Operation No Real Pants

I’ll admit.

I’m on the leggings bandwagon.

I wasn’t.  I was against it.  Probably because I wasn’t educated on the proper care and wearing of leggings and just saw people putting it all other there, leaving little to the imagination.

Fortunately for me, I’ve been added to eleventy-bajillion Lu La Roe groups over the past few months and have no less than ten friends who have decided to start their own boutique business and now I own a pair… or twenty.  (No, I don’t really own twenty… but I’d like to. And really, I am not excited about being added to all those groups.)

I love them.

I love their feel.

I love how cute I feel.

I love how comfortable I am.

It’s a win win… especially going into the frumpy fall and winter months.

54e75beb60d34_-_sev-leggings-meme-lgn So I’ve declared operation no real pants.

I’ve decided that I’m going to do everything in my power to NOT have to put jeans on.  And I was a jeans and t-shirt kinda gal… but I’m excited about being cute and comfy all. winter. long.

And my rationale is… working from home, it’s easy for me to sit in my jammies or throw on a frumpy pair of sweats and work… but then I’m frumpy… I’m not looking like a rock star so I don’t feel like a rock star…

But with leggings…

Different story.

Now… I love me some Lu La Roe.  And I support all of my friends (I remove myself from any other group) when I can, but I’ve also had to figure out how to do this on the cheap…

So here are a few things I’ve found…

Fabulegs – Cute leggings (or solids) for cheaper (and she runs sales)… she’s got fantastic customer service… customers pick the prints… she doesn’t believe you should have to pay more than they are worth… so she’ll reprint the leggings if there is a demand… and I like the feel just the same as Lu La Roe… LLR calls it buttery… Fabulegs calls it milky (which baffles me because I’ve never poured milk or butter on my legs so I wouldn’t know what that feels like)… bottom line… I’m still telling people to feel my legs in the Fabulegs and they are super cute.  She also has a Facebook group.

But the tops… I found myself with all kinds of leggings and no tops.  So I went on the hunt.  The irma from LLR is my favorite.  It covers everything and it’s comfortable.  After a few trial and errors… I found this brand on Amazon. It might be one of my most favorite tops ever.  I ordered a large as the review says it runs big.  (That’s what I order in Irma’s) and I think I could go to a medium, but the large isn’t horrible.  🙂  I ordered a medium just to see.

So there you have it.. a few more pairs of leggings (I have donuts and halloween ones coming soon) and a few more tops and I’ll be well on my way to not having to wear real pants all winter long…

Now I just have to figure out shoes…

Guess I’ll need to sell a few more totes to make it all happen…

Until next time…

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This Dog…

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This is Winston.

Or “W” as the kids sometimes call him.

We aren’t exactly sure what Winston is a mix of, short of dalmatian.  That part is obvious.  But we’ve been stopped so many times while walking Winston by people letting us know how stinkin’ cute he is and how much he looks like the dog from The Rascals.

He officially became part of the family at the end of July.  A week later, he successfully chewed through the metal crate…twice.

Somehow, he chose me as his person, which is nothing short of God laughing at me.  I was the only member of the family who wasn’t really ready for a dog.  Truthfully, I wasn’t over Rhoda yet.  But everyone else was so ready for another dog and I didn’t want to be the one to hold everyone else back.

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He really had a hard time being alone…

So Winston is my shadow.  As in, I can’t go anywhere without this dog firmly planted in my tail end.  Which wouldn’t be terribly bad except, he never wants me to leave.  We have to fight him away from the door so I can get out of the door and if those left behind with him aren’t careful, he’ll go into the dining room and pee.  (This is only when I leave him with other people.  If I leave him by himself it’s slightly worse – he won’t pee… he’ll just dig… as in, my furniture fears this dog.)

Oh and bed time?  He’s content only when he’s in bed with the hubs and I.  Even that might not be so bad if the hubs and I had a king (or even a queen) size bed.  We don’t.  We have a full.  And if you know us, you know that we’re not small people.  Fortunately, Winston will go sleep with Thing 1 on occasion.  (He has a queen size bed, but Thing 1 says he’s a bed hog with him as well.)

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He’d spend his whole life in the car if you let him…

This might sound like the dog from h-e-double-hockey-stick, but the reality of it is, he’s a great dog.  He’s so loving.  And honestly?  When you live in a house of teens and tweens?

It’s awesome to have someone look forward to your return.

