An Ode (or Whatever) to Pinterest

          O Pinterest! Dost thou know that I
          Covet those pins that catch'st mine eye?
          Verily, 'tis true that every pin
          Causes mine heart to leap with chagrin.
          I say chagrin -- for I cannot muster
          The moxie to create my own feather duster
          Or re-tile my kitchen with hand-painted ceramic
          Or bake a souffle (the thought makes me panic).
          [And yes -- I know that those words don't rhyme.
          Get off my back, Pinterest; I don't have time
          To hone my craft and polish my meter.]
          But I adore Constant Pinner and do long to greet her.
          She takes perfect photos; she wears perfect clothes;
          She know just what polish I should put on my toes.

                    Her house, her garden, her baby, her life
                    Are perfection. And if a teen gives her some wee bit of strife
                    I never will know.
                    Dog puke on the carpet? A burnt apple crisp?
                    A babe who says, "Fuck!" in an adorable lisp?
                    I never will know.

          But I say to Constant Pinner, "Bring it on, bitch!"
          I do love her photos! They give me an itch
          To craft, to re-finish, to weed, e'en to blog!
          And what are these pins after all, in this slog
          We call daily life, but a chance to dream
          And to vow to ourselves, though mad it doth seem,
          That we too might make curtains, or jelly, or quilts;
          That we might even make some DIY stilts.
          It could happen! Especially if my ways I mend . . .
          Oh, who am I kidding? So here I must end.

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Well, so here we are, approaching the season of Christmas once again.  I have found some terrific books for the Advent calendar again this year; I look forward to sharing them with you! The link will take you in most cases to Amazon, which will not benefit me in any way.

On this first day of December, here is a fun and fabulous book -- especially for a family with a fancy girl of their own! Fancy Nancy: Splendiferous Christmas is adorable and sparkly and fun to read. The illustrations are part of the fun, as Nancy prepares for a fancy Christmas, complete with decorations and a tree and gifts that she will prepare her very own self. When things go awry, trust Nancy to find a way to make Christmas festively fancy!

Get the adoption papers ready . . . .

So here we are in beautiful Sandbridge, Virginia, spending another week with our beloved un-family. The tall boy is feeling pretty lucky because the Department of Justice released him from his cubicle for a little while. We're feeling pretty lucky to have him with us too -- we missed him while we were in Nag's Head in June!

I know it's Thursday already, and I kept meaning to tell you something pithy and meaningful every day about how much fun we're having, and how delicious the food has been, and how much I love spending time with these people. But seriously -- every time I considered whether to sit down and write, or lie back down on the sofa or beach chair or recliner or bed and read another hundred pages, guess which one I did? I could lie to you and say I was out there boogie-boarding or kayaking or going for an early morning bike ride -- but no.

And I'm telling you -- pretty soon I will have to stop calling them my un-family; I am considering all kinds of nefarious plots to get myself officially related to them. Most of these involve legal adoption or arranged marriage (sorry, tall boy -- you just thought you were in charge of your own destiny), so give me some time.

Check out our week:

The girl in charge and I picked the sunny girl up at camp on our way to the beach. While we were traveling it became necessary to try on Princess Kate hats.

Angel girl . . . .

Taboo seems to be the chosen game of the week . . . .

Not me on the sea kayak -- I took the picture from my beach chair before I sank back into my book.

Not me on the boogie-board either -- but look at this dude go!

My birthday dinner!

Dear ones . . . .

The husband and an un-brother -- getting that birthday cake ready!

This one is helping me get the adoption papers ready . . . .

And she is working with me on the arranged marriage angle. I'm telling you -- the two of us really, really want to be related to each other. It will happen.

And just a reminder -- I know I keep saying it, but it really is true: I am the luckiest mom.

