The Cost of Expensive Taste

I'm participating with Write on Edge for their Red Writing Hood prompt this week. It is a picture prompt:

I decided to have a little fun.


The Cost of Expensive Taste

“Do you think there’s too much beige?” she asked, cocking her head and staring at the newly hung paintings in her front room.

“Oh god no, darling, it’s chic. It’s very chic. Besides, we offset it with the muted claret. It’s all the rage, you’ll see, but don’t get me wrong, you are unique. No one has a home like you, I promise you that,” the designer trailed off, chuckling nervously.

“And, is that wrought iron?”

“Well,” he guffawed, “with Brazilian Rosewood accent!” He whispered conspiratorially and leaned in. “You can’t even get that legally anymore,” then looked in her eyes with a knowing look.

She slit her eyes and stared back at him in silence, appraising what he had just said.

“Hm,” she said.

They both turned and looked again at the room.

“You know, it’s important to me to be…understated,” she started.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“The rosewood accent. I like that. I was afraid it was all a little…overdone.”

He held his chin, intent on her words. He looked down, shook his head, “No, no. It’s not overdone. I know you have superior taste. I have been sure to –“

“That’s enough. Send me the bill and I’ll have Jaques take care of it.” She turned on her heel and left the room.

The assistant approached the designer.

“Brazilian Rosewood?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don’t believe you. How do you think of this stuff?”

“Come on, let’s go celebrate and have dinner at Terzo Piano. I hear they are showcasing some new beige art!”

They walked out and just laughed.

Proud - Wordless Wednesday

I just love that my fridge is now covered with stuff like this:

I love the work my boy brings home from preschool. (Yes, I know a magnet holding it up is about wine - would you expect anything else from me?)

Brought to you by:


I'm linking up with Kristi from Live and Love Out Loud for Wordless Wednesday.

Suburban Friendship

Through the slats of the fence in our backyard, we could hear, “Hey, psst! Hey, buddy!”

Another little boy was trying to communicate with my son. It was cute. This other boy lives on the opposite side of us, not next door, so my son can’t just pop on over and see him. They have talked with each other before. I have no idea what this boy looks like or what his family is like, so it’s hard to know how to continue with a possible friendship.

It was getting close for dinner time, so I called my son in to the table.

Then we could hear again in a loud whisper, “Hey! Buddy! Come back to this spot when you’re done with dinner, K?”

“OK!” My son shouted and ran inside.

Then, my husband and I couldn’t help but have fun with it.

“Psst, hey, buddy! What do they feed you over there?”

“Hey, psst. Do they ever let you out over there?”

“Psst, hey, buddy! How much time you got left?”

This must be the budding of a suburban friendship through the slats of a backyard fence.

Google images

I Will Even Let You Have the Last Cookie

Google images

In the time of pre-child, if I saw a mother having to share her food with her child, I would think, “That sucks.”

I didn’t ever want to share my food. ESPECIALLY at a restaurant. It was ALL mine.

I was the type that would slit my eyes suspiciously if anyone wanted to “share” or “taste” each other’s plates. I ordered what I ordered because I wanted it, and I wasn’t sharing anything.

I love food.

The poor mothers who would say, “Oh, I’ll just let him eat off my plate,” or the poor mothers who offered up their food to their children because it would make them so happy, so happy if their child could eat a little more. Poor mothers.

I guess I won’t make a very good mother because my child’s going to have to eat their own damn food, is what I thought.

Of course, I was wrong.

It bothers me not one bit to share my food with the little bird by my side. I am pleased and proud if he will just try something new off my plate! I have no hesitation in giving myself less or sharing whatever I have so that he can have more.

I am a good mother. I’ll share my food with you, my bub.

The Splinter Obsession (Wordless Wednesday)

My boy has always been obsessed with Cars. Now we have The Splinter Obsession.

Monster Trucks

Sandbox is turned into a monster truck arena.

