We're Officially Eighty-Five...

So, Mr. Crib Chick has gout, it turns out.

(I have his permission to share this, by the way. I may not have his permission to repeat all of the--hilarious--Henry the VIII jokes that this has spawned, but I did think to ask him if it was okay for me to out his health concerns on the Intrawebz.)

Many cases of gout are attributed to dietary causes, and a sedentary lifestyle, hence it being known as the "disease of kings" in times past. I think now it's now known as the "disease of former military guys who are glad to be out of the military and now feel as if they are sticking it to the man by not working out after years and years of mandatory exercise". At least it is, in our house.

I tell you this not to rub it in Mr. Crib Chick's face that he is now going to have to officially lose some weight (doesn't everyone get excited about dieting?), but to share the discovery that we made upon visiting the pharmacy to get Mr. Crib Chick his medicines. We procured a cane, to deal with the pain of the attack he was suffering (in one of his feet), and I think that's where the aging process began; with the cane.

Something happens to men when you give them a cane. Even if they're still in their prime, once they have a cane, they jump to about eighty. They get a little more grumpy, a little more insistent in their demands, and their hearing decreases by about fifty percent. Once they start using the cane to gesture at items they want (such as potato chips), then you're on the road to the retirement village.

But...the women with the men with the canes are affected, as well. Somehow, when you're with a man with a cane, raising your voice as you explain medication directions, you get the urge to address him as "DADDY". (Ex., "NO, DADDY, WE'RE NOT GETTING THOSE CHIPS, YOU NEED THE SALT-FREE ONES...")

The defining moment came, however, when we made our way to the check-out counter, and I thought to myself--without a shred of irony--"That Victoria Beckham is so pretty with all of that hair out of her face."

So...it's official. We have become my grandparents.

Why so serious?

Every year, our area has a Homeschool Spring Formal, for high school-aged children.

It's much like a prom, with the dressing up, the dancing, the whole shebang.

Last year, "Peep" #1 attended. She looked lovely, and had an awesome time with her friends.


"Peep" #2, who, you will remember, is a teenage boy, opted not to go.

This year, he's not only going, he's taking a...(gulp)...girl with him.

Yes, our little boy is growing up. Not only has the opposite sex captured his attention, but he's also begun to show a bit of promise in the "Caring How You Look" department. (Yes, I know that these are inextricably linked.)

How exciting! Right?

You can imagine my delight when he began to talk about what he would like to wear for the formal, and called me over to show me a document containing images of the various components of his outfit that he'd found online.

They looked wonderful! I mean, look at this shirt...

Look at this snazzy, coordinating tie and vest! (I got really excited about the vest. A classy touch, no?)

The shoes were, well, they were okay...

And I could even smile at the boyish whimsy of the socks...

But then..."Peep" #2 scrolled all the way up to the top of the page, and let me see the inspiration for this snappy ensemble...






(Pay special attention to the socks. "Boyish Whimsy", indeed.)

Ah, well. I guess there's always a catch, isn't there?

Valentine's Day Thoughts

It occured to me today, as I watched Must Love Dogs (again), that there would be a great market for a John Cusack-inspired Love Course for Men.

Think about it...John Cusack usually plays eccentric, emotional men who love to talk, express themselves, and come up with witty, heart-grabbing phrases. (Who wouldn't melt at being described as a "unique constellation of attributes"?)

So, all a man would need to do would be to gather up some John Cusack movies (Must Love Dogs is the primer--if you can't watch any others, just get this one). Watch, listen, learn. Lather, rinse, repeat.

And, I know it's too late for you to order this and get it by Sunday, but I have to share my favorite book for kids about Saint Valentine. This treasure by Robert Sabuda has mosaic-inspired illustrations, and retells the traditional story of Valentine's martyrdom, gives an explanation of the Roman Lupercalia, which took place on February 15, and mentions the medieval English and French belief that birds found their mates during the start of the second week of the second month.

But I'll tell you what it's not too late to do...download music for Valentine's Day Night.

No, no Barry White on the Crib Chick's List.

I do have a list, though.

In no particular order, here are my suggestions for setting "a mood"...

Just What I Needed This song just makes me smile. I think it's probably because of the Mr. Crib Chick-esque tone that is reflected in the phrase, "I don't mind you coming here...and wasting all my time."

Shake You Down Does this one really need an explanation?

