Hoover Trade-Off
1997-2009

After 12 ½ loyal years of service, our Hoover vacuum has finally died its last death. A lovely gift from my grandparents for our wedding, it has served us well. It has kept the floors clean in six different homes, various rentals that were left trashed by tenants, and more vehicles than I care to admit to having owned. It viciously chased the hair and dandruff of two dogs, two cats, and five family members. It suffered through the renovation of an old home, and has vacuumed the extra fuzz off of new carpet with zeal.

In his later years little Hoover embraced massive battles with dumped out baby powder, spilled cat litter, and the debris of more than a few haircuts performed on wiggly little boys in front of the TV. He took on each task with willingness. Though his tired age had begun to show he never gave up.

Thank you, Hoover, for your years of loyal service. Rest in peace old friend.

Random with a side of random

Playdough is a blessing from heaven.
I haven't bought playdough in ages because it makes such a mess everywhere. I caved a week or so ago when Spicey wanted to spend her hard earned pennies on a playdough set. Anticipating territorial playdough play, I picked up an extra package for Jack. This time I got smart and set a strict rule: playdough only in the kitchen (no carpet) on the kiddie table.

Oh sweet heavenly day. Jack and Spicey will play with that stuff for endless amounts of time and they play peacefully. Oh how I dread the day when the playdough gets boring and Jack moves on to other activities like riding on the swinging open refrigerator door, and carrying the cat around by the neck.


Raw Meat
Tonight I successfully handled raw meat. Raw chicken meat, no less. Oooo how I hate handling raw chicken on the best of days. My queasy stomach cannot even stand the sight of it.

I keep thinking that I've turned a corner and I'm heading out of that pregnant nausea mess and then BAM! it's like getting hit by a Mack truck out of nowhere and I spend days wallowing on the couch, getting up to fill a sippy cup, gagging in the nearest garbage can, sink, or toilet, laying back down on the couch, getting up to change a diaper, gagging in the nearest receptical, collapsing on the couch, lather, rinse, repeat.

Sewing
I actually accomplished a bit of sewing this evening. A friend at church asked if I could help her with some pillow covers for her baby's nursery. She bought the fabric and pillow forms and I made some little pillow slipcovers. Wee! It actually felt kind of nice to sit down at my machines and create. It's been awhile since I've felt up to it.

I am slowly getting my sewing stuff downsized, reorganized, and moved to different places in the house. It's taking quite a bit longer than I thought it would. I really spread out in that room! My machines are now located in my bedroom and I found that sewing in there wasn't as cramped and wierd feeling as I thought it might be. I know I'll miss doing my work in a more central part of the house, but whaddyado? For now it needs to be in a space with a door that I can shut and keep Jack out of it. He wreaks serious havoc on my tension dials and thread in very miniscule amounts of time.

Logan

There is a boy in Spicey's class who seems to be smitten with her. She is quite nonchalant about the whole thing. In today's episode she casually told me, "Logan thinks I'm cute." Acting nonchalant myself I asked, "Oh? What did he say?" She then told me that when he was near her during class he smiled and said, "You're cute." I tried to downplay the situation and asked if she remembered to say thank you. Other times I remind her that boys and girls can be friends, and how nice that Logan is friend. F r i eeeeee n d.

Aaaaand just as randomly as this started it is now ending. I feel the bedtime nausea coming on. You know, bedtime nausea that comes on after a short break between it and post-dinner nausea.

Be Still My Soul

It's one of those times in life when it all just feels heavy. But there is Hope I have found to be true. I can rest in it.

Little Nurse

This past summer we cleaned out the garage and I found a nurse costume that my aunt and uncle in England sent me for Christmas when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I'm not sure but I'm guessing it might have been around the same time that my aunt received her nurse's certification there. Maybe she'll see this post and correct me if I'm wrong.

I loved wearing it and nursing my dolls so I was really happy to find it again before Spicey was too big to enjoy it. After a bit of cleaning and a few spots of repair she wore it to a Fall party at church tonight.

Here is a picture of my cousin and me wearing our costumes on Christmas Day a million and two years ago (I'm on the right). Below that is Spicey wearing it tonight along with a wounded kitten who was her patient. I'm not sure who folded the nurse hat right . . . I did the best I could. :)

Fun stuff.

On wierdness and lunch

So raise your hand if the baby countdown ticker in the side bar mildly grosses you out.

Yeah, that's me. Wildly raising my hand while using my other hand to try to stretch my arm out higher as in "pick me pick me!"

It's just sort of bizarro, the way the baby floats around and bumps into the sides all stiff and nekkid like. One minute it's upright and then you look over again and it's banging its oversized head into the side while floating upside down. I think I need to find a new ticker. I better do that today, possibly use up all of my precious toddler-free naptime minutes doing so. I'll get on it right after lunch. Oh wait, I already ate lunch. It just doesn't seem like it because I threw it all up in the kitchen sink immediately after finishing it. Seriously, this has GOT to stop.

At least I didn't eat tacos for lunch.

Also, last night I rolled over on my stomach and stretched out to reach the alarm clock and turn out the light. When I rolled back onto my side I SWEAR that I felt the baby punch me, it was a perfectly nubby little poke of rebellion. "Excuuuse me!"