I'm Not Stupiiid

Last night Mark and I bought a lamp for our "morning room". As soon as we were in the house, Mark set to work hanging the black-retroish-hanging-upside down-dome. He quickly encountered a problem. The mounting plate that came with the light didn't have big enough holes to fit the screws that fit the box in the ceiling. My brilliant engineer of a husband puzzled over this for two hours. When I got frustrated, and told him that he should just take the screwdriver and puncture bigger holes in it. When he informed me he didn't have enough strength, I said "Bash it with a hammer". Guess what? IT WORKED!! Point - Sarah. Not that we're keeping score or anything, because marriages don't work like that - right?
However, a new problem was discovered only a few minutes later.
Once Mark attached all the wires - the light didn't turn on. Ground to ground, red to red, white to white. Simple, right?
Apparently, not.
After much hemming, and hawing - I climbed on up to see if I could spot anything amiss. And I did, right away, actually. The wires coming down from the ceiling only had teeny nubs of copper sticking out from the insulation. After watching my daddy for a billion years, I learned that this was not correct.
I brought this up to Mark.
Where, he felt I was trying to puncture holes in the cape that is his manly pride; got frustrated, informed me of things about the wire caps - I already knew - and then pretty much said "you're an idiot housewife - you know nothing". And then he beat on his chest a little. (Ok, he didn't actually say that. Or do that. But that was the gist. I won't give you actual quotes, as that would make him look horrible.)
So what did I do?
I called my Daddy. The knower of all things household chore/home repair related.
After a quick recap on the sitch', he pretty much confirmed my theory. It was either that or there was no power to that box - in which case - Pulte would have some 'splainin' to do...
This ticked off hubband.
Then we went to bed. Because sometimes, it's best to just sleep it off.

After some rest, he stripped some insulation of the wires, reattached, and we are now glowing brilliantly in the "morning room".
He now feels like a jackass, and brayed his apologies to me underneath said light.
So, Note to men. When your wife wants a light hung in her morning room (this isn't a euphamism, btw) and she offers you a suggestion, she probably isn't saying it to hurt your pride. She probably just wants the damn light hung.

Sitting Here...

...Attempting to feel productive. And you know what? Blogging does. It's a weird fact, but it's true. It doesn't clean my house, it doesn't keep my trolls from getting into things they shouldn't, and it doesn't feed my husband. But it makes me feel better. Apparently exploiting my children, husband, and occasionally - myself, is good for the soul. I guess it's more of a public type of confession... which, reminds me is coming up. Hmmm... what do I tell them I've done?

How about:
Teaching my kids new words while driving in traffic. Today's was only crap and I feel like I'm a nominee for the worst mother ever award. Have you ever seen Calliou? That mom would so never teach her kids bad words while driving around.

Or, leaving the husband with the kids two nights in a row - on school nights, so I can hang with my lady friends.

Or seeing shoes and coveting them. This is one I should confess for every day.

Or watching "The bachelor" while cooking dinner because I really like to make fun of those poor, pathetic women. It's a highlight of Tuesday nights.

Or, for sometimes wishing I could skip mass and take a nap. I'm very, very excited to be able to start going to the 5:30 mass again. Noon is a wicked weird time of day to go.

Hmmm... Tough choices.


Anyway...
As I sit here feeling like I've run 40 miles this week, and have done a pretty spectacular impression of Lance Armstrong... Oh wait - I did do that. There is a reason for my quads to feel trashed, and my booty to need a soft place to rest itself. I'm sure the Husband could come up with a few reasons as to why I need to get off said booty and clean the house... but he's not here and we won't try - will we?

So I'm going to blog. I'm not sure how this will help my poor, aching quads but I suppose if you don't try you'll never know. If this doesn't work - there's always yoga.

Saturday, Braxton had his first school program. The kid is not shy. At. All. He is the shortest kid in his class, and therefore front row center. This is apparently a good thing, as he is shaping up to be the next Brad Pitt. Only cuter, and much better behaved. Otherwise I'll beat him. (Brad Pitt's mama, where were you during Mr. & Mrs. Smith?)

I just read this post from top to bottom. Random. I'm sure the readers love this kind of stuff... only not.

