Busy Little Crazy Lady

I'm not exactly sure why I'm sitting here blogging this afternoon when I should be in the sewing room tackling the 19 bags I am making from 2 shows this weekend. But I've been hulled away all day and need an internet break.

So what have I been up to while unintentionally ignoring blogging?

Making bags. Lots of them, I tell you lots of them. I am eternally grateful for the sales and yet will be ready for a little holiday break in a few weeks when orders are filled and each and every teacher in our lives gets a little yummy Pink Evita bag, and toss in a few assorted friends and hostesses who will also be receiving oh, assorted baubles o' fabric..this all equals up to my eyebrows in fabric and a Christmas tree that is weeks away from moving from its current horizontal position into something more upright.

Also I have few funny stories to share. The first will be entitled I'm Too Sexy For My Treadmill, and it goes a little like this.

I'm at the gym a few days ago schlepping along to some vintage Janet Jackson on my shuffle. It look down and I've been walking a good clip for 45 minutes. I'm feeling quite good about myself and the lovely sheen I'm working up. So, I venture into the weight room area...extra confidence required here...and pick up my oh so heavy and 9lb. weights to do a few bicep curls. Everything was going great until RIP and out comes my left ear bud. In a quiet panic I drop to the floor looking for the little rubbery piece that covers the earphone thingy since it is my last little rubbery thingy and of course it would be 9 months before I could remember to go to Best Buy to buy another $.26 worth of rubbery ear piece thingys. No, rubbery thing. I casually walk around in a circle while trying to still look cool. Damn...no rubbery thingy where the hell is it? Then I try to reinsert ear bud since my endorphin high is headed south quickly.

I'll be damned if the rubbery thingy is lodged in my ear. I try with all my might and my stubbly little fingernails to dislodge the rubbery ear piece from my ear. No luck. I end workout routine and head to the shower. Surely it will come out with a little slippery soap. Then I get self conscience thinking people will know I cannot manage 9lbs. of weights and have a permanently lodged ear piece rubbery thing in my ear. But then I remember that since I cannnot even reach it with my pinky finger, people probably cannot see it. This is of course anyone at the gym would even care if they knew. I now suspect they wouldn't. The shower provides no luck at all and I drive home with rubbery piece still stuck in my left ear.

It took 6 tries and eyebrow tweezers to get the thing out! I kid you not. The Muffin Man suggested an ipod lawsuit so small ear canaled people like myself are not injuring themselves while being too sexy for their treadmills.

Next story. I fished keys out of the toilet at the bank...barehanded and lived to tell the story.

Ok, the title pretty much sums it up. I wnet to the bank for a "quick" trip yesterday with Liv. Of course since it has been a whole 7 minutes since she last used the potty she insisted on using the bank potty which by the way is behind a locked door. Teller lets us in and Livi does her thing. I come out and do my banking. Liv runs amok, vandalizing their water fountain and taking a loan at 4.5% interest. Upon finishing our banking I casually say hmmm, Liv I can't find my keys. The teller asks if I might have left them in the bathroom, to which I reply, "Of course not, I never loose my keys." Then I follow her into the bathroom, which she had to unlock with a key, after dumping the contents of my bag on the counter. I peek my head in and announce, "No keys." She gets this look of doom on her face and loudly announces in her MOST grossed out voice EVER "Oh my God they are in the toilet."

Everything stops as Liv starts to cackle uncontrollably. "Livi, did you toss Mommy's keys in the potty?", I ask in my you know she is really a mean mom overly sugary public nice voice. More cackling from the three year old. The teller yells to some guy who has an office with an actual door that he needs to get her some gloves. I tell her not to panic and quickly scoop them up with my bare hands. (It was clean water, folks.) She announces that never in a million years would she ever touch something so deathly gross. I wash the keys with soap and of course my hands too and turn to her and say, "Yes, but you appear to be only 25ish... and I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess you have no children." To which she quickly conceded. I told her to think of me in a few years when she is administering her first baby butt enema at 3am in the dark while her husband sleeps peacefully. Ahhh yes, think of me then you young and blond germ free little vixen.

So, I leave you now for number 9 of 19 adorable little bags to sew. They are calling my name and refuse to make themselves. Everyone have a crazy happy turkey day. And don't forget to wash those hands.

In The Kitchen With Liv

Guess what she did this week? Baked her own 3rd birthday cake.

It was yellow, upon special request. The end result was not exact picture worthy but it was yellow and it was sweet. And, ultimately newly turned three year olds don't seem to care about perfection when it comes to birthday cakes. They only want yellow and sticky and sweet. The cake, she had been asking for cake for weeks. No presents, no fanfare, just cake.

And it was yellow, sticky and sweet. Trust me.

She scored a semi new wooden kitchen sized perfectly for someone 39" tall. (thanks for the recycle opportunity, Miss Rachel) It has provided hours of fun already.

As I got her ready for bed at the end of the big day, I told her that she was officially not allowed to grow one inch more or age one more day. That was an order, an order to which she laughed. Then I kissed her soft round outy belly button knowing we are at the tail end soft round outy belly button kisses. Truth be told I wouldn't mind having my 10 month old Livi back. She's just that sweet of a baby, I mean toddler, I mean three year old.

Pass the tissues. My baby is 3.

Ultimatums

It's been raining for 3 days straight. No one will walk me around here. I've eaten all the garbage there is. Desperate times call for desperate measures...I ate a wicker trash can. I didn't really want to, I sometimes make bad choices. I'm canine. The Halloween Babyruth's are officially toast. The 3 year old's little ponies?? gone...I'll be pooping pink plastic for weeks.

There is nothing left to do but settle in and officially set up shop as a couch potato.

They've left me no choice. Turn on the boob tube....and none of that dog Wisperer crap either.

Days of Our Lives or I'm eating a red Sharpie marker on the new carpet. You choose.

Is It Really This Late...

Please don't look at the date. Please don't. I took some great Halloween shots and I know it is reprehensible to be posting them a tad late. But this is my life now...a wee bit forgetful about important things like cheerleading practices after school and who's supposed to be bringing the teddy grahams for preschool snack while my mind is off running a little business making handbags mostly in my head.

So, here they are...or here they were. Halloween was the best one yet. Both girls competely understood the concept of free candy. And, what a wonderful thing to completely understand...ahhh free candy from the neighbors. After the free candy was dispensed we hopped in the car and went to our friend's amazing party. Boy can that gal throw a Halloween party. You know who you are. It's better than Christmas if you ask me..all that Halloween goodness.