Chinese Takeout--Life With Our Little Dumpling

The People In Your Neighborhood

2012-03-05T20:13:00.000-05:00

Two years ago my sister Wendy and her husband Doug moved to Ohio. They regaled us with stories of neighbors popping in with 'Welcome' baskets and baked goods. I thought she was making it up until Maizie and I visited and the couple next door came by with a loaf of homemade bread. That just doesn't happen here in New England. As a transplanted Pennsylvanian to Connecticut, I learned quickly that you don't make eye contact with people on the street. You never wave to cars as they pass. Chris, another native PA'er would strike up a conversation in line at the grocery store only to have the other shoppers look at her like an escaped mental patient.

Moving to Miller Road, we found out early that things are done a little differently in the country.
Last summer, in the midst of all the home buying games, I continued to sell things on my Etsy store. Packing up my latest order, I had to double check the shipping address, which was on Miller Road, Burlington CT. I triple checked. What a wacky coincidence to have a sale on our new road! Quivering with excitement, I sat down to write full page email to the mom who had bought a skirt for her daughter. I promptly deleted it. I didn't want her to think her new neighbor was some sort of crazy internet stalker before we even met. I trimmed the email down to a few sentences and clicked 'send'.

A few hours later I received a two page response from Kevin, introducing himself, his husband Jeff, and their daughter Sadie. His letter was the best "Welcome to the Neighborhood" gift I could have asked for. His discovery of my Etsy shop wasn't really a coincidence though.

On drives up Miller Road, David and I had oogled the other 1700s house, just up the hill from ours. This one was in beautiful shape, including a picture perfect barn, livestock and a pool. We would look out the car window jealously and agree that we must hate that family.

Turns out that family is Kevin and Jeff and Sadie. One of Kevin's hobbies is researching their historic home. During his internet surfing, he found a photo of the old house at the end of the road that he had never seen before. That photo was on my blog. Also on the blog is that little link to my Etsy store, which he just happened to click on.

We wrote and spoke on the phone before we moved in. Kevin also has a background in theatre, and is an artist. He is a stay at home Dad, Jeff is a doctor. We share obsessions with old houses and overpriced boutique children's clothing. I felt like we already had friends here when the moving van pulled into our driveway.

They are new to the area, moving in only two years ago. He told us how Miller Road welcomed them. This is a road where you do wave to cars as they go by, and neighbors do drop by with jelly and baked goods. Some of those baked goods come beautifully packaged with custom embossed stickers, that make you think they were from a high end bakery, then discover they were baked up the road on a lovely little farm-ette....

Kevin knows the previous owner of our house well, and had been inside often. It's obvious he loves the house the way he looks at it when he visits. There is a saying "I feel like he's undressing me with his eyes". By the look in his eye, I can tell he's redecorating my house in his head. "My face is over here, stop deciding where to put new windows!".

We've gotten to feed the sheep and chickens, and meet the llama. Yes, they have a llama. You know how I am about llamas. Perhaps we were a little quick to judge on that first trip by their house.

With A Little Help From My Friends, and Their Crowbars

2012-03-02T20:57:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, John and Lara made the long trek north from their home in tropical Maryland. Let me point out that they were the ones surfing the Inter Web Machine with David two summers ago to find dilapidated properties to buy and fix up. They were high on the blame list for us purchasing this house, so it was very important that they come up and see the mess they had gotten us into. Let me also note, that they have not purchased any run down properties as of this date.

With a minivan full of kids, tools and a large dog, they headed North. It was very nice that they brought tools, but having the kids around was brilliant. When you have a pack of them, you can just let them run feral. Almost no adult supervision was required all weekend. We did remember to feed them a few times.

With the kids settled into the living room and given instructions not to break anything, the adults headed off into the original house... to break things. David, John and their trusty crowbars went at it on that pesky wall that was dividing a small room off of the dining room. That little room housed the only window in the dining room. We hoped that by taking down the divider wall, we could make the dining room less cave like. It did.

Down is easy. Up is harder. When we reconfigured the steps, the access to the bathroom upstairs was suddenly in a weird place. You came up the steps then had to go around and back to get to the little hobbit door into the bathroom. That space was wasted awkward. It made more sense to have the door to the bathroom be in the nice new wide hallway that we created when we removed the staircase to the attic.

I will say that it was hard to watch them rip out the side wall to the upstairs bathroom, the bathroom that had just been renovated before we moved in. I guess I just can't have nice things (yet). They rebuilt the wall flush with the new stairwell, adding 3 feet to the bathroom. A new doorway was created directly off the hallway. An old door was rehung, but not the hobbit door. Back in Southington, we had accumulated a few beautiful solid wood panel doors, that had been removed in our remodeling of that house. They had been sitting in our basement there for years. One of them is now installed in the bathroom. At this point, David will point out that I mocked him for years for keeping those doors. And don't worry about the Hobbit Door. That is now safely stowed up in the shop, along with all the other wood and doors we have stripped out of this house so far.

We made amazing progress in the house that weekend. Lara and I took a van load of salvage wood up to the shop. We played Dumpster Javelin Toss with the scrap wood and debris that had been piling up everywhere. We also spent a lot of time staring up into the ceilings. There was always at least one person standing very still, head cocked to the side, looking intently up into the lathe. You see the same expression on someone staring out over the ocean looking for the meaning of it all.

We didn't find the meaning of it all that weekend. We drank some beer and ate big breakfasts. We watched our kids playing together. We talked about all the lives that had been lived in this house before us. We laughed out loud often, loudly, and sometimes with snorts. And that was enough.

In the photo on the left, the second floor steps began at the far left of the photo. You can see the handrail. the solid plank blockade served as a bannister. The entrance to the bathroom was directly in front of landing at the top of the steps.

In the right photo, the top of the stairs are now reversed. David is framing out the addition to the bathroom. The new bathroom wall takes the place of the old bannister. Now the doorway to the bathroom opens directly into the main hallway.

A view of the new wall, from inside the bathroom.

Oooh,Talk Drywall to Me Baby

2012-02-25T13:47:00.000-05:00

The Building Inspector's long awaited visit ended with a handful of signed permits, giving us the green light to proceed on to the next phase of the renovations. He was impressed with the amount of work that had been done since his last visit, especially the new clapboard on the front. David was most concerned about the two new sets of stairs he had installed. The Inspector ran up and down them a few times, declared that they felt good, and quickly went on to fixate on the hand split lathe in the ceiling and the 23" wide floor planks. After he left, David was amazed that at no point did the inspector measure the steps. I consoled him with this. I can tell a person's shoe size by looking at them. After a few thousand stair inspections, the Inspector can tell a set of code steps by walking on them.

We celebrated with a trip to Bertuccis. On the drive, David's eyes glazed over as he started making his project list. "First, I'm going to get the new walls on the steps drywalled. Then I can get the little piece of new ceiling in the bathroom up," he said.

"That's great, then what would you do next?" I asked, my eyes getting shiny.

"There's no reason why I can't finish framing out the chimney wall upstairs, and hang the drywall. I'm going to put insulation that wall, while I'm at it,"he went on.

"Oh, that's awesome, tell me more".

Drywall in new stairwell, and upstairs drywall framing exposed chimney stack.

Maizie chose purple and pink for her room. Shocking, isn't it? Her ceiling will be the first one in. Once that is complete, we just have to paint the pink above the chair rail.

The Inspector Calls

2012-02-15T13:18:00.002-05:00

In two hours the Burlington Building Inspector will arrive. I haven't awaited a visit like this since I believed in Santa Claus. Should I put out cookies and milk? Or maybe coffee and donuts? He will be looking at both the electrical and framing work. If he gives us the thumbs up we can proceed to the next steps. Get it? Steps, we can finish the steps. And the bathroom...etc, etc.

The past few months here I've been pretending I'm on vacation. It hasn't even been that hard to willingly suspend my disbelief. Every morning I take Monty for a walk around the property, taking in the sight of trees and almost nothing else. There are new restaurants to check out, new malls (excuse me, 'Lifestyle Centers') even cultural events. We went to the high school to see a show about rainforest animals, expecting to be there with 30 other people. It was standing room only. We got to pet a Burmese python, and adorable baby alligators. I waxed romantic over my touring days when I saw their tractor trailer parked in the auditorium loading dock. With all these diversions, it was easy to forget that we're living here, and not on holiday.

I've been doing my best to block out the plaster dust that settles everywhere. The crumbs of debris in the towels in the bathroom. The sound of silverware chiming in the kitchen at midnight, as the mice play seesaw in a cereal bowl that didn't make it into the safety of the dishwasher. I'm ready to go home now. I am ready for this vacation to be over.

I miss light switches that are attached to working light fixtures. I'm tired of coils of extension cords snaking their way room to room. I can't convince myself that the barricade of moving boxes on the porch is just the set for a production of 'Les Miserables' we're going to put on during spring break. I almost burst into hysterics in IKEA looking at curtains. I don't have ceilings, what's the point of shopping for curtains? Is a closet on the first floor really too much to ask for?

I knew this move was going to be a challenge. For all my romantic notions about what we are doing, I knew that it was going to be hard. I love it here, and there's no regret about the choice. The number of improvements in the past four months is amazing. What's hard is that there is so much started and not much finished. Hopefully with today's inspections, we can finish a few things off the Google Doc list David has created to keep track of our progress.

It's Electric!

2012-02-05T10:27:00.000-05:00

Upstairs drills screech through 200 year old support beams, downstairs a hammer thunks and everywhere else the sound of manly jokes and swearing. The electricians are here!

They have only been working Saturdays for the past few weeks. We wish there were more Saturdays in the week for them to conquer this project. Almost 80% of the house needed to be rewired, or wired for the first time in 200 years. The only power in David's future music room was supplied by an old extension cord run from an outlet in the basement up through a crack around the hearth in the fireplace.

The electrical boxes and switches went into the upstairs a few weeks ago, not that there is any actual electricity connected to them. That didn't stop my hand from flicking on the switch every time I went into my bedroom. The moment I stepped into a room, I automatically reached for the switch without realizing what I was doing, followed by that moment of disappointment in the dark.

Work is going forward on the house, it just doesn't show yet. There's a whole lot of new wiring running through this old house. Too bad photos of electrical wiring are not sexy. The carpentry won't resume until the electrical is complete, so to us, the house seems unchanged. It's our own little exercise in Existential drama. We are just waiting.

...on a brighter front

These three photos show the original room off of the dining room.
We thought that it had been divided off from the original
dining room, but after demolishing the stairs, discovered it had
been built that way.

These three photos show the future laundry room/ bathroom. I was willing to move into a 'Project House', but I was not willing to do laundry in the scary "Insert Horror Movie Title Here" Basement. After a few months slogging to the laundromat, the day the washer and dryer were hooked up was truly magical.

To accommodate a corner shower enclosure and the washer and dryer we removed the wall between the room and the kitchen closet. The new entrance to the bathroom/laundry will be through the old closet door. The old doorway off of the dining room will be walled over for the installation of a corner shower unit. If you look closely you'll notice new outlets and light switches, complete with working electricity.

Note sexy new wiring above door!

Desert Sands

2012-01-29T14:49:00.000-05:00

Today's To Do list included moving the boxes of our summer clothes up into the attic, so I spent the morning with the shop vac in the attic/third floor cleaning up the 250 year old dust left over from the roof removal. It may seem like obsessive compulsive behavior, but I assure you it was not. Later, I used the shop vacuum to clean out my regular vacuum cleaner. That was obsessive compulsive behavior.

There are no ceilings in 80% of our house. Until the chain of renovations is complete there is no point in moving into those parts of the house. Dust is still settling weeks later from the removal of the ceilings. For bonus fun, when David hammers on a project upstairs, debris caught between the floor upstairs and the ceiling lathe downstairs will drop down to the first floor. Sometime it's just boring old chunks of plaster, but my personal favorites are the corn cobs. Cleaning anything anywhere seems pointless. It would be easier to sweep sand out of the desert.

So really why bother to clean at all? That's why I had to clean out the vacuum cleaner. Don't look at the pile of sawdust in the hall. Those are not nail filled planks in the dining room. There is not a layer of plaster dust on the floor in the Soon To Be Maizie Bedroom. There is only this vacuum cleaner. This vacuum that spews a cloud of dust when I turn it on. I couldn't take it anymore. I prepared for battle.

First the front canister was opened, then a good rinsing in the bathroom sink. The foam filter went into the water next. Ick doesn't come anywhere near what came out. Anything else that I could unscrew and remove went in, too. There were still crevices in the body of the machine that held onto the dirt. The shop vac still rested in the hallway, waiting to be called back to action. It did quite nicely. At least now the regular vacuum only sucks, instead of blowing.

Down Stairs, Up Stairs

2012-01-08T22:01:00.001-05:00

These steps were really getting me down. And the up wasn't too great either. As we got settled into the house, David started talking about 'flipping' them. I nodded in agreement, not letting my complete lack of architectural understanding get in the way of supporting his plan. I would follow him around as he pointed at walls and talked about 'runs' and 'rises'.

I did understand that the stairwell was steep,cramped and had a dangerous switchback at the top. There was an awkward solid plank 'banister' at the top, leading into the cramped and narrow hallway. Turns out, all you need is a weekend, a few crowbars and a mini van full of lumber to fix all that. I suppose my husband's amazing carpentry skills may also have helped a bit.

We removed the dining room wall that the old steps were anchored to. I use the term 'anchored' very loosely. All the supports of the staircase were very loose. We removed everything and started over. David seems to think that the town Building Inspector may want them to meet some sort of code. I do hope it's the Pirate Code.

The steps start in the kitchen and run straight up, no turns. They are roughed in for now, but functional. The difference on the second floor is dramatic. Here the plank half wall that was the bannister is removed. The new stair well is just left of the carpet. The hallway is now double the width with the removal of the attic stairs. We replaced those with a pull down unit. The chimney is framed out and will be left exposed in the hallway. See the hall picture above right with the radio for the 'before' view.

Some Things Old, Some Things New

2012-01-02T17:05:00.002-05:00

Last summer I showed my friend Susan photos of a two hundred year old house David and I were fantasizing about buying. She was on her second historic home. I knew she would talk us out of our folly. She didn't. She advised it would be foolish not to buy it.

25 Miller Road about 1915

We spent half of 2011 pursuing that folly, but now in 2012 I am writing from inside that house. After we bought the house, Susan offered more advice. On the day you move in, celebrate with champagne. Don't wait until the house is finished to celebrate, because it never will be. We took that advice, too.

25 Miller Road about 1936

25 Miller Road Right Now

Today's reason for celebration, our contractor installed our new front steps, made from the old stone steps.

Our Old House: Blogisode 7-Is It Better This Way Or This Way?

2011-12-27T17:14:00.004-05:00

It's been a busy week on Miller Road.
See if you can spot the differences 'Before' and 'After'.

Gone are the cedar shakes from the front. Those boards that look so spanky new last saw daylight in 1915. We know because the carpenter who put it up signed it. That's a new roof you're looking.

Dead sexy, eh?

There's the dining room and fire place that seduced us in May.

Here's the dining room today. The cracked ceiling is gone, exposing the massive beams that support the house. We are hoping to find a way to feature them.

And who could forget the avocado glory of the upstairs hallway?

Cramped and dark, just add zombies or axe wielding psychopath.

No, that's no zombie or psychopath. Only our general contractor surveying the damage.

I mean improvement.

David, after seeing our neighbor's exposed chimney, decided we needed to feature ours. He removed those pesky attic stairs, and will replace it with a pull down stair unit. Removing that wall doubled the space in the hall.

Peace, Love and Livestock

2011-12-24T17:08:00.000-05:00

Nothing says Christmas like baby cows, right?

For years on our way to my parents' home in Pennsylvania, we've passed a large family farm and dairy store. We always say, "We should stop there this time." We never did, until today. With our minivan packed to maximum occupancy, we took a drive to Hillside Farms.

Ice cream was the focus of the trip. We didn't know we'd get a bonus closeup with a barnful of cows. There were chickens, alpacas, sheep, donkeys, goats and ponys, too. Believe it or not the cows were, to quote Maizie "way more better than the horses."

When we were kids, Wendy and I spent many weekends on our cousins' dairy farm. Mucking out cow crap and feeding sileage were some of my fondest memories. It was years later I realized our cousins who were so eager to show us how to do farm chores were suckering us into doing their work. It doesn't matter. To this day the smell of manure makes me nostalgic for those days.

Our Old House: Blogisode 6-A Few of My Favorite Things

2011-12-19T21:39:00.001-05:00

Having survived a bus and truck tour of "The Sound of Music", I purposely avoid invoking any quotes from the show. After re-reading my last few posts, I spotted some glaring omissions. Namely, how incredibly happy I am to be here.