Snapshot: Why I suck

This tragically accurate (and let me note -- completely unstaged) picture tells you everything you need to know about me:

1. Newly purchased P90X workout discs (pricey) and glamorous "Extreme Home Fitness Nutrition Plan," being eaten by a delicious bag of potato chips. The girl in charge and I are starting this challenging! yet awesome! workout program ("Extreme workout! Extreme results!"), just as soon as we finish watching all of our backlogged NCIS and Gilmore Girls episodes. Honest!

2. Festive Merry Christmas tablecloth. Hello, January!

3. I've always had a thing for Sharpies, but it feels like the Sharpie Fairy scatters them all over my house like glitter, except more permanently staining. I seem to trip over them in the oddest places. Ask anyone, including Coleen's heart-faced girl, who, at the age of two, found one on the floor of my bedroom and proceeded to scribble in bright blue all over the pristine white belly of a sleeping Annie the Wonder Cat. Just one more way that my slovenly housekeeping has created one of my all-time favorite memories.

4. Blog posts, unwritten.

5. Bills, paid. Maybe.

6. A Midsummer Night's Dream. Hello, dream lover!

The Tomato Follies: Here we go again!

So you remember my pathetic tomatoes from last year, right? This sad, sad picture was taken in August 2009, when my plant should have been groaning under the weight of all those warm, ripe, glowing red tomatoes.

People, I despaired.

But this weekend we planted a new crop of tomatoes and basil -- and I am ready to begin anew.

I may be delusional but I think I can already taste the perfect B.L.T. -- made with tomatoes from my own garden. Don't be a hater; it could happen!

A star is born . . . ?

So the tall boy will be making his film debut soon -- although I'm sorry to tell you that you will have a hard time finding the movie at your local AMC theaters.

These four high school pals came over to film him for a class project, and proceeded to boss him around our kitchen, with a Flip camera capturing the glamour.

I had a hard time telling what approach the Scorcese wannabes were using, as they directed him to "make a sandwich!" Being the ever-vigilant mom, I asked them if they were speaking in some sort of film school code -- because it sure sounded like "make a sandwich" could go in a lot of different directions, and some of them could get him kicked out of school.

They just looked at me with four pairs of limpid eyes and said, "Oh no! We just want him to make a sandwich!"

"Are we talking PBJ here, or something a little more risque?" was my next question.

"Well -- we will get extra credit if he makes a creative sandwich . . . " answered Sophia Coppola.

After examining all the contents of our refrigerator, he decided to make a Ramen sandwich -- which sounded nasty to me, but cracked the future Golden Globe winners up.

Then the bossy part started: "Get out a pot! Don't waste the water! Get a sponge -- you're making a mess on the stove!"

But they got distracted by Annie the Wonder Cat -- talk about a film star! -- and left the tall boy standing in the kitchen with a package of noodles, still trying to find his character's motivation.

Creative strife broke out between the actor and his directors as they discussed the genre and themes of the film. The tall boy was headed toward some sort of existential approach -- something like "Solitude and the Sandwich -- a Reverie." But it seemed the directors had another vision for the film's message, because the two who were not completely mesmerized by the cat told him, "OK, now dance."

Here is how the tall boy responds to being told to dance. It's the high school equivalent of stomping off to his trailer in a huff, calling for his agent.

The director tapped her foot patiently, thinking she could wait him out.

But she doesn't know from foot-tapping. The tall boy Does. Not. Dance.

Luckily Ramen only takes three minutes to prepare, and the drama subsided as the tall boy began to put the actual sandwich together. The next crisis arose when they said, "OK, now take a bite."

The tall boy howled with laughter. "Do you really expect me to eat a Ramen sandwich?" he choked, and I do not kid when I say these girls were not laughing at all.

"The whole point is that someone has got to eat the sandwich, tall boy." What kind of class are they taking??

"Hello, sunny girl! How about a delicious Ramen sandwich?!"

Hmm . . . . "Not bad!" she said brightly. Annie was skeptical.

I just love the sunny girl -- and now these high school film students do, too!

How 'bout that Ramen sandwich -- with a side of nail polish?!? The Pioneer Woman has nothing on my tall boy!

Fabulous!