right after this, she asked to help clean the toilets.

Sweet jebus, I LOVE 7!! Seven year olds spend hours reading TO THEMSELVES! Seven year olds put their own dishes away! Seven year olds brush their own teeth, get themselves dressed and WASH THEIR OWN HAIR. Seven year olds wake up and say "Can I do my homework now?" And MY seven year old thinks it's FUN to clean toilets!! I want to cryogenically freeze her. Is that legal? Because I'm thinking that might help us avoid the pain and suffering that is 13.


Oh, and yes, the carpet is in and yes, it's beautiful. Unfortunately, it was almost dark by the time I got home, so the photos didn't turn out well at all. Although I did get one of a "baby leapard" slinking her way down the newly carpeted stairs.

oh yeah, baby, it's CARPET day

*sorry, this is an inside joke having to do with an obnoxious song from the PBS kids' show "Arthur". Whenever Anna and I feel like tormenting David (which is fairly regularly), we sing this song, or some variation of it, and he hides, sobbing, under the dining room table and gives us whatever we want just to shut us up.

Ahem. Anyway: TODAY IS THE FINAL STEP IN OUR HOME REMODELING PROJECT!! That's right, CARPET. Upstairs. Done. Aaahhh. Seriously, for the past...let me think...almost 10 years (since Eric and I bought our first house in 1998) I have been in the middle of some sort of home remodeling project. And let me tell you, I am tired. Tired of clutter, dust, tools, painting, clutter, noise, decisions, dust, workmen in and out of the house, clutter, dust and chaos. As Lala said this morning, if there is a hell, mine is for sure going to involve a never-ending remodeling project. Anyway, David, Anna and I spent yet another weekend painting, cleaning, scraping the floor in preperation for the carpet being laid, installing lights and PUTTING THE BUILDERS' FUCKING TOOLS AWAY AND CLEANING UP AFTER HIM BECAUSE HE DID NOT DO IT HIMSELF EVEN THOUGH HE KNEW THE CARPET GUY WOULD BE HERE AT 8:00 MONDAY MORNING. (whew, sorry. I needed to get that off my chest. Although David would be happy to point out that I might have mentioned my displeasure about that to him once or twice this weekend.)

So! Anyway! Tomorrow there will be pictures!

PS. The carpet is green. That's right, green carpet, chocolate brown walls. My mom, god love her, said (in as kind a way as she possibly could) "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? GREEN AND BROWN? WERE YOU DRUNK WHEN YOU CHOSE THOSE COLORS???" To which I would like to say: "Mom. Have you ever heard of NATURE?" : )

You'll see. It's going to be cool.

And if it's not, can I come live with you? I'm sure David would like that. A lot.

i swear, i'm gonna write a book

about the weird frickin' phone calls I get at my job. This last one takes the cake: someone has found, at an apartment complex in a town NOT on the reservation, an ENDANGERED DESERT TORTOISE and they want us to take possession of it. Now, I've taken home various birds (from crows to Great Horned Owls) and even a fawn. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a tortoise that belongs in Southern Utah???

I am violet!

This quiz is interesting; here are my results and it's pretty darn accurate!

"Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan." Um, yeah. That's me.

you are violet #EE82EE

Your dominant hues are red and blue. You're confident and like showing people new ideas. You play well with others and can be very influential if you want to be. Your saturation level is lower than average - You don't stress out over things and don't understand people who do. Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan. Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

what color are YOU?

mmm...swimming in chocolate...

actually, more like sleeping in chocolate. Here are some (very poor) photos of our new bedroom, in progress. Can I just tell you how excited I am that we are going to be DONE with the work inside the house very, very soon?



David and I spent ALL weekend painting upstairs. It really was like painting with chocolate. David said that he felt like Willie Wonka!


This one is looking from our bedroom, toward what will be Bug's room and my sewing/crafing area. That's right, I'm going to have my own litte space where I can leave my sewing machine set up and have all my fabric and crafty stuff in one place (instead of scattered all over the house so that I have to go hunting for it whenever I need something.) Soon, very soon, the chaos that we have lived with for 9 months will be over. Aaaahhhh....

i. love. this.

So if you've ever walked past an Abercrombie & Fitch store at the local mall, you can't help but notice (in addition to the OBNOXIOUSLY loud music blaring through the doors) the gigantic posters of gorgeous shirtless men in every window. Some of the stores even have an attractive shirtless young man greeting customers at the door! So a group of NYC men (an improv group) decided to have some fun with Abercrombie & Fitch.

Look at this.

so it's recently come to my attention...

that my previously solid spot as "favorite" in the family may be in jeopardy.

I am the baby of the family...the youngest by six years. They doted on me...when they weren't busy hog-tying me or convincing me to climb into badger holes. We spent our formative years in a cabin in the woods near a very small mountain town in central Idaho. Where the highlight of the year was the annual Logging Festival. Where for fun, men (and women!) threw axes at beer cans lodged in tree stumps. Then, when I was 9, we moved to the BIG CITY. Boise. By then, my much older siblings were pretty much already formed, as hillbillies. (What?! They admit it!) When we moved to Boise, I became friends with kids who had gay siblings, kids whose parents worked for Public Radio, kids who's parents drove Porsches and had dinner parties where they listened to the Beatles and smoked pot and discussed politics in front of us. Needless to say, I soaked it all up like a sponge. By the time I reached high-school, I was definitely marching to the beat of my own drummer: to my mother's horror, I shopped at thrift stores. I wore moth-eaten Beaver Cleaver-inspired sweaters to our high-school keggers. I got a Vespa Scooter and rode around town in vintage dresses. I bought Birkenstocks back when you had to special order them from the local vitamin store because they were considered "orthopedic" or something. I listened to moody British punk. My mom allowed me to skip school with a group of friends to go protest Jerry Falwell when his "Moral Majority" tour came to Boise. My family didn't know quite what to make of me, but what the hell, I amused them.

Then, in my twenties, I became different. I wore make-up, bought ridiculously expensive shoes, worked at a very snooty boutique and thought I'd marry a lawyer and belong to a country club. Then I went to art school and I met a gorgeous hippie boy. Definitely not my type. So I married him. He was VERY moody, always unhappy. I thought it must be me. So I got less opinionated. I tried to stay under the radar, so to speak. I wore almost exclusively black clothing. I tried to disappear. I was so busy trying to make him happy, that I forgot who I was.

Then as I neared 40, I had something of a mid-life crisis. Only it is more truthful to say that I rediscovered who I am. I got divorced. I started to pay attention to politics again and got PISSED. I also came to the realization that while I'd always questioned the idea of God and the Bible, I'd in fact become a true non-believer. Furthermore, due to circumstances in our family, we've spent the past 25 years or so being VERY careful with one another's feelings. Careful not to say anything the others might not agree with. Careful not to speak the truth.

But as I mature, as I find my feet, I've found my voice. And now I refuse to keep quiet. I speak out to my family (and anyone else who will listen) about my political beliefs, my religious beliefs, and when someone is hurting me or someone else that I love, I refuse to ignore it. I want only authentic relationships. I want my family members to love each other, differences and all. And so, to them, I've become the "rabble rouser", the trouble-maker, the one who pushes buttons. What they forget is that is who I've ALWAYS been. I just forgot for awhile.

Hopefully they'll love me anyway. Hopefully I still amuse them. I love them, even if they are hillbillies. : )