Sure there's mouse crap in my mittens. So what I have exactly 36" of clothes hanging space, and that's only due to the rolling rack for my business. Light switches, who needs 'em? All of this too, shall pass. All I have to do is look out a window to see why. The woods surround us. Every time I walk around my yard there are new discoveries in this place where I feel I have always belonged.

Family and friends have started to visit. Some both horrified and jealous. On Chris and Jeff's tour, I had a world tilting sensation, no it wasn't just the uneven floor. We'd signed papers. Our stuff was moved in. But standing there joking in the attic of my house with people I've known for more than half of my life, it suddenly became my house.

When we first told Maizie we were moving, she was set against it. As the closing date got closer, she was even more set against it. Driving home with David one night, she said, "Daddy, I think the house is sad because no one lives in it. But it will be happy when we move in".

Here I am with all my favorite things, family, friends and home.

...a furnace, hot water, a bathroom door that closes, a dishwasher, a stove that doesn't smell like burning, a septic system, a roof that doesn't leak, the internet

Our Old House: Blogisode 5-Soaking In

2011-12-17T20:27:00.001-05:00

Today I unpacked the boxes labeled "Booze". I just hung my Coke bottle opener on the wall in the kitchen and promptly opened the beer sitting in front of me now. I guess I'm really home now.

It's been over a month since we moved in. The new roof is on, but we haven't seen the carpenters in a few weeks as they finish other roofs before winter really hits. Meanwhile David attacked the living room. He didn't rest until new picture rail moulding was installed and pictures hung. You would never know that the rest of the house still looks like it did when we moved in. Most of the ceilings in the rest of the house are going to be torn down and replaced. I can't unpack into those rooms until the work is completed, so I feel like I am stuck in a holding pattern.

I have to remind myself that we are moving forward. Thanks to a tip from Ashley at work, wallpaper removal has hit record levels. In the living room we used my little clothing steamer. The paper came down easily, but it took more than a week to complete. I was just about ready to spring for an industrial steamer when I decided to try Ashley's suggestion to spray the walls with hot water. In less than 30 minutes I had almost a whole wall stripped in my studio.

I stood on the step stool admiring the plaster and lathe I had exposed. It was easy, just spray and let it soak. The paper practically jumped out of the way of the scraper. I was feeling very self satisfied. I surveyed my two hundred year old room, thinking of others in long wool skirts and caps also working here, and paused. I kept waited for the historical society police to burst in on me. "Step away from the scraper, ma'am." Should I really just be going to town on these old walls? The musty stained 1950's wallpaper glared back at me. Heck yeah! I wiped my scraper clean and got back to work.

This morning David came home from the hardware store with a garden sprayer. He went all Rambo on the walls in Maizie's room, completing the room in a day. We had feared that the wall paper was all that was holding the old plaster and lathe walls together. We were surprised and relieved to find the walls in good shape. Good shape for two hundred year old walls, that is. They need a skim coat of plaster, but those naked walls are somehow beautiful. Walking into Maizie's room and not being greeted by faded blue roses lifted my spirits.

Work is supposed to commence on the ceilings next week. The goal now is to get all the paper down from the rooms before the ceilings come down. While the ceilings are down, the electrician will install overhead lights and switches, and those new fangled electrical outlets. Yes, I know, I am all about those modern conveniences.

Tomorrow we push ahead. I remind myself that we have only been here about a month. Bit by bit, our house will come together. And tonight, I know exactly where my bottle opener is.

Our Old House: Blogisode 4 -CRAP!

2011-12-05T20:48:00.001-05:00

In the backyard, Maizie and David found an old wooden box sitting on two cinderblocks. Being explorers, of course they opened it. This little mouse stared back at them. The next day, when they opened the lid for me, there were two more keeping the first company. I thought that the trauma of three giant humans looming over their home, would have sent them scampering. Maizie decided they were her pets, and every time we go outside we check on them. They just stare right back.

Why should I have been surprised when they started popping into our house to check on things?

The first morning I found mouse poop in my kitchen, I felt like I had been invaded. All through my cabinets and drawers they had frolicked. Their favorites were the CheezeIts and Fritos. Those were our favorites, too. It's nice to know that we share something in common with our vermin. Maizie suggested we put the Fritos and CheezeIts out into their box so they don't have to come into the house.

David plugged the holes in the cabinets. The metal latches that I hated, I now understand as being key in the rodent defense. I clear all food and crumbs from the counters at night as part of my battle plan. I'd put up miniature razor wire if it didn't clash with my kitchen decor. And the defense has been holding, no more surprises in my cutlery drawer.

It was a false sense of security. Upstairs in a spare room we are storing boxes in I found a towel where they had been partying. I grabbed the vacuum in a cleaning rage, only to discover they'd pooped on that, too. And insult to injury, poop in the cat's food dish.

Early this morning, David spotted one of our little friends. At least it was only one. While David sat at the computer he watched a mouse zip around the kitchen, in front of the cat and into the bathroom. Behind the stove and into the dining room.

I think Maizie is wrong about putting the Fritos out in the box. I'm just going to put a mouse dish out in the kitchen with the dog and cat's dishes. At least I'll know where they are.

Our Old House-Blogisode 3 The Roof, The Roof

2011-12-01T15:28:00.003-05:00

The beautiful sound of carpenters clomping across my roof accompanies my typing. Yesterday an armada of pick up trucks arrived. The leaning chimney is now a sprinkle bricks across the lawn. I have never thought I would be so happy to see power tools and pallets of shingles stacked in my yard.

A Room with a View

These are the guys who are standing over my head, right now.

I think I'm going to need a bigger vacuum.

Our Old House-Blogisode 2 We're HEEEEEERRREEE

2011-11-21T21:06:00.012-05:00

On November 8th two moving trucks pulled up to 25 Miller Road and unloaded fourteen years of our life. I watched our boxes being carted into the house, "Oh #$&%, now what the hell do I do?"

The reality of living in the house that we had obsessed over for months dropped like a piano on my head. All my stuff was going into this musty old place. Sure, it's going to be amazing when it's all fixed up, but I've got to sleep in there tonight.

Five hours later we had lunch with the movers. They waved goodbye as they rolled down the driveway. I went into the house to make the bed I'd be lying in. It turned out that the more of our things we put into place, the less scary the house was.

Not only did we move in that day, Maizie started at her new school. I'd like to say that I thought getting her back into a school routine was important to her development, but I really just needed a few hours without her to get situated in the house.

What was important to me was getting a bedroom set up for her that would make her as comfortable as possible. I unrolled her rug into the room that she will sleep in until her 'real' bedroom has it's ceiling replaced. In went her bed and dresser, her comforter and sheets. I opened the giant box labeled 'Maizie's Stuffed Animals' and made them comfortable on her pillows. When she came home, the room almost passed for a normal room.

I couldn't admit that the one who needed 'normal' was me. Boxes were everywhere but where they should have been. There wasn't a comfortable place to sit down. And that smell! The day creeped on and some order emerged. David and I were so busy shuffling boxes, we kept losing Maizie.

How odd to be in a house where you could lose a 5 year old! She played hide and seek in the few closets we had, scampering around the house singing and talking to herself. "What a relief that she was so comfortable so quickly in the house," you are thinking. I would have been thinking that too, except that 75% of the house has no overhead lights, and we hadn't unpacked the lamps yet. The dark didn't stop her exploration. That little voice floated downstairs deep in conversation with who? The beginnings of a dozen horror movies that started with small children in a dark old house unreeled in my head. I am just thankful that when I found her in the closet she wasn't muttering 'REDRUM,REDRUM'. I didn't let her sit too close to the TV later, just in case.

Our Old House-Blogisode 1

2011-11-07T20:15:00.000-05:00

Today we finally closed on the Burlington House. From noon until 3pm, I wasn't sure that I could write that. Thank goodness I took these photos yesterday at our walk through when we were happy and oblivious to the gut wrenching day to come.

At noon, our lawyer still hadn't received the final closing papers. Emails volleyed wildly for the next 3 hours, probably clogging your internet. At 2pm when I called the lawyer's office, we still didn't know if we would close today or not. At 3pm, David got a phone call to come to the office at 4 pm for our closing.

I don't know how many times I signed, initialed and dated whatever piece of paper was pushed in front of me. The sellers arrived and there was more paper pushing. Then very quietly, it all settled. We were finished. It was very anti-climatic. I was expecting a 'We now pronounce you owners of 25 Miller Road'. A confetti canon would have been nice.
Tomorrow really begins the next chapter. David heads to school to teach. Maizie and I will pack up the hotel room, then meet the movers. I will try hard not to start stripping down wallpaper while boxes are shuffled into the house. I will probably fail.
I might just stand in the yard and breathe deeply.

That Old House Blogisode 12-Cat Tastrophe Averted

2011-11-06T16:51:00.006-05:00

You may have forgotten about our last remaining cat, Eusheba. We practically had. It's been years since she ventured up out of the basement. Nearing twenty years old, I had hoped she would have had the good grace to pass away before we moved. Each day as we packed, I checked her sleeping furry little form to see if she was still breathing. Each day, I was disappointed to find the answer was 'yes'. If she didn't co-operate soon, I would have to call the vet to make other 'arrangements'. As moving day (or so we thought) approached, the guilt started. At least I thought it was guilt, but on top of the stomach pains and massive headaches I was already having, who knows? Killing my cat because I didn't want to be inconvenienced with her during the move seemed selfish. Telling myself it was the kind thing to do, because she would be so terrified during the move seemed like a lie.

Eushie was the last thing we packed last weekend. Into the dark basement I went, found her still breathing. She was unceremoniously stuffed into her cat carrier, then meowing to the van. At the hotel, I half hoped that the crate stuffing had sent her on to catnip fields forever. But when the door was opened she slunk out and headed under the bed. I worried that she would be constantly meowing in worry.

Don't worry, she is now in cat heaven. By which I mean that she is terrorizing the dog, just like the old days. She has a warm bed to sleep under, and her family all around her. Quite an improvement over the past years alone in the basement. She likes to sit under the desk while I type. She is comfortable and happy. When we get into the Burlington house, she will have a place with us, not banished to the basement.

Blogisode 11-Closing Time

2011-11-04T17:38:00.006-04:00

Monday

November 7th 2011

3:30pm

The date and time of the closing on the Burlington house have been set. It would not surprise me if we were struck with a plague of locusts or an asteroid shower. If zombies attacked I would simply shrug my shoulders, "whatever." Earthquake? Bring it.

Today was a volley of emails between all parts of the parties involved in the purchase of this house in order to schedule the closing. The beautiful part was that I didn't have to telephone anyone to make it happen. I don't know what the underwriter is doing today without our loan to scrutinize and I don't care. The only two calls I had to make were to schedule the moving company for Tuesday and let the contractor know we really really were buying the house on Monday.

That Old House-Blogisode 10: Homeless

2011-11-03T20:58:00.008-04:00

On Monday, October 31st we sold the home we had lived in for 14 years. When we started on our adventure in real estate, we imagined that day to be an exciting launch into our new home. Our reality was a state without power and an anxious state of mind. We did not go to the closing of our home. Thanks to the joy of The Power of Attorney, we did not attend the sale. We are very happy that our home will go to people who appreciate it and love it. I just couldn't sit in a room of joy, not knowing when my family would be in a home again.

Even with power lines down, Maizie and I went Trick or Treating. We joined her friend Jake and Miss Kristin of Daycare fame in a dark neighborhood teaming with angry birds, mummy brides and robots. It turns out that my shy girl who can't talk to new people, has no problems running up to strange houses if there is candy involved. Perhaps I should revisit my parenting skills.

The rest of the week is a haze of over the counter medications, dotted with pointless phone conversations with the mortgage company trying to find out when we would have the paperwork for our closing. It went something like this,

"Is it done yet?"

"Not yet, but the end of the day".

"Is it done yet?".

"Later on this morning for sure".

"Is it done yet?".

"By lunch you'll get it".

All week I heard "your file is with the underwriter now". What I couldn't understand was if the underwriter had it for almost two weeks, why didn't we have a mortgage. Today, I finally told the mortgage company to make up something new to tell me about the status of the loan. I was tired of the underwriter excuse.

During that same conversation, the same conversation I'd had all week, I was told that the loan was going to clear tonight, but one way or another, I would get a call that evening about our status. Yawn, deja vu.

Two hours later, I noticed I had a voice mail. It was the mortgage man's cell phone. I looked at my phone, afraid to hit the return call button. Maizie handed me her fluffy white polar bear. "You should have this because you look worried, Mommy". I hugged my kid, took the bear and hit redial.

"Our offices are currently closed..." Did I mention that Jeff the Mortgage Man has a sense of humor? He started laughing. I was too busy holding my breath, hoping his levity meant I wouldn't have to hear 'your file is with the underwriter' for the bejillionth time. I didn't.

I did get to hear, "You are clear to close." Tonight I will sleep without the aid of over the counter medication. Tomorrow the lawyers and realtors and loan officers, oh my, will find a day when we can officially buy the home that has consumed our lives for months. Please let it be soon.

That Old House-Blogisode 9: A Plague on Both Our Houses

2011-10-30T19:00:00.003-04:00

Three weeks ago, the buyers of our house asked to move up the closing date. Since things were rolling on the Burlington front, we agreed and on Wednesday we set the date for both closings for Monday, October 31st. Thursday our mortgage company informed me that the required paperwork for our mortgage wasn't complete, and wouldn't be until next week.

You may have heard me alternately yelling and crying. You may remember back from earlier chapters in this story, that my biggest fear was that we would be homeless. Funny, isn't it, that I sit here in my nice room at the Marriot Residence Inn. Yesterday, the movers came and took all of our earthly possessions away. Tomorrow, our Southington home will be sold.

If all that is funny, then this is hysterical. While the movers were packing the trucks, it began to snow...and snow...and snow. Down it came, and down came the trees. We lost power in the afternoon. I called the hotel we had already booked for Sunday. They still had openings for the evening so we dumped clothes and toiletries into whatever was handy and headed for the hotel.

Our house was empty and littered with the packing leftovers and last minutes. Bags of trash marched down the stairs, lounged against walls. When Maizie went upstairs to her bedroom, she began wailing for her bed to come back RIGHT NOW.

When we told Maizie we could go to a hotel, she lit up. The last hotel we stayed in had a dolphin pool below our sunny balcony, and she survived on strawberry dacquiris. I hoped she wouldn't be disappointed by a Marriot Residence Inn. She couldn't pack fast enough to get out of the house.

We hit the pool, and were luxuriating in a suite with TWO televisions. I was enjoying a hot shower, when it all went dark. The lights came back on, then off again. I refused to leave the shower. Surely, the hotel generator would kick in. I should have known better.

The power was still off this morning but we had to head back to the house to clean and finish emptying the detritus. It's less than a mile from the hotel to our house. I can't tell you how many downed trees and power lines we passed. We turned on to Raynor but had to detour a tree that blocked the way to our house. I held my breath that when we turned back onto Raynor there wouldn't be a tree laying on top of our house. We were lucky, there are many branches in the yard, but nothing on the roof.

Tomorrow morning we will finish the cleaning of the house. Maybe we will have news from the mortgage about when we might be able to close on the Burlington House. We will be waiting in the pool for any updates.

That Old House: Blogisode Eight- Stretched

2011-10-18T21:25:00.003-04:00

This afternoon I sent our tense and cranky five year old to play on the computer. When she got bored and cranky with that, I picked her up like a toddler and hugged her tightly. "When are you going to be all stretched out?" leaning her head on mine, she asked.

"Oh, I'm all done growing, honey," I answered, laughing.

"No, when are you and Daddy going to be done stretching out?"

The room does a flip flop as I realize she is looking for the word 'stressed'. The five year old isn't the only tense and cranky person in the house, and she knows it. Most of the time, David and I aren't in the house at the same time. When we are, all we can do it pour over paperwork, make phone calls and wrinkle our brows.

Months ago, we started this mantra, "It's going to be a difficult process, but in the end it will be worth it." Isn't that quaint? That was before I had to buy a potpourri of over the counter drugs for the upset stomach and sleepless nights.

It is ironic that it takes the five year old to call me out on my own bad behavior. It's good to have a little perspective around.

That Old House: Blogisode Seven- Endless Days and Sleepless Nights

2011-10-08T17:37:00.007-04:00

This weekend saw a momentous step in our housing pursuit. For the first time my nightmares took place inside the Miller Road house. Up until now, my dreams have all been centered on having to find a different house.

