Random Photo Series: Cliff Dweller

Random Photo Series: A Boy and His Dog

You Call It The Thrift Store, I Call It The Weedy-Weedy

I like to shop.  

I'm also a tightwad.

These two traits of mine often leave me conflicted.  

I can't remember the last time I paid more than $15 for a shirt or $19.99 for a pair of pants. This probably explains why my wardrobe is so....so....eclectic.  My outfit choices range from downright dowdy to eyebrow raising flashy.  There is no in-between when it comes to the clearance section at Marshalls.

But I luuuuv finding good deals.  Something about being able to say, "Don't you love my sweater, it was only 12 bucks!" gives the the tingles.  This tendency towards prideful frugality seems to be genetic, a trait passed exclusively in xx chromosomes of my family line.  It has clearly skipped the men of my family, who think nothing of spending $15 on a single pair of tube socks (I'm talking about you, Chris, and your Thorlo's).

Not sure if it is because we grew up broke or because we grew up Mexican, but thrift stores have been a part of my life for a very long time.  If you're familiar with thrift shopping, you'll know what I'm talking about when I speak of the thrift shop "smell" that meets your nostrils the moment your foot crosses the threshold.  Last week, I was met with that familiar smell, and for the first time in my life, I thought, "ahhh, the stinky smell of my childhood."  It actually conjured a familiar, happy sensation.

How gross is that?

Anyway, last week, I decided I was going to hit the local shop and see if there were any treasures to be unearthed at the local Goodwill.  And I.  Hit.  Pay.  Dirt.

No joke, for a mere $11.93, I brought home all these treasures.

Can't wait till it warms up enough to wear this.

Who doesn't need a good thermal shirt?

This has beach camping written all over it.

A Free People shirt!  For 99 cents!

You can never have too many unique tees.

Ugly on the hanger, but super cute on.

Halloween is only 8 months away.  This dress screams Peter Pan.

Kids tap shoes?  Remember the part about how I love to shop?  Lucky for me I'm a tightwad.  Only 4 bucks!

The downside of thrift store shopping is that your sense of good taste can go downhill fairly quickly.  Kids' size 3 tap shoes?  Who on earth am I buying these for?  My 3 boys?  Not really.

Take this chair for example.  I love it in the same way a momma loves her ugly baby.  I see the beauty in it.

What's not to love?  This chair is GORGEOUS.

I got it at a thrift store in Santa Barbara.  My mom and I were taking advantage of my sister being under the knife to go hit a shop before she woke up.

Side note:  mom's are notorious for getting you to buy something you wouldn't normally buy for yourself.

I fell in love with the price tag on this chair ($4) probably before I even fell in love with the chair itself.  How could I resist?

Only after returning home, with a new chair in the back of the minivan, did I doubt my purchase.  I think the moment hit me precisely as I was unveiling my glorious find to BH.  For this is what he saw:

Vinyl covering, cheap finish, uncomfortable seat.

The look on his face said it all.  I believe he might've said something about a waste of money.  That's ok, I still love my chair with the good bones.  And BH is now banned from sitting on my chair.  Forever.

You know those people who have beautiful homes that are tastefully decorated with the perfect combination of modern and vintage?  Ours is not one of those homes. 

And you know those women who are always put together with amazing vintage tops paired with perfectly cut trousers?  I'm not one of those women either.

Ours is the house with the ugly thrift store chair I won't let go of and I am the lady at the grocery store with the thrift store tag she forgot to tear off. But it works me and mine.  

So if you happen to also be a tightwad who likes to shop, your local thrift store (or La Segunda, if you're hispanic (or the weedy-weedy, if you're hispanic and grew up in Oxnard)) might be the past time for you.  These places are a delicious, acquired taste.  You should get out there and try one some day.  

Just stay away from mine.

Teaching Art Part 5: The African-American Legacy

This is one of my favorite projects with L, who was 6 at the time.  It was easy for him to follow, and something about pastel crayons makes even mistakes looked great.

Here's an excerpt from the handout we received:

Lois Mailou Jones was an American artist whose paintings were inspired by ancient African images.  Using brilliant colors and bold shapes, she created modern art with ancient signs and symbols.

This art project was perfect for the first grade crowd.  With a little direction on the cutting, the kids were free to create their own African-inspired motifs.

Here's the sample I created:

Ho hum.

L, while looking over my shoulder just now: "My picture looks better than yours."

It does.

