes for Brian and myself for this year's party.

Last year we hired someone to make our costumes and went as "Spy vs. Spy." My mother saw our pointy face masks on the table, yanked me aside and demanded to know if we were going as members of the KKK.

I explained to her that we were "Spy vs. Spy" and she stared at me blankly, as if I just told her that we were going to be Boffy and Scrapple from the planet Toiletbowl.

"Who??" she asked.

"Nevermind."

So, will Brian repeat last year's performance and purchase 35 pounds of candy? Will my mother think I'm wearing cinnamon rolls on my head? Will the kids approve of this year's movie selection? Tune in after the 21st of October for a full report and PICTURES!

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 07:41 AM | | Comments (1)

August 06, 2006

Preserving the Summer

This afternoon will be one of many pickle-making afternoons at the Piper homestead over the upcoming weeks. Today I'll be making this kind, and Brian will make his traditional bread-and-butters (which are extremely popular because they're so delicious). I've made the Martha green tomato bread-and-butters before and they're divine too. This year we have far too many tomoatoes, and unless we do something now, while they're green, we're going to be overrun with ripe ones in a few weeks. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing better than home-canned tomotoes, or homemade tomato pie (I tried to find a recipe online, but can't find the right now - so I will post it later), but there really can be too much of a good thing.

The corn is on - we picked a few ears last night, but they were too young. We have WAY too much yellow squash and zucchinii? We're planning to sneak around town late one night, visit all the roadside farm stands, and make zucchini and yellow squash deposits. We only planted four plants each - and now we know: ONE plant is more than enough.

We've started harvesting all of the zucchini and squash flowers, coating them with bread crumbs, stuffing them with jalepeno cheddar, and deep-frying them. Not terribly healthy, but bleeping DELICIOUS, and it cuts down on the number of squash we have to deal with! (I don't even LIKE squash!)

So, if anyone wants some squash, beans, corn, zucchini, okra or tomatoes, please feel free to come raid our garden. PLEASE!

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 11:19 AM | | Comments (3)

June 11, 2006

Questionable Behvior

This entry is utterly sexist, yes, I admit it. I am guilty, guilty, guilty. However, my house STINKS, so I'm entitled.

According to the Manly-Man laws of Scaffolding, if you have a bag of garbage that needs to be relocated from the second story bathroom to the ground floor, you will:

A) carry it gently down the stairs and place it in the garbage bin.

B) Dislodge the window in front of the newly erected scaffolding and chuck it violently down to the platform system below you.

I firmly believe that if you are female, you will probably carry it down the stairs. Especially since YOU hauled out the upstairs bathroom and you know that there is a (very fragile) dusty old bottle of Polo hidden inside that garbage bag.

If you are male, out of curiosity you will violently chuck the garbage bag down the scaffolding system, shattering the bottle of Polo as it bashes against each platform.

The shattering sound will cause the extremely hairy (and curious) Australian Shepherd (who lives with you) to immediately investigate. As the smelly drops of Polo splash to the ground below, the dog will, of course, roll obsessively in the offensive odor, completely coating himself in it.

If you are male and have chucked the bag out the window, as soon as you hear the glass shatter, you will whisper a worried "oh shit," climb from the window, down the scaffolding, to figure out what you just destroyed. In the process, you will coat your hands and the bottom of your shoes with Polo. You will grab the dog to drag him inside, and as you walk through the house, each Polo-infused step will spread enough stench to kill a gaggle of Valley Girls.

There was a reason I threw it in the garbage. Polo lived a good life: TWENTY YEARS AGO. And now the house, Boy, yard AND dog reek of 1989.

However, the drywall is LOADED, and for that, I am THRILLED.

I'm done being sexist now. We will resume our regularly scheduled television broadcast, as soon as we wash the stench of Polo from EVERYTHING PIPER.

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 07:27 PM | | Comments (3)

June 06, 2006

Roofing It

I have about a half hour before Elizabeth wakes from her nap and starts kicking the walls to let me know that if I don't come rescue her immediately, she will tunnel her way through the plaster and set up small cult within the walls of our home.

