I gots the fever

Oh, I can feel it coming on like I'm sure the mentally ill can feel a switch coming. Not that I don't qualify for that, too, but you know. I suddenly have the bloggin fever. So many things to write about, so little ability to focus my ADD and sit down and write it out.

So here's an abbreviated version for you. Things that have been rattling around in my mind these days.

1. Jenny Craig calls me too much. Seriously. I signed up last Friday, and I think they've called me four times since then?! My own mother hasn't called me that often. I mean, I've called her that often because I have to call her every day or my world seems to feel unglued, but you know. The Jenny people? I have to tell them to take me off their speed dial. When I If I fall off the wagon, I'll get back up from my sugar coma and dust the donut frosting off my face and get back on it without them calling me to check and make sure that I'm eating their ridiculously small entrees and not Krispy Kremes. Not that that's happened this week or anything. Twice. I'm just sayin. I go in for my weigh-in today. You may hear sobbing later on.

2. Pearl Jam totally stole a guitar riff from Bob Dylan. Or Shawn Colvin. I am in the midst of researching this blatant theft but haven't actually done any more than think about it while I'm in the car and write about it here. See, their new song (and by the by, I am very glad they're back to making music again) called "Just Breathe" starts with a guitar rhythm or riff that is exactly the same riff that starts Shawn Colvin's version of Bob Dylan's "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go." I know this because every time it comes on the radio, I think oh, yay, I'm going to hear some kickass Bob Dylan by way of Shawn Colvin now, and it doesn't happen. So. I'll be doing some further research on this matter, you can be sure of that.

3. NPR's fund drive is going on right now, so I regularly listen to other stations because I can't bring myself to donate money to NPR because I hate Daniel Schorr. Seriously, when I hear someone introducing him I will click the button and listen to something else. I would listen to Yo Gabba Gabba songs before I listen to the vitriol that man spews. I know NPR leans left and I know they attempt to maintain some balance. But there is no balance in this man. He's hate and bitterness and he's not impartial. SO, I refuse to give them any more of my money than has not already been taken out of my paycheck in the form of taxes. Hrmph. I am officially now a grumpy old man.

4. Does anyone else feel like the Census thing is getting a little out of hand? I fear someone may show up at my door with a handgun, threatening me if I haven't already filled out our census forms. I filled it out and mailed it in. You hear me, guvment? I filled it out! So stop with the constant advertising and billboards. How much does that cost, anyway? You could take half of that advertising money, throw it into the public schools pool and keep many thousands of teachers from being laid off this year. I'm just saying.

5. I got to eat lunch with my old friend Jenna a few weeks ago, on a Saturday no less, which is way unheard of, and it was so nice to see her. I can see now that I need to find some time and write more about this visit because it was fun.

Alright. That's it peeps. Thanks for listening.

I think we all know who we can blame for this.

**Warning: This post is about modern-day politics. Not so much about my opinion on such goings-on because I think I've made it super clear that I have no respect for either political party and I regularly daydream about a third party that I like to call the Common Sense (inexpensive) Option. But I digress.**

Soooo. We have healthcare. Yep, that's right. In case you didn't hear Joe Biden shout into a microphone that they passed a big f&@*ing bill yesterday, well, they did.

Not that many people are happy about it. All I've heard since then are people complaining about it. They either didn't want it to begin with, they don't want to pay for it, they feel it didn't go far enough, they wanted it to have a public option, they didn't want the Louisiana Purchase, blah blah blah.

I thought it would be helpful if we could just all find one common foe to fight. Wouldn't that make us all feel a little better?

So here you go.

I think if you really consider it, Canada truly is to blame.

Feels good to find a scapegoat. Feels real good.

By the by, I'm not serious. Please, anonymous. Don't yell at me. I love Canadians and I love Canada. My own two brothers were born in Canada. I like maple leaves. I like syrup. See?

Whew. Dodged that bullet.

**By the way, if you're ever bored and want to watch the funniest South Park episode ever, watch this one. It's my favorite.**
- H

You kinda like Eunice Farmer, right mom?

Ooooee! This has been a day.

I left the house at 4:55 with Binnie in my lap. She sleeps late, later than any of the rest of us, so for her it was exceptionally shocking to be hauled off into the cold dark night for a car ride. Car rides not being one of her most favorite things since we seem to only take them to go to the vet or the groomer these days.

Two hours of driving later we got to go to another vet, yay! She was probably cussing me under her stinkbreath by then. Doctor at the University confirmed the diagnosis of the canine ophthalmologist (holy cow, have you ever tried to spell that word?) here, and off she went for her prophylactic retinopexy. Not to be confused with retinoplasty, mind you. No no, very different procedure whereby they do different things to her one functioning retina. Retinas are a completely useless organ, if you ask me. Another post topic.

