What I Have Learned

First big lesson has been that I'm easily sidetracked. Well, that's no surprise to those who know me well. I'm the one who was first out the door after hearing the word "party" in college, before I even knew where it was. Midterms? Party? Hmm, tough decision......

So it also should be no surprise that I fully intended to be a faithful blogger when I started this thing. Obviously, that hasn't worked out so well. But here's why:

1. Bathroom remodel.
Smallest room in the house. The ONLY one without vaulted ceilings. Should be a quick job, three hours max, especially since I had the paint. Hardware had to come off the walls, but I can hold my own with a screwdriver, so after all the taping, I started on the towel bar and ring. They were easy, so I went after the toilet paper holder. Stubborn doesn't begin to describe this sucker -- didn't wanna budge. Hauled my son in for a look (he's a former construction worker, after all). Even he couldn't move the damn thing. John (suffering in less than silence with a cold) gets tired of the traffic between him and the TV and comes in to solve the problem. End result was a nice hole in the sheetrock. So, Bobbette the Builder learned how to patch a wall. Now totally complete, bathroom looks awesome in its new primitive decor. My three-hour "job" took three days.

What I learned:
Never give an ill man a screwdriver.

2. Garage Sales
Where does this shit come from? I've done a garage sale every year for the last five or six years and even though I think I'm getting ruthless in cleaning out closets and drawers before doing one, there's still MORE shit the following year. But I do like doing one early in the "season" -- usually mid-to-late April. If the weather's good, people are out in carloads. And the sort of people who shop in my garage (which only gets cleaned out and up before one of these affairs) are really entertaining. We have regulars, who arrive annually and usually with friends in tow. Makes me wonder if they show up for the castoffs or a side show. But they seem to like us, so I guess that's okay. "Us" refers to me and a girlfriend I call my evil twin. We've known each other since we were 10 years old and everything bad I've ever done, I blame on her. (We were a package deal when John and I married, only he didn't read the fine print in his marriage license until it was too late.) I blame the yearly garage sale on her. Anyway, we had a couple come in Saturday morning (day 2 of THE sale) asking about furniture, specifically a couch and kitchen table. I'd considered putting my kitchen table outside just to see if it would sell. Nothing wrong with it, I'm just ready for a change. I haul these people into my house, clean off the table and the woman announces it's exactly what she wanted. Loaded it in their pickup and off they go. John wanders downstairs a little while later, no table. I told him he should be glad he was in the bed. I might have sold that too! A couple years ago, using the same "let's-see-what-happens" logic, I sold the silverware. My son and his live-in buddy went to make sandwiches for lunch -- no knives. In the end, we made about $800 between us. But executing one is a truckload of work.

What I learned:
Probably best to inform those you live with if you intend to sell something important.
People will buy (almost) anything.
Shopping garage sales is hard work. We sold 27 baggies of cookies -- for a quarter!!!

3. Mon Petit Bebe (see following post)
I adore my granddaughter. I would walk over hot coals barefoot for my granddaughter. I've already promised her a Jag when she's 16. Grandpa promised her a Corvette. So yes, Megan. That means you'll be driving your 94 Civic into the next millenium! My little Butterbean came to stay for four days earlier this month. I was flying solo since Grandpa was out of town, but I raised two kids of my own and conquered three Golden Retrievers puppies in the last few years, so I can handle a four-month old by myself, right? Strange how some memories come back when you least expect them. Like cramming three hours of cleaning or cooking into twenty minutes while the little cherub power naps. Butterbean is low maintenance at the moment, since she's not mobile yet and really only requires a bottle and a nap to be human. I loved every minute but by day three, I was eyeing my Ambien bottle like a junkie and counting the hours until Mommy arrived.

What I learned:
God gave babies to young women for a reason.

A Rather Nice Place to Stay, by Amelia J.

I'm a lucky girl. I get to visit my Nana and Grandpa quite a bit. I love staying with them this much.

A couple weeks ago, Grandpa went to Washington DC. I was afraid Nana would be lonely, so I moved in for a few days. I got to meet some of Nana's friends, who said I was charming. Guess they're easily entertained by a wiggle-butt drool bucket. Nana and I also went shopping and played on the floor.

I talk to Nana a lot. She's good at conversation, but seems to need direction sometimes. I had to tell her how to make pancakes one day. Sorta strange, when you consider I don't have any teeth and can't eat anything besides Enfamil and Pedialyte.

Nana's lots of fun. She sings goofy songs and never runs out of kisses. She's very easy to please though.

We have good times together, me and Nana. So how come she tells everyone she likes me best like this: