Why does this not surprise me?

Ladies Don't Spit

It was Eric Johnson who could spit through the gap in his teeth as far as his mother's chevy impala station wagon was long in length. He was so cool. I secretly wanted to be just like him.

So I'd practice.

I'd roll my tongue around inside my mouth sucking up as much saliva I could find and when I had a spoonful of warm fluid, I would strain it through the gap of my 7-year-old teeth. But. The little bit of warm pathetic spit I could muster up, would drivel down in front of my bottom teeth just inside my lower lip and would never leave my mouth.

I was not cool.

I learned how to spit by taking a mouthful of water from my drinking glass and straining it out that way. It never went the distance of Eric's spit, but I felt I could become a close third to his spitting skills.

My dad was scraping barnacles under an old fishing boat in the driveway of our home when I ran up to him. "Prepare to be impressed!" And I ran back inside the house to fill my mouth with water.

I ran back outside and poked him on his shoulder until he noticed me. Then, acting as if I was about to throw a shot-put in a track meet, I leaned way back at first and then I bent way over and shot the water through the gap in my front teeth over into the ivy bordering the driveway.

I then looked back at my dad ready to hear him cheer and tell me how thrilled he was for my new skills I had learned.

Instead, he said. "Shawn! Don't ever do that again! Ladies don't spit!"

His words echoed inside my head for quite a while. "Ladies don't spit. Ladies don't spit." Did my dad lose his mind? I was clearly not a lady but a seven-year-old girl. Ladies wore dresses with nylons and high heeled shoes and carried purses with a handle and wore hats on their heads with bobby pins in their hair.

I turned around and walked back toward the house to play spirograph when I noticed my sister's red unicycle leaning against the house. I pushed it up to our front porch and straddled the seat between my legs and sat up on it, holding on to the railing practicing my balance, rocking back and forth. Back and forth.

Could I ever learn to ride it? I daydreamed about riding the unicycle to school.

Because. I knew if I did that. I would be really cool. Even more cool than spitting through the gap in my teeth.

An Ending to a Weekend

It turned out to be a nice weekend after all.

It started off with an awful storm Friday morning. I can't really complain because I think it has only rained once or twice since the last time I posted about the rain. And, I always think .... if it's gonna rain, then let it rain hard. Let's have some weather! And, we did. Waking up to window-shaking wind ... (two bridges shut down and highway 101 did too, for most of the day)... it turned out to be quite the storm. But it was also exhilarating, too. Adrenalin-induced.

But. By Saturday afternoon, I felt sorta worn out. Like one of those limp newspapers sitting outside in the rain all day. Not a whole lot of tangible give. I kept reaching deep into my pockets to deliver something wonderful and accomplished in my day, but, instead, just kept pulling up lent.

This morning I woke up late, but after showering, I felt inspired to work on my house. I first started to paint my bathroom cabinets. This is how it looked BEFORE I painted the cabinets:
And let's just leave it at that.

Because once I started painting them a dark latte color, I realized I liked them sooo much better white, so they are white again. Okay. Not as white as in these photos. Tomorrow I will give them their second coat and let's leave it at that.

I also started working on the third bedroom. It's been a catch-all room filled with unfinished paintings. A few boxes of old books. Piles of old videotapes I want to copy to DVD and too many pillows. The vacuum is stored in there. And an overnight bag filled with unwanted clothes. Time to de-clutter.

I will enjoy this room soon. I put cable hookups in there a few months ago. I look forward to sitting in there and watching television or reading a book. It will become my sanctuary.

I love my home. I do.
I've done a lot on it with my shoestring budget.

Lately, after watching on HGTV, that fairly new popular show, "My House is Worth, What?!" I have seen the importance of keeping it updated. My kitchen is the same 1956 kitchen so I need to update it. My master bathroom is named appropriately. I someday want to turn it into a MISTER bathroom. No more little smallness to it. I want to push the room back a good five feet and put in a spa tub and create a walk-in closet next to it, in doing so.

I figure when I sell my home, I would much rather put the money into it now and enjoy living in it, than giving the new owner the money to upgrade.

Tonight I fixed myself a roast dinner with carrots and potatoes. I LOVED it.

It wasn't as delicious as I had hoped it would turn out, but it felt so nurturing and fed my soul.

Cleaning up the house, rinsing out my paint brushes, tossing out clutter... and smelling the aroma of the roast cooking slowly in the oven gave me such a huge hug and bolt of energy and happiness.

I can hear the pitter and patter of rain outside my window now. It is cold outside, but warm inside. And I feel the warm glow inside me, too.

Such a perfect day to end my weekend. Tomorrow is another day. The seventh day into 2008. I so want to make the most of it.

View my fabrics in a slideshow

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

January can be a really cold month for lots of people and many will wear mittens to keep warm.

Ever since my early 20s, my hands freeze no matter what month it is.

It doesn't take much for my fingers to lose circulation. I could be holding a glass of water or a set of car keys. Or it can set it off by grabbing something out of the refrigerator. When ordinary people can put on a pair of mittens or heavy socks to make them feel warm again, it doesn't seem to help me at all. I can't seem to keep the warmth in.

First my fingers turn white from lock of blood flow and when I place them in warm water to warm them up, (or near a heater), there is an intense throbbing and tingling as the blood flows back in. Similar to the feeling of when your foot falls asleep and you jump up quickly and it feels like bolts of electricity running through it.

When the blood starts flowing again, it turns them quite purple... (nearly appearing black) before it turns to bright red as the blood flows back in them. (Can you see the purple in my ring finger on my left hand?)

I took these photos today during lunch at the local IHOP. It was warm inside the restaurant, but holding the cold silverware in my hands caused the blood vessels to constrict.

It happens to my feet as well. Sometimes I can only walk on the heals of my feet until the blood circulates through them again. I've run on a treadmill for thirty minutes with numb feet before, and though I was even sweating, I still couldn't feel my feet and had to get off by the severe pain of running on feet without blood flow.

It's truly a strange phenomena. And it has a name to it: Reynaud's Syndrome.

Wishing everyone a warm New Years! (But. Not tooo warm where it affects global warming).