I am linking up with Kristi at Live and Love Out Loud for Wordless Wednesday!

Funny Kids

I'm bringing you some small delights today, inspired by Sunday Snippets at Pure Unadulterated Softthistle. She doesn't usually do the link for it anymore, but I like to give her a shout-out for it anyhow!

Google Images

Out of the blue, my boy provided me some philosophical advice, showing him to be wise beyond his years...

"Mommy, sometimes things don't work out."

"That's right, Parker, sometimes they don't," I said as I wondered where this had come from.

He continued, "Yep. Sometimes there's cat puke, and sometimes there's cat POOP!"

"Yes," I laughed, "Sometimes there is cat puke and cat poop."

..........................

We were in the backyard, and Parker came running over to me at the garden.

"Mommy!" He shouted, "Steven's* mommy is outside in her UNDERWEAR!"

I laughed and said quietly, "No, honey, she is in a bathing suit," hoping she hadn't heard.

I had seen her through the slats of our fence, putting up a trampoline in a bikini. My son has never seen me in a bikini. I prefer the maximum coverage type of bathing suit these days.

I had to resist telling Parker, "Why don't you go tell her to put some clothes on?"

...........................

I am a school psychologist. I have been working with an eight year old boy who has difficulty taking responsibility for himself without throwing fits, crying, and whining. He tends to have instant, huge reactions to small problems. He also is quick to be aggressive with other kids as a way of solving simple play problems.

There he stood at the doorway of my office, speaking in the sometimes cute manner of mispronouncing his "r" sounds.

"Hi, Mrs. Lorenzen," he gave me a toothy smile and waved his hand a little.

"Hi, Billy*," I said.

"Kevin* cut in front of me in line today, and I wanted to give him a bloody nose, but I didn't. I told the teacher," he said and then smiled.

Oh boy, we still have some work to do, I thought. I said, "Well, thank you, Billy. That's a start."

*All names of people outside of my family have been changed.

Have any funny kids around making you smile?

Happy Birthday!

A big Happy Birthday goes out to this crazy guy today.

My husband

Richard and I met in the summer of 1997, and what he doesn't know is that 14 years later, sometimes I still look at him when he doesn't know it, and I really, really like what I see.

He's an athletic type, and I'm jealous of his legs.

I won't dare embarrass him by telling you all just how awfully old he is, but please, do not feel sorry for him. The man will forever look like he is in his 20's - he's got such a youthful glow about him.

I'm a quirky type, and I went to a psychic once, about 4 years ago. I hadn't asked her anything about my husband. I wanted to know if I would get pregnant. She exclaimed, "Your husband is still a child!" I laughed and said, "I know!" And then, being the psychic that she is, she said, "I know you know!"

What she meant by that was, my husband is still child-like. He chases new adventures, never stops learning, and loves to have FUN, FUN, FUN.

Of course, we are opposites in many ways, and I like my quiet time a little bit more, so he teaches me a lot. He is the ying to my yang. He keeps things positive and fresh for me when I would rather withdraw into myself.

My poor, dear husband is still waiting for a raging, kegger party on his birthday that has been put on hold since the birth of our son. (Yes, the psychic predicted it.) Although there will be no chilling keg in the backyard, there will be us. Our little family. And my husband's favorite home-made pizza. And ice cream cake (shhh, it's a surprise).

I love you, hunny.

All I Need Right Now

What does the passing of 10 years mean? Of course, with the anniversary of 9/11 on Sunday, this thought passed my mind.

When reaching your 10-year high school reunion mark, the years have certainly brought change in your life. How far I've come from high school, you think. Geez. A lifetime was lived in those 10 years, it seems. Life-changing events occur in those years - new jobs, new careers, new loves, new beginnings, the start of trying to make it on your own.

And then, after a while, 10 years can go by, and you think, wasn't that just yesterday?

Like most of the country, I reflected on where I was when 9/11 would forever mean something else.

