Scratch & Sniff

Remember those stickers that you could scratch and sniff? I primarily remember grape and peppermint, but I'm sure they had other chemically-engineered scents.

I wish my blog had scratch and sniff so you could smell the amazing beauty of the jasmine in our front courtyard.

We have a little, little tile bistro table and 2 chairs right next to the jasmine. You and I could sit there and have a glass of wine and chat, or not chat. The scent is strong, but in a good way. We probably wouldn't linger too long anyway, since the chairs are not that comfy.

But even if it was for only a short while, I sure would like to share this with you.

Happiness Alert

Just saw this on My Yahoo! entertainment headlines, where I get my most important, breaking news:

For George Michael fans, it pays to have faith.
The '80s icon-turned-dramedy plot point has announced plans for his first tour of the U.S. and Canada in more than 17 years, kicking off June 17 in San Diego.

SAN DIEGO!!! He's coming to see me!!!

I am going ape-shit with happiness.

Where do I pay?

Feeling Less Than...

Not in regards to physical size (unfortunately) but in all other areas.

I keep trying to put the positive spin, doing the little personal pep talks. The shelf life on those feels more like half life these days.

Am I compromising or settling?

Competent or mediocre?

Justified or jealous?

Blech. I'm irritating myself and thus will stop this post right now.

Happy St. Patty's Day

When I was a kid I don't remember St. Patrick's Day being a big deal. Other than being sure to wear green so you didn't get pinched (or purposely not wearing green in order to get pinched).

But my kid is WAY into St. Patrick's Day. My little engineer has pondered for weeks over the perfect leprachaun trap. We built one this Saturday. Will let you know if we catch one and he leads us to his pot of gold. If not, it will be back to work tomorrow.

Wishing you the best of Irish luck today.

Duh

Today it dawned on me. Horton Hears A Who.

As in the Whos down in Who-ville.

Horton literally hears a Who.

I've only read this book to my kid about 25 times in the last couple of weeks.

Kermit, Please Forgive Me

I do try to be green. I recycle. I bought the reusable grocery bags (not always faithful about using them, but we'll keep that between us). I use the backs of all the school flyers as scratch paper. I refill water bottles.

But I can't compromise on wrapping presents. Love, love, love wrapping paper. And curling ribbon. And gift tags. And specialty bags and boxes. And 3-dimensional do-dads that go on top of wrapping paper.
(I won't go into greeting cards right now--that topic deserves its own post/ode.)

See how pretty these gifts look? Doesn't their prettiness make you pause for just a moment and consider not unwrapping them? Oooooh--they are so pretty to me. And I'm not just saying that because I wrapped them. :O)

Did I mention I'm a wrapping paper snob? Hate, hate, hate cheap wrapping paper. So far, only Hallmark meets my standards. Have you felt the weight of their paper? Did you notice the cutting guides on the back? Are you familiar with the breezy way your scissors glide along the width of the tube? Wrapping paper heaven, I say.

And, I'm talking about true Hallmark paper here--not the lower tier Expressions line they've done for other retailers, such as Mervyns or Walmart. (Snobby, snobby, snobby.)

When Hallmark makes recycled paper up to their normal standards, then I will be more green. Until then, I'm killing some trees.

Happy Hippie Handbag

Some people love shoes. Some people love diamonds.

I love purses.

My love is tempered by my practical side and lack of extraneous income. But sometimes I break free of those chains and indulge.

I got this purse last summer. Was lucky to get it because I saw it and loved it but didn't buy it at first. It wasn't very expensive--maybe $25. But I had talked myself out of it because it wasn't very practical, had a big purse cavern, couldn't be worn with everything, had sequins...you know the drill.

The lucky part was that the purse was at SteinMart, a Ross-ish store (but nicer), where if you like it you better buy it because it will be gone the next time you are there. But the next time I was there, it was there. I interpreted that as a sign. Plus, my sister, a great shopping enabler, said very sagely "Why wouldn't you buy it?" An excellent question for which I had no viable reply.

So, the purse is mine. I pulled it out of the closet last Friday even though the day was cloudy and still officially Winter. I transfered all my purse chunk into the yawning cavern, slung the beaded handles over my shoulder and pratically skipped out the house with happiness.

It really is the little things in life.

Note to Self: No Regrets

Please remind me...

Everytime I start rumminating about what I didn't do or did do or should have done or shouldn't have done or this mistake or that bad decision or the no decisions...

That each one of those moments led me to this place with this child.

And it is all worth it.