L's masterpiece.  Way better.

Random Photo Series: Snow Angel

Still Strapped, Still In Love

Last month marked the 21 year anniversary of our first kiss.

We've officially crossed the "we've been together half our lives" mark.  From this point on, we can say we've been together longer than we've been apart.  That blows me away.  Mostly, because I can't believe I'm that old.  But also because I feel like we've only been together maybe 10 years, max.

In both cases, how I feel inside doesn't match up with the sheer volume of years that is our anniversary.  I suppose for some people, twenty years may feel more like 40, but for me, it's the other way around.  So we decided to piece together a timeline, from that first kiss 21 years ago, to now. 

Our goal was to remember something...anything... about each year we've been together.  It didn't have to be anything major, the exercise was designed to prove to ourselves that we've got 20+ years of memories together.

Here's what we came up with

1992 - First kiss at the The Cowboy Boogie. Yes, this great romance has it's beginnings in a seedy country western bar.

1993 - Engaged!  And shacking up.

1994 - "I do."

Weak in the knees.

1995 - First career job; so excited to be making $26k.

1996 - Back to school.

1997 - BH's mom passes away.

Forever grateful to this lady.

1998 - MBA.

Notice that twinkle in his eye?  See 1999.

1999 - Our first bundle of joy!

To say, "your lives will change forever" is an understatement.

2000 - Our first home.

2001 - Cancer scare.

When the doctor puts his hand on your knee, you know it's serious.  Either that or he's a perv.

No evidence for malignancy!  All three times!!!

2002 - Our second bundle of joy.

Hello, my little gift.

2003 - Discover L's food allergies:  milk, egg, peanut, and soy.

This was the last time he had a real baked treat for 6 years.

2004 - Children's Hospital of Orange County; add asthma to the list.

2005 - Guess who's not done making babies?  Me!

There's a bun in that oven.

 

2006 - Our third bundle of joy!

Our family is complete.

2007 - New home; new schools, new community.

2008 - First family camping trip.

2009 - BH's surprise birthday party.

2010 - Charley.

Let it be known that if I have a bad picture of you, it will make its way into my blog.  Not even pets are safe.

2011 - Our little friend, Thomas, loses his fight with cancer.

One brave kid.

2012 - Best camping spot EVER.

San Simeon, CA

 

2013 - And here we are, 21 years later.

That's it, 21 years of memories.  For sure, there are way more than that, but those were the first that came to mind for each year.  After going through them, BH had a moment of silence over how mundane our life appears on paper.  No fancy trips, no amazing stories.

"Still strapped," he said.

"And still in love," I replied.

Random Photo Series: Smouldering Log

Sometimes Family Parties Are Just More Fun

You might consider this post a part 2 to the birthday one I published earlier this month.  I can see the connection, so we'll go with it.

M had his 7th birthday last month.  While we usually do something small on the actual birth day, we also like to celebrate with friends or family when it's convenient for everyone, ie. on the weekend.  Because parties for 3 kids get expensive quickly, we employ a "one year on, one year off" party strategy.  Last year was the "on" year, so he had his Tron-themed blowout.

This year, we kept it low key with pizza and hot dogs at Grandma's.  With three cousins, 2 brothers, and an aunt who is a giant kid (Tilte, I'm talking about you), he's pretty much guaranteed a good time regardless of whether it's an "on" year or an "off" year.

I've already established in part 1 of this post that I failed to plan properly for his birthday this year.  As a result, I had no gifts for him on his birthday and nothing planned for the weekend gathering at Grandma's.  I felt like a bit of a bad momma for forgetting his presents, so I used the 2 days between his birthday and the weekend to scramble to put together his "family party", as we refer to them in the ol' Number Whisperer household.

It's a good thing I did, because on Friday at child care pick up, the kindly lady who supervises the kids wished me good luck with the "family party".  Apparently M had been telling everyone about his weekend plans.

I had been throwing around the idea of a Minute-to-Win-it Christmas party after spotting a pin on Pinterest, so I did some quick googling, and came up with a birthday party to rival the best of them.

Most of the ideas I stole from this site.

This party ended up being one of the best ones I've had.  There were no over the top themed decorations and there was no huge party budget.  I think I spent about $12 total, because most of the props I was able to find around the house.

Here's a photo parade of all the fun.

Stick a tennis ball in some pantyhose, shove it on your head and do your best to knock down the bottles.

This game only gets funnier the more you play it.