And, it feels like it was just a snap of the fingers.

Was it really 10 years ago? When I lived in another state, pursued my graduate degrees, before there was even the thought of a child. A lifetime it seems in those 10 years, but it only feels like the blink of an eye.

My boy. My boy grows so fast. The next 1o years will bring elementary school, science fair projects, the first sleepover, and the beginning of...puberty. Gulp.

Will it really go so fast? Will I look back, and it will seem to be the blink of an eye?

Oh, my boy plays right now, on the floor, creating a monster truck arena with a cardboard box and blocks. He is singing the theme to Cat in the Hat. His pants are a little too short because he grows so fast. His hair sticks up in the back, as his hair seems to always do, but he doesn't even care. His skin is still soft with a toddler roundness, the last bit of baby to be left behind.

Mommy?

Hmm?

Look.

I look at this treasure he found on the ground, some un-nameable piece of toy. I look at him and say, "I love you, bubby."

"I love you too, Mommy."

And that is all I need for this one, small moment.

Google Images

Eleven Mile Canyon, Sunday Selections

Photos from our camping trip - Eleven Mile Canyon, Colorado - Labor Day weekend:

My husband thought I was silly for taking a picture of thistle. But, I don't care that it was just a thistle. It's beautiful, right?

Taco Bell for lunch on the drive home!

Of course, here is a photo taken by Parker. I always love finding these masterpieces on my phone after he has been using it.

Menu, Taco Bell

I have linked up with Frogpondsrock for Sunday Selections!

Shout Heard Round the World

Not only is it Jean Friday at work, but Write on Edge has invited us to write to the prompt: jeans. I am going to take this opportunity at the end of the week to re-post something I wrote earlier this year about that very subject!



“I’M IN MY PRE-PREGNANCY JEANS!!!!” I shrieked excitedly from the upstairs landing, thinking perhaps my announcement could be heard around the world.

I had no idea that at that moment, Parker was walking down the stairs. The manic, celebratory wail must have been a shock to his little system because the poor little guy fell on his butt and slid all the way down to the wood floor below and then laid there, stunned.

I was undeterred.

I pranced downstairs (hoping the top of my butt didn’t fall out of the top of the jeans at the same time) to flaunt my stuff.

My husband hadn’t even turned around at the sink while washing dishes.

Apparently, I was the only one heart-attack excited about this news.

Of course, I did stop for a moment to pick Parker up, twirl him around, and pat his head reassuringly.

Never mind that I literally, physically had to stuff the remaining top of my butt into the damn jeans, but they were zipped and buttoned and I could walk in them.

It was success.

It was the sweetest success I’ve had in years. I am high. Still.

(Update: I'm still rockin' the jeans!)

Too Cool for School

First day of preschool!

So happy and ready for school!

Really, Mom? (The 'tude starts now, I guess.)

I've Been Invited...

I hope you are all enjoying your Labor Day weekend! I am celebrating today by guest posting over at A Mountain Momma!

I was so flattered to be asked to contribute to her Leave the Nest series. So, PLEASE, go on over there RIGHT NOW!! Check out my guest post, check out the awesome and funny A Mountain Momma, and leave some comment luv all over the place!

Go. Go now. There you go. Go.

Last Cigarette

Write on Edge challenged us to write about a "season of change":

I loved sitting outside in the dark all alone, smoking a cigarette. “Healthy” types probably don’t think this is very zen, but really, it was almost like meditating.

Everything was so still, and there were plenty of stars to stare at between the clouds. My cat was lit up in the window, staring out at me with contempt.

My husband had left out of town that morning, and I could come out here as often as I wanted without judgment.

The only problem was, I was smoking my last cigarette.

In the morning, I will go and buy some more, I thought.

I took a drag.

If it’s positive, I won’t go buy any, and that will be that.

The next morning, the first thing I did was pee on a stick. I didn’t buy any cigarettes.