The events of my waking hours on Wednesday may have led to this change in my subconscious. The sellers response to our request to put in a new septic tank was due on Wednesday. Technically, it was due Monday, but you may remember that time moves a little more slowly out in the western part of the state. With all of the offers/counter offers/counter counter offers flying all day, it was like playing internet poker. They agreed to have the septic replaced before we move in , and we are giving back some of the money we asked them for closing costs. It wasn't quite the solution we were hoping for, but it allows us to move forward. Now we wait to finish mortgage paperwork, and hopefully move up the closing date.

In better news, the sellers agent told us that the new tank should be in by next week. We still haven't been able to test the plumbing on the well that was supposed to have been drilled and inspected by September 30. I figured we wouldn't see the septic installed until Christmas. At least Maizie's gotten really good at peeing in the woods during our trips to the house. The lack of plumbing doesn't bother her.

It seems like this crazy house deal just might work out after all. My mom spent the weekend with us. In a craze of optimism, we dove into packing and made several trips to the dump. We just might be in Burlington for Halloween for Trick or Treating. I've had enough of scary things for the past few months, I'd like my treat now.

That Old House: Blogisode Six-Septastic!

2011-09-30T20:56:00.007-04:00

Welcome Back, Gentle Reader.

When last we left, the intrepid home buyers were desperate to hear the sound of running water coursing through the Burlington home's pipes and septic system. With a visual confirmation of a well drilling rig on the property, hope sprang anew, among those searching for just the right size refrigerator box to set up house in come November 10.

Then on Wednesday, the high took a dive with an email from the seller's agent. The well was drilled, but it was unknown if the well would be connected to the house. We really are picky about some things.

'Unknown'. This word baffled me. How could it be unknown? Pick up the phone, call the well contractor and say, 'Hey, when is the well being hooked up to the house'. In my business, giving 'I don't know' as an answer is like wetting your pants in public. As Friday and the scheduled septic & plumbing test, along with our first meeting with the contractor ebbed closer, my mood plummeted. Add a hiccup with the loan paperwork, and all the Nyquil in the world couldn't get me to sleep.

This morning, Maizie and I met David and a full driveway of vehicles at the Miller Road home. The water was connected to the house, but because of bacterial concerns, it couldn't be run through the plumbing for another week, per health code. Although, with the aid of a trusty garden hose, our friends the Home Inspectors, Bill and Tim were able to run water into the sewer lines. Finding where those lines went was not so easy.

Tim finally flushed a mouse down the toilet. This was an electronic mouse, different from the actual mouse that was belly up in the basement. With it, he was able to track where the water was going. He and Bill played Where's Waldo in the yard until they were able find the correct cover. From the amount of digging Tim had to do to unearth the cover, no one had touched it for quite some time. Best guess on 'some time' is the 1950s.

The good news was that the opened cover didn't reveal a cesspool. I always thought this was just a term my mom used when my room was really messy. It turns out a cesspool really is a tank of crap. This tank was for crap, but at least it was a septic tank. It handled the 300 gallons of water being flushed through it for the first time in years, and did what it was supposed to do. The water flowed out through leaching fields. The bad news was that the tank was a rusting metal dinosaur, perhaps the same vintage as the furnace decaying in the basement.

The amazing thing was the sense of relief that it was just the tank that was bad. After a week of my hair turning grey, the news that the tank had failed seemed anticlimactic. Plus, Shane the Contractor, and our next hero arrived, and stole the spotlight. He didn't see a problem with us living in the house during the repairs. He wants to get the furnace contractor out to the house before closing, so the new furnace can be ready to go when the papers are signed.

He had me when he wanted to find a way to reuse the original stone steps to the front door. The FHA has a stair fetish that puts these little safety regulations on steps. It made my teeth hurt to think of pressure treated lumber steps on a 230 year home.

He even handed me a roof shingle swatch card. That was so cute. No heat, running water, or septic tank, but at least I can pick a roof color. Despite those minor details, I began looking at the rooms a different way. Maybe it was just the amazing light on the wide old plank floors, but I started seeing where the piano would go, what color Maizie's room would be, us watching TV in the back room. The deal isn't done yet. We still might need that refrigerator box to live in, but today felt the closest we've been to saying that we are going to buy this house.

Most importantly, whilst I type, a fresh tube of hair dye is permeating my scalp. With a healthy dose of the Oil of Olay eye cream, a beer and a shot of Nyquil, I may even look human for Maizie's birthday party tomorrow.

I had no idea the upstairs hallway had green walls or carpets until I saw this photo I took with my flash. There's never been a lightbulb in the fixture, all the times we've been to the house. Now we know the reason why.

If the house deal doesn't go belly up, this will be David's and my bedroom. Please note that the logs in the fireplace are props only.

There's nothing like a coat of seafoam green paint in a house that's over 200 years old.

Likewise, this will be the Living Room, or the Music Room, depending on who you are talking to.

That Old House:Blogisode Five-Well, Well, Well

2011-09-26T21:27:00.008-04:00

Last week I went in to my boss's office, livid over the state of costume storage. The men's shoes were strewn willy nilly, restocked all higgeldy piggeldy. I begged him to let me spend a few days getting them sorted neatly into their correct boxes, arranged and orderly.

These past two months, nothing has been orderly. I don't know if my family will have a place to live come November 10, let along if it will have heat and water. All of the answers I want are dependent on a faceless group of others, that I can't even speak to myself. It was inevitable I would have a Loss of Control Related Breakdown. I don't know where we are going to be living in a month, but at least I would be able to locate a size 12 men's black wing tip in seconds.

The past two weeks have been filled with water angst. We have been waiting and waiting, not so patiently now, for the seller to fulfill their agreement to dig a new well for the property. Our initial contract said it needed to be installed by September 30. We discovered at the home inspection that there was no water at all into the house, and were unable to test the septic and plumbing. Afterwards, we told them it needed to be done as soon as possible so we could test the septic and plumbing. Otherwise, we could not continue with the purchase of the house.

Time moves more slowly in Burlington it seems. It's been three weeks since we had the home inspection but it feels like 3 months. Two weeks ago, we were told that the well permit had been applied for and it usually only took a few days. I called the Burlington Department of Health myself this morning to check if the permit for the well had gone through yet. Phyllis told me it had been mailed to the well contractor, but couldn't tell me when.

The good news is that when David drove by the house today, there was a beautiful drilling truck in the yard. On Friday, we have scheduled the septic and plumbing inspection. Our General Contractor, oh those beautiful words, is also meeting us at the house to discuss the renovations.

That Old House: Blogisode Four-Just Another Brick In The Wall

2011-09-14T21:09:00.006-04:00

Chimchiminee, Chimchiminee, Chimchimcher-WHEEEEEWW!

This week I've gotten to speak with most of the chimney professionals in our area. Most of my experience with fireplaces involve sitting looking into them while drinking a beer. I did not get to discuss my beer preferences with any of these professionals. No, they just wanted to talk about if we wanted to burn wood or maybe those new fangled gas logs. How about a nice insert?

How about you listen to the part where I said, "I have a big old chimney I need to make sure isn't going to fall down and take the rest of the house that we don't own yet with it." "Those gas logs look great, you know".

On to the next chimney professional on the list. The man who answered spoke sharply accented English. He sounded old, and slightly cranky. I asked his name and when he answered, Stash, and the last name ended in 'ski', I knew I had hit paydirt. He wasn't the belligerent old Italian mason I was hoping for, but a cranky old Polak was a very acceptable alternative. I can say Italian and Polak, because I am both.

David spent time with Stash's partner Robert this morning. Robert was younger than expected but at least his last name did also end in 'ski' and english was not his first language. He spent an hour examining every nook and cranny, the holes that you can see sky through, "Hunh, that's not guuuuud". Wow, we are chimney experts after all!

From the beginning, David knew the top part of the chimney, from below the roof line up through it needed to be taken down. Robert confirmed that the rest of the chimney, is unusable as is, but isn't a falling hazard. The tear down estimate is about $2000, a nice alternative to $20,000 to rebuild from the first floor up. We won't have working fire places when we move in, but what the heck, we probably won't have a furnace or water either.

I hear that gas logs do look really nice, though.

You may remember on our first trip the bathroom looked like this.

I apologize to you film students who wanted to shoot your Zombie Apocalypse film in our bathroom. I was really counting on the extra income from renting it to you for your set.

Yes, that is a claw foot tub. So there's no running water, hot water heater, and who knows if the plumbing works. It sure does look mighty purty, though.

That Old House: Blogisode Three-Establishing Blame

2011-09-07T21:42:00.009-04:00

Another chance meeting of a neighbor in the grocery store, pleasantries exchanged, the "What's new with you" review. I am attempting to perfect my 90 second plot synopsis of how in the past four months we've sold our house and are attempting to purchase an abandoned old home near David's school. I've been starting with, "It's David's fault."

He cannot recall what random googling first brought him to the real estate listing for the 1700s house. He doesn't know what prompted him to drive by on the way home for school. If he hadn't, I'd be sleeping much easier, I am sure.

But after months of looking up at my bedroom ceiling at 3am, I realize that the blame can go farther back. I realize now that Scotty and Peg need to shoulder some responsibility. Last year, they moved into a two hundred year old home, complete with amazing pond view. I like to sit in their living room and pretend I live there.

At 4am, it becomes clear that the blame can be traced to John and Lara. We sat this summer looking online at ramshackle estates, planning how we would all move in together, coveting marble fire places, joking about asbestos and lead abatement.

By 5am, I remember when David came home from his first visit to the 1700s house and told me I could have my own first floor studio with windows and a door to a stone patio. At 5:01, I know I am also to blame, but swear never to tell a soul.

The clock flashes 6am and I can breathe a deep sigh of relief. That's right, I've decided on a color scheme for the kitchen in the 1700s house, if the chimney doesn't fall through the floor before November 10. It's turn of the century Coke advertising, in case you were interested.

Another view of my perhaps studio. Why yes, that is a fire place. The doorway on the right leads to the front door. The open closet door leading to leading to someplace scary is where the Dr. Seuss animals live.

The Chimney of Woe; or perhaps, the WHOA don't you fall over chimney.

On a brighter note, a bright white plaster note that is, the completely gutted bathroom, with fresh paint and new floors.

This sink and vanity were in the dining room. Keep your fingers crossed that they are headed upstairs to the bathroom. I love them!

That Old House: Blogisode Two- Opelika

2011-09-06T20:15:00.006-04:00

Twenty years ago I did crazy things on a regular basis. I moved to Washington DC and slept on friends' houses and in attics while living the glamorous life of a professional costumer. All my possessions could fit into my station wagon. It was a 1977 Ford Mercury Cougar Woody Wagon, so it could hold alot. I got onto a tour bus with 8 people I didn't know, because I thought it would be cool to tour the country with a Broadway show (insert Non-Equity Disclaimer here). None of that seemed weird.

While touring, I once had to drive around Kansas City to borrow props for 'The Sound of Music' because at the last moment the venue had changed. The new venue happened to be the local highschool and there was no room to unload the scenery and props. My local assistant for the day was a highschool drama geek. He drove me to his house so I could ask his mom if we could borrow her tea set. That wasn't weird either.

In Opelika, Alabama the venue was a hemp house the size of a shoe box, so there wasn't room for much scenery, let alone to fly it. The local flyman, Luther, told me I had the nicest ass he'd ever seen on a white woman. He would know, his nickname is Luther the Human Butt, because 3/4 of his body is his bottom. It was a long day of load in , and tempers were running high and I had to thank him for the compliment. I meant it, too. When you are challenged at every turn, the smallest bright spot can outshine all the crap.

That's what I had to remember this morning. Buying a 250 year old house with a leaning chimney, a dead furnace, and no water is not weird at all for me. It would be weirder for me to miss this opportunity.

While I was prowling around the property yesterday in the rain, I felt like I was home. I poked in the barns and sheds. I found the creek. I had my own Lion King moment, "All this will be yours, Simba'. There are still going to be alot of sleepless nights. We aren't completely good to go for the sale yet. We are getting closer.

This is the stone patio with it's giant Maple tree canopy. I've always dreamed of a stone patio. The first time I saw this house, I would have bought it for those rocks alone.

Here is David in the basement, the very solidly built basement, despite the powder puff beetle infestation. Our new friend Bill the housing inspector took great delight in hitting one of the support beams with his screwdriver. A giant cloud of wood dust showered down. I almost passed out. He laughed at me and said they can't do any damage to the heartwood of the logs that support the house.

Clearly, this is where Maizie's tree house will go. It can be bigger than most apartments in New York.

That Old House: Blogisode 1

2011-09-06T18:27:00.009-04:00

(25 Miller Road--Actual House May Differ)

Today we spent 5 hours in the 1700s house in Burlington, CT, getting to know Bill the Housing Inspector and his son, Tim. Of course our pal and realtor Rebecca was along for the fun. Before he started, Bill asked if we had any questions. "Is it going to fall down?", I cut to the chase. "Eventually", he answered. I knew I liked that guy.

We are not giving up on this house...yet. The home inspection provided some very good news, but there wasn't the cloud clearing, finger of God moment of revelation where all our questions were answered.

The foundation of the house with it's tree trunk support beams and giant stone slab foundation is solid construction. The 200 year old chimney is another story, or three to be exact. It is possible that the entire structure needs to be rebuilt or removed. Separate inspections are needed to assess that situation.

The state and location and of the septic field is unknown, because there is no working water in the place. There is no working water because the owners are putting in a well to replace the spring fed system. In our contract we requested that well be in place by the middle of October, not realizing that without it, there could be no septic test. It's also hard to inspect plumbing if you can't run water through it. The house can't be appraised without a working toilet and we can't get the mortgage without one either.

I thought today would stop the clock I hear ticking in my head. Instead I hear three or four. Additional inspections and appraisers and the November 10th closing on our house mean one thing. I will not be cutting down the amount of coke I drink anytime soon.

Whoops I Sold My House- Blogisode 5: Judgement Day

2011-09-05T20:55:00.007-04:00

Tomorrow at 10am we have a date with destiny, the housing inspection on the 1700s house. After months of gut churning, we will finally know if we should buy our dream home. Is there anything keeping that house from falling over? If the inspector finds the house unsafe, or in need of exorbitant repairs, we must begin searching for another home. The November 10th closing date on our own home creeps ever closer. (See Blogisode One: Whoops I Sold My House.)

Two weeks ago, we spent a few hours in the house. I walked around in side. For the first time, I looked at it like I was really going to live in it. And ran panicked for the outside. The sight of 50 year old wall paper, cracked plaster, not to mention old house smell did make me bolt for the great outdoors, but once outside, the story changed.

I took my time walking the yard, looking at the trees. Many, many trees. I could breathe. More importantly, I felt like I belonged there.

Today I remembered the first night we slept in this house. We closed on it, and then camped out on the floor with pizza and sleeping bags. The house was filled with ancient carpet, and a sea of avocado and harvest gold wall paper. Over the next days, it became ours. Lose the carpet, tear down cheap paneling, and the scent of paint to wash everything new again. All the 1700s house needs to feel like ours, is for us to live in it awhile.

Tomorrow, the Housing Roulette wheel finally stops spinning, and we see which way the ball will drop. Don't worry. I am bringing plenty of provisions for the day.

Whoops I Sold My House- Blogisode 4: Meanwhile Back At Home

2011-09-01T21:52:00.004-04:00

The only house that got inspected today was the one we are currently living in. We finally did receive the signed contract for the 1700s house, but had already postponed the home inspection. No sense paying for a home inspection, if the owners hadn't signed on the dotted line yet. We are rescheduled for next Tuesday.

We knew when we put our house on the market, that only a certain type of buyer would be interested in it. Not only are our buyers that 'certain type', they are us 14 years ago. A young couple in the arts, working at Wesleyan and Yale, with a sense of humor and eclectic style will hopefully be the new owners of the house we have loved so much. I got to meet them during the inspection on our home, exciting and bitter sweet. I am happy that they also fell in love with this house, but disconcerting to have people walking through your home, making plans for it.

Whoops I Sold My House:Blogisode 3 The Inside Scoop

2011-08-30T22:20:00.006-04:00

Back for another thrill-a-minute ride on the Blogosphere? Yesterday on 'Whoops I Sold My House', we had put an offer in on the house of our dreams in Burlington, CT. Today, our realtor called to tell us that the three owners of the home, and accepted our offer as is, no counter offers or negotiating required. Yes, that sound was that of me exhaling loudly in relief. We now move on to Round Two in the Nail Biting Olympics; the Home Inspection. This is where we hire an expert to find out what's really wrong with the house. We should have hired an expert to find out what's really wrong with us for wanting this house. This post will help you be the judge.

Here is 25 Miller Road. Why yes, my husband's name is Miller. Co-incidence? We think not.

It is a 2.25 acre lot, but two sides of the property border state forest land. Miller Road is a dead end street. Barn, you ask. Two, thank you very much.