I miss blogging and when I don't have time, the voices start telling me to do strange things, like eat entire tubs of Fluff, or create art from dryer lint. Blogging is my release and without it, I do nutty things.

This past week I realized two things:

A) I am the worst roofer on earth
B) I'm an idiot

Let me explain revelation B first.

Back at Christmas, I spent a large amount of time shopping on eBay for dollhouse goodies. My niece Bryanna had received an enormous dollhouse mansion from her grandfather, and needed to fill it with tiny Barcaloungers, miniscule forks and patterned paper floors. It was incredibly fun to buy this stuff, and I excitedly whispered to Brian, on several occasions,
"I wish I had a dollhouse!"
"I would love a dollhouse of MY OWN"
"Wouldn't it be FUN to build a dollhouse??"
"Someday I will build a dollhouse so I can buy tiny Barcaloungers for myself!"
"Oh, Brian, look at THIS dollhouse!"
"Oh, Brian, look at THIS itty-bitty Barcalounger!"
Oh, Brian, look at THESE teeny, tiny, little forks!"

Who told him to listen to me? Whoever told him to listen to me should be punished severely, because HE LISTENED, and wound up gifting me for Christmas, a perfectly adorable dollhouse kit that any idiot could assemble in two evenings with a hot glue gun and some masking tape.

Any idiot but ME, that is.

The first problem I encountered was that the dollhouse directions referred to the FRONT of the house as the BACK of the house. Personally, I think that the FRONT of the house is the open area, where you play. Apparently I am wrong. The FRONT of the house is actually the part that you look at, but never play with. It's the part where the front door lives. Go figure.

Once I thought I had wrapped my feeble mind around that notion, I started to apply wallpaper to the walls.

However, because I actually had NOT wrapped my feeble mind around FRONT and BACK, I papered HALF of the walls with the wrong paper. The upstairs bedroom had two walls with the correct paper on it, but the wall that divided the bathroom and the bedroom was backwards. The bathroom wallpaper was stuck in the bedroom and the bedroom wallpaper was stuck in the bathroom. I conveniently did the same thing to the livingroom/kitchen wall.

I tore the paper off and I redid them, but only after I bought new wallpaper. I didn't buy enough to factor idiocy into the wallpapering equation.

At that point, I had commenced swearing, muttering under my breath and using a hammer to get the pieces to FIT TOGETHER. ("Kit," my ass. These were not perfectly aligned puzzle pieces, they were roughly-hewn "close estimates" of what perfect alignment SHOULD be).

The wallpaper wasn't sticking, and when it was sticking, it was bubbling like it was coming down with a nasty case of leprosy. After I had finished papering, I started to assemble the walls (with my trusty wall-beating hammer), and realized that I had &*(^I*%^ing reversed the wallpaper AGAIN. This time on the OUTSIDE walls. I slapped on a new sheet of wallpaper from the remnants and announced, "DONE IS GOOD, DAMMIT!"

This was when Brian exacted a bit of revenge on me. A few years back I bought him a PS2 with a handful of games, so that he could "relax" after a hard day's work. Instead, he would sit in front of the television, screaming at the game in frustration. I asked, "Why do you play these if they're so stressful? Shouldn't this be FUN?"

Brian peered over the top of the dollhouse and asked simply, "Aren't you the same person, who, a few weeks ago said, "I would love to make MY OWN dollhouse!"?"

If I could have throttled him, I would have. However, my hands were glued to the dollhouse walls, rendering any type of strangulation impossible.

Finally I finished the major house construction. All that remained was decorating and applying shingles. The shingles required painting, so I left those for a sunny spring day, when I could quickly hose them down with some pretty, toxic, flat black spray paint. I decided to tackle the bathroom kit I had excitedly purchased three days after opening my Christmas gift.

NOTE: Never buy dollhouse accessories that bear the word KIT on the label. You have to have atomic eyesight and non-stick fingers in order to assemble these little bastards. I do not have atomic eyesight or non-stick fingers.