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Because blood rushing to your head is an awesome way to sleep…

But his anxiety is horrible.  In fact, his anxiety threw my anxiety into overdrive.  I googled and implemented every tip they shared and it didn’t seem to help.  So, I thought maybe it’s just because we’ve only had him for a few months.  We don’t know what this dog has been through in the last eight years.

We’ve found ways to make it slightly better but finally, I just called the vet and made an appointment.

(Which by the way, if you’re local, you’ll NEVER find another vet as wonderful as Big Lick Vet – and no, they don’t pay me to talk about them.)

Winston and I were there for an hour and a half.  I mentioned his anxiety (and really only in the separation sense of the word) and the more we talked, the more we realized Winston is just anxious.

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5 other seats in the van and he has to sit with Thing 4

Crazy, I believe, is the word the vet used.

He went through the possible fixes…

“Tried a crate?”  Yes…ate through it twice with no regard to hurting himself

“Tried a thunder shirt?”  Yes… he takes it off.

and on and on it went…until finally he said, “Exercise and medication.”

Yes, my friends, my dog is officially on puppy prozac.

I’ll wait while you get your giggles out.

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Winston drags all blankets and pillows to the ground while we’re gone…

In addition to the mediation, one of the vet tech’s worked with me for almost an hour on ways to help train Winston with his anxiety and in turn, I came home and trained the family.

So far, so good.

But this dog…

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This box is 16″x13″….

 

Well, he just fits right in with the rest of us crazies….

 

 

 

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E is for Easter and Eating…

e Yes, it’s true.

I was motivated to get to sunrise service by the appeal of a home cooked breakfast.  I’m not ashamed to admit it.  I’m human.

No, just because my calling is ministry doesn’t mean I jump out of bed on Sunday mornings, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to worship Jesus.

Most days, yes.  I enjoy it.

But some mornings, I’m excited because the prospect of food follows the service.

Such was the case yesterday morning.

And the breakfast prepared by the men of Rockingham Court UMC didn’t disappoint.

We left there and headed to Brookhill Baptist for their “Them Came the Morning” and they gave out chocolate after the service.  Who would turn that down?

My husband!  He didn’t even take one and share with me!

On the way to Mt. Pleasant UMC (our church), I called my mom to wish her a happy Easter and to check on Thing 4… upon telling her of our 2014 Easter tour, she asked, “Do you think the story is different at each church?”

I get my humor from my mother.

Following our service we headed home to change and then met up with another couple from church and headed to K&W (along with the rest of Roanoke) for our Easter dinner.

For the first time in forever, I didn’t cook a holiday meal.

And $6.99 for roasted chicken or ham, two sides, bread, dessert, and a drink wasn’t a bad deal.

Besides, who doesn’t like K&W?

We got back from lunch and stopped by my office to get the candy Thing 1 left in my office Friday night.  There was another family who hosted their family dinner at the church and were cleaning up.  Somehow I ended up with some left over ham.

(This isn’t uncommon.  My church LOVES to send leftovers home with me after any meal.  I don’t ever turn it down.)

With ham and candy in hand, we head toward the house.  I ask Thing 4, our chauffeur for the afternoon, to stop by the Andersons.  Hannah made pickled eggs and invited us to stop over for dessert.  And I’m not turning down pickled eggs.  In fact, I can’t tell you the last time I had pickled eggs, but they were a staple in my grandmother’s fridge.  I tasted pickled eggs from the moment she mentioned on twitter that she was pickling them.

We pull in the driveway and the boys turn around and say, “you’re jut running in to get an egg, right?  We’ll wait.”

Um no!

I mean, seriously, how rude would that be?  Grab an egg and run.

So we all went in.

There was food galore and this –

My very own JAR of pickled eggs.

Seriously.

I don’t deserve friends like this!

In addition to sending home my very own jar of pickled eggs, she sent us home with potato salad, trifle, cheesecake and fudge.

This is the same woman who wouldn’t send me a Youtube link during Lent as I had given up TV.  She claimed she didn’t want to “lead me into temptation”…

I love my friends. 🙂

But it was all amazing.

I know because I had to sample it.

It would be rude if I hadn’t.

And the potato salad?  Best potato salad I’ve ever had and while I’ve never met a potato I didn’t like, I don’t always like potato salad.

This potato salad had bacon in it.

Perfect combination.

So this Easter, I ate.

and ate.

and ate.

Today, I said yes to the elliptical machine that was offered to us for free.  Clearly, I’m going to need it.

How about you?

Did you holiday include more food than you were planning on eating?

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Between the Time Change, the Kids and the Chicks…..

