No, there is no huge story behind the title of this post. I just couldn't think of a title, so I figured I'd use something one of the kids said recently that was amusing, only I couldn't think of anything, so forget that. They're working on a puzzle right now, a Spiderman puzzle, on the floor here in the living room, and apparently they'd just found - yep, you guessed it - another piece of the neck.
So there's the title for you.
There are two other completed puzzles on the floor. There usually are puzzles in various stages of completion on the living room floor. I'm thinking I should just use them instead of rugs when the weather gets cooler.
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I warn you - I am sitting here just typing whatever comes into my head this morning. I lack structure today. It's anything goes.
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Oh - correction to yesterday's extremely brief post. The room had 10-ft ceilings, not 12-ft. But you know, once you get to the point where you have to climb up several rungs of a ladder to do the edging around the corners where the ceiling meets the walls, what difference do two more (or less) feet make? Not much.
The room is part of the main floor apartment/condo of this place in Providence. All the rooms are very decisive colors. A bright yellow kitchen - DAMN bright - like someone smashed Meyer lemons all over the walls. YELLOW!!! The living room is RED!!!!! The other two bedrooms are DARK GREEN!!!!!! and this really rich kind of cocoa brown. All the window and door trim is white, and the whole thing works really well. This room I helped paint is probably going to be a bedroom, but could be something else - if it was mine, it would have floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases and comfy furniture and a desk to work at. The walls are a shade of blue-green...not as green as teal, so more in the aqua family of colors, I guess....I don't know how to describe it better and I can't find the exact color on the Behr site (because I don't remember the name of the shade...I think it's two words beginning with H but I could be wrong.) Anyway - bottom line is, it looks striking. All the rooms do - however you feel about the individual colors, they all look very sharp and stunning against the bright white trim.
And my legs are still sore and stiff today from that ladder. I feel like Frankenstein's less-graceful older sister. That's how I feel. That's it, exactly.
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In addition to my stint as day labor for a day and a half, we've got family staying with us this week, too. I'll do more chatting about that another time - I have pictures to download and I am basically planted on this couch until I absolutely HAVE to move. Getting up to get my camera so I can download pictures doesn't meet that requirement. Sorry.
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm...let's see, it's the last day of July. That means I have to get a new banner up tomorrow.
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Alex just said "Oh! I had a blowup in my butt!"
I don't know what that means, and I probably don't want to.
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I give my old purses to Julia. I don't like the word "purse," by the way. I don't like any of the words - purse, pocketbook. I don't know why; I'm just ornery. I say bag and I expect that to suffice. Anyway, I had some old ones kicking around that I wasn't using (they were covered in dust and on the floor of the closet), so I gave them to Julia, because she LOVES purses and even likes the word.
Anyway, one of them is kind of shaped (I think - I'm so unhip about this stuff) like a hobo bag? Maybe? Only less sloppy. (I'm just wandering in a desert here, people, I don't know what I'm talking about.) It's something I clearly bought when I was still employed, and when I wanted a sharp-looking accessory. I think it also matched my favorite shoes at the time. The shoes were red, tooled leather. The purse was/is red and looks kind of like snakeskin, pattern-wise. And it's got a black shoulder strap. Not a long shoulder strap - it would hang about chest-high if it was on your shoulder and if you were an adult female.
If you're a five-year-old female, it's more like a messenger bag or something - it hangs down to Julia's hip, is what I'm saying.
And she's been keeping her stuff in it for a while.
Remember that unfortunate polyurethane incident a while ago? As part of her punishment, Bill took away her money. She has this little, old, jewelry box that she'd been keeping her money in and other bits and pieces of her life - plastic rings...a glittery party-favor mini-lipstick...a feather - and this is what Bill took and hid somewhere. I didn't bother telling him at the time, but she'd moved a portion of her money (and okay, we're talking about something like six dollars all together) into this red purse.
But that's not my point.
The other day she took out her purse and decided to empty it out on the floor in the living room, because we women need to do that - dump everything out and see what's there. Bill came into the room and was amazed at all the stuff on the floor. A ton of coins, some dollar bills, her camera, a little bottle of pink nail polish, a little tube of lip balm, and who knows what else.
"Wow," Bill said. "You had a lot of stuff in there!"
"It has everything I need!" She told Bill proudly.
A bit later I told Julia to clean up the mess and put it all back in her bag/purse/pocketbook/thing, which she did.
And a bit after that, I was, I think, in the music room catching up on my Facebook reading when Bill told me to come into the other room. I also heard him whisper something about "go show mommy!" Anyway, I come out of the room and there, slowly and maturely strolling through the living room, is my daughter. She was wearing the following:
Her purse.
Lime green underwear.
Alex's sunglasses, which look a lot like Bill's, which look kind of slick and cool.
And that most important accessory: a 'tude.
She sauntered teenagerly past her brother, who was (what else) working on a puzzle on the floor.
And he looked up at me, rolled his eyes a bit, and said, shaking his head in a nothing-surprises-me-any-more way, "Those teenage girls...."
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Okay, that's all the entertainment for now, kids. I have to go make breakfast for my STAAAAARRRRRVVVVVVing children before they waste away.
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