The only glue that will hold these tiny pieces of plastic together is super glue. Try to imagine me, Queen of the Clumsies, trying to super glue a tiny little faucet (roughly 1/16th the size of a paperclip) onto a tiny little lip of a tiny little bathtub. Once I reached the point of tears, Brian had to use a pair of needle-nose pliers to yank the now-permanently-glued tiny little faucet off my enormous, bumbling pointer finger.

I was able to assemble all the little pieces together, but it took about 6 hours, and by the time I was finished, I had resolved to NEVER AGAIN buy ANYTHING with the word "KIT" on the label.

never. ever. ever.

Last weekend was the first weekend that the wind was not gusting the neighborhood's collection of plastic lawn furniture through the backyard, so I decided to paint the shingles and finish this project once and for all. I set up newspapers around the yard, laid out the sheets of wafer-thin shingles and sprayed them down with flat black paint.

I forgot about them, of course, and at 11:30 pm, when the rabid skunks come out, I remembered them. First I begged Brian to take care of them for me, but when he told me he didn't know where his welding/rabid skunk/superhero glove was, I knew I was on my own.

A few of them had blown across the yard, but I was only willing to collect the sheets that were within the protective rays of the porch light. I knew damn well that the rabid skunks were waiting for me, just beyond the illuminated borders.

The next day I started shingling, and that's when I realized I will NEVER, EVER be a roofer. Truth be told, there is NOTHING on this Earth that I do WORSE than roofing. My shingles looked like the cat had puked them into place. They were not aligned, they were pointing in the wrong direction, and they didn't end in the right place, even though the instructions (which I FOLLOWED) told me they WOULD DO, WITHOUT ANY EFFORT!

("So simple, even a child can assemble it!") Yeah, bite me.

After finishing half the roof, I ripped the shingles off with a whispered string of curses, and decided to save the project for the next evening. Hopefully, by waiting a day, I would have camled down enough to overcome the overwhelming desire to maim every KIT DESIGNER on the planet by gluing tiny plastic faucets to their fingertips.

Last night I finally finished the roof. It's not pretty, but it's no longer hideous. I need to do some serious touching up with a little more toxic flat black paint. All that will remain is to fill the house with Barcaloungers and forks.

And then I will

A) Never build another &*(%^^(*%ing dollhouse again
B) Never buy any type of KIT again
C) THINK before I utter the words, "I would love a ________________ of my OWN!"

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 11:53 AM | | Comments (6)

May 23, 2006

Life Update


* I've been on a Vincent D'onofrio kick lately, so I watched Full Metal Jacket last night for the first time. What a versatile actor he is. I was impressed. The background music (especially toward the end while searching for the sniper) was terribly appropriate and really enhanced the whole film.

* I managed to keep off the ten pounds I lost while sick, and am now down to a comfortable size 10 (meaning a size 10 is a bit loose on me and not skin tight). I'm one size away from my goal weight. It's so funny that I look in the mirror and see myself as much heavier than I actually am. I didn't realize this until I saw video of myself last night and was utterly shocked to see that I'm actually not anywhere near the size I see when I look in the mirror. Isn't that bizarre?

*E-Beth is now a walking maniac. Overnight she decided that crawing was for idiots, stopped carrying her toys in her mouth, put them in her hands, and Franken-walked across the room. She can say "Thank you" and "please." Thank you sounds like "Den-ooo" and please sounds like "dat." It's highly possible (and likely) that when she is pointing at the chocolate ice cream and saying "dat," she is actually NOT saying "please," but is instead saying "give me THAT." Whatever. Who cares. As long as we can share chocolate ice cream, we're both happy campers.

* I've been writing a book in my mind and at first I thought it was brilliant, but then I had second thoughts. I've written books in my head before and thought they were brilliant, when in reality, they sucked. For example, the apocolyptic comedy I wanted to write about hibernating yetis in my backyard. . . Yeah. . . We'll pretend that one never entered my brain. However, I emailed the outline to my friend Krista, who I trust to be absolutely honest with me about everything. If the story sucked, she'd tell me. Plus, she's an excellent writer herself, so I value her opinion. She read it and said I should put it on paper. I will do so.

* This Saturday I will be meeting with a woman who has a collection of over 2000 historical garments and has written books on historical textiles. She'll teach me much and I've been eagerly awaiting our appointment.

