how "being green" can sometimes lead to "bloody massacre"...

I have a strange relationship with lint. I just can't justify tossing it out when it could be saved and used for cool things like this. Seriously, how awesome is that?!


So, every time I empty the lint trap out, I just set it on top of the dryer until I can think of something to do with it. But, like almost everything else I set out to do, I never get around to using it and the pile gets bigger and bigger. Eventually, my husband will inform me that our basement lint population is out of control and threatens to throw it all away if I don't create a fiber masterpiece of my own. Then he gives me 'the look'...you know, the same one that debuted here...the "you're in big trouble" look.


With a defeated sigh, I will mumble something about not being free to be myself and how my efforts of creativity are stifled by his need for cleanliness, and then trek out to the backyard with two armfuls of dusty lint. I hang it in tufts on the branches of our crabapple tree and wait for the birds to come find it to use for their nests.


Turns out, a mama rabbit found our offering and dug a little nook in the tall grasses (read: weeds) next to the fence. Tucked inside were six tiny baby bunnies all snuggled together on a bed of soft, multicolored fuzz. The would-have-been discarded fibers of our socks, shirts, and unmentionables (why do I write about underwear so much??) had provided a soft, safe haven for those little babies.


But really, only a soft haven, because it was far from safe. Even though the nest was on the other side of the fence, even though we worked so hard building and designing it to keep rabbits out and that nasty, vile dog we call ours in, it wasn't safe enough.


While we were inside cooking up a fine spaghetti dinner, Lena was outside pacing the boundary line, salivating, and formulating a plan in that pea sized brain of hers. Escape was necessary and by any means possible. She violently tore the chicken wire off the trellis and gnawed her way through the crosshatch. Squeezing her whole body through an impossibly small hole, she landed directly on top of the sleeping babies.


I can't write the rest. I am honestly still shaken, and I think it would just be cruel to put into words the horror of what came next. You know what happens. You can imagine the rest.


And that's why this post will have no picture. If that disappoints you, you are sick. Sick!


Somewhere out there is a mother rabbit who has lost her family.
I hope she didn't see it all go down.
That would suck.


Lena and I are not on speaking terms.
She has totally spoiled the joy I used to get from saving lint.

once upon a time...

I was sixteen and had a disposable camera...

(Left to Right: K, Me, Kimberly, El.)

...and I was a bridesmaid in El's wedding.

These are my friends from years ago.

We met through a community theatre when I was only thirteen, and have stayed friends since.

Through my teenage years, I looked up to these women. 

We shared crushes, makeup, tears, secrets, clothes, bobby pins, shoes, hairspray, jokes, and break ups. 

And we shared gallons of glitter.

Then, I grew up some more, got a nice new film camera, and took this picture at Kimberly's wedding...

That's Kim on the left! She, in fact, has a blog herself. It's a crafty blog full of crafty things, recipes, and seriously adorable stories of her babies.

Once, I thought I killed her. 

I can't remember the details now, but it was my idea to get a late dinner at our favorite Perkins. 

We laughed a lot, as usual, and I remember being giddy with excitement to get to spend the next day with her at one of our theatre performances. 

On her way home, driving 70 miles an hour on the highway, she rear ended an SUV. 

Now, if my memory serves me right, there was construction, she was talking on the phone, and the SUV was parked as traffic was at a stand-still. 

If all of the above is indeed true, I'm not sure why I still blame myself for the accident. Even though it was my idea to get a late supper, the afore mentioned scenarios were much larger contributors to her collision, wouldn't you say?

The next day, I waited for her to show up to the performance. 

She was late. Really late.

Finally, someone came up to me and told me she had been in an accident the night before.

I was stunned. I cried and cried, I blamed it on myself.

If it weren't for me wanting to grab a late snack, if it weren't for me keeping her out late, she wouldn't have run into a parked vehicle on the highway!

They said her car was completely totaled, the brand new car she had just bought a few days before.

But, then they said, she only broke her nose, and she was safe.

Phew!

Anyway.

I went to the store to develop that picture, but I only had the negative...

