in which we live like tinkers

Terzo and I are sleeping here:



Because my LSH is sleeping in Terzo's bed (yes, there is a bed in there):



Because the master bedroom and bath look like this:



Luckily, we have a second shower, which we can just manage to squeeze into:



And I had to "break" into my vanity cabinet this morning to find my deodorant:



But there's light at the end of the tunnel. Primo is sleeping in Secondo's room because Primo's room looks like this:



Your eyes don't deceive you. That's fresh paint on them walls.

master forger

Having Primo in middle school has taught me many things, including the art of making homework look like it is 200 years old. I do not know why this is such an important skill. Truly, this does not seem like it is something that one can put on one's resume unless, of course, one wants the resume to look like it dates from the time of the American Revolution. Or unless one is planning a career in art forgery. Either way, when the assignment came home last Friday requiring the project to look "like an authentic item carried in the pocket or knapsack of [a] member of the expedition,"* I knew it was time to break out the matches.

In case this is ever a skill YOU are called upon to possess, let me fill you in on the steps. Start by using one of those lesser-known fonts, that looks like antique writing in the eyes of a 13-year-old. Change the ink color to look more sepia-toned. A couple of different options are available for the next part: we can debate the artistic merits of staining the paper with a wet tea bag vs. dirt from a flowerpot until the cows come home, but this time we used dirt because Primo thought it would be more true to the look of something carried in a knapsack. I am SO thankful that these assignments really have the kids paying attention to the details of the lesson being taught.

Then it was time for the edges, which is my personal forte. Not to toot my own horn, but thanks to all the practice the middle school teachers have given me over the past three years, I have become quite proficient at "aging" the edges without torching the document.



The entire thing, with accompanying illustrations, was mounted on historically-accurate oak board, and voila:

I wonder what grade I'll get?

* This is a direct quote from the homework assignment explanation sent to the parents.

mystery solved

I figured out why I am tired. Turns out, I am not old. Well, maybe I am. But I am tired because this darn puppy is sucking the life out of me, one drop at a time.

The unseasonably warm weather means that we are awash in a sea of mud around here. Dusty has taken to spending hours outside in the warmth, playing and romping and digging and exploring to his heart's content, and then presenting himself at the back door with mud up to his elbows. Dog baths are becoming a fairly common occurrence; sometimes all of them get in on the act. This crew (otherwise known as "how I spent Valentine's Day evening") should give you a good idea of what I'm up against.

The poor washing machine never gets a break.

This morning, my LSH came home from his run to find the puppy waiting by the front door, smelling to high heaven. We're not sure what he rolled in, but it was nauseating. I wasn't in my rumpliest pajamas this time. No, this time I was in the only pair of silk pajamas that I own (because all of my other pajamas are in the wash, of course). I ended up on the back porch in a T-shirt, green wellies, and not too much else.

Luckily, it was a pretty mild morning. Also luckily, we don't have any neighbors.

And now the whole house smells like eau du wet dog.

i'm sooo tired*

How tired am I? So tired that I will blog about OTHER people's knitting projects. To wit: my most excellent Christmas gift from my mom, which was pretty much the only knitting happening this Christmas. She made three Birthday Cowls, and I was the lucky recipient of one of them.

(No, I will not show my face in this picture. It turns out I have no talent for taking pictures of myself, and I tend to close my eyes even though I am the one pushing the shutter button.)

As Jessica has noted, a cowl has amazing warmth-retention properties. I have been wearing my red cowl with a purple sweater, in a sort of "When I am Old, I Will Wear Purple" sort of fashion. Who the heck cares? It's warm.

Wait a cotton-pickin' minute. I just realized that I might have stumbled on the reason I'm tired. Maybe I am just old! Perhaps that is why EVERY PERSON IN THE UNIVERSE, even those older than I am, has taken to calling me "ma'am." Gack.

* With apologies to Madeline Kahn... The lyrics aren't particularly apt, but AMC has been running Blazing Saddles practically non-stop lately.

puppy daze

My day started with me chasing the puppy down the driveway while he did his best to follow Primo onto the bus. I was clad in my rumpliest pajamas, slippers and terrycloth robe, while the bus full of middle schoolers waited patiently at the end of the drive.

It progressed to washing said puppy on the back porch one hour later, because he had decided to explore the skim of ice on the pond and became nice and muddy (his opinion) after falling in.

He figured out how to escape the puppy run in the kitchen later in the afternoon. (He has been confined to a smaller space after he discovered the joys of teething on the corners of the oak cabinets.) He peed on every stair step on his way from Primo's bedroom to the front door. (Luckily I was at work by this time.) He picked up two ticks and had to be very forcibly restrained as we got them off.

And at the moment, he is catching and chewing on his own tail. No, wait. He is eating a lego Star Wars ship. No, wait. He is licking and gnawing on the carpet. (I don't even want to consider why.) I better go ahead and publish this before he comes up with another dastardly plan to drive me up the wall.

Cuteness is no defense.