* My cheeks are rosy. People tell me I look like I have a healthy, sunny glow, but it's just rosacea and I hate it. I want nice pasty, pale cheeks to match the rest of pasty, pale me. I'm going to the doctor to see what they can do. I hate not being able to stay in the sun for more than five minutes without looking like a lobster.

* The garden is tilled and seedlings have sprouted. They will be placed into the earth this weekend. In a few short weeks, peas, beans onions and radishes will be ready. I love fresh vegetables from the garden.

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 01:24 PM | | Comments (0)

May 04, 2006

Lessons for the Week

One of the more exciting events of the Piper summer (apart from the COMPLETION OF UPSTAIRS REMODELING, FINALLY) will be the digging of a one-acre pond in the back yard. A choice was made between the pond and a pool, and the pond ranked highest for being more user-friendly.

Here's why:

* You can't kayak in a pool (not without risking a big rip in the liner when a fellow dingbat flips the kayak off the diving board, just ask my mom).

* You can't keep fish in a pool. Well, you CAN, but the chlorine messes with the fishy gene pool, among other things (like the ability to exist).

* You can't have a Victorian ice skating party on a pool. (Yes, this is one of the biggest reasons *I* want a pond. How much of a geek does that make me?)

However, the BIG selling point, as it was explained to me by several wayward skydivers:

When you build a pond, you are left with about 10 tons of earth with which to play. That dirt can be built into a giant ramp. The giant ramp will be an all-season ramp:

In the summer it will lead to the festive sports of "ramp kayaking," "parachute ponding" and "water mountain-biking."

In the winter it will be used for "snowboard leaping" (as towed behind an ATV), "winter ramp kayaking," (also, as towed) and "dangerously icy ramp parachuting."

In the fall, when it's too cold for swimming, it will probably be used for late night bonfire, intoxicated-accidental-skinny-dipping by falling off the big dirt ramp while peeing.

Dittos for icy-water spring., of course.

Skydivers. They're adoptable. Email for further information.

On the kidlet front, we recently reached a major milestone: The turning of the car seat from rear-facing to front-facing. I've been terribly eager for this event, thinking that it would make E-Beth's car-riding experience much more enjoyable. Alas. Not so much. This is what I have deduced:

* When a child faces backwards in the car seat, he/she believes that cars are a mystical teleportation device that allows them to travel backwards, alone, from point A to point B. Mom or Dad plugs him/her into the seat, shuts the door, starts the rumble-dee-bumble noise and then next thing you know, you've arrived at your destination and WHOA! MOM or DAD is at the same place too! (How did THAT happen??) You can't see anything except the back of the seat and the road upon which you've already traveled, and everyone knows if you can't SEE people, that MUST mean that nobody is in the teleportation device with you. It does no good to scream and cry if nobody can hear you.

E-Logic 101: If a tree falls in a forest, there's no sense in screaming. Dead trees don't pay much attention to a screaming childypants.

* When a child faces FRONT, he/she can see you. All of the sudden there is someone who pays attention when crying/screaming/strapped-body-flailing commences. This is no longer a mystical teleportation device, this is illegal torture. Mom or Dad ignores said child, and pays attention to this crap called "THE ROAD AHEAD" and "TRAFFIC."

So much for making her car riding experience better. I've now accomplished the first of many changes that will make her life unbearable. Wait till she hits 16. Boy, have I got a few surprises up my sleeve.

And if you don't like presidential criticism, DO NOT CLICK THIS LINK!

Don't say I didn't warn you. . . .

(waiting for the complaint emails to commence)

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 12:08 PM | | Comments (3)

April 07, 2006

End of the week. FINALLY.

TGIF. Seriously. This has been a bad week - and y'all know that I'm an obnoxiously upbeat person. So many things went wonky this week and I'm glad it's over. A few really excellent things happened this week though. Over the summer we'll fill you in - but needless to say, there are some wonderfully exciting things happening with the business. Plus, I lost five pounds WITHOUT drinking Slimcrap. Color me salad happy green.