This is the dining room. If we did decide to have cows, (barns, remember) we could easily cook one in this fireplace. Note the gently sloping floor, makes it so much easier to exit the dining room, because you are walking down hill.

This is a bedroom. We lived in an apartment smaller than this room. Across the hallway is another just like it, but without a fire place. I personally love that the floor was painted around a carpet.

This room will be my studio, if the house doesn't collapse in on itself. It has windows, how unusual.
A view of the kitchen, which we will gut and put back in an 'Oldey Timey' style, my personal favorite. There just aren't enough counters for me to mess up while I cook. And really the only room in the house that we would gut and reconfigure.

And the bathroom. Gotcha!

When David first told me about this property, this is what I expected the entire house to look like. I had to look behind the cardboard covering the lower part of the lovely aqua cabinets to see how many zombies were hiding there. The drop ceiling with the firring strips over the tiles is a truly classic style.

The second time we went to look at the place, we happened to find one of the owners there. He was working on the second floor and we had the chance to talk to him about the place. When I say 'talk' I mean schmooze. I told him all about our 1940s cape that we had restored the wood siding on. I peaked around the corner to see what he was working on and was almost blinded by the new white plaster in the bathroom. He had completely gutted the walls, ceiling and floor. The crime scene fixtures had all been removed. The room was a blank slate of fresh plaster floor to ceiling.

I write, while we continue the waiting game. The owners have verbally agreed to our offer, but we will not have the home inspected until we have a signed agreement. We have one scheduled for Thursday. We shall find out tomorrow if it's on or off.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled waiting.

Whoops I Sold My House-Blogisode 2: Take A Chance On Me

2011-08-29T13:23:00.003-04:00

When last I left you, just before Hurricane Irene took out our power, we had sold our house and fallen in love with a house from the 1700s. I may have forgotten to mention the part where we haven't actually put an offer in on that house yet.

The good news is that at 11:30am this morning our realtor met with the realtor for the 1700s house to deliver our offer. It is owned by three siblings in their 70s whose parents had bought the house in the 1950s. Our house is supposed to close on November 10. That's what the loud ticking noise I hear in my sleep is.

We are hoping that our offer is accepted by Tuesday evening, because we have a house inspection scheduled for Thursday. A fun part of buying a really old house is that you can't have an inspector see if it's going to fall down, until you offer to buy the house.

To recap, our Southington house closes November 10. We just put an offer in on the 1700s house, which might fall through. Then we begin searching for another house. If the offer is accepted we move on to the housing inspection, which if it fails, we begin searching for another house. I've got to go now, I just ran out of antacid tablets.

Tune in tomorrow for the next exciting chapter: "The Inside Scoop".

Whoops I Sold My House-Part One The Perils of Facebook

2011-08-27T20:00:00.002-04:00

I was really pissed off when I learned on Facebook that my sister was engaged. We lived 2 miles apart, she couldn't have mentioned it over beers on Friday night. I should have known better than to post 'Whoops I sold my house' last night and not expect to get alot of raised cyber eyebrows.

Yes. We have sold our house. It went on the market the Friday before last.. Wait, yesterday was Friday. Yes, you can drive through our neighborhood and count 'For Sale' signs like sheep, but yesterday afternoon our realtor sat in our (not for much longer) dining room with a contract and deposit check for our house, exactly seven days after listing it.

WOW! That's terrific in this market, right? Why do I feel like I am going to throw up then? Now here is the backstory that was too long to post on Facebook.

In May, David was cruising through real estate listings. Every few months he likes to do this. He will taunt me with things like "Hey, how about a 14 acre horse farm in Pennsylvania?". I smile and nod and go about my business. This time he had found a listing for a house built in the 1700s in Burlington, CT near his school. It sat on 2 acres and was listed as a 'project house'. "Uh huh, dear, that's nice". I went about my business.

A week later he told me he went to look at the 1700s house. He wanted me to look at it. I figured it was ready to fall down. I would look, tell him 'no way' and we would get back to reality.

I didn't realize visiting that house would alter my perception of reality.

END OF PART 1

Tune in tomorrow, if the hurricane hasn't taken out your power or the internet, for the next exciting chapter.

Rock You Like A Hurricane

2011-08-26T11:10:00.002-04:00

Hurricane Irene is easing it's way up to New England, but nobody panic! Maizie is fully prepared, and more importantly fully accessorized.

Not to be outdone, I made my own storm provisions. I cut every flower in my garden. The power may go out, but these zinnias will look beautiful by candle light.

CATS: Now and Forever

2011-07-12T20:58:00.000-04:00

The first little apartment we had in Connecticut had a no pets policy. This did not stop us from getting a cat...or two. Our landlord loved us. So we had two cats. We didn't steal things from the other tenants, nor sleep in the storage area in the basement. Cops never had to come and break up our domestic disputes. We probably could have had a pony in that apartment with his blessing.

There were two things about cats that I didn't realize then.

They are not dogs.
They live alot longer than goldfish.

When we moved to our next apartment, we acquired a third cat. I didn't want another, but David wanted to save the struggling kitten. I only said yes because I didn't expect it to live through the night. The joke was on me.

Almost twenty years later, we are finally down to one cat. The other two were also extremely long lived and passed within the year. Eushie has been living in the basement for the past three years. We bring her up, she goes back down. She has taken over Maizie's little pink chair and spends her days curled up on it. I check her every day to see if she's still alive. Alas, she always is.

Before we went on vacation, I decided that the time had come for her to go to the great Cat Nip Farm in the Sky. About 6 months ago, we had to have our first cat Tave' put to sleep. She had gotten very ill, had a stroke and hid in the basement. By the time I found her, she had been suffering for a few days. It would be more humane rather than have Eushie go belly up while we were away.

The next day, I said my farewells to our last sweet cat and left for work. About noon, David called from the vet to say he was bringing the cat home. "So we can bury her?" I asked. I didn't understand what he was saying. No, the cat was old but evidently in good health, a little cough, and pink eye. Some tests, and x ray and lots of medication, were just what she needed the vet said.

I suppose it all did end for the best. She's still down on her pink chair, and the vet was able to afford his boat payment this month.

FairyGodmother Goes to Altamont

2011-06-30T20:30:00.000-04:00

After a year and a half of selling costumes online, I went from virtual to analog. David, Maizie and I rented a motor home and headed to the Old Songs Festival in Altamont, New York. We made a stop at the airport to pick up my sales manager. Aunt Wendy flew in from Ohio to help sell, and wrangle the four year old.

With my store set and props, and of course costumes, we felt like we were on tour again. There was more tour dejavu when we pulled the RV right up to the booth and began load in. For someone who doesn't know what they are doing, I am always amazed by how much I seem to know what to do. This was the first time I had set up a sales booth, yet we had lights hung and racks assembled before the 'old timers' did. I attribute most of this to my husband the carpenter, and knowing what tools we would need.

I did resort to shameless exploitation of my daughter, and bribery. Lots of bribery. Every time she wanted to take a walk around the festival, she had to wear a costume. If she wanted to buy a stuffed animal, she had to wear a costume. No costume, no ice cream.

The strange truth is that Maizie was not my best promoter. Early in the festival, two moms bought super hero capes for their three year old boys. They tried on the capes, ran out into the lane between the booths, puddle riddled from the afternoons rain, and promptly dropped the capes into the water. Crowds watched and laughed. I laughed the loudest, as the mothers' faces turned white with mortification. I called out that they were washable and resumed giggling.

They bought the capes, I gave them a discount, and those boys didn't remove them for the rest of the weekend. Everywhere we heard people talking about those boys in their capes. I sold out of every super hero cape I had. My online store had only sold one, but I made fifteen for the fair anyway, thinking I was wasting my time. I could have sold at least six more.

At the end, I couldn't decide how successful the trip was. I didn't sell as much as I would have liked, but I also didn't know what a realistic expectation was. I did learn a great deal about how to sell in person. We got to hear some great old music, and sleep in an RV. Not bad.

Great Adventure

2011-06-12T20:30:00.012-04:00

Friday Night.

The Monkees Live In Concert

Chris and I arrived at the Mohegun Sun Casino early enough for Bobby Flay to make us dinner...alright, for the chef at Bobby Flay's restaurant make us dinner. The dinner was amazing, and first bonus surprise of the evening, they were serving my new favorite IPA, Raging Bitch from Flying Dog Brewery.

Then, surprise, our free seats for the concert, were five rows off the floor, and close enough for me to speculate on Davey Jones' toupee. The arena was nearly full of nerds just like us. We were happy to see there were quite a few older than us. Watching the audience was nearly as entertaining as the Monkees. For some old hipsters they put on a good show. They got the whole arena arm waving for ' Daydream Believer'.

The beauty of the casino as a concert venue, is the extra oxygen they pump into the air, to keep the senior citizens awake and pumping more money into those slot machines. It meant that after the concert, we were ready to have some drinks and throw our money away.

We longed to have drinks at the picturesque waterfall bar, but alas we were wearing neither skirts short enough nor heels high enough to make that scene. We did wander the casino. It turned out to be harder to get a drink than I imagined. Even without booze, we worked up the courage to feed $5.00 into a slot machine, after biting down the rage that there were no machines that just took $1.00 bills.

We had no idea what we were doing. There were buttons, we pushed them. Sometimes, after pushing the buttons, our total credits went up. Sometimes they went down. Up was better, because the little lights spun around, and happy dinging chimes sounded. We promised that when we hit $10, we would stop. I hit a button that we hadn't pushed before, and got the happy chimes. They went on and on. We watched our credits go up, past $10. You are hoping to hear that we won $1000. We didn't. We won $30, but we were as excited as if we had struck it big.

We took our cash in search of a bar. We strolled past a well dressed, but rather oily young man who called out 'Cute MILFS' as we passed. I turned and said, "God bless you". Our bar destination turned out to be Michael Jordan's restaurant. For the first time in years, a strange man bought us drinks. So what he was in his sixties, he had over $5000 in his pocket, which he showed us. The nice gentleman, and he really was, sold RVs and was waiting while his wife gambled.

This Cinderella's evening out finally ended at 1:30am. Not bad for a girl of a certain age. Here I confess that the magic wasn't about the beer or the concert or free drinks. For one night I got to be eighteen again. Twenty five years ago, Chris and I had seen the Monkees in concert at an amusement park with our theatre friends from college. We were all best friends, young, silly, and nothing could touch us.

Friday, I got to feel that way again.

Thank you, Eustina.

Sometimes You Get What You Need

2011-06-05T22:36:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was supposed to be our big date night out for our 17th wedding anniversary. When the babysitter called to cancel, I cancelled our dinner reservations. It looked like it was going to be just another macaroni and cheese night.

I had been looking forward to seeing the rose gardens at Elizabeth Park all week. Disappointment was setting in. I started thinking. Why couldn't we still have our date night, but with the addition of a small child? It's not like the park was rated NC 17. There are restaurants where you can eat with your kid, that don't involve happy meals.

Off we went to Hartford. Not only were the roses in bloom, but prom bound teenagers with their shutterbug parents were as common as dandylions. Maizie liked all the girls in their 'costumes'. I kept getting distracted from the roses by the stylish, and the less than. It was very hard not to have a fashion intervention when one girl in a white chiffon tunic and black opaque leggings and boots strolled by. I turned away, concentrating on the roses around me.

Maizie loved the maze, as she called the gardens. She scampered barefoot in the grass. Then, suddenly she was finished with all that nature. "What come next?" she inquired.

Off to the glamorous Olive Garden for dinner we went. All you can eat breadsticks? Now there's a reason to celebrate. Again, our daughter was polite, charming, and witty. She even shared her post dinner chocolate mint with me, unsolicited.

A priceless anniversary.

Seventeen

2011-06-04T13:24:00.005-04:00

It was also a beautiful sunny day when David and I got married seventeen years ago today. Usually, I have to take off my wedding band to look at the date stamped inside to calculate how long we've been married. Luckily, David did the math for me. I think he wanted to save me the embarrassment.

We've got dinner reservations at the Pond House in Elizabeth Park later. All the years we've been here, I've never gotten to see these amazing gardens. Since our babysitter just cancelled, I'll have to wait a little longer. Unless you're not busy tonight and want to watch the kid.

These pictures were taken by Maizie. She is very angry with us, for getting married without her.

Quality Time

2011-05-30T21:39:00.006-04:00

I finally got to spend a little quality time with my rototiller. No, that is not a euphemism. The rainy spring has turned to sunny summer but the only thing I can see when I look over my garden is weeds!

My grandmother was an amazing gardner, she could be a bit cranky, but her roses were amazing. I was too young to realize what I was learning following her around in the dirt. I have my own muddy shadow. Maizie, bare feet, dirt between her toes squeals over the 'squishy' ground. I tell her the names of the flowers that will grow from the seeds. She repeats them back to me. She put the seeds in place and covers them with dirt.

Don't go looking for any vegetables in my garden. I'm not one of those earthy hippy types (Scotty & Peg), trying to grow a year's worth of my own food. I would much rather support our local farmers by purchasing my produce from them. That's what I tell myself in July when I have armfuls of zinnias and sweet peas in my house.

Dress For Success

2011-05-25T21:51:00.005-04:00

Pulling into the driveway after school, Maizie asked if she could jump in the puddles. By puddles, she meant lagoons. I responded quickly, any pause would have been taken as an affirmative.

"Not until you go change out of your sneakers and school clothes."

She bounded back downstairs in a new ensemble, one she deemed more mud puddle appropriate.

She was right. It was stylish and washable.

Is It Too Late to Run Away With the Circus?

2011-05-14T15:38:00.014-04:00

Animal stink and sequins are the big part of my childhood recollections of the circus, and the regrets following a red helium balloon as it slipped from a wrist in the parking lot. I have a strict "I hate clowns" policy, but even that didn't stop me from wanting to be one of the showgirls riding the elephants. For sequined spandex and pachyderms, I would have even put up with clowns.

At four, we decided Maizie was ready for the circus. She's been seeing shows since she could walk, this one just happens to have animals...and a trapeze...and fire. David and I were more excited to see Ringling Brothers "Fully Charged" than our kid. We couldn't wait to see her little face light up with the magic. What we hadn't counted on was ourselves falling in love again with the circus.

For the record, the Big Top has changed Big Time. Maybe it was Cirque D'Soleil or PETA, but this time around there was a singing Ring Master, alot of acrobats and not as many animals, twenty show girls, with costume changes galore, Eastern European Strong Men in leather skirts. Maizie might have been enthralled, but David and I were too busy pointing and shrieking to notice what she was looking at.

When seeing any show, it's hard to turn off the work part of the brain. I spent most of the opening number analyzing the clothes. Who made the Ring Master's boots? What sort of petticoat stiffeners were keeping those show girl skirts horizontal, and how the heck did those wings open on the flyers? I kept estimating the cost of setting all those crystals. Really, if it stood still long enough to have a rhinestones on it, it did.

Having worked with the circus' costume designer before, made it even more fun. I had done Shakespeare and Strindberg with her. She does zebras and tumblers equally well.

But what about the clowns, you say. She even solved that phobia. The solution--Hot Clowns. That's right, young and hip, not to mention good looking. No freaky noses or cracking white grease paint, unnatural eyebrows or oversized shoes. Oversize muscles, yes.

But if I could still wear sequined spandex, I'd like my own elephant.

Isn't It Funny When

2011-04-30T23:00:00.001-04:00

David and Maizie were unloading groceries in the kitchen. He leaned in to stash the broccoli in the fridge and there were two stickers from Stew Leonards proudly displayed on the back pockets of his Levis. Maizie spotted them and attempted to remove them, which startled David, who had no idea they were there. "Maizie, did you put those stickers on me?", he asked.

"Yaaah."

"When?"

"In the grocery store".

At least she was honest, and I didn't have to help put away the groceries. I was laughing too much, then the snorting started. Then I was jealous that I hadn't done it myself.

Through all the years of our adoption, waiting and waiting, there were all these stories of how the right child always ends up with the right parents. I kept a polite smile on my face listening to these stories. Sentimental crap was what I was thinking.

Turns out, the joke was on me. Maizie is exactly the child we were supposed to have. Most of the time, I forget she was adopted, had a home before she had ours.

Somewhere back in China, that place is still there. We know very very little about Shicheng Social Welfare Institute. I joined an internet group of families who have adopted from Maizie's orphanage, curious, sometimes desperate for some look into her beginnings.

Surfing through pictures on the site, mostly of infant girls, something caught my eye. An album of photos taken at the orphanage, unbelievable that it was right there. I studied pictures of the women who take care of the children, recognizing some from our own photos of Maizie's adoption. One photo showed a poster in the lobby, all photos of babies with their adoptive parents in their new homes. My eye went to one photo that had a yellow lab in it, just like ours. Wait, no, it was ours. I realized I was looking at the photo of our family that I had sent to the orphanage.

