An Offer You Can't Refuse

I would like our Suburban cleaned . . . particularly the inside. 

But I'm not talking minimum-wage-who-really-cares-"full-service"-carwash-clean.  I want it seriously clean.

Like if-a-mob-boss-had-whacked-a-guy-in-the-car-and-told-his-flunkies-they-had-to-clean-it-so-well-that-CSI-techs-wouldn't-find-even-the-slightest-trace-of-DNA-or-they-would-be-the-next-ones-whacked.

That kind of clean.

This Week's Sign of the Apocolypse

This is a REAL product being sold so your baby/toddler can watch an ipad or tablet while in the stroller.

A Change is Gonna Come

There's lots of rearranging going on in my house right now.  It's revealed a whole lot of dirt (and piles of dog hair).

-I live in filth.-

The first project was trying to set up a "School Room" to accommodate my admittedly-crazy idea of homeschooling three of my boys this year.  That, of course, involved buying a new kitchen table.  (Because . . . we're a freakin' family of 6 now.  So unless I automatically send 1-2 kids to bed without supper when we have guests over, we're plumb-outta room.)

Problem is, I'm not much of a decision-maker.  I like to think endlessly about a single decision, waffle back and forth for a while, then make a snap judgment out of complete frustration.

Frustration got the best of me last week.  I gave up waiting for the perfect secondhand table and just averted my eyes when I handed over my credit card at World Market.

Now my computer desk is moved (creating a small igloo of coolness under the desk where the vent is trapped), a bookcase has been relocated from my bedroom, and the old kitchen table is a school table.

My dad/hero assembled the new table this afternoon, while the benches and chairs await my husband tonight.

Upon reflection, I don't think I'm going to allow the boys to eat at the new table . . . ever.  It's much too nice.

And I think I may hang a little curtain from the desk so I can hide from the boys in the igloo.  Shhhhh.

It's Never Too Early for a Drill Press

I was perusing toys for my nine-month-old Jedi and found this:

In what world, do parents want to buy their kid a toy that sucks up balls and then shoots them out at unsuspecting siblings? 

I did, however, come across this:

Why, yes--yes, that is a drill press!

If it didn't look quite so obnoxious and didn't obviously produce endless annoying sounds, I would almost consider getting it.  It is a drill press after all.

That Silly Norman

Two weeks completed in my Make 365 Challenge! 

I've found myself thinking about robots even more (if that's possible).  You know, like when I'm laying down trying to sneak in a nap, but can't fall asleep because that would just be too easy now, wouldn't it?

It's a good excuse for me to try new things.  Look what I made with Picassa (said in the sing-songy voice of a toddler's "Look what I can do!").

Pretty exciting, huh?

Now if only I could complete some of the things on my actual To-Do List instead of screwing around with photoshop . . .

Sorry?

So it's been a while.  I've been distracted.  Baseball, babies, books, brocrastination (at least it's a new variation on my very old theme!).

Good news is I've started a new project!  I've been apprehensive about sharing the news with anyone--you know, with my track record of general failure.  But today, I'm biting the bullet (yes, more B's!).

My boys and I have begun two exciting, stupendous, mind-boggling projects.  Check them out here:
www.a-robot-a-day.blogspot.com
www.a-baseball-a-day.blogspot.com

[Qualifier:  I'm just letting you know ahead of time that I'm not good at posting every day, but I do promise we're doing the actual creating every day.  ]

Follow our progress . . . and prepare your mind to be boggled.

Someone Organize My Life - Please!

So my life is a disaster.  I know, I know--I complain a lot, particularly about the mess that is my home.  But this time, I really mean it.

The level of disorganization has sunk to a new low.  Every room in this house has a sliding pile of papers, a jumble of random toys, or a pile of dirty, smelly, boy socks.  It's disheartening, to say the least.

Recently, I bought a book on organization.  Because that's all I really need.  A book.

When I uncovered it a few days ago from a pile of other unread books (which are, incidentally, each their own solution to every problem I've ever had), I had an inkling of motivation.

The book's introduction was great--stirring, motivating, energizing.

I can clean.  I can purge.  I can organize.

Or, at least, I can get on the internet and browse closet organization systems.




Let me tell you, the euphoria's already fading.  Maybe I'll just torch the place and start over.