Anyhoodle, I worked in Columbia and then headed home. On my way I stopped at this little fabric shop called Make it Sew, where they now carry Eunice Farmer fabrics and Bernina sewing machines, and where I took my machine on Tuesday last for repair. Apparently, my ridiculously complicated Bernina has been chronically misdiagnosed by the yahoos at the other fabric store where I used to take it for service. I won't name names, but it starts with a J and rhymes with Hackman's. The woman at Make it Sew, a lovely little shop, told me the employees at (J)Hackman's bring their machines to her for service. Ironic, isn't it? I wanted to cuss out loud at those idiots, but old ladies tend to shock easy.

As I was standing there, fingering expensive cottons and seething at the injustice of two years of sewing on a crapped out Bernina for no good reason, a clerk handed me the Easter egg basket. Open an egg, whatever discount is on the slip of paper you get off your entire purchase.

Guess what.

I got the 50% off egg! She said it was the only one she'd seen yet. (Just for you local ladies, she folded it up and put it back in the same egg in the same basket, and it was dark purple. Hint hint.)

Soooo, I stocked up on fabric I don't need with the pretense that I was buying it for my mom because she likes to sew. Except mom, I don't know how much of this I'm going to part with because it's super nice. So maybe I'll share some of the tangerine and white Maggie London cotton lawn print...no, scratch that. Ummm, maybe I'll share some of the pink and white stripe cotton. Vertical stripes are slimming. 'Cept maybe I should keep that one because I am dieting and can use all the help I can get.

Well. Maybe you'll get a great Mother's Day gift, Mom. Something like a gift certificate to the movies or something? I'll even go with you.

- H

HAH! Take that, indecisiveness!

When I decide to do something, it has sometimes been said that I move fairly quickly. Opening a fabric shop is no different. I finally decided over the weekend I want to do it, even if only online, and by the end of today I managed to do the following:

• File articles of incorporation for an LLC with the state.
• Applied for and got a federal tax ID for said LLC.
• Contacted three distributors of fabric I admire about stocking their wares.
• Spoke with a bank rep at PNC about a line of credit so that I can start ordering.

Ahhh, it feels good. I spoke to two property owners about what retail rental space goes for around here. One was very straightforward, the other kept telling me "it's triple net." Yeah, I get it buddy, but I want a dollar figure. Prolly won't be renting from him.

Not that I'll be renting from anyone for a long time. I have a feeling I need to really get a handle on this fabric sale business with an online store before I launch into the kind of store where the doorbell rings when you walk in. Or maybe no doorbell, those are kind of obnoxious. Then again, they're kind of homey and can make you feel like you're in an old-timey diner or something.

So yes, action I am good at. Decisiveness, check. Moderation....no check. Eh. I can live with it. For now it's still just a dream. Oh, yeah, it's a dream called Bolt and Spool, for the time being. I'm not in love with it, but I had to pick a name nobody else in Missouri has so far. I can always do business under a fake name later. Isn't that weird? Fake names?

On a totally different note, remember my dog? The one who had cataracts? Yeah, well, she doesn't have cataracts. She has a completely detached retina in her left eye that's irreparable (read: BLIND), and tomorrow I'm taking her to the university vet school for laser surgery to "stitch" her other retina to her eyeball, thereby ensuring she retains eyesight in at least one eye.

Poor thing. She's been wandering about half blind for however long, and we didn't notice. We just thought it was her cataracts.

- H

I want to open a fabric store

I know this is going to sound nuts, but I want to open a fabric store. I've wanted to for a long time, mostly because there aren't a lot of stores here in Saint Louis that sell what I'm looking for. And I don't consider myself on the edge at all.

It can be hard to find the entire range of Amy Butler prints here. Forget about specialty bias trims or things like foldover elastic. Apparel fabrics come in two forms - cheap stuff at Hancock's and JoAnn's, and more expensive old lady stuff at Sew it Seams or Make it Sew. Make it Sew carries Eunice Farmer, which is cool, but I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, y'know?

I read about all these places in other cities that are exactly what I'm looking for. Places like Domestic Bliss in Arizona, Hart's Fabric in the San Fran area, PurlSoho in LA and NY. Then when I was in Zoelee's basement last week, she said something that really hit home with me. I was lamenting the lack of things I'm looking for in Saint Louis, and she said "every shop has its own personality. If I sold this store to someone else it would never be the same again. If you open your own store, you will get a following based on what you carry and what you believe in."

BAM. She is so right. I know there are people like me out there (I even know one of them who might be interested in working with me on this exact same type of endeavor, hint hint Cara).