In my search to find pictures of Maizie's first home, I find pictures of us together.

Now that, is funny.

Best Day Ever

2011-04-18T16:50:00.006-04:00

I wouldn't include a bladder infection and having blood drawn as part of my 'best day ever'. Evidently I don't think like a four year old.

Maizie spent most of the weekend in the bathroom, so we called the doctor this morning. She did go to daycare, but David was able to take her to the doctor's in the afternoon. I arrived home from work, just as they were pulling into the garage.

I heard Maizie calling my name, rushing up to my car door, waiting for the waterworks and wailing to begin. She begins, "Mommy, guess who I saw today!". "Your doctor!", I proudly answer. "No, I saw Riley at the playground!!!". I hear all about the playground before she remembers she has also been to the doctor. The she rolls up her sleeve to show me the cotton ball taped to her arm where she had blood drawn. "Isn't it cooool?", she exclaims, followed by, "and I didn't get sick like you do when you get a needle". My husband had obviously shared my little problem with passing out during injections with my daughter.

In the house, I unpacked her bag and medicine. She twirls over and says, " I want to take my medicine now, please." I fill up the dosing syringe and she sucks it down like cotton candy. While I am washing it in the sink, I accidentally squirt water all over the kitchen window. I think this is hysterical and so does she. She asks to see it, and we spend the next fifteen minutes filling and squirting the syringe.

Her eyes wide, she looks up at me and says, "This IS the best day ever!".

I’ve Got To Get Out More

2011-04-08T10:35:00.004-04:00

Yesterday was a very exciting day. I got my serger back from the sewing machine tune up man. I bought all sorts of new cleaning gadgets to keep my industrial machine purring along. I saved the best for last, though—a new shirring foot. That’s right, now I can gather fabric like a pro!

Hello, my name is Lisa and I am a sewingaholic. I started sewing when I was five, but managed to keep it in check all these years. Working in costume shops, gave me a natural outlet. Now that I am also doing so much sewing at home, it’s turned into an addiction. Sewing for theatre, I was always working on someone else’s vision. For Fairygodmother For Hire, I get to work on my own.

Sitting here typing, I feel my fingers going clammy on the keyboard, eyes dart to the door. My brain fixates on that new shirring foot waiting for me. I am obsessing about dresses from the 1700’s and their yards and yards of bias trim, gathered and stitched into intricate swirls of fabric frosting . I see those same swirls framing a cape hood and front, the hem of a skirt….Excuse me, I have to go sew something, NOW.

And What Did You Do At Work Today, Honey?

2011-04-04T20:03:00.014-04:00

Tech : Short for 'Technical Rehearsal'

Definition-

The final rehearsal period before an audience sees a show. This is the first time that the actors, costumes, scenery, props, lights and sound all come together for the first time. For a technician the day starts at 9am and ends after midnight. The actors spend ten hours of these days, on their feet, doing the same parts over and over, until all the elements fall exactly in the right place around their action.

It's alot like living the movie "Ground Hog Day", you just hope that you get something right so that you can move on to the next fix.

Last week we teched "The 39 Steps". Although there are only 4 actors in the cast, they play over 40 different roles. Sometimes even two roles at once. This makes for some tricky costuming. Thanks to some brilliant work by the director, there is a magical moment where two of the actors transform from one character into another, including full costume changes, and the audience doesn't even know what's happening until it's done. It get's top billing in the quick changes I've seen in my career.

Besides what's happening onstage, there's what's happening upstairs in the costume shop. The shop is full of costumers sewing like the wind. Wait a minute, you say. I thought you said the costumes were finished, so the actor's could rehearse in them. Well, yes, say I. But the funny thing about tech is, you discover that the apron can't come off over her head, the wig has to fit under the fedora, and the costume change that had three minutes in the rehearsal hall, has to be done in fifteen seconds onstage. That one calls for a a LOT more velcro.

Let's not forget all the glamour, though. Where would a show be without rhinestones? We put them on our Bog and Moor costumes. They look just like glistening drops of water on those old black rain coats covered in burlap and plastic plants.

After the production meeting on Friday, we discovered that they can solve a whole myriad of theatre tech woes. Even the sound department was willing to give them a try.

Costume Designer, Thomas Legalley demonstrates the 'frying pan' method of rhinestone setting. Melt the glue backed rhinestones in a skillet, apply with tweezers, and you've got MAGIC.

Elvis Has Left the Building

2011-03-20T16:06:00.008-04:00

That's code for "Lisa is running away with her friends for the weekend."

My college room mate Chris, may be a teacher by day, but she also makes an awesome travel agent and tour director. For the past few years she has been putting together weekend Girl Getaways for her college friends. At end of winter, spring isn't sure it's ready yet, last weekend was just what I needed.

Our destination was Chaddsford, Pa, home to Longwood Gardens.

It's like a cathedral for plant people. I wandered wide eyed and practically drooling for three hours through a maze of plant porn. From the windows, I kept looking at the outside garden, wondering how spectacular that show must be.

After the gardens, we did a tour of antique shops, a wine tasting at a local winery, and even time for clothes shopping. I'd forgotten what it was like to try on clothes without playing 'Beat the 4 year old's melt down clock'. For supper, Michelle joined Chris, Denise & I at a local brew pub. It felt like a week's vacation in two days.

The location was terrific spot for a mini getaway, but most important was spending time with friends I haven't seen in years. The scenery was spectacular, but we agree it doesn't matter where we go, the company is worth the trip.

Day Tripping With Thomas

2011-03-14T14:55:00.000-04:00

When someone finds out what I do for a living, their inevitable response is, "That must be so much fun!". Flashing through my head at that moment are the dirty looks from Macy's lingerie clerks as I return $800 worth of bras. I can feel the bales of receipts to be reconciled. I hear the leading lady saying, but I LOVE those Kenneth Cole shoes, just call him and see if he can make them in my size, and me actually calling the company, so I could tell her, no, Kenny won't make them in your size. Then I flash back farther to the summer after highschool that I spent as a bank teller, and was reprimanded in the manager's office for not wearing panty hose. Oddly, the few times that put too much cash into my customer's paychecks, didn't rate a tongue lashing.

Alright. What I do is fun.

Last week, my job was chauffeuring, and by chauffeuring, I mean I was driving the company mini van, Thomas, the costume designer for "The 39 Steps" around Connecticut. We were pulling costumes (definition-ransacking dusty, often mildewy warehouses for any useable costume piece for the show because the budget for the show is a $1.92) from Goodspeed Costume Rentals.

I've been visiting Goodspeed for almost twenty years. Besides the trash, it has it's treasures.
Goodspeed is where Broadway shows go when they close. They have the original Show Boat, which must be over 40 years old. Meryl Streep's glamour gowns from Sunset Blvd are in the basement. On this trip, I was looking for men's 1940's trench coats (slight yawn, sorry Thomas), when I turned down an aisle, and bumped into this.

"The Pirate Queen" had a short run, but it's clothes were breathtaking. The sight of this dress on a form stopped me in my tracks. I looked over every inch. Note the small round clusters of sequins around a larger bead. Those were all hand done. Would you see them onstage from your balcony seat? You would be lucky to see them from 8 feet away, but for almost 20 minutes I went over all those details on this piece. The costume was more an architectural installation than a dress. I had to see how it went together. I cast a furtive glance behind me. No one was watching, as I stripped the dress form to get a good look at the mechanics. The inside was even more amazing than the outside. A few aisles away, I heard Thomas asking a question. I couldn't even remember what I was supposed to be looking for.

After Goodspeed, we headed to a craft store to find greenery for the Bog and Moor costumes for "The 39 Steps". We loaded a cart full of moss and ferns. I helped Thomas decided which plastic plants were more English looking. I pushed the cart to the checkout, and waited. Their computer system was down. It took the poor clerk, probably related to the little old lady at MAcy's lingerie department twenty minutes to figure out how to reset the system. I hadn't had a coke in three hours, my cranky pants were getting itchy. Then I remind myself, that this is show business. I am not a doctor. I'm not foreclosing on people's homes. There is no fire to put out.

It's fun.

What A Difference A Day Makes, or 365

2011-03-06T13:27:00.007-05:00

Where was I a year ago today? Sitting at this same computer, that's where. I had this idea for an online store on Etsy. I had the perfect name for my shop. Unfortunately, someone else among Etsy's thousands of artists, already had that name. That's OK, I had a great second choice. Freelance Fairy Godmother. Brilliant. Until I went to set up my store name, and found that it was over Etsy's character limit. Devastation followed. I worked through it and successfully entered my shop name, but not after a slight substitution. "FairyGodMotherForHire" was also too long. Out came 'for', in went '4'.

A year ago, I never hoped that I would have almost 200 sales in my first year. I never dreamed that little girls in Australia, Ireland, England and the Netherlands would be wearing my little skirts and capes. I was just hoping not to lose too much money on start up costs. I'm not saying that this little business venture is making me rich, because I'm not exactly sure yet how much I did clear. I'm supposed to be figuring that out right now so that David can work on the taxes. I do know that I have covered all my start up costs, including my business license, an industrial iron, a giant cutting table, lighting for my studio, shipping supplies, photography lighting and backdrop, and a whole bunch of sewing supplies.

I also learned things that I never knew, and learned that there were things I knew, that I didn't know I knew. It turned out that putting costumes onstage for 20 years prepared me very well for staging a business. I know how to look at the details. I also know how to keep track of receipts. Actually entering them into Quicken still leaves room for improvement. As David can tell, from the 3 hours it took me to enter a year's worth of little paper slips.
For me, the biggest surprise was the support from my friends and family. Last year I was embarrassed to tell people about my little shop. It seemed tacky to say I was selling things online. I swallowed my pride and did send an email to our China Sister's moms. Thanks to them, I had eight sales my first week of business. Maizie's preschool also provided an invaluable resource--Moms! My friends HeeYoung and Lisa, who also happen to be the moms of Maizie's friends Angela and Kira volunteered to become my public relations army. I had only thought of my store in terms of the internet. Turns out people will buy stuff in real life, too.

Who knows what next year will bring? I know I am enjoying all aspects of my shop. Designing and constructing are the easy parts. I know I must focus on the business end of the business, but right now I've got 25 crowns to finish for a company that does kids' fairytale birthday parties, so enough of this typing, and back to sewing.

Chinese Take Out

2011-02-27T17:53:00.006-05:00

Yesterday, David came home with $80 worth of chinese food for lunch. It seemed only appropriate since we were hosting a Chinese New Year's Party for our China Sisters. Including Maizie, we had eight of the thirteen girls from Wide Horizons Travel Group #138. We all say it all the time, but we are lucky and thankful to have our family of China Sisters. Although, this time, we had a hard time hearing anything anyone else was saying. Eight four year old girls in a small house can be overwhelming. At the next party, we are passing out goody bags for the adults, including ear plugs.

The Play's the Thing

2011-02-12T08:00:00.000-05:00

Last Christmas, I made Maizie a few dress up costumes. I never thought that a year later those presents would have been the start of a new business. This Christmas, I was sewing like crazy for other people's kids. There were no fabulous twirly skirts or satiny capes for Maizie from Santa under our Christmas tree this year. If you visit her friends' dress up trunks, you will find lots of Fairy Godmother For Hire's creations. My own daughter has fewer dress up clothes that I made, than her friends do. There's that irony again that I love so much.

As I was working on new pieces for spring, Maizie kept herself busy playing with the silk flowers. She designed a crown that looked so good, I decided to add it to my shop. Don't worry, I let her keep one for herself. Even a really really wicked queen would have to let her daughter keep at least one of the crowns she had made herself.

School Daze

2011-02-05T13:25:00.003-05:00

It was a bright afternoon in the park with our China Sisters, babies stealing toys from each other. The next thing I know, I’m sitting in an elementary school auditorium listening to instructions on how to register Maizie for Kindergarden. I am constantly amazed by how quickly time has passed since we brought her home 4 years ago. I apologize to everyone I rolled my eyes at who warned me ‘they grow up so fast’. The truth is, they really do.

Walking into the school was unsettling. It was adorable. Too, too adorable. Super positive, feel- good- about –yourself posters everywhere. Construction paper bulletin board murals that were too well done to have been done by kids. It was like walking onto a movie set, a horror movie set where everything looks great right up until the moment the zombies jump out of the art room.

Luckily, we were soon in the auditorium. Put me in a place with a stage, and I feel right at home. We waited while more parents settled in around us. The real reason I was in this theatre started to sink in. I couldn’t pretend I was at a dress rehearsal anymore. Here was real life happening onstage. The cast was diverse; superintendent, principals, assistant principals. I knew that even the audience members around me would playing parts in our lives.

The star of the show was missing from this production. She makes her debut in two months, when we officially register her. By then, I may have convinced myself that my daughter is about to start school.

SnowMagedden

2011-01-12T20:40:00.006-05:00

I have this thing about weather forecasters.

I never believe them.

We were supposed to get 15-20" of snow today.

We got 24".

I stand firm in my conviction.

It took almost an hour to convince Maizie that playing in the snow would be fun.

Thirty minutes later I located all the appropriate snow attire and accessories. Then some urge from the primal sea of motherhood stopped my hands just as they were wrestling the snow pants onto the four year old. I looked at my daughter and uttered this command which she could not but obey, "YOU NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW". At least I hadn't gotten the boots and coat on yet. I shucked her quickly and fifteen minutes later we were finally in the snow.

I estimate that we were outside about the same amount of time it took us to get ready.

It was worth every minute.

Toy Story

2010-12-26T11:25:00.011-05:00

There was a very very large package under our tree Friday morning. It wasn't the first present that Maizie opened. My own present-opening strategy would have been to start with the biggest first, but she started with the small boxes under the tree. When she had opened the last book, she looked at the penguin wrapped tower in front of her, not sure if it was really a present or not. David and I had been tittering with barely concealed anticipation, while she slowly went through the small stack. We managed to wait patiently without blurting out, "JUST OPEN THE BIG ONE ALREADY!!!".

The moment finally arrived. She tore off the paper and paused a moment. "It's a house for all my dolls". She scurried away, returning with an armful of princesses.
My favorite present as a child was the dollhouse that my father had made. Wendy and I played with it for longer than any self respecting twelve year old would admit. Watching Maizie, open her's started the deja vu's rolling in.

Waiting patiently upstairs in our attic were the boxes of doll furniture, from that Christmas over 30 years ago. Maizie helped me bring them down stairs, now her time to be tittering with excitement. We unpacked kitchen appliances. She exclaimed over tiny pots and pans. Furniture had to be placed just right. I cleaned the pieces while she played, smiling. I had found a time machine back to my childhood.

Not everyone was as happy as Maizie and I that morning. My own dolls, stripped of their clothes for washing, watched homeless piled on the side lines, while Cinderella and her pals settled into their house.

The Santa Claus Conspiracy

2010-12-23T20:00:00.000-05:00

A four year old's concept of time is similiar to a goldfish. We are exploiting our daughter's lack of experience in the time-space continuum for her own good. Tomorrow, Maizie will wake up to find what Santa has left under the tree for her. Yes, tomorrow.

On Christmas Day, we are leaving for my parents' house. How cruel is it to let a kid open a bunch of toys in the morning, then stuff her into the car for three hours? This way, she will wake up tomorrow and have the whole day ahead of her to enjoy the loot.

Moving up the time line has put a extra pressure on Santa's elves, especially the one in charge of doll houses. He is putting in overtime tonight to make sure that there is one really really big surprise under the tree tomorrow.

And the elf in charge of wrapping presents, shouldn't be on the computer blogging right now. Otherwise, there's going to be alot of Target and Toys R Us bags under the tree in the morning.

A Very Special Jug Band Christmas

2010-12-19T20:57:00.009-05:00

Twenty years ago, the tech crew for a bus and truck tour of "The Sound of Music" became known as the 'Jug Band'. Our tour bus driver put it on the bus marquis, so it had to be true. We would tour again the next year, with some new faces and without others. We were still the Jug Band. We are spread coast to coast now. The years and miles don't matter. We are still the Jug Band.

We celebrated Jug Band Christmas this weekend with Scotty and Peg. Even though there were only four of us, those far away were always close...thanks to Facebook and the Iphone. There were so many sarcastic quips flying it was like Bobby was just in the back lounge.

In a day and a half, we ran the Christmas gauntlet. Saturday we baked cookies and watched the Grinch and Frosty the Snowman. We strung popcorn. Singular, that it is. Maizie got one piece on her string and ate it. I started another, and Monty snapped it off. Let's just say we had popcorn.

Maizie helped decorate the tree. It's always fun to hand a four year old a 60 year old glass ornament and see if they can hang it before they break it.

We finally solved our child care issues.