What is it about the time change week that makes life so difficult?  I mean seriously… this week has been the comedy of errors and I blame the time change.

But I’m not sure the time change truly has anything to do with it.  I think, because I’m fairly positive that I’m a direct descendant of Murphy, that life just got crazy and it’s coinciding with the time change.

I’ve yet to get to the grocery store this week.  I just keep going each night to grab what we need for lunches the next day and for dinner that night.  I haven’t had time to do a full shop.  (And I HATE doing it this way, because we spend way too much money.)  Moreover, I’ve made it difficult on myself because I’m sure I have things at home I can make… however, this is Thing 3’s week to plan the menu, and he did.  So therefore, since I strive to be a woman of my word, I am making what he’s asked for.

(Shepherd’s Pie is tonight… no one but Thing 3 is looking forward to this.)

I’ve been at Home Depot when they open twice this week because we’re redoing the nursery at the church and my volunteer needed paint.  And that’s the only time I can get there… because retired people?

Get up at o’dark thirty.  Seriously.  They are rip raring ready to go at 7am.

Why, people?  You’re RETIRED.  Sleep in.  You never got to all those years you were working and had children.

Except my mom.  She can’t sleep in.  I need her awake as I’m making those early morning runs.  To keep me company.

And sane.

There’s something about my mama’s voice that just makes everything all better.

And then there’s the fighting.

Not only are the kids at each other’s throats… ALL OF THEM… even the ones that are thick as thieves.  On top of this, we got chicks on Sunday and on Tuesday, I had a bully.  I had to put one in solitary confinement, two in the infirmary, and the rest in general population. (Picture this… one big crate with a heat lamp over the whole thing…. and because we only have one heat lamp, and I have to separate them, I have the bully in the Thin Mint box, the two almost blind ones in an ice cream tub, and the rest just floating around.  Hey.  You work with what you got.)

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Isn’t she cute? (Rhode Island Red)

Side note:  Last night, after the hubs asked me how the chicks were doing, I let him know that the two were released from the infirmary to “gen pop” and then we both decided we watch too much crime tv.

The “bully” (which I’m praying is not a rooster) is still in solitary confinement, where she (power in words) will stay until tomorrow at which time, the internet tells me she can return to gen pop and will be at the bottom of the pecking order.

But yeah.  Have you ever had to put warm compresses on a baby chick and then apply Neosporin to their eyes?

Neither have I, but I watched Thing 1 and the hubs do it.

Not easy and how grateful am I for them…

As I was googling “How to care for my baby chick whose eye has been pecked at” I thought to myself, “How come I’m googling all the weird stuff this week?”  Because just days before, I googled “how do worms reproduce?”

Y’all.

What did we do before Google?

I’ll leave you with that.  I’m off to enjoy my day off.  Or attempt to.

Until next time…

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Happy Birthday FDR

408px-FDR_in_1933 One-hundred thirty-two years ago, ten pound Franklin D. Roosevelt was born into one of the oldest families in New York to parents who were sixth cousins (and they say that only happens in West Virginia.)  Both sides of his family were wealthy – the Roosevelt side through real estate and trade, but most of the money coming from his maternal grandfather, Warren Delano, Jr, in the China trade, including tea and Opium.  (Drug money!)

Although he attended Harvard, he was an average student and while he made no strides in athletics or education, he was the editor of the school newspaper.  While at Harvard, his fifth cousin (so they had the same great-great-great-great grandparents), “Teddy” Roosevelt was elected president and his father passed away.  Although he entered Columbia Law school he passed the bar with out ever graduating and worked as a lawyer for a brief time before diving into the world of politics.

Then President, Teddy Roosevelt, walked Eleanor (his niece..yes, FDR and Eleanor were also distant cousins)  down the aisle in 1905 after FDR’s mother attempted to break off the engagement.  It seems as if FDR was a “mama’s boy” to some degree — and his mother forced him to wear a dress until he was five years old.  He wasn’t faithful, stepping out on Eleanor with her social secretary, and when offered a divorce, he refused citing it would look bad.  Eleanor was a forgiving woman, but there must have been something about that Lucy gal as she was with him when he died in his Georgia home in 1945 (while he was having his portrait taken.)

Fascinating information, no?  I like little known facts.

What is most fascinating to me?

I just spent an hour looking up interesting facts about FDR (including researching deeper on a possible affair with Judy Garland – near as I can tell, it didn’t happen) because I couldn’t think of anything witty or creative to write about.

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