Twas a Thursday Night in Florida...

And all through my house
Not a human male was stirring
Not even my spouse (err... The Boyfriend™, I mean. But "The Boyfriend™" doesn't rhyme with "house"... so what are you going to do?)

The children were warned,
as I put them to bed,
Not even to play
Don't even... something that rhymes with "bed."

Credit where it's due -- I tried. But a poet I am not. Unless you count the angsty stuff I wrote when I was a teenager and it was cool to write poems that talked about death and decay and life sucking. Because everything sucks when you're a teenager and it's cool to write melancholic poetry about it.

...Unless you were one of the preppy kids (remember preppy kids?). Then it wasn't cool to write poems talking about eviscerating your soul. If you were preppy, you didn't even know what poetry was -- unless it was a school anthem. But school anthems hardly count as real poetry. Thus, the whole high school caste system begins -- thems of us that know what actual poetry is, and thems of them that thought thems of us that knew what actual poetry was were weird.

But I digress. As usual.

So, yeah. I have the whole house to myself (in case that wasn't obvious). The Boyfriend™ conked out early. The Trolls are pretending to sleep (and I'm pretending that I can't hear them playing). I should be doing something remotely constructive and getting-off-my-to-do listy -- and I will (promise). But I'm enjoying the fact that I can wander from room to room without a Troll asking what the answer to number three is, or demanding something to drink because he's "SOOOOO thirsty! And dooooessssnnnn't waaaant waaaaater! (pleasecanIhaveasoda?)"

I'm trying to practice doing less... because trying to begin a simplicity practice when it's holiday crunch time is SUCH a good idea... and enjoying the lack of to-doing. But, fuh rillz, it's hard to enjoy doing nothing when the big monster of "stuff to do" looms large and in charge.

So I blog. Which means you have something to read now while you're trying to procrastinate, too. See? I'm so helpful!

Namaste, y'all!

(P.S. I'm about to load some pictures off of my camera from my Massachusetts trip. This may be a two-fer blog kinda day. Don't say you weren't warned).

Here those sleigh bells jingle...

Halloween and Christmas decorations co-mingled in store aisles? Check!
Christmas carols clogging up the airwaves -- before Thanksgiving? Check!
Black Friday gossip floating around the workplace -- before Halloween? Check!
Nary a gift idea thought up nor handmade goods started? Double check!
Panic that I can't possibly get it all completed and still pay my bills? You betcha!

'Tis the season for panic, resentment and grinch-like behavior. I'm determined, this year, to get with the holiday spirit; to throw myself head first into the joy of finding just the right gift for just the right person. I love nailing the perfect gift!

What I don't like is the pressure. I don't like the consumerism that's become par for the course during the holidays. I hate that the Trolls' Christmas lists look like the inventory order form for Toys 'R' Us. Ironically enough, I hate that The Boyfriend™'s wish list is decidedly sparse -- mostly because he's impossible to shop for.

But this year, more than anything, I am steadfastly determined to do it much differently than last year! We'll be decorated and festooned. We'll have a big ole real tree, too! We'll put up Christmas lights outside and rack up the light bill! This is The Boyfriend™'s first Christmas with Trolls, so... we need to show him how it's done. I actually can't wait to get out the lights and the decorations and rig up the house until it looks like the north pole's sister location. I can't wait to intermingle our old Christmas traditions with the new ones that include The Boyfriend™. This Christmas will be very good!

Right now, though, I should be in the study and turning all of my down time hours into a veritable one-person sweatshop of Christmas making. Right now, I'm procrastinating by rambling here about how much I'm panicking about Christmas. Oh, the sweet irony.

Full Moon

Oh how I adore a full moon! Not even being spooked out by American Horror Story (the one TV show I actually want to stop what I'm doing to watch) quite dulls how much I love bathing in the mother's radiant light. It's like being awash in blessings.

Bright blessings to you, too, my fellow travellers.

Fall Behind...And Other Double Entrendes

My, oh my has it been a while since I graced the interwebs with my blogging presence. It's been crazy, here in the Land of S. So much going on, most of it having nothing at all to do with my plans, ambitions, life lists or The Two Year Plan.

My day job moved into its new corporate headquarters. Because I hold a position of some importance (read: I'm salaried. In other words, free labor), thems of us with a rather important title were put to work for most of the weekends in October.

As ill humored and ungrateful as I sound, I'm actually quite pleased with the move. The new location shaves 20 minutes off of my commute home each day which, when you add it all together, gives me back a WHOLE DAY in three months. That may not seem like a lot to most people, but 20 minutes a day means the difference between my feeling harried and harassed when I get home, and my being able to relax and be a sane human being for the remainder of our waking hours at the homestead.