So the teeny tiny problem is that I really don't know how to go about planning for something like this. Where do you start? I kind of think I should start with some online retail first, maybe selling the fabrics, patterns, and notions I'd like to see through the internet before investing in a brick-and-mortar store. I guess the first step is to set up an LLC and apply for tax-exempt status as a retailer? That way I can contact the manufacturers about stocking their goods and dip my foot in the water on Etsy or something.

Last fall I stopped into one of my favorite clothing boutiques here in Webbie G and spoke to Natalie, the shop owner, about how she went about setting up her business and what's it like to run it. She scared the crap out me. She said she just started taking a paycheck last year and her store has been open for five.

Yikes.

But she also had some really great advice, pitfalls she fell into that I could avoid, and the name and number of her new business advisor that has helped her turn her endeavor into a profitable venture where she can actually afford to eat and pay rent.

So....that's where I am today. I'm thinking I'll start slow. Slow is good, right? Yeah, it's good. It just isn't me. Let's hope I take my own advice. I'm already planning a trip to Japan....

- H

My friend Jenny makes the best cheese curls

I finally asked Jenny for help today. I woke up, stepped on the scale (ok, there were like three other steps in between but whatever), cried a little, drank my Metamucil, and called Jenny.

They've put me on a plan.

Apparently admitting there's a problem is the first step. I heard there are eleven more, but I wasn't really paying attention because I had a headache and was wondering when we'd get to the important part where I got to pick out all my food.

I loaded up with various food-looking items and came home. This was, of course, after stopping at Culver's for a Last Meal of cheeseburger, cheese balls, and Pepsi.

No wonder their scale read super high. Twenty pounds over my regular weight.

I knew I'd been getting larger this year, but when you go to the bathroom monthly, you just kind of assume all those extra pounds are just poop. And then there's the Lexapro, that didn't help. Wait, it helped in that I was able to function and return to human status, but it also helped me sit around and eat a lot without moving.

Sooooo, I'm on a plan. I ate the world's smallest penne pasta entree for dinner. When you are suddenly reduced to eating a specific food and nothing else, chubby little two-year-old fingers plucking precious noodles from your dinner plate can be seen with a certain amount of panic and protectiveness. Not that I didn't let him eat them, I'm not a horrible mother. I just made him eat them one by one while I speared ten at a time and shoveled them in my mouth. I wanted to be sure the balance was on my side.

Then later I got to eat my nighttime snack of cheese curls and you know what? They're pretty good! Just like regular cheese curls, except a little less obnoxious.

So far, Jenny's been good to me. I'll keep y'all posted because I know that a) there's someone out there reading this that's curious what Jenny Craig is all about, and 2) I like to write about the stupid little details of my life cause I'm a loser or I'm about to be one! Get it? Loser? Biggest loser? Man, I crack myself up.

- H

Let's talk a little about poo, shall we?

I have wanted to write about this latest chapter in my life for a while now, but I hesitated. Was it too much information?

And then I remembered there's Twitter and nothing beats too much information like Twitter.

So, the Poop Story. Apparently, according to my doctor's nurse practitioner, I have irritable bowel syndrome (and I am officially Elaine Benes).

Irritable bowel syndrome is great. I never considered myself anal retentive until this past year and then whoa! Am I ever. So I would eat and eat and eat and....nothing. Nada. Well, nothing except my belly would get bigger and bigger and bigger until I could swear I felt a baby moving around in there and would run down to the Dollar Store for a cheap preggo test, despite the fact that there is no way on God's green earth (ok, maybe only .001% of a way) that I'm pregnant.

After about a year of this (I'm a slow learner), I broke down and called my primary care doctor. Their office has this ridiculous system for making an appointment. You never speak to a human being, you leave a voicemail on the message line and "someone will call you back to schedule an appointment." What? You're an office that relies on appointments and yet you can't seem to employ someone to make them. Nice.

Well, I dutifully left a message for my doctor, explaining that I think there's something really wrong with me and I want a referral or recommendation for a gastro who can appropriately diagnose my colon cancer, since by then I'd decided I must have cancer.

And then I waited. No one called.

And no one called.

Three weeks later I got pissed off about something else (I'll give you one guess) and not liking powerlessness in my life, I opened Word and shot off a letter to my doctor.

Dear Dr. S,
Your system (or lack of) for making appointments with you
sucks. No one ever calls me back. I trust your opinion and need it in times like these, when I think I'm dying.
Thanks,
Heather

I am paraphrasing, but you get the jist. I was sure the letter would never land on his desk because I see where mail goes in a doctor's office and it's not straight into the doctor's hands.

To my surprise, I got a phone call two weeks later. The office manager said Dr. Sanders had given her my letter, they'd made changes to their call-you-back system, and they were sorry. Did I want to make an appointment with him?

