Through a series of other blogs, I have learned of the above mentioned HNT.
I discovered Osbasso and the guidelines for HNT tonight and decided to try it out. My digital camera is misbehaving, so I decided to use a photo of my hubby from our honeymoon. Hopefully by next week I'll be able to come up with something more creative. Enjoy!
Yea! My favoritest (yes, it's a word in my world) tv show in the whole world (the one I got TiVo for so I could watch it AND American Idol) has its season premiere on Tuesday! This is exciting for two reasons 1) it's back after a summer of reruns, and 2) my husband (who also likes it) will be on vacation and thus will be able to watch it with me!What show has me screeching like a giddy schoolgirl and wetting myself (I know, TMI) with excitement? GILMORE GIRLS!!! I know, cheesy- but it's the best! Though maybe not... it could be a close second to Buffy. Of course GG gets bonus points for still being on the air.I can't wait till Tuesday night!
This request does not come from a deep desire to fight, but from the fact that when I'm mad, I clean. Not just the pick up the dirty laundry off the floor and toss it down the stairs in the general direction of the washing machine. No, when I'm angry I dust things, I do all the laundry (I've even been know to wash down the outside of the washing machine), I reorganize cabinets, sweep down cobwebs (which tend to become scary props straight out of a haunted house around here), vacuum everything including the stairs, scrub the bathrooms including the toilets (I think this falls into the worst job in the world when living with males), and, well, you get the idea. I'm like Suzy Homemaker on speed. It's sick. Sometimes I even make cookies. Granted they are the preformed ones you buy in the store and stick in the oven, but it's cooking for those of us that have managed to burn Easy Mac (the horrible microwave version of Kraft's mac and cheese).
Why the desire to clean? Cause my husband's coming home this weekend. Am I cleaning for him? Not really. He's not the neatest person in the world (sorry honey) and doesn't seem to mind clutter or dust or piles of laundry on the floor. I do mind. And if I don't get it done before he gets home, I'll be spending time cleaning that I could be spending with him. Hence the need to be annoyed.
I've not really been home except to sleep and eat for almost two weeks. I haven't done laundry in almost three. The remnants of Hurricane Yard Sale are circling around my house, and the resulting clutter is pretty devastating. I am not feeling the least bit motivated and have just been chucking things willy- nilly down the basement stairs all day that either A) go in the basement and need to be put away, B) are dirty laundry and need to be washed or, C) are random things that have no home and tossing them in the basement seemed like the easiest solution to getting them out of my way. There is a pile at the bottom of the stairs that it may take climbing equipment to get over. Sigh.
Wish me luck, or piss me off, cause I have to accomplish something today.
This fascinating photo is my left shoulder following two weekends of yard sales. Isn't it pretty? It hurts like hell, and after two days is still incredibly red. As you can probably tell, I am fair skinned. I always forget to wear sunscreen, but usually I'm not in the sun very long. Apparently, four days in the sun is a long time. The worst part is having to put clothes on over top of it. If I wasn't afraid of frightening small children, I would not be wearing a shirt. Or a bra for that matter (which is an even scarier thought). Sigh. I hate clothes. And the sun.
Here are the promised yard sale photos. This happy, sunny picture is what we'll call the before photo. Everything was set up and ready for the big sale by 9am
when the remnants (or the still raging tropical depression) of Hurricane Me came roaring in. We had to scurry around grandpa's huge front yard and try to get everything covered in plastic so that it wasn't ruined. Unfortunately, some of the things were lost to the monsoon- like rain and crazy wind. Here we will enter into the discussion what will be known as the after photo. Note the gray, gloomy sky, the plastic covered tables, and the random stuffed animals strewn around 
the yard. That rain caused so many issues. The clotheslines strung between the tress decided to stretch when wet and then break under the weight of the soaked clothes. We (actually my aunt and grandfather) spent several hours drying all the clothes in the dryer. That stupid clothesline broke probably ten times over the next few days. All the stuffed animals got drenched (and there were soooo many) and created quite a bit of amusement later on. There was one bear that probably weighed close to 40 pounds and after three days had not yet dried out. I took a bunch of photos of the animals, but this is one of my favorites:
I love the water dripping off this sweet little bear. Trust me when I say that despite his appearance, he fared better than most of the others. Some of them were unsalvageable. Most of them ended up in the trash. The ones all over the yard in the picture above suffered a worse fate than the trash. They were dismembered by my puppy who apparently finds water- logged bears to be a tasty treat. And, after he finished with the bears, he graduated to undergarments. A purple Victoria Secret bra, to be exact (size 34DD for those that care), that I outgrew years ago and made it's way into one of the boxes. That puppy carried it around, chewed on it, and tossed it into the air for days. It was pretty funny. We would pick it up out of the yard and take it back to the box. But he always found it and didn't bother any of the others. Guess there's no doubt that he's male is there? I mean, it was the biggest one in the box...
This fascinating photo is my left shoulder following two weekends of yard sales. Isn't it pretty? It hurts like hell, and after two days is still incredibly red. As you can probably tell, I am fair skinned. I always forget to wear sunscreen, but usually I'm not in the sun very long. Apparently, four days in the sun is a long time. The worst part is having to put clothes on over top of it. If I wasn't afraid of frightening small children, I would not be wearing a shirt. Or a bra for that matter (which is an even scarier thought). Sigh. I hate clothes. And the sun.
when the remnants (or the still raging tropical depression) of Hurricane Me came roaring in. We had to scurry around grandpa's huge front yard and try to get everything covered in plastic so that it wasn't ruined. Unfortunately, some of the things were lost to the monsoon- like rain and crazy wind. Here we will enter into the discussion what will be known as the after photo. Note the gray, gloomy sky, the plastic covered 
the yard. That rain caused so many issues. The clotheslines strung between the tress decided to stretch when wet and then break under the weight of the soaked clothes. We (actually my aunt and grandfather) spent several hours drying all the clothes in the dryer. That stupid clothesline broke probably ten times over the next few days. All the stuffed animals got drenched (and there were soooo many) and created quite a bit of amusement later on. There was one bear that probably weighed close to 40 pounds and after three days had not yet dried out. I took a bunch of photos of the animals, but this is one of my favorites:
I love the water dripping off this sweet little bear. Trust me when I say that despite his appearance, he fared better than most of the others. Some of them were unsalvageable. Most of them ended up in the trash. The ones all over the yard in the picture above suffered a worse fate than the trash. They were dismembered by my puppy who apparently finds water- logged bears to be a tasty treat. And, after he finished with the bears, he graduated to undergarments. A purple Victoria Secret bra, to be exact (size 34DD for those that care), that I outgrew years ago and made it's way into one of the boxes. That puppy carried it around, chewed on it, and tossed it into the air for days. It was pretty funny. We would pick it up out of the yard and take it back to the box. But he always found it and didn't bother any of the others. Guess there's no doubt that he's male is there? I mean, it was the biggest one in the box...