So, I've been plumb worn out with not a whole lot to give toward artistic (and other) endeavors. I DID manage to find enough stamina to make The Boyfriend™'s life rather hellish for a few days. But that's why he loves me -- for the particular brand of craziness I bring to the relationship.

Yesterday was the end of daylight savings time and a return to the normal cycle of light and dark. In theory, I understand the necessity of daylight savings time, but I equate it to communism: great on paper; horrible in practice. But with the return of the regular cycle, my body has found its rhythm again. How I love these shorter days and the call to hurry up and get ready to hunker down for the really short days. My DNA reaches back through time to a place where people busied themselves with canning and preparing and readying for long, cold winters. Since I'm a New England girl, that hard coding in the DNA, despite modern conveniences, is still a very important survival instinct. Prepare. Get ready. Don't waste the daylight, for there won't be much soon.

...I spent the goodly portion of yesterday in the kitchen, hacking up veggies for soups, chicken for stock and my poor middle finger. This particular finger has taken quite the beating lately. 

...I wish I hadn't let my second attempt at a kitchen garden go to pot. Though, now that the weather's cooling off considerably, perhaps I should make another go at growing potatoes. Potatoes, as it turns out, are finicky beasts, who prefer colder climes and steadfastly refuse to grow in tropical locales, such as Florida.

And lest I go one blog post following a singular train of thought, off to other topics...

The Two Year Plan, while still in effect, has been delayed. Mostly because The Boyfriend™ suck at follow through. Yet another reason we're perfect for each other -- neither of us minds when the other one gets distracted by something shiny; likely because the other was already distracted by some other, different shiny thing. So, it's go time effective January 1st. So, it's only a four month delay, but, I think, a necessary one. Had to get the crap behavior out of our collective system.

The Boyfriend™ also got it into his craw that web pages of the real sort be procured, FEINs applied for and gotten, and businesses of all varieties fermenting and readying themselves for take off. It kept him distract for a week or two. But I am now the proud owner of "Sam and Sady -- Enterprising Enterprises", which I will be combining with the as-yet-developed Etsy store -- and my web page (which I need to go develop some). With Christmas just around the corner (EEK!), it's prime craft making time. Between the developing of the Etsy store and this blog post, I've given the shop some thought. While I want to include a bunch of handmade goods, I also want a place where my less graff-leaning, naked lady art can be viewed and displayed.

Speaking of graff -- The Boyfriend™ in all of his loveliness got me an airbrush! The heretofore partially closed door of stencil art has been reopened with his gesture! He thinks I'm not thrilled. He is sadly mistaken.

And speaking of all of that, I must away myself to the land of art and airbrushes. I promised myself I'd get this stencil cut out and do some airbrush work tonight. While the longer hours make this night owl exceedingly happy, I do have a day job and Trolls to get to school way too early in the morning.

I promise: more posts very soon -- including the long promised Fearlessly Phobic Corn Chowder.

In the mean time, I wish you all the very best of everything your heart desires!

Namaste

So hey! Guess what?!

I have internet at home again. It's been months and months, but... I can now blog from something other than my iPad (which I still love, and will use like it's my full time job, but the ease from blogging from an actual Internet connection, with an Honest-to-God computer that can load multiple pictures at one time... priceless!)

Right now, we're watching a math DVD, because The Boyfriend™ insists that we will teach The Trolls math DESPITE Florida's lack-of-logic-in-teaching-math and I'm syncing my iPhone and... did I mention that we have internet at the house (but no longer have free cable. Gee whiz, I'm so sad about that... NOT!)??

Also, have I told you, lately, how much I love the fair? I wanna be a carney when I grow up!

So this is what happens when I try to be productive...

...though I guess it's progress, of a sort.

He needs a sinisterly safe name. One that children could combine with "Old Man..." but also denotes a servent's position in an austere Victorian home.

(if you look closely, you can see my awful handwriting on the opposite page. LOL!)

Soup for YOU!

I don't often like to brag on myself. More often than not, I am so racked with insecurity that I can't or won't admit that I have any kind of talent or gift to offer, and that whatever it is that I happened to create was pure luck.

Except when it comes to soups. That is one arena that I am absolutely proficient in. Dare I say that I excel at soup? Yes. Yes, I do.

The weather in Florida has given us a tiny window of cool weather respite, and it actually feels like fall. Fall, in my opinion, is perfect soup weather. Tonight, We're having corn chowder (a recipe I've adapted enough from the original that I feel comfortable enough to post as a fearlessly phobic cooking entry), but I couldn't resist making a pot of creamy tomato soup. This batch will be going in the freezer for later, so we have a ready meal when our window of cool weather lasts longer than a weekend.

Mmmm... Soup!