Elizabeth continues to improve and paint the walls fun colors with her food.

Our babysitter, Colleen, is SO fabulous. With her coming to our house mornings to watch the Elizacritter, I've been able to get ahead with orders - more ahead than I've been since before E-Beth was born. And that means I will have time to FINALLY start working on the newly licensed Nene Thomas, Jessica Galbreth, and Jonathan Bowser gowns. I'm terribly excited about that.

And finally, for my fine fabriholic friends, Fashion Fabrics Online is offering some great discounts on fabrics. I saw some naturals in the bargain bin section, and they have the 10-pound box o' fabric loveliness for $29.99 in the clearance section - good stuff. Please buy it so I'm not tempted.

Hey! Have a GREAT weekend!

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 11:58 AM | | Comments (3)

April 03, 2006

Saw Season

I just spent over $200 on velvet and satin, just from one weekend of online shopping. We won't talk about what I spent on brocades. Step away from the fabrics, Heather. Step away.

The letter project: I've received four letters so far this month and mailed 6. Not bad! (Special thanks to everyone who is participating in the letter project with me - I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am!) I haven't been able to keep up with my goal of one letter a day, but I'm trying to dedicate evenings to either writing, reading (Far, Far From Home: The Wartime Letters of Dick and Tally Simpson) or hand sewing. Lately my time has been consumed with hand sewing.

In addition to the DRAWERS FROM HELL (my own hand-sewn CW drawers) I'm currently working on beaded heart appliqués for a true-to-the-movie Pink Diamonds from Moulin Rouge. I've been dying to make a true-to-the-original, and recently received a commission to make one. Unfortunately, now I want one for myself, (not that I have many occasions to dress like Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge.) But if I did, boy-o, I'd make one!

The weather has broken and the yard is filled with nothing but wind-mangled trees. Chainsaw season is officially open, and the evenings and weekends are pretty much filled with the thrumming neighborhood chainsaws. It won't be long before I can smell the first fresh-cut grass of the season. Brian dragged the lawn mower out, started it up and drove it around the yard - then noticed the neighbors furiously working UNDER their lawn mower, meticulously removing, cleaning, and replacing parts. He wondered if there was some sort of Spring lawn mower ritual he was supposed to accomplish before blindly gearing up and racing across the agglomeration of bramble and mudpiles. I guess we'll soon find out!

And finally, if anyone knows a cure for CHRONIC SCREAMING FOR NO APPARENT REASON, please let me know. There seems to be a problem evolving in this household and I'd like to nip it in the bud before it gets worse (or before the neighbors' eardrums explode)

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 12:33 PM | | Comments (5)

March 28, 2006

Contests, Nannies, Comments. Not necessarily in that order.

We are totally nannied-up! Colleen has accepted the position, and started this morning. She has two delightful children and Elizabeth had a blast playing with them. So much fun, that she is, in fact, ASLEEP at this very moment, instead of doing her usual hour-long pre-nap ritual of rattling the cage (crib) walls off the hinges and smashing her tantrumming feet at the wall through the bars.

Colleen is AMAZING. I have a hard enough time balancing one kid on my hip, but she managed THREE. N'ary a teardrop in the house - I heard fits of laughter all morning while sewing. I'm awestruck.

Sweet Heaven on a stick. Life is good, once again. (Not that it was ever bad, but I was getting a little worried that I was going to be assigned to permanent night shift at the Very Merry Sweatshop while Brian took the day shift out-of-home. )

OK - news around the website - some may have noticed the addition of ads on the blog pages. We're not sure how they will work out, since so far all of them lead directly to our COMPETITORS' SITES. (mutter grumble) But we've been promised a cure for that. Brian installed special code last night, and in the process, our comments page was deleted. Brian has promised to fix that within the next day or so. (YAY, Brian!)

CONTEST! So be it! You win! I got tons of feedback about this, and it would seem that you all want a chance to win free garb! I'm all for it - so your job is come come up with the wackiest, funniest, craziest contest I could possibly offer. Make it something that anyone could easily do - no Mount Everest climbs or anything like that. Simple, clean fun.

