Grape Did It

Thoughts, many ones. And deep ones.

Hey Ya'll. Nice weather we're having, huh?

That. Oh yeah, that's where mama will plant her herb garden. For dill and such. I'm pretty much a gourmand.

Oh well, not everyone can be a food-god. Hey, can you BELIEVE this weather we're having? Makes me feel like dirty-ing up a diaper or two ya FEEL ME?

I love my daddy.

A lot.

But dude, onions for lunch?

3.11.10

I'm not just getting used to it, I'm running for mayor

So it's no secret that I listen to Dave Ramsey, a little like my granny used to listen to the 700 Club. There we'd be, knocking on her door in the morning, pounding our way into her tiny, warm kitchen for bisquits and what should be blaring but that preacher, what's his name? I can picture him - his ears kind of stick out? My grandfather was half deaf so the TV would be on full blast but I only realized that much later in my life. For the longest time I just thought it was an extraordinarily loud show. Anyway. Dave Ramsey. Focus impulsive-girl-who-buys-regretful-paintings. 

I listen to him whenever I get the chance, driving to Costco, feeling all smug like we could totally be friends. I mean, HELLO, I'm driving to COSTCO, that's gotta count for SOMETHING (you'd think by now Costco might be sending me free things in the mail what with how often I mention them on here. Sadly that is still not the case. But I am waiting.) 

It's just that now that I am a boring, married, home-owning mother...okay I'll say it. My priorities have changed. I can actually call one of my sisters and say, breathlessly, without a hint of irony, "You wouldn't BELIEVE how cheap these baby wipes are! And for sensitive skin too!" I love a good bargain. I think steaks and wine at home trump a restaurant anyday. I gleefully check online for good furniture sales. I stare at my child like he is the first cute little plump thing to have ever graced this earth. In short, I went ahead and bought the farm.

FOCUS HOPE WHAT THE HELL AM I TALKING ABOUT? Jesus.

Dave Ramsey. Here's the point. I listen to his show. I get inspired to become even more nerdy than I already am. I am cascading towards queen of loserville right about now at least according to my 22 year old self. 

So today I am listening to him and it turns out he does an entire...segment? Book chapter? I don't know, program? Called...get ready. Are you ready? Called The Free Spirit and The Nerd. CAN YOU EVEN BELIEVE IT? It's like they installed a camera in our house and have been watching. Because as much as I am reveling in nerdom, I will never probably reach the proportions of my husband and I totally mean that in a reverent way, Bud. 

3.10.10

Enough with the sensitivity crap. I'm not your guidance counselor.

(Title courtesy of statements made by my father, in my teens, oh THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND TIMES.)

But anyway. I loved hearing your thankful fors and if any new ones occur to you, you know where to find me. On this website, sort of. Unless you are a neighbor of mine in which case you can pretty much just come knock on my door. Or write me on facebook because it's just so much easier than getting off the couch.

BUT TODAY. Today I'd like to talk about my bad-ass Craigslist SKILZ. 

A few years ago Bud and I made our first big purchase together, a red couch. It had that micro-suede look and feel to it and when we bought it, I knew I wouldn't love it forever. Loved the bright! ass! color! but also knew something that bold would fall out of fancy rather quickly. The sweet part of the story though is that it was our first big purchase together. We weren't married at the time (CLOSE YOUR EARS AND COVER YOUR EYES, HERE'S THE RACY PART), but we did live together and the one super sad loveseat we already had had a. been covered with a slip cover because it was that ugly and decrepit and b. that slipcover was chewed in various places by a certain dog COPPER whom I won't name. That was it for seating, I'm not even joking. We looked like we'd been robbed. Sad times in our (soon-to-be) Sypert household. So we trudged ourselves to all of those (gasp!) box furniture stores and ended up with a bright red sofa. 

By the time we moved into this house I knew it was on it's way out. So I went to TJ Maxx and bought two matching paintings. Right? Good lord the logic totally escapes me now, but Ella helped me pick them out so I can at least partially blame a two year old.

I got those suckers home, put them above our startingly red sofa and knew it almost right away. I hated them. I don't know why, they had that sort of cute, bistro look to them but I only saw CHEESEY! CHEESEY! flashing in neon above them every time I looked. It took me almost a year to admit to Bud that I had wasted $100 on two crap-ass paintings (really, nothing wrong with them per se, but craptastic to me). Now he gestures towards them any time he wants to make a point about my impulsive nature. Okay Hope, but let's take this decision slowly, we don't want another repeat of (points to paintings). I've considered reaching out and breaking that finger many times but then, who would help me with my crafty projects am I right?

Where am I going with this? I'm going directly to the fact that I just sold that couch! And those paintings TODAY! On Craigslist! For a pretty hefty penny I MIGHT ADD.

WHO'S FINGER POINTING NOW BUD?

3.9.10

Things I am thankful for and other cheese

This, this, this, this, this. It occurred to me today I am in an opium den of baby and all I want is more.

Remind me of this feeling when he is two and drawing on a newly painted wall in permanent marker.

My parents. That they are healthy and love Truett. That he gets to know his grandparents because not everyone is that lucky. That I can still call my mom and cry over the injustice of it all and she'll tell me how right I am. That my father still lectures me on the use of four letter works. (Most of which he inadvertently taught me to use).

My house. It is the perfect cozy size and Bud and I worked together to buy it, fix it up and make it a home for our new little family.

Our dogs. Even though Copper ran away AGAIN yesterday and but for the help of an awesome neighbor, he might still be out cat-poop hunting.

My husband. Who wakes up with Truett every morning so that I can sleep, uninterupted, for a while. Without that support I might truly go insane.

Truett's neck folds.

The internet and the people who read this site because they obviously have great taste. Or terrible, I'm still trying to figure out.

Great Craigslist finds. One of these days I'll write ol' Craig a proper thank you note.

Coffee. Wait. That does not do it justice. COFFEE. If I had a short list of things to be thankful for it would go like this: Family, friends, coffee. And then maybe wine. Oh wait, I forgot wine's close cousin cheese. Hang on. Family, friends, coffee, food. Okay, there.

Friends who know me well and like me anyway. I mean, even after knowing me in college. The real, REAL kind.

Truett's version of a conversation, "Huh? Huh?"

Spring fever. What, you thought this list could be written in the winter time? Is it not obvious I have been struck dumb by nice weather?

Books. Oh my lover, books.

That feeling you get after one too many and EVERYTHING is funny.

Oh wait. Under food file: chocolate.

Truett's version of a kiss: <insert lip smacking sound that sounds more like he is trying to call the dogs> Huh. Maybe he is.

A handy husband who helps me with the stealing of other people's crafty ideas.

The kind of clothes shopping that makes you wonder why no one has ever approached you to model for their fashionable label. This might only happen after too much of the following: coffee, wine, spring fever.

Hot baths. Cliche but heavenly.

Tulips. Sorry, more cliche.

A friend who totally gets it. This could be my entire list on some days.

Music. Probably ties with good food, wine and chocolate.

Georgia.

I could go on. But I suspect you might be gagging by now. Leave yours in the comments if you would. 

SPRING FEVER ROCKS.

3.8.10

3.7.10

3.6.10