Sober Chicken says...

We all go through times when things feel bad.
That's when we have to do things regardless of how we feel about them. Because it will only get worse if we avoid what's in front of us. Bad day? Add a dirty kitchen, no clear floor or table space, and no clean clothes. Then add unhappy family members who have been given dry cereal for breakfast and who also have no clean clothes.
It can always get worse.
And sometimes, more often than we'd like to admit, the act of doing something makes things just a little better. It won't eradicate the root of our existential angst, perhaps, but we will be ruminating in a clean house. And with clean clothes, there's the option of leaving the house.

ENTOURAGE

Last night, the baby was coughing.
Today, he took mini naps only due to his cold and cough.
This afternoon, I took the baby with me to my daughter's ballet class.
I took baby out to the car where we could wait for daughter where he would be contained in his car seat.
I went with the baby to retrieve my daughter from class -- waited 10 minutes outside the studio door for the class to be over.
When the little girls exited the class, my daughter was not among them!

I asked the teacher where my daughter was -- she went to the bathroom!
We find her still there; she must have been in there for at least 10 minutes.

When we arrive home, I am angry because I'm still freaked out.
Therefore, a fight ensues with my spouse.
The children eat dinner.
The children head up to bed.
The cat has peed on my daughter's bed.
The baby is coughing again.
I put saline drops in his nose. He hates me.
The dog is whining to go out but the dog will not pee when taken out because it has been raining and the ground is wet.
I strip the bed and put on clean sheets.
I hear the dog clinking around in kitchen; the dog has finished baby's jar of food that was on the counter.

My spouse has stepped in to help get our children into bed.
I read three books.
Baby's asleep...
Daughter's quiet...

I go downstairs and hear baby crying.
I get baby back to sleep...
Daughter's asleep...

I go downstairs and
daughter comes downstairs wanting water.
I promise to bring some up.

now:
I think... they are both asleep, the dog is calm, my spouse is in his home office, and the cat has emerged from the shadows.

The moral of this story is: WE ALL NEED AN ENTOURAGE.

not too shabby...

Shabby chic is hard to keep up. Especially with children who like to pull fabric that is draped. Tablecloths never remain centered. Elegant throws are overthrown. Blankets that start over couches end up over the floor.
It is I who am distressed.

My spouse is right about the shabbiness factor. This may not be the decorating style for me.

Off with the blankets, throws and tablecloths! Self actualization is now...

...

minimalist.

Puppies being puppies

This is the perfection of cute. This is Plato's truth of cute that lies embedded within the analogy of the cave. This is the archetype of cute to which we all strive and to which we all must return.
This is the yin of cute to the yang of snug.
Please... enjoy.

9 wk old Cocker Spaniel Puppies Eating/Playing

my husband's not up for another cocker spaniel just yet either...

shabby chic two

I'm doing it. I'm shabby chic - ing my life!
My husband doesn't know it yet.

I have begun to drape white cloths over our furniture, but so far it's nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, what's wrong with choosing a white table cloth?
And putting a white striped summer quilt over our tan couch? And the white soft woolen throw blanket has been draped over the back of the couch has been there before.
The unfortunate fact remains: my spouse is not that into shabby chic. To him it looks, well, shabby. And he's not so into the European / French thing either.
I have to be careful.
I have to choose when and how to drape.
I have to abstain from distressing our walls.
(I'll leave that to the children.)

It's about self actualization. The tip of what's-his-name's pyramid of needs.
Safety? check.
Food and shelter? check and check.
Human companionship? ... got it covered.
Now: Shabby Chic!

It's amazing what one can remember from high school psychology. From that one test: also, "child is the father of man." Who said it and what did they mean? 10 points.

I can't remember his name either, but I do know what he meant.

it's annoying

when will the me generation begin to see the world beyond their noses?

Now, those of you who know me well know that I abhor being controversial. That being said, I must point out that the solipsistic generation has done nothing beyond allowing me to use a word I learned in the study of Milton repeatedly when complaining about them.
To be fair, I may be guilty of painting an entire generation with the same broad stroke. Not everyone who came of age in the 1970s and 1980s is a narcissist... There are those who know that people they don't know personally are not necessarily "extras" in the film of their life.
Not every park is a "location" shot for our contemplative scene.
Not every fat friend is comic relief.
Not every detail means something cosmic. Sometimes a pencil is just a pencil. Even when it breaks!

OK. For perspective I will admit that I ate donuts and chips last night. While watching "It's Complicated." And while I admire Meryl Steep immensely, I have to say that it's actually not that complicated. So for all the me generation who may be at risk for falling into a mature romantic comedy, let me outline a few things... prophylacticly:

1) Don't sleep with your self obsessed ex-husband. Any wife worth her salt knows already that her cheating ex is still not listening to her within five minutes, even if she's horny.

2) Please stop using the line, "... but I did this for me." while those around you are crying, as if it's some break through. You know very well how to look after your own needs; it's not a new skill.

3) Be clear. Be honest. Let the crap fall where it may.

I wonder if a movie like that would be funny. Maybe it would if one of the main characters followed those rules while the rest tried to meander around the truth.

OK.
I'm done. I have to go take care of myself because I realized while writing in my journal that when I don't get my own needs met, I tend to be intolerant and cranky.

shabby chic

I want to shabby chic my life. I want comfort and a weathered shades of neutral color scheme. I want there to be an atmosphere about my life that is vaguely French.

This is not to say that my life isn't pretty. It's comfortably elegant when the toys are put away and the kitchen is clean and I'm not yelling at anyone. But so often the TV is on too loud, set to the latest HBO documentary involving guns and screaming. The children are yelling at each other over who gets the fairy wand / wizard stick. I am looking at an overwhelming kitchen situation, trying to figure out what to feed my squawking brood.
Too bad, I guess. Maybe when the kids go to college I'll get out the antique white paint and sandpaper. I'll be a little more weathered myself by then, perhaps more comfortable and if I stop dying my hair, it'll be antique white too.

... so. There it is.