Well, apparently, they don't know how to do that anymore. 

I handed them the negative and in return, I received the emptiest of blank stares I have ever laid eyes on.

And though they were all wearing name tags that stated, 

"19 years photo lab experience"

they clearly did not know how to handle this situation.

An hour or so later, after summoning several more photo technicians, I was given back an envelope filled with all of the pictures I did not want printed, and only one that I did.

Oh well.

More years passed by, and, even though I feel like the same. exact. person. in the first photo, I guess I must have grown up enough to get married myself...

That's ME! In the middle! At MY mostly-grown-up-adult-ish wedding!

This time, I erhm, actually, our parents had enough money to hire a photographer to take the picture!
 Luckily, I didn't have to sort through negatives to get a second print of this. I had it neatly stored on our trusty Mac. All I hubby had to do was zip it over to a USB and take it to the store to print.

That, they do know how to do.

I don't have much else to say about the USB.

Except that,

later that night, when I was dressing for bed, I found it nestled in my underwear.

No. I don't know how it got there.

I've retraced my steps, questioned my husband, and scratched my head.

No idea how it ended up there.

That brings us to the present, at "K's" wedding, where I completely forgot a camera of any sort.

So, I stole it from Kim's blog. Yup, I right-clicked that sucker. (but, ps. only I'm allowed to do so, so don't you dare try it yourself.)

You can read her side of K's wedding over on her blog, with a detailed, hilarious, and very, very accurate account of "the lake fly incident" .

Day to day, it never seems as if anything is changing. 

We feel the same, act the same, 

and looking back at our reflections, 

we think we look the same as yesterday.

But, for the four of us, most things have changed.

From disposable, to film, to digital cameras.

When once upon a time we giggled about boys and crushes while trying to adhere our false eyelashes.

Now we laugh and sigh contentedly about husbands, homes, and babies.

And it is good.

spring...

It's here.

The time of year for tulips, bike riding, and laundry drying in the breeze.

Muddy, sloppy paws that lull the mop out of it's corner for an almost daily debut.

Freckles peek out from pale hibernation to greet the sun.

Rings adorn my toes.

I cut through the soft grass in my sandals instead of staying on the sidewalk.

Lena snacks on butterflies and bumble bees.

Open windows sweep out the stale, wintered air.

Husband spends most evenings in the garage, creating, organizing, inventing.

I stretch out on the lawn chair with a good book.

Sip iced tea and lemonade.

Breathe. 

Deep.

We top off the bird feeder and I ask my husband, 

"How do the birds know where to find the food?"

He shrugs.

"I don't know, word of mouth?"

what is this feeling?

I didn't think it could happen to me...

The obsession.

The fixation.

The excitement.

I read, "Twilight".

"What's the big deal?"

I thought.

"Really, what is this all about? Is it really something great? or is it just a prepubescent fetish?"

I fluttered through the first few chapters, enjoying the plot, the characters, the settings, all the while trying to place Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson in the mirror of my mind, acting the story out on the tiny big screen in my head. Mostly that just made my mind drift, wondering what Kristen and Robert were doing right now in real life...didn't I hear they got married? I wonder if they shop at Walmart? Do they wear socks when they're home, or go barefoot?

Less than mid way through, I really sunk my teeth in.

I was always thirsty for more...

The passion, the lust, the drama!

Instead of picturing Kristen, I pictured myself as Bella.

Instead of picturing Robert, I pictured my husband as Edward.

(Okay, not really...I still pictured Robert. You can judge me, I don't care.)

During the day, in the time away from my new favorite book, I pretended someone would be there to swoop down and stop me from tripping, or block a runaway car about to hit me, or blast a bad guy to smithereens!

I wondered,

What would I look like as a vampire? Could I really get any paler??

Wouldn't I look so pretty being all sparkly when I stepped into the sun?

I finished the first book last night.

Sliding into bed, sipping the last few slurps of my tea, I read the final pages.

I closed the book, and sighed, long and heavy.