Come Away With Me (Album Version) Ah...Norah Jones. Soulful voice, poignant lyrics, it's all here.

The Way You Do The Things You Do Another song that makes me smile...if I could wish that someone had written a song about me, it would be this one. Simple, snazzy, full of creative compliments...what's not to love?

Just You & I The mix from dZihan & Kamien's album, Freaks and Icons. Don't get any other version! It will not be the same!

And so, there you have it. A peek into my musical psyche. I hope it wasn't too frightening.

Aprons are Awesome

I know what you're thinking.

Well...okay, maybe I don't, but I'm betting that some of you are thinking, "Wha...?" and some of you are going, "Sweet!"

Aprons have made a comeback.

I'd heard a few comments here and there, about ladies donning protective covers about the house, but my interest wasn't really captured until I saw a link for Jessie Steele aprons that I went, "Wow!"

I approached my grandmother, a seamstress of incredible talent, and asked for help. (She also popped my eyes when she referenced the apron's comeback, as evidenced on...Desperate Housewives. Okay. Grandma watches Desperate Housewives. Good to know.)

For a few bucks' worth of material, and some half-priced patterns, I now have an apron collection. One that's been filled out with a couple of birthday gifts, and a homemade present from the mother of my good friend, the Ramblin' Educat. (It's the one pictured above).

(If you don't know a seamstress, here are some Jessie Steele aprons. If you'd rather go the homemade route--much, much cheaper, and better value for your money--pick through a local material shop's half-off table, and try this pattern or this one...or this cute mother-daughter set. Or this one. Sorry, can't stop myself.)

I can't say, definitively, that it's dramatically raised my housewifely productivity.

But maybe it has.

It makes sense, from a practical perspective, to have something to protect your clothing while you cook and clean. But I hope you guys won't think I've lost my mind if I share that it really does add a little something to simply have a uniform of sorts, too, that kind of says..."Doing Junk at Home is Special".

I mean, you guys know that I value being at home with kids. I work part-time, from home, too, so I can't say that homemaking is my "career", but it is a big part of my life, and forms a large portion of my identity. (I mean, hello...I titled my blog, this little cyber-window to my soul, in honor of my status as a Stay-Homer.)

But it gets to be a drag sometimes, you know? Constantly cooking, picking up, cleaning, or nagging--I mean, gently instructing--children on picking up and cleaning...only to wake up the next day and find that you have to start all over and do every bit of it again. Every day. For the rest of your life. Amen.

All of us who have homes and the ability to stay there and take care of them appreciate it, and count our blessings, I'm sure.

But admitting that it can be tedious doesn't negate that. You can say it. It's okay.

So, try an apron to cutely cover your clothes...and add a little snap to your daily slavery.

(As an aside, the oldest "Peep" did tell me that it was hard to take me seriously in a frilly apron....and cargo pants. I'm not sure that I can ever go the whole-hog June Cleaver route, and don heels and pearls, though. Even with an apron, we'll still be a little off the traditional path.)

I like to call this pic, "If John Bender Were a Housewife".

To be honest, I've always turned up my nose at the FlyLady's advice to put on lace up shoes in the mornings. I mean, who wears shoes in the house? Crazy people, that's who. (Sorry, psychos who wear shoes in the house, who are reading this. I'm sure you're lovely people, otherwise.)

But then, it happened, on a few occasions, that I had to get shoes on, for some reason or another, and...it really does do something. (It also helps to occasionally put in your iPod earphones, to drown out the precious little voices, hence the trailing cord you see.)

Your choice of footwear might have something to do with it, though.

Because when I'm wearing the above boots, I feel ten feet tall! (Actually, about two inches taller than I am, normally, to be exact.) And the house...it doesn't stand a chance. Boots like this say, "I'm going to stomp your butt, house. You're going to stay clean, too. And call me "sir".")

So, maybe it is crazy. Or maybe it's some sort of genius psychology, I don't know. But if it makes the day go smooth, it's worth a try. (I'll insert my standard disclaimer about recommending FlyLady here, and suggest reading the book Sink Reflections instead of signing up for the email reminders if you need to cut down computer time to help you get the house in shape.)

And you can always take an alcohol-drenched cotton ball to the soles of your shoes, if it gives you the heebie-jeebies to wear them inside. Not that I'd know, or anything.