My daughter is a sprinkle expert. She get just as many on the cookies as she gets into her mouth.

Clearly, we forgot that you need ear protectors when operating kitchen equipment.

And a true Christmas miracle, the beer and Oil of Olay have me looking happy and relaxed.

Elf Help

2010-12-17T22:08:00.002-05:00

All through the costume lair, not a sewing machine is whirring, not a single singing mouse is sewing. My orders are all shipped in plenty of time to be wrapped and placed neatly by the chimney with care. Ahhhhh. I can sit back and relax.

I've got a whole week to get Christmas ready for my family. How hard can it be? I did two week summer stock theatre when I was in college. We did giant musicals in two weeks. This is just buying some presents, sending cards, menu planning, decorating the house, baking some cookies. I'm sure the stress is my shoulders is completely unrelated to having spent the past 2 months in my basement sewing, and those pangs of guilt are surely a bit of indigestion... perhaps a bit of underdone potato (Obligatory Christmas Carol Reference).

I went to Target tonight to get one thing. Two hours later I returned with my minivan full of toys and Christmas accoutrements. The miraculous part is that I don't feel dirty for using a big box chain store save my holiday. I feel relieved.

I do so love to go all Martha Stewart for the holidays, but that was not to be this year. What I am finally learning is that doing things differently isn't bad. It's just different.

And if I don't quite get everything done before we head to Pennsylvania, there's always Sheetz for those last minute gifts.

Hunting the Wild Christmas Tree

2010-12-07T22:32:00.002-05:00

If the first day of Christmas was a tour through Target's Christmas Land, the second day of Christmas was a visit to DeMaria's Tree Farm. Maizie was skeptical when we told her we were going to get a tree from a farm. She was convinced we were playing some joke on her. It wasn't until we began prowling the acres of trees that she realized we were going to cut down a tree, tie it to the top of the van and drive it home.

What's This? WHAT'S THIS?

2010-12-04T20:52:00.004-05:00

I was pushing Maizie through the Christmas aisles at Target, when she unleashed an ear splitting squeal. I stopped, thinking that Harry (her stuffed dog) had slipped out of the cart and been squashed by my reckless driving. "Mom-MEE, Mom-MEE, Look IT, LOOK IT!!". The dog was safely in her lap. She was pointing to the light up display of lawn ornaments on an upper shelf; penguins, polar bears, a pink flamingo. At the same sonic boom sound level, she urged me to LOOK IT each of the twinkling icons.

I paused, worried about how loud she was. Plus, I had things to do, I didn't have time to waste looking at yard decorations, although I did really like that flamingo. I noticed other shoppers staring and started to shush her. Then I heard what they were saying. It was just like that magical scene when the Grinch realizes what Christmas is all about. They were stopping to watch Maizie in her own ode to joy.

I took my cue from those strangers who had the sense to stop and look at the world through fresh eyes. I slowed the cart down, and we walked through every aisle of Christmas chatchke.

Welcome to Garageville at Condoland

2010-11-05T18:29:00.002-04:00

This post come to you live from beautiful downtown Mason, Ohio. Maizie and I are spending time with Aunt Wendy and Uncle Doug as they get settled down in their new home.
Maizie is astounded that we can walk to the playground. I am astounded that everything here looks the same. The housing complexes and stores all look like they were set down here about ten years ago, and all built from the same set of plans.
I feel like we've landed in some alternate universe. We've been here for three days, and I have yet to see a house that was built prior to 1994. There are high end chain restaurants everywhere, but I've never heard of 90% of them. What the heck is a Dao Asian Bistro or Buffalo Wild Wings? Thank heavens they took us to Culver's Drive In last night after the asian bistro. From the parking lot I could see a 6' walking ice cream cone and I knew everything was going to be alright. Then when I paid for our two ice cream cones, I was reminded that things aren't quite right here. The total was $3.79.

Oh, You Mean Halloween

2010-11-01T20:55:00.004-04:00

I love irony. This year the professional costumer didn't have time to make her own kid a Halloween costume. How's that for ironic?

Never fear though, I did not have to make a mad dash to the Walgreens for whatever costume was left on the clearance rack at 5pm on Sunday. And rest assured our little girl did get a pumpkin full of candy last night.

Maizie did have a Fairy Godmother helping her out. Alright, so what that I have a closet full of fairy princess costumes that I am selling online through Etsy. I think that still qualifies me as a fairy godmother. Or maybe just a good mom.

Last night at 6pm, I let my fairy princess pick a skirt out of the closet. She chose a hot pink cape from her own dress up rack and a purple floral crown. I added an LL Bean vest for warmth (compliments of Fairy Aunt Wendy) and pink wings from the Salvation Army (who also work magic). I admit Maizie was the most excited about getting to wear makeup. Although I may have gone overboard on the neon pink lipstick--it seems a bit more drag queen than fairy princess.

Maizie at the Maize Maze

2010-10-31T14:44:00.006-04:00

It's Halloween! We loaded up the van with Mama and Papa and headed down to Lymon Orchards to cram a whole autumn's worth of activities into one day. This is the first weekend I haven't had to put costumes on someone and I intended to make the most of it.

The sky was deep blue and the air crispy. We started at the Corn Maze and wound our way through a mile of paths. I wasn't really interested in the UCONN basketball theme, until I realized that it had nothing to do with theatre. Suddenly, all those statistics marking the way through the maze were absolutely FASCINATING.

The sky turned dark by the time we reached the pumpkin patch. But the exploded pumpkins and rotting vines made an appropriately creepy Halloween still life. It made me want to go home and watch Robot Chicken's version of The Great Pumpkin, you know, the one where the Great Pumpkin kills the Peanuts Gang and they end up dancing in hell.

When I hoisted Maizie up onto her first pony ride, she looked down and said, "I don't want to do it". I almost took her off, and took her place. Instead, I told her to just try it and she could stop if she wanted. I would hold onto her while the pony walked. About 12.7 seconds after the pony started, she looked down and said, 'Don't hold on Mommy. I don't need you'. She did a second turn, and I expected her to be cantering by the end of that ride.

We ended the trip with lunch in the orchard restaurant and a bagful of pies and cider donuts. Now I can sit back and relax, and not worry about anything costume related.

I keep feeling that I've forgotten something important I was supposed to do today. But it's Sunday night. Who could I possibly have to dress up in a costume tonight?

Photo Op

2010-10-21T21:17:00.002-04:00

Aunt Wendy and Uncle Doug are on their way to Ohio. Their house is empty, the for sale sign still in the yard. I mentally write this post as I scroll through my photos looking for a portrait of my sister and my daughter, guaranteed to make you ball your eyes out. I pass by beach pictures of Martha's vineyard. Wendy's not wearing makeup and I know she'd not want that picture posted. Past pictures at my parents, this time Maizie's squinty. Further back to last spring, and still nothing that's what I want. I realize that other than vacation shots, I haven't taken many pictures since early last spring. Coincidently, about the time I opened my Fairy God Mother For Hire store. Now I'm getting all misty eyed for all the photographs I haven't taken in six months. Which is actually a good distraction from thinking about that house standing empty 2.1 miles from here.

Now Showing

2010-10-14T21:19:00.002-04:00

I wish I could say that I’ve been so busy relaxing on a tropical beach to be bothered with writing. The simple boring truth, is that I’ve just been working too much. In August, the new costume shop manager decided that she had to step down from the position. After three years in the co-pilot’s seat, I found myself driving the bus again. The fact that it was on the first day of rehearsal for our giant production of Antony & Cleopatra didn’t bother me at all. No, really. I swear the two garbage bags of empty coke bottles in the office are not a sign of stress.

I rode out a giant wave of adrenalin that morning that carried me almost all the way to the opening of the show (tomorrow). The shop has built some breathtaking costumes. It was challenging and rewarding and frustrating. We laughed every day and griped every day. There were days I knew that the work I did was the only job that could make me happy. There were evenings I wanted to pack up my dolls and dishes and never go back.

Last week’s tech rehearsals made for my longest work week in years. Practically living in the theatre didn’t bother me before Maizie came along. The show always came first. The show must go on, right?

Now it’s harder to prioritize. Making sure the Egyptian’s skirts are on straight seems like a ludicrous way to make a living, when you didn’t get to put your daughter to bed all week. One morning last week, Maizie looked at me. I had gotten home from work at 1:30am the night before. She trotted off and returned with a round red sticker. She said, ‘You need a smiley face today, Mommy’. Of course, I burst into tears.

I am incredibly proud of both of these productions. The show is monumental, but there will always be another one. We start working on that one tomorrow, by the way. But there’s only one Maizie.

Shameless Self Promotion

2010-09-20T20:19:00.005-04:00

I could make the case that this post is just to feature fabulous pictures of Maizie in a new costume. Or you could say, "What are you trying to sell me this time?". So why don't we meet somewhere in the middle?

My shop is on the Etsy.com website. Within Etsy, there are teams that help support budding entrepreneurs. I belong to the EtsyKids team that sponsors a design challenge each month. This month, I finally entered the contest.

I have one of my customers to thank for the inspiration for my entry. When 'EstherInAmsterdam' began emailing me about designing some costumes for her daughter, I didn't realize that the 'Amsterdam' wasn't referring to the city in New York. But after she mentioned the costume was for Queen's Day, I knew I needed to do a little international research. I discovered that the Netherlands celebrates this holiday in April, and that the celebratory color is orange.

Then along comes the announcement from EtsyKids that the design challenge for this month is Orange Spice. I knew that this skirt would be the perfect entry for the contest. This is the part where you get involved. The winner of the contest is decided by vote. How do you vote? You go to this website, and click on my entry. That's it. You don't have to shop on Etsy...but you should. Everybody's doing it. What, are you chicken?

I know you're wondering what fabulous riches I get if I win, glamorous trips, dazzling jewels. The prize is even better than those. No, it's not a pony. The winner of the design challenge gets to pick next month's design challenge. Plus, the winner gets some promotion on the EtsyKids blog. Nifty.

So go check out these fabulous photos of Maizie, and while you're there, you might as well vote.

To vote click here and scroll down to #32, my entry.

The Most Important Meal of the Day

2010-09-18T20:53:00.009-04:00

Almost every day for the past month, I've come home from work and felt like throwing myself off the nearest bridge. Which is really silly, right? It's not like there's a giant asteroid that's going to smack into the earth tomorrow (probably) and everybody knows that global warming is a hoax created by the Democrats. It certainly couldn't be that I've been promoted by default back to the costume shop manager and working full time. And my sister getting transfered to Ohio or our wonderful Miss Kim no longer being Maizie's 'Mom away from Mom' shouldn't be harshing my mellow either.

Luckily, Friday I discovered it wasn't any of the above. Lunch is all to blame. Or rather the lack there of. I've been skipping lunch to get more work done at work. I thought having a sacrilegiously delicious egg sandwich from the deli next door to the theatre would get me through the day. I was wrong. When lunchtime rolled around, I did what all the cool kids do. I ate lunch. Later, I even had a little snack. When I got home, I felt like myself for the first time in weeks, even if pirates had invaded the swing set in the back yard.

Oh, there's still plenty for me to obsess about, but at least I can approach the stress more rationally. In the meantime, here are pictures of dear friends and family to make me feel alright. Alright.

Hold That Thought

2010-08-12T17:22:00.009-04:00

It's a little unsettling sitting here. My feet are up. Scotty and Peg are making dinner. Maizie is napping and the breeze is rustling the trees outside. There's a beer beside me. Shouldn't I be (insert all applicable here) cleaning, budgeting, sewing, laundy, worrying? Luckily, I packed the Apathy bat. A good strong whack upside the head, and suddenly I just don't care about all those things. Or, it could be the steady supply of beer, margaritas and mudslides available on the island.

A healthy dose of perspective is the perfect prescription for a vacation. We have the good fortune to be surrounded by friends in an island paradise for a whole week. Ok, so the only palm trees are the plastic ones at Sharky's Bar, but let's not be petty.

So with the aid of the apathy bat, I can stop worrying about what's waiting at home and concentrate on what's really important. Last night was movie night, a special house viewing of 'Jaws', of course. It made driving around today yelling 'and that where the kid on the raft got eaten!' even more fun.

Uncle Rude Boy

2010-08-12T08:36:00.000-04:00

On my first tour, I had to work with a guy who drove me nuts. You might say he was lacking people skills. I might say I wanted to throw him under the tour bus. Nothing made him happy. Although he always seemed to be in the bunk area of the bus when I had to get changed. So why is this guy who could swear a symphony and once hooked up a porno video to the stage manager's onstage monitors during a show on vacation with us?

I'm not really sure but I'm glad he is. I'm also not sure how he and Maizie got to be BFF's. This morning, she dismissed me from the living room, so she and Uncle Scotty could play tic tac toe. He has to sit next to her in the car. You can hear her calling his name up and down the three floors of our rental house when she can't find him.

It's like having a nanny with us. My daughter may end up swearing like a roadie by the end of the week, but she will have had a great time.

The Call is Coming From Inside the House

2010-08-11T08:36:00.006-04:00

Whatever you do, don't answer the phone. We are in Martha's Vineyard for the week, and are calling everyone we know to say, "HA Ha!".

We were here ten years ago with less gray hair and less luggage. Last time, we carried everything we needed and left the cars on the main land. This time my van became the pack mule and travelled with us.

On New Year's Eve, we were celebrating with Wendy, Doug, Scotty, Peg, Chris and Jeff. Chris was part of that first trip to the vineyard. We were telling stories of our idyllic getaway when someone said, "We should all go this summer". Doug did something crazy and researched rental houses. He made spreadsheets. How can you say no when confronted with data like that. And so here we are.

We are keeping ourselves busy with pedicures, dance parties, flea markets and lobster rolls. I think there's some ocean around here somewhere, too. If we get bored.

Gone Fishin' (Metaphorically Speaking)

2010-08-04T21:20:00.002-04:00

Last week I had grand intentions of blogging whilst we wandered from my inlaws in Pennsylvania to our friends in Maryland. But dang if I wasn't just having too much fun to write. I took loads of pictures and just gave myself eye fatigue trying to pick out the most special 75 to post here.

So this is what you get for now. Next week we are off to Martha's Vineyard. I promise I will post every day...er, maybe.

Motherhood's Dirty Secrets

2010-07-13T21:25:00.007-04:00

Aren't all those Mother's Day cards cute? Butterflies, hearts, poems with rhymes and everything. None of them deal with all the crap that being a mother is really about.

I mean it, crap...and vomit. Sometimes missing toenails and spit.

A few months ago my sister, Maizie and I went to Lancaster with my parents. On the long return trip, I wanted to make sure we hit a rest area every few hours to avoid 'accidents'. I kept watching the blue highway signs, and cheerfully, patiently, tensely, teeth grindingly informed Maize that we were getting close to a bathroom. Each time she forcefully let me know she did NOT need to use the bathroom. What do I know, I listened to the three year old and we cruised right by the rest area. At which point the three year old, yells out, "I need to POOP!".

Not only have we passed the rest area, but we were stopped in traffic. You knew that already. I did what every Mom/McGyver did. I improvised. Thank goodness my van looks like a homeless person lives in it, plenty of plastic bags and napkins. Wendy was driving. I climbed into the back and helped Maizie 'take care of business'. Wendy was horrified. I was just happy we had bags.

The difference between my sister and I, is that she has not become desensitized to the 'ick' factor of small children. I have seen her pull things out of her dog's bum, but that's another story.

I had my big test last summer at our local amusements park when the unspeakable happened to me. Maizie and I were at the water park. You know where this is going, too. She told me she needed to use the bathroom, and we would have made it except fate was against us. The fate that decided to put the bathrooms in a different county from the pools, and the six busloads of teenagers in the bathhouses.

I looked like the scene in 'Independence Day ' when Vivica Fox is running full tilt into the tunnel, carrying her son to escape the alien attack. I never found an empty door to kick down though. I pushed past people (they were only teen agers, after all), I even tried the shower stalls, any port in a storm. I ended up back at the bathhouse entrance, little girl still on my hip, which was suddenly warm and wet. I set her down, quickly, my face turning red with shame and horror. I looked around. No one was pointing and screaming. The world had not ended. There was so much water on the floor already, it's not like the puddle was obvious. I picked my daughter up, and we headed back to the lake for a nice rinse off.

China Sisters Summer

2010-07-10T18:55:00.002-04:00

We spent July 9, 2007 with these same girls. They were alot smaller. We parents were alot 'newer', and more sleep deprived. Now we celebrate that day that we all became families. This year, David, Maizie and I spent time these last few weeks, catching up with some of our 'China Sisters'. We look forward to the big celebration in August when all of us can be together again.

Let's Play Store!

