Shoveled snow.

Swore.

Wished I lived in Hawaii.

Wished I lived in California.

Wished I lived in Fiji.

Wished I lived someplace that had lots of i’s and no snow.

Shoveled more snow.

Took off snow soaked jeans and sweat soaked underwear in the powder room before realizing I had forgotten clean pairs of each on the kitchen island.

Swore some more.

Yelled for Zoe or Helena to throw me the clean pairs.

Remembered they were both at school.

Wished I homeschooled.

Came back to my senses.

Said a prayer, ran out of the powder room commando.

Grabbed the clean pairs off the island.

Shocked, blinded and traumatized the UPS guy standing at the front door, ringing a broken doorbell.

Swore lots.

Made a mental note to buy the UPS guy some eye bleach for Christmas.

Continued shoveling snow.

Went against everything I believe in and bought Oliver a little wool sweater but only because I thought he’d be more apt to potty outside if he wasn’t shivering.

Thought wrong.

Stood outside and froze while begging Oliver to potty in the snow.

Yelled IT’S SNOW! NOT ANTHRAX! IT WON’T KILL YOU.

Yelled FINE! IT’S ANTHRAX! STOP EATING IT OR *I’LL* KILL YOU.

Yelled FOR THE LOVE OF JESUS, POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP too many times to count.

Yelled I MEANT OUTSIDE, NOT INSIDE, NUMNUTS! Also too many times to count.

Made up new swear words.

Shoveled.

Went Christmas shopping.

Returned 75% of everything I bought.

Wrapped Uncle Pat’s gift and placed it under the tree.

Shoveled again.

Found Uncle Pat’s gift in the middle of the floor.

Yelled STOP IT, OLIVER.

Re-wrapped Uncle Pat’s gift and placed it under the tree.

Shoveled and swore.

Found Uncle Pat’s gift on the stairs.

Yelled I MEAN IT, OLLIE. KNOCK IF OFF.

Re-wrapped Uncle Pat’s gift and placed it under the tree.

Swore my head off.

Shoveled my guts out.

Found Uncle Pat’s gift in Ollie’s mouth.

Put all wrapped gifts in the basement.

Put Ollie in his crate.

Gathered up my guts, found my head and took them all with me to Home Depot.

Bought a new shovel. And eye bleach.

Swore.

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The girls’ bathroom remains in transition. The new tub is in and the tile has been grouted but the floor is torn up and the vanity looks like that dead sperm whale that spontaneously exploded in Taiwan a few years ago. I want Nate to replace the vanity, remove the soffit above it and cover the wall with big pieces of broken tile butted up against two large pieces of mirror in the shape of trapezoids. Nate wants me to go far away.

In the meantime, we’re all sharing the master bathroom which means Nate gets to shower in the company of 53 various bottles of girly body wash, shaving gel, shampoo and conditioner, all of which he avoids like the clap because he doesn’t feel like explaining to his boss why he’s walking around smelling like fruit salad.

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Remember the $140 juicer Nate bought? It was delivered, opened and promptly stowed away in our hall closet until such time as WHO THE HELL KNOWS?

If this photo could talk, it would be screaming I TOLD YOU SO.

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A long time ago, I posted about Bar Keepers Friend.

Can I just say again how much I love this stuff?

Why yes, yes I can.

I have a small skillet that apparently suffers from Ethnic Identity Disorder – it was born 100% stainless steel but insists that it is half Black.

This is the skillet after soaking it for thirty minutes in hot, sudsy Dawn water, rubbing it raw with a brillo pad and Soft Scrub and having it go a few rounds with the power washer Nate uses to clean our deck.

I also yelled at it for twenty minutes straight but that seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

Kind of like my kids.

This is the skillet after five minutes of hanky panky with Bar Keepers Friend.

I know!

No, I am not a paid spokesman for Bar Keepers Friend. Although wouldn’t that be nice? If it works this well on a skillet, can you imagine what buckets of the stuff could do for my putrid, shitty, scorched bladder?

I want a shiny bladder for Christmas.

Heads up, Santa.

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Zoe is walking around with $600 stuck onto her eyeballs. That’s because she came down with a particularly nasty eye infection from contacts last year, necessitating new glasses and a frequent flier pass to the opthamologist so this year, it was highly recommended for us to try Acuvue TruEye which goes for approximately six zillion times the cost of regular contacts.

I about had a heart attack when we purchased these damn things from 1-800-Contacts at Walmart. I about had two more when my $100 rebate form was rejected by Acuvue because apparently, Walmart does not participate in their rebate program, a little fact that the manager of the Walmart optical department neglected to tell me.

Reason #1,366,349 why I despite Walmart.

Also, item #749 in my arsenal that I like to call STUFF I CAN YELL OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD TO REMIND MY KIDS WHY IT’S KIND OF SHITTY OF THEM TO STICK ME IN AN OLD AGE HOME WHEN I TURN FIFTY.

