what's for dinner?

I always thought that someday when I "grew up" and had a husband and kids and a house that I would also have a stocked refrigerator. I took this picture this evening, and it has not been tampered with. These are the contents of our fridge: cheese (of the sliced, cream and queso varieties), milk (for Catcher, I hate the stuff), clementines, salsa, Scout's bottles for tomorrow, Pedialyte (left over from Scout's tummy virus last week), olives and tonic. There are no condiments because I don't like them; no fresh vegetables because they always go bad before I eat them; no lunch meat because I pack PB&J every day. So much for being grown up, huh?

People are always amazed when they see how empty our refrigerator is. But I think there are people in this world who stock refrigerators (not just hoarders) and people who don't. I guess it's usually bachelors who don't, but I'm one of those too. I'd rather just look at a clean, empty fridge than worry about expiration dates and stinky takeout. I hate leftovers, too, by the way. Our freezer (below) offers a little more...although it looks remarkably like the frozen section of Trader Joe's.

feeling groovy

Gypset Style, amazon.com

In case you haven't heard, Boho--as in bohemian, as in fancy word for dirty hippie--is in this spring. As much as I dislike this movement, I also love it. The Grateful Dead-following, gypsy-skirt-wearing, pierced-nose-girl inside of me cannot be silenced. She keeps the corporate, over-scheduled mom side of me in check. While the idea of living as a starving artist has long since dissipated from my dreams, I wouldn't mind being a hippie of the sophisticated kind as outlined in Julia Chaplin's Gypset Style (Jet Set + Gypsy = Gypset). I don't want to be the gypsy that picks your pocket in Spain, but I'd like to be the gypsy that travels glamorously and lives stylishly.

how's that list coming?

Tomorrow is March 15th. We gave ourselves a deadline of March 1st to have our house back on the market. We missed it. Remember the list? Well, here's where we stand: we've crossed 16 things off the list. And of those 16 things, one isn't technically complete yet (Alex has ordered new glass for the kitchen door but it hasn't been installed yet) one was half-assed (I decided I would replace the shower liner but not the curtain) and one was crossed off without being attempted (unless you call looking for uplights at Lowe's "attempting" to put uplights behind the TV).

Alex is about to embark on a 15-day journey through NCAA madness, so it looks like our March 1st is more realistically April 1st. How is it that the time goes by so slowly when you're house is on the market and you don't have any showings yet so quickly when you're trying to get your house prepped to be on the market? Although I look at this little delay as time wasted, I think back and remember when we first put our house on the market in the summer of 2009...

- before I was pregnant with Scout
- before Catcher turned 1
- before Alex went to the Olympics
- before I cut my hair
- before we installed granite counter tops
- before our neighbors moved to Germany
- before Alex's high school reunion
- before I dyed my hair brown then blond then brown again (I just colored it last week!)
- before our 5-year wedding anniversary
- before Michael Jackson died
- before the Packers won the Super Bowl
- before the iPad came out
- before my favorite color went from yellow to orange to army green
- before I re-read Harry Potter for the third time (and I mean all the Harry Potters!)
- before my friends moved to Dallas
- before Bob went to a better home

barbecue and turqouise

Alex is in Kansas City (not sure which one) right now for work. Do you know what they have there? Besides barbecue (I think they're known for that), Kansas City is home to one of the coolest homes ever. Take a look:

The home is constructed of shipping containers--seriously!--and painted a fabulous turquoise reminiscent of Tiffany. Talk about reusing and recycling...

Images from Kansas City Home & Garden

baby you can drive my car

A couple weeks ago--when it was 70 degrees on a Sunday afternoon--I took the kids across the street to terrorize my neighbors for the afternoon. I'm kidding, of course. My neighbors are awesome and invited us over so Catcher could play with their dogs. The dogs were great, but even better was the Jeep that Catcher discovered parked in their driveway:

It made for a good photo opp, but for all of you out there saying "I guess we know what Catcher is getting for his 16th birthday," the answer is: um...NO.

me time

Novogratz bathroom

Yes. It is a cliche, but at the end of a hectic day who doesn't wish for a Calgon moment? I often joke that I am a single mom--at least when Alex travels 25 days a month, like the month of March--and that my real job doesn't start until I get home at around 6:30. From 6:30 - 7:30 I am in a full-body sprint as I prepare--I use that term loosely--dinner for two kids (now that Scout eats "real" food) then move onto bath number one [Scout], story time number one [Scout], bath number two [Catcher] and story time number two [Catcher]. Mix in the washing/preparing of bottles for the following day, clean up from dinner (which involves lots of windex and several paper towels to rid our ghost chairs of Catcher's sticky prints), and gathering of supplies (someone always needs more diapers or wipes at daycare)...and I'm spent for the night. No wonder I consider a baguette and a hunk of brie (and a glass of wine, of course) dinner. 

Wait. What's all this babbling about? Oh yeah...the Calgon moment. Maybe it's cheesy and very Soap Opera of me, but wouldn't a bath--in a stylish clawfoot tub, of course--be a great way to wind down? I'll take it.

Veranda

Country Living

Apartment Therapy

Elle Decor

coco and moppy

Catcher has two imaginary friends: Moppy and Coco. Pictured above is how I imagine Moppy in my mind. Here's what I know for sure: Moppy is not a good driver, Moppy likes to drink beer in the crib, Moppy is a boy and Moppy likes to clean.

Coco is also a boy (although I have my doubts based on "his" behavior alone): Coco goes to the store to get Scout's medicine when she's sick, Coco cooks dinner and Coco goes pee pee in the potty. Coco doesn't seem to be around as much as Moppy but probably because Coco is busy being responsible. Although Catcher says Coco is a boy, here is how I picture Coco:

I am constantly amazed by the mind of a two year-old. Where did Moppy and Coco come from, and why can't Moppy drive but he can drink beer? Maybe he can't drive because he drank one too many beers in the crib...maybe we should invite these guys to our next party.