Here are my ideas, pathetic as they may be:

The Annual Spring Leg Shearing Contest: for all you lovely ladies who stop shaving your legs for addittional warmth during these cold, chilly months. You can send in pictures of your hairy legs and the furriest pair wins!

What-were-you-thinking Faire Garb Contest: Break out your Crayolas and draw me up the most historically inaccurate, hysterically funny, off-the-wall Faire costume you can think of.

My-Guy-In-Tights Contest: Con your hubby/Significant Other/Brother/Father to don a costume that includes a pair of tights, and take his picture. You must own the copyright to the picture (meaning, you had to take it). Funniest tights-clad guy wins free garb for YOU. What does he get? The opportunity to have his picture (wearing tights, of course) plastered all over our website. How's that for a sweet deal?

Send in your ideas, and I'll choose one contest that sounds like it will be the most fun for everyone who may want to enter, and we'll get it underway within the next few weeks!

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 12:24 PM | | Comments (5)

March 20, 2006

My first day of SAHM-dom

6:30 - I wake up early to answer emails before my perfect baby (who normally sleeps till 8 am) wakes up to begin her day. Brian is showering.

6:35 - I brush my teeth, dress (I showered last night), sit down at computer with steaming cup of coffee, start responding to emails. Feeling good. I can be a SAHM AND an efficient business woman too.

6:36: Elizabeth hears me plop into my comfort zone, awakes and starts the IWANTTOGETUPNOW!!!! wail.

6:36.08 - I type frantically, whispering "gobacktosleepbabygobacktosleepbaby."

6:37 - I give up on emails and run upstairs to comfort my sunny little pumpkin. I tell myself I can finish emails while Elizabeth sits next to me eating her breakfast. As I peek into her room, she gives me her morning grin, making the email delay well worth it.

6:45 - Elizabeth is dressed and ready for breakfast. I prepare fruit while she screams at me for being a pokey-butt.

6:46 - I catch Brian easing himself into the chair in front of my computer. My neck hairs bristle. I think to myself "whatareyoudoing? WHATAREYOUDOING? I have thismuchtime to answer emails while she's eating!" I watch closely and say nothing.

6:47 - I attach Elizabeth's feeding trough to the high chair and she begins her morning food flail. The walls turn peachy.

6:47:18 - I leap toward my computer to stop Brian from opening a PDF - which is GUARANTEED to crash my system and tie it up for a solid 15 minutes. I move as though I am stuck in the Matrix, dodging bullets in 3-dimensional slow motion. Smith kills me - I'm too slow. Brian has clicked, my system freezes. So much for those 10 minutes of answering emails while Elizabeth eats breakfast.

6:47.19 - I faceplant into the wall because I'm a clod, and in the process, scare the bejeezus out of Elizabeth, Brian, the cat and the dog. Everyone starts screaming/crying/barking/screeching at me. A glob of peach is chucked in my direction and hits me in the a$$. This is karmic payback for being too possessive of my computer.

6:57 - I give up on my computer freeze and give it the cold boot. Elizabeth hurls another peach at my head.

6:58 - Computer restarts. Elizabeth is finished with breakfast. She clutches every bit of remaining fruit in her tiny little paws, stares me in the eye, and splats all of it to the floor. She opens her mouth to tell me, "I'm finished, mother. Please, may I be excused?" But what comes out sounds like Yoko Ono and her backup band of fourteen cats in heat, scraping steak knives on glass.

6:59 - Elizabeth is cleaned and ready to play. Brian is ready to leave for his first day of work. I am ready for a tequila bath.

It's now 1:00, Elizabeth is napping peacefully after a full (and actually, very fun) morning of playing with Mommy. I'm catching up on my emails, laying out and cutting out tonight's orders, which I will sew after Brian gets home. After the morning's chaos, I'm actually pleased with the way today has progressed.

I can do this.

And it'll get easier. We're planning to have a nanny come in for either mornings or afternoons to play with E-Beth while I sew. Yes, I can absolutely do this, and I can do it well.

Meanwhile, I'm hoping Elizabeth will take pity on me and start hitting me in the face with CHOCOLATE instead of peaches.