2010-07-01T21:34:00.006-04:00

I like 'systems', and paper products. Love paper products. When I was a kid, my cousins and I would play with old bank deposit forms my aunt brought home from work. We even had one of those cool date stamp thingies that you could change the date by rotating the sharp little wheels.

Now I can play store in my very own basement. You wouldn't believe the paper products you can get now. Just point and click and they show up on your doorstep. Even as kids, we couldn't ever have imagined anything as magical as The Internet.

Yet here I am, with my little online store. I am one sale away from 50. Not bad for 5 months. Not enough to buy a pony, but I have covered my start up costs.

Here is my Costume Lair Upgrade.

What's that large 4'x6' green thing in the foreground? Say hello to my new cutting table, thanks to David and my father in law. I've been getting orders for adult sized capes. Cutting 5 yards of circles on the 3' wide table is not fun. Now I can play costume shop just like the big kids.

And it just gets better. This week I got my first tax notice due from the state.

Muddy the Mud Skipper

2010-06-26T18:57:00.004-04:00

We met our daughter three years ago in China. Her name was Shi Mei Jiang. It means beautiful river. But evidently small plastic pools and puddles in driveways will do just fine, too.

Apocalyptic Now Or Preferably Later

2010-06-13T21:02:00.008-04:00

There's nothing like spending an afternoon picking strawberries with a couple of tree hugging, green extremist, zip loc baggie recycling hippies to make you take a good look at the way you live. Scotty and Peg grow a considerable amount of their own food. That's amazing not just because they live on a small property and didn't learn about gardening until a few years ago, but because Scotty didn't know that food could be found anywhere outside a 7-11 convenience store until he was 30.

The afternoon was sunny and blue. Maize went free range over the hill of strawberry rows while I started thinking about my own skills...survival that is. Would I be ready if the day comes when you can't nuke a hot pocket for supper and our system of money breaks down?

It is true that after seeing the movie Independence Day, I decided to learn how to drive a standard shift car. I just wanted to be prepared if the only driveable vehicle after a hostile alien invasion was a stick shift. Rumors that I had a fully stocked bomb shelter in the basement, ready for the fall of civilization as we know it post Y2K bug are completely untrue. All I did was buy extra cat food and toilet paper, just in case the computer crash interrupted the supply of goods to grocery stores, and the man who built our house in 1940 was the one who had it bomb shelter compliable. So my hobbies are cross stitch and End of The World scenarios. It beats stamp collecting.

I've always been a hands on person. I make things. OK, for a long time I got paid to make sure other people were making things, but I am handy with a needle. I can make and repair clothes. What can you do?

What Happens When a Good Hobby Goes Bad or Is It Better?

2010-06-04T22:20:00.005-04:00

I'm about three months in to this little project of mine called Fairy Godmother For Hire. There I was sewing Christmas presents for my kid, and I thought, "Hey, wouldn't it be neat if I sold these?". And so (sew?) it began.

About a month ago, my husband asked me about my business plan. I replied, "Make a million dollars and retire?". Evidently there is supposed to be more planning in the business plan. Up until that moment, I was thinking about was sewing and selling. Then everything tipped sideways and I realized that the sewing part really was only a small part of the big picture.

I got back to work, on everything but sewing. I got a tax ID. I read the Etsy forums and threads on starting a shop. I got my own business checking account. It turned out for not knowing what I was doing, I was doing it ok. I already knew all about keeping any receipt that was related to the business. David installed Quicken on my computer so I could finally empty all those wrinkly receipts out of my wallet. Early on I bought wholesale sewing and shipping mailers. It seemed so silly when I had only one sale, but right now I am so glad I invested early. (Thank you to the Etsy message boards for those tips).

Last night I participated in one of the Etsy Forums. I had tried this earlier, but was really intimidated by the format. Too much technology for me. The topic last night was shop critiques where their experts would give you pointers on your shop. I sat quietly for the first part, mostly because my typing sucks and I couldn't listen to the moderator and read the instant messages at the same time. It was almost time for the session to end. There was time for one more shop critique. The moderator asked a trivia question, and the winner got their shop reviewed. The question happened to be on fabric, and I still can't believe I typed bias as fast as I did. Next thing I knew, there was my shop icon up on the screen. My hands got all sweaty, and I kept forgetting that I had to type responses to the moderator and not just speak into the computer. I got great advice which I should be putting to use right now.

Now the hard part is what to do next? Start making mermaids and fairy wings or making a few 'renovations' on my shop.

Ye Olde Daye Trippe

2010-05-22T20:00:00.009-04:00

This morning, David said to me, " Let's go to the Guilford Renaissance Faire".

"Are you on crack?", I replied. I thought, that's going to be cheesier than a Saturday marathon of Zena Warrior Princess.

"I've changed my mind. Let's go!".

I texted Wendy to see if she wanted in. She's been obsessed with watching Legend of the Seeker on Netflix lately, so I was surprised when she declined.

I insisted. ''You can eat giant turkey legs and see men in tights. What's not to love?"

We picked her up an hour later.

In college, I went to the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire in Mt Hope. Mostly what I remembered was men in leather. Hey, I was twenty years old. What I had forgotten was that these costumed carnivals are a sanctuary for highschool theatre geeks** and post highschool theatre geeks. It's like a nature preserve that only accepts people with bad English accents who are willing to banter jauntily if not wittily with everyone. I told David that this would be exactly the place his nerdy annoying drama students would hang out.

There were turkey legs at this fair, but the rest of the food was not very interesting. Medieval hamburgers? What the menu lacked in creativity, was more than made up for by the people around us.

It was a full course buffet of Lord of the Rings, fairies, and strumpets in every size, age and shape. I found the tween girls with 'free hugs' painted on their cleavage the most frightening, especially as they approached strangers and hugged them. They might also have tattooed 'Future Teen Mom' on their...well, you get the picture. When we sat down to watch a concert, I noticed an older couple lurking off to the side. I thought they were in costume, but the more I stared at them, I decided they had been around since the 1400's. Their clothes were old and worn in. The man's giant beard was certainly real. She had a full fox skin on her head, and the black and white fur on his shoulder looked suspiciously like a cat. Hmmmm, I thought, maybe he's looking for a few tabbies for summer wear.

We saw jousting with real horses. Wendy and David shot some arrows, and Wendy even threw some knives. I enjoyed watching the 'Smite A Knight' game, and I swear it had nothing to do with the shirtless young man in the kilt. I mean it. A real genuine kilt, that was just a long piece pleated fabric kept on with a big leather belt, not those catholic girl plaid skirts the wannabes wear.

David had to try the fried oreos. We all sat down at a picnic table to take a break. Two strolling minstrels sat down across from us. As one began her jaunty banter, I recognized her. I spent a long week school trip with David's choir, sitting in the bus seat in front of her. She and her friends talked about broadway shows and sang show tunes.

**The author notes that while she does technically fall into the 'theatre geek' category, she hardly ever sings show tunes, unless there's no one around.

Eight Legs And A Few Cow Pushers

2010-05-08T17:19:00.011-04:00

Saturday was 'Tourist Day' for us in Lancaster. It's been about 25 years since I visited. Looking back at a place through the eyes of childhood tends to romanticize the past, but I wasn't prepared for Route 30 to look like the strip malls of New Jersey. I'm not sure why Amish country needs a Fudruckers. Actually, I'm not sure why anyone needs a Fudruckers. And it was VERY disconcerting to see a billboard for a gentleman's club called 'The Buck Rub'. The Walmarts and souveneir stands were limited to Route 30. Eventually we did find the farm fields that I remembered. We took a buggy ride through those fields, and then visited the train museum in Strasburg.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in the train museum. Maizie was convinced that all those wooden platforms that led up to the trains were stages. She did her own touring show on anything that wasn't moving.

I think Maizie liked horses better before she discovered that she was as big as their head.

Amish dare devils on their way from from school. A flock of 7 or 8 kids came flying down the hill, scaring the shoe fly pie out of us.

Our buggy tour stopped at an Amish Farm. We learned that they believe that electrical lines bring in unwanted outside influences that would tempt them away from their faith. However gas powered generators, propane powered appliances, and wind mill powered indoor running water are just fine. Now that I know there's indoor plumbing, I think I could totally go Amish.

But our favorite part of the adventure was being back in the Land of the Convenience Store. Ah, Sheetz, how we missed you! Wendy and I stopped at as many as we could.

Seeing the Sites

2010-05-07T22:18:00.001-04:00

Today's outing led us through every back road that my dad could find between Ronks and Ephrata. Highways really are for sissies. We finally ended up at the Green Dragon Farmer's Market. I was disappointed by the low level of Amish and high level of cheap socks and sunglasses. Having french fries and ice cream for lunch made up for it.

We finally found some trace of the Amish presence. I was a little suspicious of a few of the supposed amish vendors when I noticed a ear clip cell phone under one bearded gentleman's large brimmed straw hat.

If you weren't sure where to get your NFL briefs, this is the place. And such a sexy display, too.

Going Dutch

2010-05-06T22:08:00.007-04:00

Pennsylvania Dutch, that is. It's a Girls' Getaway Weekend, full of wild and crazy adventures like shoe shopping with a preschooler and stopping at every jumbo Sheetz we can. Aunt Wendy, Maizie and I have joined my parents on a long weekend of camping in Lancaster. That's right camping; free wifi, air conditioning, 2 TVs with cable and a DVD player. We did have to bring our own 800 count egytptian cotton sheets and down comforter to put on the queen size bed, but it's still a log cabin.

When we were kids, camping was done in a pop up trailer. It had canvas sides, so technically it was part tent. From there, we went to a 22 foot travel trailer with it's own bathmat sized bathroom for 4 people. Now my parents camp without the kids, and wisely opted for a cozy 36' fifth wheel travel trailer with queen size bed, couch and recliners. It sleeps two comfortably.

Maizie, Wendy and I are roughing it in a 'deluxe' cabin. We are relaxing in style with our own bedroom, Maizie tucked into the sleeping loft with 12 of her favorite stuffed animals and a back pack full of nail polish. After the Cancun trip, she is quite the world traveler. She scoped out the cabin then announced, 'I'm ready to go to the beach now!". I explained that there was no beach here, but she could go to the playground. Her eyebrows made it clear that this was unacceptable.

She did settle in finally, it's amazing what magic a bag of snacks will work. Wendy settled onto a rocking chair on our front porch. Once Maizie was asleep, I grabbed myself a beer and slid open the porch door ready for stars and farm fields. Wendy hissed, 'Close the door, don't let the cat in!'. I jumped, but don't worry, the beer was unharmed. A large white cat with an orange spot sized me up and licked my toe. The cabin rules clearly read, 'no pets allowed'. This cat clearly couldn't read.

The cute and cuddly act didn't fool me. I've read enough Stephen King to know a Zombie-Cemetary-Cat when I see one. He's lurking out on the porch now. I look around the cabin with it's balsa wood thin walls and can opener-able metal door. If my vacation is ruined by a zombie invasion, I better damn well get my money back.

Sewing is the Easy Part

2010-04-28T22:13:00.004-04:00

It's been just over a month since I had this crazy notion to start an online business. Thank goodness I didn't know what I was doing. It's amazing what you can do when you don't know that you can't do it.

I can sew very well. Kids seem to like my dress up costumes. What else is there to know?

It turns out if you want people to look at your stuff online, you better have terrific pictures of that stuff. I'm very pleased with my latest round of shots. What I didn't realize was that to get five good shots of a three year old in a twirly dress, you had to take at least 2oo pictures, and have a box of popsicles handy.

Last week I invited two of Maizie's friends over to play and do some modeling for me. It was going perfectly, they were all very excited to dress up in my costumes. Then came the standing still and taking turns part. Angie tripped coming into the 'photo studio' and started to cry. Maizie saw that Angie was getting all my attention, so she sat down and started to cry. Kira was all dressed and ready to go, but I asked her to take off her princess shoes, and she started to cry. What could I do? I started to laugh.

Back in the USA

2010-04-17T15:58:00.001-04:00

It's all true

2010-04-13T22:18:00.004-04:00

The water is this blue. None of these photos were touched up.
We've been very busy relaxing, but found some time for hobbies. I like to see if I can get a drink from e every bar in the resort. Maizie is always on the hunt for a new bathroom to try. She did find time to have her first strawberry daiquiri.

Magic Kingdom

2010-04-12T17:52:00.006-04:00

I hate it when those darn dolphins wake me up in the morning.
Ok, not really.
Minding, I mean. The dolphins in the pool outside our room were chirruping away at 6am this morning.

Yesterday, we arrived in Cancun. That's when Disneyland became just another amusement park. You know you are in a magical place when the toilet paper is wrapped in ribbon and gold stickers. There were glasss bottles of coke in the free minibar, and a bottle opener in the bathroom.

That was just inside the room. I opened the door to the balcony and looked down on dolphins swimming, and the deep unreal blues of the Carribean. Don't forget the palm trees. Or the bars. Just when I think it can't get any better, I discover the tiki bar has swings you sit on.

Free Refills

2010-04-05T21:03:00.004-04:00

"EM TEE!!!".

That's what Aunt Wendy taught Maizie to say when her drink glass is empty. It is said with a demanding and somewhat rude tone, while waving said glass at the person who needs to refill it.

Right now, it perfectly describes my state of being. Last week's tech schedule drained me dry. I even managed to make sure the Easter Bunny stopped here Sunday, and made three more sales on my Etsy shop. In my spare time, I am throwing a baby shower here on Saturday while I make sure we have everything we need for our vacation.

I make lists and look at the calendar. There is no way I can get everything done. I just don't have anything left to give. Then I look at the man in a tiara and the girl in polka dot jammies and realize that I'm not empty after all.

But next week, I will be waving my glass at a bartender on the beach, yelling 'EM TEE!!!".

Identity Crises

2010-03-27T21:12:00.005-04:00

Choose one of the following:

I am

a) a mom

b) an aspiring writer

c) an artsy entrepeneur

d) a costume shop manager

e) a costume designer

f) going to go have another coke.

For the past three years, I've been coming to work, I do my 20 hours a week, I say, 'What are you doing it that way for' and talk about how it used to be in the olden days. A month ago I stepped back into my old position of costume shop manager. It's like one of those long road trips where you're driving along and suddenly realize that you've just gone a few hundred miles and have no recollection of the past few hours.

We are on the last show of our season, so I agreed to be the interim manager until a new one was found. The designer is one we know and love, and there isn't another show to prep. No, I don't need an assistant, don't be silly. Thing are going along very nicely, then the designer delivers her baby 6 weeks early. At this point, what's one more job.

I will say that I am enjoying the creative, and problem solving side of driving the metaphorical costume bus again. But I am missing the FairyGodmother For Hire scooter that I just got started. And if I don't get to tool around in my blog mini-coop I get down right irritable. Then there's the Hummer called Maizie that requires a huge amount of resources.

Tomorrow begins the home stretch. We begin the technical rehearsals for Tom Sawyer and I will spend more hours at work in the next week than at home. It will be exciting and exhausting, and then it will be over. One week after that, the staff goes off contract for the summer. After that I'll be sitting on a beach with my family and the biggest cocktail I can get served in a tiki glass.

Dang, I've got to go add one more to the above list

g) going to need a bathing suit.

Hello, Goodbye, Hello

2010-03-14T20:30:00.006-04:00

I had to trek down to the Long Wharf Theatre to borrow some costumes. Their storage area is in a glamorous, no wait, I mean odorous meat packing wharf. The shop manager handed me the keys to the storage area, then stood puffing away on her cigarette. She nodded to her young assistant, and asked the girl to get her a bagel. The manager told her that she was too busy and had a meeting to go to in 30 minutes. I was silently outraged at the manager, but had the best revenge a year later when I stole Aimee away to my shop.

That was almost ten years ago. Three years ago, she took over as the costume shop manager at Hartford Stage, when I stepped down to play the role of 'Mom'. Friday, was her last day as costume shop manager, and this morning she welcomed her new baby boy into the world.

I watched her learn everything she could about this wacky business. She enjoyed what she did, and she was good at it. I don't remember when she stopped being my assistant or I stopped thinking of her as the new kid in the shop. She's been the other half of my brain for so long, it seems strange to be finishing the last show of the season without her.

I'm so proud of the person she became, and for being my friend. She's going to be an amazing parent. I can't wait to meet her little boy. But the office is going to be a little lonely tomorrow.

Now I've Hit The Big TIme

2010-03-10T08:00:00.000-05:00

We are doing this show called- (see photo)

It's about moms-(see photo).

And I'm on the dang program!!! Ok, so you can't really see my face, and Lauren is the one who pointed it out to me. But I do think it's really cool.

When we started working on the show, I really, really didn't want to like it. It had sap written all over it. Then I sat through 14 hours of dress rehearsals and had to admit that I really, really liked it. It is really funny, strikes very close to home, and made me cry every time I saw it.