EVERYone wanted in on the action.

The adults had to knock down strategically-placed bottles.

At this point, we couldn't breathe from laughing so much.

And then we moved on to the "eat a cookie off your face" game.

Even the teenagers had fun.

Flick a ping pong ball into the basket across the room.  We used L as a weight.

Well THAT doesn't look incriminating.

Transfer a skittle from the table to a container, using only a straw and your lungs.

Everyone was feeling the love that night.

And it quickly turned into a "who is stronger" contest.

I think she won.

I would be remiss if I did not say something about the disaster that was M's birthday cake.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  I'm not a baker.  I'm the equivalent of the angel of death to cakes, cookies, and other sugary treats.  I think this photo of my offering needs no further explanation.

My sister took one look at it and said, "You need to submit that to epicfail.com."  Thanks Tilte.

Rugers, STDs, and Public Transportation

How was my trip to Georgia, you ask?

It was pretty good.  Memorable, even.  I don't know if it was the Ruger flashed in the minivan or the STD comment made by the innocent boy-genius or the fall I took in the MARTA.  Whatever it was, a good time was had by all.

Notice that death-like grip?  There's a reason for that.

The "business" part of this business trip was nothing to write home (or on a blog) about.  Work is work.

In my usual (as of late) lazy blogger style, I'm going to bullet a few of the more interesting parts of the trip.

• LAX is a people-watcher's dream come true.  Did you know that there are still women out there with permed mullets?  Poodle in the front, Lhasa Apso in the back
• For some, 7:30 in the morning is not too early for a mixed drink :(
• Pitch Perfect is maybe the worst movie I've sat through in 15 years.  Not counting kid's movies, of course...I have no choice but to sit through those
• There IS such a thing as too much cheesecake
• Public transportation in Atlanta is scary; don't let anyone convince you otherwise
• You've got to try the public transportation in Atlanta at least once in your life
• The World of Coca Cola attraction in Atlanta felt like a huge rip off
• The CNN tour was fun, mostly because my expectations were low
• No one was interested in eating a peach while in Georgia, nor were they interested in singing Alan Jackson on the bank of the Chattahoochee.  Heathens.
• I learned that Twin Peaks and Tilt a Kilt are giving Hooters a run for their money
• I had a star sighting at ATL airport

No really, I saw the REAL Terrence Howard.  I also saw this sign of him.  Both times, our eyes met.

• Centennial Park looks a bit like a cemetery

Creepy, right?

• Worst Coke drink EVER is Beverly from Italy

Trust me.  This stuff is nasty.

• Buckhead has some nice buildings to photograph

I feel like this post could've been way more exciting, given the stories that have come from this trip.  Unfortunately, work is currently sucking every ounce of creativity out of me, which is odd, considering all I do is crunch numbers for a living.

Perhaps my next post will be more entertaining.

PSA: Move Over Sarah McLachlan

Starving children have Sally Struthers.

Abused animals have Sarah McLachlan.

Children and pets...these two segments of our society, the most adorable and deserving of protection, have, for years, been the focus of charity efforts.  And deservedly so.  They're innocent, filled with goodness, and vulnerable to the evils of this world.

But this post isn't about children or animals.  It's about a currently under-served, yet vital, productive member of our society.  These members are much loved and little protected from the abuse and risk that comes with their position.

 People, I'm talking about stuffed animals.

Stuffed animals are as adorable and as vulnerable as any puppy or baby out there, yet ZERO dollars are going towards the protection and welfare of these silent victims.

Often the perpetrators of such abuse are precisely those who we are devoting much time and resource protecting:  children and animals. 

I'd like you to meet Pinguino2.  Pinguino2 was little brother to Pinguino1 and older brother to Pinguino3.  Pinguino2 fell victim to Charley last night, after years of failed attempts on his life.  Pinguino2 and his family have lived in fear for their lives for years.  The constant abuse that he, along with his siblings, has faced is hard to even imagine.

Warning: the following images may be too graphic for young children.

This kind of fate is not uncommon for the many stuffed animals of the world.  Aggressive violence and blatant neglect at the hands of children and pets is rampant in the stuffed animal community.  

But you can help.

For as little as $5 a day, you can help build a safe, secure environment for this under-served population.  And with your donation, you will receive a photo and a personal profile of the stuffed animal you are adopting.

Meet George.  He was rescued from an abusive 18 month old.

 

Won't you please help the (stuffed) animals?