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 01:13 PM | | Comments (3)

November 22, 2005

Attack of the killer Godzilla trees

So, yesterday the Briguy comes in the house all pant-y and breathless. For a brief second I think he's looking for some Pre-Thanksgiving grab-n-grope action - but, alas, he's all pant-y and breathless - NOT because of me - but because he's working with power tools. . .

His chainsaw, to be exact. And, as he put it, "Whee-hew! That REALLY gets the blood pumping!"

He went on to explain that he just finished leveling the first of the "cruddy trees" that need to come down for my 24-hour Little House Marathon. He tore into one of the lopsided locust trees, and as soon as he heard the start of the SNAPCRACKLEGETTHEHELLOUTOFTHEWAYPOP noise, he said the endorphins kicked in and he saw the Tree of Death come hurtling to earth - causing him to RUN LIKE THE DICKENS to get out of the way.

"It was awesome." he panted.

I went out to survey the damage, and, indeed, saw a Godzilla-sized tree laid out horizontally across my lawn.

"Is that where you were aiming?" I asked and pointed at the tree.

"Nah," he answered and pointed the opposite direction. "This one was just practice though. I'll aim the next one." And he winked at me.

As hard as I tried, I just couldn't give a firm endorsement of this project. Trees like to land on people and houses and dogs. I asked him, "Couldya please leave the rest of these for the tree guy who is coming TOMORROW?"

"I just saved us $75!" He explained with great pride in his voice.

I sighed, realizing the battle was lost, and told him, "Next time TELL ME when you're leveling trees! If that tree had landed on YOU, I never would have known and it would have been DAYS before the dog dragged you to the porch!"

But, man being man, he couldn't NOT destroy that which was in front of him. There was just one thing standing between his wife and Pure Prairie Bliss, and By Gertie, he was gonna cut it down and kill it.

I watched secretly from the porch. And I videotaped it for insurance evidence. . . . just in case they tried to accuse me of evil doing, I wanted everyone to know that he was doing this all on his own.

Now, I love this man with all my heart. He's a wonderful father, and a fabulous husband, and there's nothing he can't do. But there are moments . . . . moments like these:

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-zingzingzing. . . putterputterputter. . . He stands back and waits for the tree to fall.

ZING-za-za-CRACKCRACKCRACK---------

and everything at this moment shut down to super-slow-motion-and-I-watched-my-normally-very-cool-collected-and-calm-husband- TOTALLY-SPAZZY-FREAK-look-up-at-the treetop-and-realized-that-the-GODZILLA-SIZED- DOG/HOUSE/HUSBAND- CRUSHING-TREE-was-making-the-very-loud-CRACKCRACKCRACK-sound- and-without-further-ado-my-chin-hit-the-floor-as-I-watched-the-damn-fool-man-

RUN, TRIPPING THROUGH THE SHRUBBERY WITH THE CHAINSAW STILL RUNNING AND ZINZINGZING-ING IN HIS HANDS.

Now, granted, he only ran a step or two before shutting it off - but it didn't stop me from totally losing the Heatherness Cool.

"SHUT IT OFF!" I screamed and announced that the chainsaw game was offically called on the grounds of NOT SHUTTING IT DOWN FAST ENOUGH!!!!!! He agreed as he pant-pant-panted his way into the house.

Later I told him that the evidence was indisputable. I had it all on videotape and there was no way he could deny ANY of it.

He sighed to himself and told me that in those split seconds, as he heard the tree cracking and preparing to crash down upon him, his first instinct was NOT to shut the chainsaw off, but instead was to start using the chainsaw to tear up all the shrubbery that was causing him to trip as he ran away from the collapsing tree.

Why can't he just run with scissors like the rest of the world?

Peace, till next

Posted by verymerryseamstress at 08:32 PM |

November 15, 2005

Plumbers on crack

Oh, the joys of living in a home that was built before the Civil War.

Take a trip back down memory lane and try to remember one of my early new-home experience ramblings - the one about my dream bathroom. The one about how my dream bathroom had a really bad smell that would come and go - and how when it came, it wasn't just bad, it was worse than screaming rabid skunks.