So go see it, not just because I'm on the program cover.

PS-I did not write any of the stories in the play, but if the producers are reading this and want to use any of my stories, they'll have to talk to my agent....after I get one.

Ta DAAAA!!!

2010-03-07T22:19:00.002-05:00

My new Etsy store is up and running! It is called Fairy Godmother For Hire and went online tonight. It isn't perfect, but at least it's up. Thanks to all of you for the amazing ideas. I really appreciate all of your posts.

I was ready to set up my shop Friday night, but when I tried to register my shop name, the keyboard kept sticking. I couldn't finish typing the shop name. So, I tried again, and again. Until I realized that Etsy had a character limit, which they don't tell you when you start the process. It turned out that my first choice was too long. Curses! Finally, this morning, I opened the doors on my virtual shop.

The sewing part was easy. Getting a three year old to model the goods was hard. Thank goodness I am a firm believer in bribery. The pictures aren't fabulous, but at least I did get enough to begin selling things. It's all part of the learning process.

Now, let the shameless self promotion begin!!!!

What's In A Name?

2010-03-03T22:02:00.002-05:00

I need some help!

You know I have been dabbling with a web site called Etsy, a collection for artists, crafters, tinkers and dabblers to peddle their wares. I started by selling vintage children's clothes and sewing patterns. Then the sewing bug hit, and I became obsessed with making doll clothes for American Girl dolls, that actually look like vintage clothes.

For Christmas, I made Maizie some dress up clothes. They were fun to make and so much fun to watch her and her friends play in. Now all I want to make are colorful, satiny swirly things. Our new social circle has exposed me to the dress up bins of several small girls.

Here's what I have learned from these reconnaissance missions. It's all about the big brand marketing. You've got your Snow Whites, and your Tinkerbells, and your Sleeping Beauty. What if you want to be Princess Kate or Princess Lilly or Princess Angie? Why is everything in light pastel colors. Some of it is hard for parents, let alone small girls to put on. The tags say 'hand wash'; for kids dress up clothes. Come on.

For the past few weeks I have been working on a collection of dress up capes, skirts and crowns. My target are parents who want fun, bright costumes for their kids to play in, that foster creativity, can get chucked into the washing machine, and can be put on over whatever the kid is already wearing, by the kid. I forgot to mention the twirling. They must score high on the Twirl factor.

I am going to open a new store front on the Etsy site for these costumes and I need a name. Maizie's suggestions were 'Work' and 'The Basement Where We Do All the Crafts'. Neither of these have the kind of zip I am looking for. Here's what I have been kicking around-

Whimsey's Costume Parade

with variations including

Whimsey's Quick Change, Whimsey's Road Show, Whimsey's Dressing Room

Now see what you can come up with. You don't have to use the word Whimsey. I just like what it implies.

Post your suggestion as a comment. If I use your name, I'll send you something shiny and twirly.

Ladies Who Lunch

2010-02-21T21:41:00.012-05:00

In the fifteen years we've lived in this town, the only time I would run into people I know was if I backed into my neighbor's garbage can. But put your kid in preschool, and suddenly it's like you belong to a community. I work in Hartford, I work weird hours, my work is weird. They are my excuses for not getting involved where I live. I have few friends outside of work. I don't have many regrets, but here is one of them. To have lived so long in a place, and not feel like I am a part of it, that makes me sad. Don't feel too bad for me. It's my own damn fault.

Leave it to one small child to change everything. When Maizie started nursery school, I recognized an opportunity to make connections. It took me awhile to get up the guts to do it, but I finally did. She finally stopped hating school and started talking about the kids that she was playing with. I did what every good mother does, you start stalking people. I had her point out her friends. I watched, and waited. I wanted to pick the perfect moment to introduce myself to these moms.

Alright, I was stalling. I was afraid. What if they didn't like me? I had flashbacks to junior high. I had a good talk with myself. If I can tell broadway designers they have to cut ten thousand dollars out of a budget and get a beautiful show onstage, I can do this. If I can spend months on a tour bus and not kill someone, I can do this. If I can watch toe nails falling off of aging soap opera stars during costume fittings and not throw up, I can do this.

I did it. It was pretty easy. I'm in a mom clique now. For the past few months we've been getting together for lunch. I'm learning about the wonderful world of not theatre. When I go shopping in town, I bump into people I know.

And I think my kid is having a good time, too.

Around Town

2010-02-08T20:57:00.004-05:00

Running errands takes on new meaning with a three year old. They have wills of their own, and legs. Fast little legs. When I've got a lot to do, and not a lot of time, it's best to take back up. Aunt Wendy was riding shot gun for me last week. With her help, I scored a much needed eyebrow wax. Then off for more glamour at Penzey Spices. Yes, spices, yes glamour. If you've been there, you know this is true. One last stop at the book store to pick up a new cook book and I was home free. First I had to do a little bribery in the kids' section, but victory was so close I could smell it. It wasn't victory that I smelled, though. Not ten minutes after I had asked Maizie if she had to use the bathroom, she squealed that she really really had to go. I hauled her into the ladies room to discover that she had wet through her pants. This was the first time this had happened in almost a year. I had stopped carrying emergency clothing supplies with me months and months ago. I put on my McGyver glasses while I stripped off her wet clothes. My plan was to rinse the pants, and use the air powered hand dryer to dry the pants. It was brilliant. Except that there was no air dryer. Fine, wet undies go into a a pilfered trash bag. Pants rinsed and squee geed through some paper towels. All brilliant. All the while the three year old was prancing around the Barnes & Noble ladies room with a bare bum, trying to convince me that she did NOT need to wear pants. I resorted back to bribery. No pants=No book. Nothing to stress about, especially not with eyebrows that looked this good.

Jug Band:Exotic Locales

2010-01-29T21:28:00.003-05:00

Did I mention that our tour was almost all one nighters? That's a complex theatrical term meaning, "you load the show in, you do the show, you load the show out all in one day". Otherwise known as here today, gone tomorrow.

After 24 days on the road, we had already played 21 different cities. There were exotic venues like Sarasota Fl in the 'Purple Cow', which didn't look at all like a Purple cow. More like a purple sea shell. That Frank Lloyd Wright had such a sense of humor. If the building wasn't surreal enough, then the sight of the Flying Wallendas walking tightrope on the wire guard rails in the parking lot was enough to make me wonder where I was. Everyone knows that the circus goes south for the winter. What I didn't know was that even circus performers need a day job. In the off season, they work the local crews for the roadhouses. I had several of the Mrs. Wallendas working for me there.

There were beautiful, state of the art theatres, and there were places like Waco, TX and Tupelo, MS. In Waco, the theatre was so small it didn’t even have a loading dock, just a door. That door was barely big enough for the technical director to walk through, let alone the 2 story scenery we had. But the company motto was, 'Everyone gets the same show". Some theatre's just got a little less scenery then others. Tupelo is the birth place of Elvis, Waco is the birth place of Dr. Pepper(and the only soda they sold in the lobby of the theatre, on tap, of course). And that is enough to qualify them as ‘interesting’, if not exotic.

Jug Band:Genesis

2010-01-18T20:16:00.008-05:00

We were the stage crew for a bus and truck production of "The Sound of Music". Why the seven of us rag tag technicians became known as "The Jug Band", I can't remember. I do know, it happened early in the tour. We left Frederick, Maryland on the night of December 30, 1990. We had teched the show there, then three performances. After the last show, we started our first load out.

Somewhere, there is a very precise mathematical equation for figuring out how much scenery, costumes, props, lighting equipment and sound equipment will fit into two tractor trailers. The funny thing is that the people doing the math, are not the same people shoving said equipment into said eighteen wheelers. That's not funny at all.

It was so late, it was early. The trucks had been loaded and reloaded and loaded and reloaded. Each time there were fewer roadboxes left in the parking lot. None of the big bosses were willing to leave any of it behind, though. Load, reload.

Scotty had already become Rude Boy during tech. He is frustrated and yells to Cliff about something that is not working, and will be too hard to fix. All I here is, "It's not going to be any fun if....expletive, expletive....". Cliff's answer, "This is show business, not show fun, now get your ass...expletive, expletive, expletive". I didn't know then how useful that phrase would become, minus the expletives.

The trucks were finally loaded, and we set off for the South, two days of travel before our next show in Naples, Florida. We stopped in Savannah, GA for dinner at a restaurant. The custom was to paste a dollar bill on the wall and sign it. We did. Then we passed an oldey timey photo place, where you dress up in the cheesey saloon costumes to have your picture taken. It seems crazy to me now, that we who were really strangers then agreed that this was a good idea. But, we were the Jug Band.

Introducing, "JugBand"

2010-01-12T17:16:00.006-05:00

It's time for a little midseason replacement series on my blog. Yes, we all love to hear Maizie blame Porter the dog for putting chocolate on her foot. But you know how excited you are when Lost comes back on after not seeing it for awhile? That's what this will be like, I promise.

This crazy notion started on New Years. I shall blame this idea on a man other than my husband. I met him before my husband and I did sleep with him---on a tour bus with 7 other people.

Twenty years ago this month, I reached my first career goal. All through college, I wanted to tour with a theatrical production as a wardrobe supervisor. After graduation, I found my way to Maryland and began by building costumes for a touring company. On December 29, 1990, no, it would have been Dec 30 since it was about 4am, I stepped up into a Silver Eagle tour bus. I thought, "Oh Crap!".

I had been focusing so much on touring, I never stopped to think about what it would be like living on a bus for months with 7 other people. It was a little late by then to change my mind.

I'll give you a little spoiler.

It's twenty years later, and those were some of the best times of my life, with people that I hold dearer to my heart now than I did then.

Spending this New Year's with Scott and Peg, on the 20th anniversary of one of the most important adventures of my life, started me thinking about all those stories. Peg has been pushing Scotty and I to do a book about life on the road, backstage with a touring show. She'll have to make do with some blog posts for now. Now, I have to let him know he'll be making guest appearances here.

Twenty Ten!!!

2010-01-09T21:32:00.003-05:00

Twenty What?! So much hipper than plain old Two Thousand and Nine!

That's it. That's as profound as I'm going to get tonight.

Christmas is O-V-E-R. I survived with the help of that long 'To Do' list started in November. But thanks also to David and a stockpile of various cleaning products. New Years is just a memory, but at least I stayed up past midnight, WAY past midnight. I think it was a decade ago, that happened last. So now what?

Luckily I have a gianormic show for the highschool to keep my list making skills sharp...oh and about a hundred costumes to come up with to keep the rest of me busy, too. Then there's this Etsy thing that needs a sharp boot in the rear. Here's the irony. I just made my second sale in a month, but both were vintage pieces. The beautifully crafted doll dresses that I thought would fly out the door are all waiting for owners. On top of that, the Stage Company expects me to show up for work to get a paycheck. So much to do, so little time.

Don't forget about the blogging. It's also nice to have food in the house, and the toilet still doesn't clean itself. Then there are the sequins you have to pick out of your sink when you forget that the small child in your house, does need occasional supervision.

And now the New Year's Resolution you've been waiting for--

Make More Lists, and Keep All Glittery Embellishments at Least Five Feet Off the Floor.

Not A Creature Was Stirring

2009-12-26T17:47:00.004-05:00

Our house is empty of house guests, the counter full of dirty dishes the only evidence of their stay. We've painted on the new easel, bounced on the bouncey kangaroo (I can't convince Maizie that it is a pony) and read a library of new books. We're still full from the massive two days of eating, only one thing left to do.

A Merry Christmas To All

2009-12-25T00:01:00.000-05:00

Priorities

2009-12-19T21:54:00.005-05:00

The master of all 'Christmas To Do' Lists has been sitting on the dining room table for two weeks. Yesterday, Wendy and I did our third annual Cookie Day. You could build a fort out of all the tupperware containers of cookies stacked around the kitchen and dining room. 'Cookie Baking' was crossed off the list. That afternoon, I finished assembling our custom cards, and and mailed them. Today, there is only one more person on my gift buying list. There are some wrapped presents under the tree. David and I went to see a movie tonight, and that wasn't even on the list. It's like I woke up from a dream and discovered that I really AM Martha Stewart.

Until thirty minutes ago, when I got a good, hard smack in the ass from the reality stick. We were putting a groggy, screaming Maizie to bed, after picking her up from Aunt Wendy and Uncle Doug's. Maizie was asleep on their couch, and didn't make the transition to car to her own bed very well. You could use the term, 'hissy fit'. I scooped her up, and settled into the green comfy chair in the corner of her room. I wrapped my arms around her hiccupy sobbing body and rested my chin on her head. I don't remember how long it took her to calm down, or when her little snores started. I kept on rocking her until I realized I wasn't comforting her anymore. I was rocking the half starved baby who cried for hours the first night she was in my arms. I was rocking the warm and content baby who had drifted to sleep in my arms. I was rocking the little girl who didn't want me to sing her to sleep anymore. I don't know what happened to all those children of mine. The girl I was holding was too big to hold in the crook of my arm. I've been telling her she has to stop getting bigger. I won't be able to pick her up. She just won't listen to me.

I made an addition to my list.

remember

One Down

2009-12-17T22:47:00.001-05:00

We said goodbye to one of our cats yesterday. Ghengis was ornery and old...so old I'd be paying college tuition for him if he had done better on his SATs. He's been sick the past year, and skeleton thin. That didn't stop him from tormenting Porter last weekend, or stealing food off of Maizie's plate whenever I had to go back to the kitchen for something. As a kitten, I remember him swallowing a chicken bone bigger than he was, then refusing to let me remove it from his throat. It figures that he would wait until the ground freezes to cash in his ninth life. Even in death, he was a bad cat.

Here's my ode to Ghengis--this is one of my favorite posts.

From July 2007:

The week after we got back from China, one of our cats decided that after years of watching the dog flaunt his freedom, he was making a break for the great outdoors. Ghengis, also known as the 'Cow Kitty', headed out the dog door and made the backyard his new playground. Even though the yard is fenced, I knew a run in with a Coyote or a Buick was inevitable, but he's old, he's prancing around like a kitten out there, so if he's gonna go, at least he'll go happy.

Today was just the Maizie & Me show. I had a cute little list of things I would get done in between naps, outside time, lunch. I was determined to have fun playing with Maizie, and show David how much I could get done around the house. I should have known it wasn't going to play out that way.

After breakfast, Maizie, Monty & I were playing on the living room floor. I saw the dog door open, and in sauntered the cat--with a squirrel almost as big as he was hanging out of his mouth, twitching. Several things went through my head at once.

1-What if the cat drops the squirrel, and it attacks the baby.

2-How do you get a squirrel out of your house while balancing a baby on your hip?

3-What if the squirrel gets loose in the house and dies where I can't find it?

4-I am going to kill that cat.

I tried to shoosh the cat back out the dog door. At which point the cat started to growl, thinking I was going to take away the squirrel, and headed into the living room. Have I mentioned the dog is afraid of the cat? I managed to head the cat into the basement, with the squirrel still in tow, and slammed the door. At least both cat and squirrel would be contained.

Now I faced a real dilemna. If the squirrel wasn't dead yet, it could hide and die somewhere very inconvenient. If the cat decided that 15 years of Cat Chow was enough, and it was time for something fresher, I'd be scrubbing squirrel guts up for days. Do I take the baby into the basement for a little Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom lesson? I finally decided that if I put Maizie in her Walker Without Wheels seat with a cookie and told the dog to 'Stay', I wasn't technically leaving her unattended.

I sprinted down the cellar steps. No sign of squirrel or cat in the laundry area. Bummer. The floor there is linoleum and alot easier to clean than the rest of the concrete floor. More resistant to blood stains, too.

Then I spotted them behind the steps. Ghenghis wasn't sure what to do with his conquest. He's never caught anything bigger than a thimble sized baby mouse. The squirrel's eyes were open, but there didn't seem to be any breathing happening. I grabbed a couple plastic grocery bags and knelt down to scoop him up, using one of the bags as a glove. But what if he's not dead yet? What if I scoop up a bag full of very angry, not dead yet, anthrax carrying squirrel? Why hadn't I grabbed a shovel from the garage, so I could give it a few whacks to make sure it had gone to meet his maker?

After a few minutes of intense staring, I concluded the squirrel was in fact an ex-squirrel and I should just get the thing out of the basement. I still couldn't bring myself to pick it up with the 'bag for a glove approach' and settled for using a dust pan to dump it into a triple layer of plastic grocery bags, just in case.

After leaving Mr. Squirrel in his final resting spot-the trash can, and lots of washing, I dashed back upstairs to see what horrible accident Maizie had gotten into. I slid into the living room to see her happily sharing the cookie with the dog.