How are you?

 Some new belts, reversible and embroidered. 

Lovin' my sewing machine and all it's bells and whistles.

If you were one of the two people that read my last post (thanks, Mom and Alison), then you may recall that I said I was gonna take the summer easy. That would be AFTER my first week of up-and-at-'em's, go-get-'ems and let's hop to it's. In keeping with that short-lived theme, I was up at 4:30am this morning and out the door running by 5.

 ...look who's been cooking! And by "cooking", I mean tearing open a box of something, throwing it in a bowl with some butter and zapping it in the micro. Just like Grandma used to make!

This is probably where I should explain my definition of "running". Imagine a tired toddler chasing after a deflated ball and you've got me. So why not call this "jogging"? Because that would be a stretch. It's more like jalking. Anything to prevent the onset of sweat and the burning of calories, says me.

 I am very excited to now be in the What's In Store! Thank you, Rebecca!

I swear I was going somewhere with this, it's just taking me a while. Kinda like me jalking. Anyway, while I was out this morning, I encountered a real runner who, when passing me by at  break neck speed, asked the age old question: How are you? 

 To celebrate the end of the school year, we had a Art/Yay-the-Kids-Are-Gone party at my house last week. These masterpieces were created by some undiscovered talents -- amazing!

I paused before answering this question. To really ponder it. Or maybe to catch my freakin' breath. It was then that I realized that my initial response to this question is usually either something negative or sarcastic. But since I hardly had enough wind to breathe, let alone complete a sentence, I managed a "Fine, you?"

My quilt-a-holic music teacher friend created this one.

Okay, I have to tell you, this dude was old. Like, white hair, running outfit from the 1970's, more wrinkles than my clothes on any given day: OLD. So when he responded "I am terrific. It is a great day!", I thought, well of course you think the day's great, you don't have very many of 'em left.

These ladies are so creative and willing to try anything new. My friend Jeni came up with a different technique and took the project to another level. But she's like that...

Then I thought harder (after which smoke and a burning smell soon followed) and realized why didn't I think the day was great also? The sun was just rising, there was a wonderful combination of warm air and cool breeze, my day's agenda consists of visiting a friend, shopping and packing for a trip: What's not great about that? 

 Taking this guy to Nashville Clothing Company today. Another amazing shop!

Even if my to-do list was less interesting, shouldn't I regard every day as Grrr-eat (yes, I just channeled Tony the Tiger)? I'm gonna try. Which shouldn't be too much of a stretch for the next couple of months. Ask me again on August 4th and we'll see what kind of answer I come up with!

Summertime...

Summertime in the Sixties

  Clockwise starting with the blurry laughing lady: Grandma Marilyn, Grandpa John (who appears to be tweaking my grandma), Uncle Keith, Aunt Donna, my mother (guess who I inherited my big mouth from) and my Aunt Lottie in the middle.

I'm down to the hours before my summer vacay begins. I absolutely cannot wait. The first week off from school, I'm always so gung ho: waking up early, scratching items off my to-do list, cooking, cleaning, yard working. By the second week, that's all pretty much ended and I slide into my summertime routine.

 Mom getting her belly rubbed by Grandma while it looks as though someone's about to cool off my Grandpa. I would love see a Part 2 to this photo as my drenched Grandpa chases after who I assume was my Uncle Keith.

My real summer routine involves sleeping in, eating ice cream at least twice daily, reading trashy Brit-chic novels and thrifting. Every school year I day dream of all of the things I am going to accomplish during the summer and every summer I manage to do a whole lotta nuthin. But this summer is gonna be different.

Summertime in the Seventies

Left to right: Me, Cuz Angie, Aunt Judy. My Grandpa Eddy made our dining table and chairs. I love the red wagon and the Sit -n- Spin in the background.

And when I say "different" it's not because I plan to change or improve or actually do something about my lack of accomplishment. I plan to embrace the laziness. Love it. Wrap my arms around it and squeeze it. I mean, it's what summer is all about, right? At the end of every summer, I always beat myself up over not accomplishing this or that. Not any more.

Summertime in the Eighties
My Grandma Marilyn and Grandpa Eddy (her second hubs after G-pa John) took the three of us girls to Florida almost every summer growing up. She sent this postcard to mom.

My Grandma loved Florida...and I love that she signed the postcard "Florida People". I miss those summers with her.

My to-do list is going to involve the following: catching up with friends, watching some old movies (Hitchcock, preferably)  and eating deep fried snack foods with reckless abandon because they are delicious. Oh, and doing silly stuff with cat hair. For this, hubs and I decided to get a jump-start...

Um, yeah. That's all Asha hair. She's been shedding (and hairballing) like madness lately, so Mitch decided to give her a little brushing. We're planning on opening our own Troll Doll factory.

Needless to say, Asha was not impressed with our creative endeavor. I can read her kitty-cat mind: Boy, it's gonna be a long summer.