The part where I wax poetic about Rustoleum

I think it's safe to say that I'm a little obsessed. Only a little. I love redecorating. Rearranging. Re purposing. Just about re-anything. However, it's gotten to the point that Lee has absolutely no idea how the house will look when he comes home. I'm willing to bet that if the entire house were painted turquoise when he rolled up into the driveway, he'd just sigh. Because he knows I've got the crazy like that.

Lately I can't really take on any huge projects because I'm busy with Thing 1 and Thing 2. So, I'm forced to do little things to appease my need for environmental change. Today, I attacked a little nightstand that's been sitting in our hallway waiting to be stuffed away in the basement. It had it coming. It was looking at me all sideways and taunting me. So I pounced at the opportunity to put my .87 can of clearance Rustoleum Aqua Spray Paint. Who knew .87 could provide such therapy.

So, in between loads of laundry, dishes, building snowmen and baking low-fat brownies made with applesauce (gag), I tackled the nightstand.

Here's the before. I hired a model to to help me with the pictures:

Clearly, he likes to DIY as much as I do.

After a few coats of the aqua-colored-heaven-in-a-can, I drilled some holes for the smaller 3" centers on the new hardware and voila! I gots me somethin' pretty-like.

I probably have a million and one projects in the pipeline (including a housepainting project, but don't tell Lee), so I'll do my best to throw a couple your way every week.

What about you? Do you tackle projects in teeny tiny bites, too? Do you ship the family out for the day so that you can get it all done at once? Do you just say 'screw it' and hire someone?

The Sad Part Is: If You Know What I'm Talking About, You Need Improvement Too...

As I sit in church, I'm bothered by how much the new priest reminds me of someone.

Not a good someone.  

Not a friend or some trusted confidante.  There's some real negative emotions attached to this.

I have a bad habit of doing that.  I see physical similarities in people, mistake the similarities for auras, then pre-judge people based on what the other person was like.  I once told girl she reminded me of Bono.  At the time I thought it has something to do with auras and how they were both outspoken activists who advocated for a crapload of causes.  Turns out, it was really only cuz they both share that weird little bump on the bridge of their noses.  Either way, I don't think she was impressed.

But I'm staring at the priest and looking at the slightly greasy, balding pate.  The round cheeks that don't fit in with the rest of the face.  That little smile after every sentence like he just said something really insightful.

And then it dawns on me.

He looks like "The Situation".   

I want to poke the old lady to my left and whisper, "Hey.  Doesn't the new padre look like Mike "The Situation" from Jersey Shore?"  but it seems inappropriate.

Not to mention she'll have no idea what I'm talking about.

Then I wonder, who here *would* know what I was talking about?  How many people who watch Jersey Shore, also show up for mass at 9 am on Sunday morning?  I might as well ask if anyone recorded last night's South Park, no?

There's a part of me that tries to justify this as having a complex personality.

But I think you and I both know that I really need to upgrade my TV viewing. 

I Thought That "Bubonic Blanket" Had A Much Nicer Ring To It...

Approximately 3 years ago, we bought a red velour-y throw.  We thought it'd be the perfect car blanket to wrap the big one in, when he was little.

You might know the type.  It's about 5 by 7, it's super-lightweight and almost furry in its softness.  And if you drape it over a kid and pull it over them quickly, the static'll beat any Van DeGraff generator you've ever seen on Bill Nye.

It ended up being a bit too big to drape over a baby carrier, so it made its way into the house as a sofa throw.  But from there it's come to take on a whole new purpose.

It's played some type of comforting role in every single sickness that's taken place in this house in the last three years.  Any time that PJ's on the couch and Nyquil/Advil have been combined, this blanket has made an appearance.  Light, soft, warm.  Totally synthetic and puke washes right out of it like it ain't no thing.

Carol calls it "the typhoid throw".  I'd like to think she means it affectionately.  But I can't be sure.

It's been a solid year since the typhoid throw has made an appearance, but tonight I wrapped the big one up in it and tucked him in.  

101.  We're gonna be in for helluva night.

End-Fray. It's Awesomeness By The Bucketful In So Many Ways.

We've been considering coming up with a new line.  Something similar, but nicely (and nichely) complementary to the HateMail line.

HateMail was our baby.  It's what got us started.  We were HateMail, long before we were JunkMail Greetings.

But then we tried to look into the future and came up with the JunkMail brand to be the umbrella under which all of our products would stand.

And now we have a few different branches of products: HateMail, HateMail for the Holidays, HateMail Minis and JunkMail's Defined, Unsolicited and Invited lines.

And now we need a new one.

Brainstorming session.  (done while two kids are laying on the floor crying and yelling "Mine! Mine!")

 - something paper related - or even more specifically "junkmail" related.

        -flyer?  no.  insert?  no.  phone book.

                   - goddammit.  derail the train.  different direction.

- something print related - 

         -  ink.  press.   Gutenberg...   goddammit.

-  something elegant sounding.  maybe latin.

         - um..  I don't know any latin.  pax.  lux. veritas.  carpe diem.  pluribus unum.

                   - what about pig latin?

                                 - otesnay?  emomay?  goddammit.

- something signifying our second coming of HateMail

         - deux,  deuce

                   - maybe we can call it dooce, then call up dooce and tell her we named a whole card line after her and hope for free promotion?

                              - deux, deuce, douche.  goddammit. 

- something old and snippy sounding.  maybe an old lady's name.

         - mildred, gertrude, bertha, goddammit.

BREAK.  and so we stopped and took the children for random runs around the kitchen/dining/living room loop until the little one squealed to be put down.

And then it hits me.  End-Fray.  

"End-Fray!" I yell to Carol.  And the way she looks at me makes me put a big "goddammit" next to that one too.