But, It's what came out and there's a smell in my kitchen that I absolutely can't find. No joke... Something is rotting and I can't find it - I've searched the pantry, the fridge, taken out the garbage, cleaned the can, rinsed the disposal with an orange, and gone through all the cupboards. I'm about to call Ghostbusters, because something has died and I'm sure it's haunting me.

It's horrible. And probably one of the reasons my husband would have to get me off my booty and cleaning vice blogging.

Durn, we weren't going to try and come up with those reasons were we?

Another reason Sarah = fail.

Have a good day all...

Not CNN...

I have a hard time watching the news. I find it makes me grumpy, and sad and weepy and a whole bunch of things I just don't like to be.

It makes me feel like Atlas. Except, I know I just don't have the muscle mass to carry it all.

So I've skipped lunch, Starbucks and superfluous shoes. We've donated. We will again. I donate blood as often as possible, and have succeeded in getting mark to do the same. I've gone through my shoes and closet, and will be dropping off what feels like a great many things.

Haiti needs it.

So, the real point of this post is actually to promote a blog of someone I'm loosely connected to (I went to school with his wife), who happens to be down working the disaster relief. If you want a first person insight into what it's like, check him out here. I can't watch CNN, even with the yummy Anderson Cooper.

Waiting...

... To leave for mass, and attempting to appease the masses.

So here's a few blogbites from my world:

I've recently started finger sculpting again. Braxton apparently thinks it's a bloody good hobby as well. The kid has some wicked good talent. This guy's name is "Dimbo". Don't ask me, ask the troll. Meet Christopher Eccleston. Well, kinda. I think it looks sorta like him... though it wasn't intentional. I guess I need to make a David Tennant, and whoever the new guy is too, now...

This is how much I feel loved. Only this time I caught it on camera. I'm blessed, what else can I say?

I've been on a BBC binge. Torchwood, Dr. Who, Top Gear. They're all amazing, and kept me totally occupied during the hours that Mark was gone. Because I dont' sleep in my bed when he's not there. It's weird.

Christmas ended Jan. 10 - and I still haven't taken the deco's down. I keep saying it's going to happen this weekend while Mark has four days off, but in all likeliness - I'm going to do it myself on Tuesday...

The house was kept pretty clean, and took very little effort to keep it that way, while Mark was gone. As soon as he landed - disaster zone again. I don't get it, but at least I have figured out the factor... the Mark factor.

I plan on wearing jeans to church today. This is a big deal for me, even though the 5:30pm mass on Sunday's is pretty casual.

I've now made $40 dollars selling old books on half.com. And feel damn proud of myself for it. (Seriously, housewivery doesn't pay jack. )

Yesterday I ran a 75 minute 8 mile. It kinda sucked. For a couple of reasons: 1. I don't like to run alone. 2. I stepped in a pile of poo during the first mile, and since it was kinda cool out yesterday I was sniffing - in poo particles for the next seven. 3. We don't live in Nebraska. Where it's flat. My neighborhood is definitely. Not. Flat.

It's now time for me to log off, and decide which shoes to wear with my jeans to church. Tough decision...

ADHD much?

According to my mother, I've never been able to sit still. She timed me sometimes, and my record was something ridiculous like 23 seconds. Yup, I made moms life an adventure. I say adventure like that, because anyone with a kid like me knows... they just know.

To this day, with a few exceptions, I have a hard time just sitting there doing nothing. To me, watching TV is doing nothing. So while I watch TV I have to be doing something; reading a book, playing with my phone, crotcheting, something.

Yesterday during naptime, I made a friend:

Hello friend.

TGIF.

I haven't been more anxious for a Friday, than I was for this one, in quite some time. No, nothing awesome is happening, It's been a long ace week. LONG week.

I'll return to normal posting as soon as I've slept. At least 6 hours consecutively. Because right now, all I can think about is sleep. I don't want dinner, I don't care about getting my miles in, I just want Mark home so I can sleep. Well, that's not true. I do want a nook still. Soon... very soon.

This Boy.

Is going to break hearts one day.
Love those baby blues.

A Geography Lesson.

Just FYI, he does know where all those places are. Just apparently not when he's singing and on camera...

You never know...

...What you are going to get when you pull out the camera. What. A. Goober.