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This is a jar of hot pepper jelly from my friend Barb who was nice enough to post her recipe here. It came in the mail yesterday and I loved the color so much, I ran right out to my driveway to take a shot of it and make my neighbors call each other up and whisper She’s at it again. Poor thing.

Isn’t it gorgeous? I don’t want to open it. I want to keep it by my kitchen window and let the morning sunlight filter through it so I can stare at it instead of at confused skillets. But I’m married to man who can sense hot, spicy things across three time zones and he called me from the airport in Chicago and yelled I’M SO EATING THAT WHEN I GET HOME and then hung up.

It took me a second to realize he was referring to the pepper jelly and not me.

Because apparently, my own hotness and spiceness is not detectable past eastern standard time.

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• I have always been a grocery list person but lately, I always forget to bring the damn list with me to the store. And by lately, I mean since 2006. So yesterday, I came up with the brilliant idea to text myself the list! I mean, hello? I carry my phone everywhere! How smart am I? Woot!

• I forgot to bring my cell phone with me to the store yesterday.

• We now have 15 containers of yogurt and no toilet paper.

• After I write this, I will be going to the store again because the cardboard toilet paper roll is itchy and not super absorbent. I found that out in 2006.

• I am still giving Zoe driving lessons. Yesterday she tried to back out of the garage while the car was in drive. I gasped so hard that I nearly inhaled my own tongue. Zoe yelled MOM! DON’T DO THAT! YOU’RE MAKING ME NERVOUS! And I yelled AGGGRZZZTGJJJJBLFFFFFTPPPPPPSSSSSSSSSS and then flailed my arms all over the place for emphasis. Then we stopped talking to each other so as not to use up all the available oxygen in the car because it was 121 degrees outside and I was damned if I was going to open a window and let any air conditioning escape. It was bad enough I was going to die with cardboard remnants stuck to my nether regions, but no way in Hell was I also going to die sweaty.

• Remember the Enell jogging bra I bought? Just wanted to let you know that it has been worth every penny of the $65 I shelled out for it. Not only does it keep my triple Ds from giving me a black eye during a run, but it also helps me work off at least 75 calories and earn one Weight Watchers exercise point during the twenty minutes it takes to get that sucker on and fastened up. And bonus! It can double as a bullet proof vest. So if anyone wants to go on a run with me, or have me hurl my body in front of them to take the full impact of a hail of bullets, let me know! Maybe we can do lunch afterwards.

• Tonight is my first photography class! I am bound and determined to learn how to use my Nikon D90 the proper way which, as far as I know, should not include bargaining with God while using the “F” word.

• How many “F” bombs can you drop and still get into Heaven? I’m wondering if I should start rationing.

• This is my shin approximately twenty-four hours after I bashed it against the slate tile step in our bathroom. Between the shin splints I had a few weeks ago and now this debacle, my calves are pretty much hating my guts and I’m afraid they are going to beat me to death in my sleep. But, if it means I never have to clean our jacuzzi tub again, I might not put up much of a fight.

• Zoe has a date on Friday night and I’m demanding the boy come to our house to meet us beforehand if for no other reason than to show him my leg and get some sympathy. The “Huh. What are we having for dinner?” that I got from my family as I stumbled down the stairs and crawled my way into the kitchen was a little lackluster.

• Today I am sending in my check for our upcoming 25th high school reunion this August. I’m amazed I was actually able to type that whole sentence without punching myself in the throat. But honestly, I’m actually enjoying my forties! If I could live them in the body I had in my twenties, I’d enjoy them a hell of a lot more. And complain a lot less. And the world would be a happier place.

• If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I recently discovered the phenomena that is runner’s trots. Too bad I was a mile away from my house at the time. They give new meaning to the phrase Shit Happens.

• If you don’t want to be kept abreast of my bowels movements, I suggest you don’t follow me on Twitter. But then, you’ll miss out on our puppy Oliver’s bowel movements as well. Your loss.

• One minute ago, Nate poked his head into my office and declared that he was going to the DMV to get himself an enhanced license so that he can cross the border into Canada. I do not have an enhanced license so I’m thinking he’s leaving me for better health insurance and/or some skinny young Canuck who is more than willing to let him wake up in the morning with a bang because (1) she doesn’t have to take a nausea-inducing antibiotic immediately afterward to ensure she doesn’t sustain a raging bladder infection by noon; and (2), even if she does, she can afford it because she’s get better health insurance because she lives in Canada. Way to go, Nate. Get an enhanced license and get lucky, all at the same time. How about getting some toilet paper on the way home and then I’ll have a reason to celebrate too.

• The most popular search terms for my blog lately? “Orange pee,” “huge cold sores,” and “anderson cooper.” I’m not sure if I should tell Anderson this or not as it could be taken the wrong way.

So, what’s going on in your life lately?

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