Tucking myself deep down into the comforter, I glanced over at my sleeping husband, my icy toes curled under his.

Pulling the sheets up to my chin, and batting my pouty blue eyes, I said,

"I wish I could be a vampire too"

Not so asleep, my charming husband replied,

"Shut. The. (I can't say that word.) Up."

Okay. Maybe I have gone overboard.

the day Lena turned one...

Some time ago, somewhere in Kentucky, a boy dog and a girl dog (who, we are told were probably related...) decided they loved each other and made puppies. Or they were just bored...who knows.

A year ago today, those puppies were born. 

And one of them ended up with us.

(Lena, May of '09)

We celebrated in style. Doggy style.

We took Lena to the dog park, but her friends thought it was too muddy to come out and play.

She didn't think so! She ran through every pool of water and puddle of mud she could find.

Ohhhh, was she ever dirty...

So, we loaded her up and took her to the 'dog spa' (aka. tub and hose)

When we got home, we prettied her up with a crown...

("I'm 1! Or 7, depending how you look at it...")

And ate some cake!

(Spelling out "Happy Birthday" in cheese whiz is really, really hard.)

I'm pretty sure Lena had some sweet dreams of chasing tennis balls and eating peanut butter cake.

And she thinks we're the coolest human parents ever. 

She told me so.

avocado, you fail.

Todd works late tonight.

To me, this means a night of self pampering, spoiled indulgence, and beauty regimens too embarrassing to do while he's home.

My favorite: hair masks.

Since I've gone au naturale, I was determined to find a cheap, safe, do-it-myself alternative to the prepackaged hair goo I used to get at the store. 

Plus, I don't have a car, so I was stuck at home anyway.

No matter...

I open the fridge.

Find an avocado better to have been used last week.

Mash it up with an egg yolk and a little bit of olive oil.

And slop it all over my hair.

Put on my hot pink shower cap and sit happily for an hour.

"Ahhhhhh..."

I think to myself.

"This is good."

And on I go, surfing the web, and craving tacos.

"Mmmm...guacamole...that sounds yummy..."

I sit, and sit, perusing the internet, learning absolutely nothing, but completely absorbed.

An hour later...

Time to rinse!

I go to the kitchen sink- Todd would be angry if I stopped the tub drain with avocados, after all.

Green water. 

That's kind of gross.

I trot upstairs to the shower.

Relax under the hot water.

Ahhhhh...

Sticky hair.

Not so easy to rinse out.

Try to block avocado pieces from floating down the drain.

Scrub. Scrub. Scrub.

No more green water, hmmmm...must be done!

I get out of the shower, excited to see the results.

Will my hair be so soft?

Will it glisten in the sun?

Will it encourage perfect strangers to run their fingers through my freshly moisturized locks?

The mirror is cloudy, so I wait.

As slow as my hair dries, the mirror de-fogs.

A clear reflection creeps into focus.

I slowly see what I feared might happen.

Gasp! I inhale! It didn't rinse out!

My hands fly to my tresses...

Soft- yes.

Glistening- yes.

Inviting of strangers to stroke their fingers through- well, only if they're hungry...

Suspended in my web of hair, chunks of fleshy avocado pulp hung adhesively to each strand and follicle. Snarls and tangles imprisoned the green globs, and no comb or brush was a match for the captive fruit.

Aside from the horror of the lingering avocado, my soft and shiny hair had expanded to at least five times it's natural volume! Huge! HUGE I tell you!!

There on my head, an afro buffet of mexican cuisine!

Oh, the catastrophe! Oh, the humiliation!

This is why I do these things alone...

Can you imagine the embarrassment if Todd had been home?

He would have never let me live it down.

For the rest of the night I will be humbly plucking avocado pieces from my hair.

Hopefully, with another two or five showers, all of it will be gone by morning...

Hopefully.

If not, the regulars at work tomorrow might be asking for a side of chips and salsa with their morning coffee...

"Dear husband...

...would you still love me

if my face really did get stuck like this?"

"Dear wife, of course I would still love you...

...your face is pretty much stuck like that..."

True story.