Yeah, you remember that post. I do too.
Eventually the smell went away. But then it came back. And it left again for a very, very long time. But then it came back with an angry vengeance about three weeks ago. (Just in time for our Halloween party, in fact.) Since it kind of went away and "healed itself" before, we figured it would do the same this time too.

People told us, "It's a trap problem. In old bathrooms they didn't put in traps - and that's the problem." Or "You just got some sticks and junk stuck in your vent pipe. Jam a pole down there and loosen stuff up. It'll get better."

We gave it a few days. And when it didn't go away, I begged Brian to try the jam-a-pole-down-the-vent-pipe thing. He did, and Casper the Stench decided to go haunt somebody else's bathroom.

But then he came back with an announcment that he liked our home just fine and would be staying a while.

Finally I reached my breaking point and demanded that we tap into savings and call a plumber already. I dialed the number of a nationally-recognized company after I saw their ad for FREE ESTIMATES! I should have known something was up when the receptionist asked me how we would be paying: Cash, check or credit card?

Me: Uhhhh, yeah, ummm, the estimate is free, right? I mean, we don't have to hire you guys if you tell us that the repair is going to cost forty gazillion dollars and our dog too. Right????

She: I'll just put you down as 'credit card.'

Plumber guy shows up. I give him the grand tour of our torn-apart home and show him the Exorcist Bathroom. As I open the door, our very own Linda Blair of stench knocks him flat on his ass.

Plumber: Wow! That's a problem!
Me: Yeah. What's causing it?
Plumber: Let's take a look! Errrr - where's yer husband?
Me: I can show you where everything is and answer any questions you may have. He'll be here soon enough.

Plumber buy wanders around the bathroom and sees water in the toilet. He flushes.

Plumber: That's yer problem. That water smells bad.
Me: No. That's not the problem. Our water smells nice. Something ELSE smells bad.
Plumber: Not THAT water. That's OLD water.
Me: No it's not. We flushed this toilet just yesterday.
Plumber: Huh. You sure 'bout that? Because I think this water mighta been kinda old. And old water sometimes makes a funny smell.
Me: Yes, I'm positive. We flushed it yesterday.
Plumber: Well, I think it was the water makin' the smell. . . .

(ENTER BRIAN)

Briguy: Hey! Find the problem?
Plumber: I was just telling yer wife that I thought it was the toilet water. Looked a little old. . . .
Briguy: Nah, I flushed it yesterday.
Plumber: OK, then it's definitely not the toilet. Where're the pipes? We can check them out next.

Apparently since my answers were female, they didn't count. I left the room and the "worky-technical-talk" to the burly manfolk so I could get back to wearing aprons and baking pies.

They wandered upstairs, downstairs, even down-er-stairs, up again, outside, flashlights on, flashlights off, and they narrowed the problem down to a hole in our vent pipe. It's no surprise, since the vent pipe appears to be older than a cro-magnon toenail.

Plumber pulls out his cell, dials, gets boss on phone.

We can hear EVERYTHING bossman is saying.

Bossman: Yeah, give him an estimate of around $3,100.
Plumber: OK, and then you and I can do it together, deal?
Bossman: Yep. Deal.

Remember - Brian and I heard that whole conversation, clear as day.

Plumber hangs up cellphone, looks at the Man Of The House and says,

"It'll be $3,600 to fix it. Oh, and for today, since I found the problem, it's going to be another $83. Hang on and I'll get you a receipt."

Plumber heads out to truck, and I say, "Free estimate, my a$$! What is this?! $83 for finding the problem? We KNEW what the problem was - the bathroom smells like crap! Is it only a FREE ESTIMATE! if they CAN'T figure out what the problem is???"

Brian, caught between a plumber and a psycho apron-wearing wife, sighed and held his head in his hands.

We paid the plumber, with the realization that it's not HIS fault that his boss is making him charge us for our FREE ESTIMATE! I called Plumber HQ immediately to find out why they were charging us for a FREE ESTIMATE!. Receptionist lady told me that she'd have bossman call us when he gets back. Which, by the way, won't be for two weeks.

Of course. AFTER the check c