I hesitated.

It's like complaining about your food before it gets to your table. Do you really want to eat food that someone's spit on? After you cross a bridge, be sure not to set in ablaze, kay?

I made the appointment because I wanted to make sure my insurance company pays for my colon cancer treatment. They wouldn't let me see my doctor, they shuffled me to his nurse practitioner, who was decidedly cold when she first entered the room.

So you know what I'm thinking.

My file totally has a giant red mark on it. There are notes about me, and I'm not talking about my medical history. I'm a problem patient.

The good news, if you can call it that, is that I now have an official diagnosis of irritable bowel syndrome, and my bloodwork showed that my thyroid is fine. Always good to know.

The bad news is I have to exercise and change my diet. And now maybe I also have to find a new doctor.

- H

Magnanimousness

Gack, I should not be sharing this information with you peeps, but because you make my world a little brighter I will.

Have you seen that the Nester is having a Giveaway Extravaganza? Seriously, she called it the Giveaway Day but so far it's stretching into two days and there must be thirty sponsored giveaways. Go check it out.

But if you see a comment from me on something I'm waiting to win, you better watch your back.

I'm fiercely competitive.

- H

need a little help

My oldest son's birthday is coming up, and I started thinking about cupcakes while laying in bed last night.

I recently saw a blog post with the most fabulous cupcakes, chocolate with green grass frosting. Thick, luscious green grass that had texture like blades, and the cake was beautiful and the whole thing looked awesome!

And I can't remember where I saw it?

Does anyone have any suggestions for where I might have come across that cupcake? It's not Bakerella, I know that because I just checked her site again. It's someone who writes a lot about cupcakes, has a favorite cupcake recipe they use, and.... that's all I can remember.

Please? Help a momma out? Anyone?

- H

Dear sirs....

Have you ever had a day or six months where you just feel like you need a pick-me-up? Something that's not crap that makes you smile?

Well, here it is folks.

This is a letter my mom wrote to her parents when she was nine or ten years old.

Enjoy.

Dear Sirs,

I don't like to say this persnol because I'm a little shy when it comes to money. I was wondering if I could have my allowance raised because it is time to get xmas presents for the family and cousins. The most I want is 10c more.

Your loving Daughter,

Gwendolyn

- H

I'm a Craigslist snob

I sold something on Craigslist today, and then I realized I'm a total snob. Not that I'm completely shocked by this shocking revelation. It was just kind of obvious after my stroller-selling experience.

I had this Valco Baby Twin Runabout Trimode Cadillac Double Triple Stroller Car thing, and I decided to sell it. I bought it with points from my previous company's rewards program (I was not the most stellar employee since I'm re-writing my own history here) and it was quite nice and cushy and smooth and whatever, but it was also huge.

It took up a great deal of space in the garage, which is at a premium these days. And now my oldest boy doesn't even fit in his seat. The last time he rode in it he was kind of wedged in like a sardine. I begrudgingly decided to sell it. I usually have no problem parting with things but for some reason the strollers are very difficult for me to let go. Hmmm......

I considered giving it to a friend. But who would want such a large, manly Caddy parked in their garage? You need a gigantic SUV or minivan to tote it around town.

And then there's the money. It's always nice to have a little. A lot is even better.

So, I placed my first Cracklist add on Monday, and dragged my feet on taking pictures for it until today.

Whoa, Nelly, it was a popular item. I got calls off the hook about the damned thing, which is where the snobbery comes in.

I listed my cell phone in the ad. Maybe that's a bad idea, but I thought it would be easier than exchanging a million emails with people just to eventually give them my cell. As they called, I started to hear little bits and pieces about their lives, and their personalities.

And where they lived.

I kept telling everyone "whoever gets here first with cash will get it" but they still wanted to talk. Towards the end it was down to two women - Alexxis (yes, she has two XXs in her name) and Julie. They were both from neighboring towns, one that I like a little (a lot) more than the other. They both sounded nice.

Julie got here first. I feel bad for Alexxis. Because I found out when she got here that Julie, who lives in a town I have snobbery against, she watches kids in her house. Her own kids are too old for the stroller. So it's for her business. Whereas Alexxis, despite having two XXs in her name (which I have snobbery against her parents for), she's just a young stay at home mom with two girls and a third baby on the way. And she fell in love with that stroller and was so excited to get one cheap off Craigslist, but she had to wait until her kids woke up to come get it. And Julie let her husband's son watch the kids in her care while she came over to buy my stroller.

Damn. I made a mistake. I should have screened better.

I'm not cut out for Craigslist.

- H

Hey, Ken Burns, I'll see you at the city council meetings!

This is kind of confusing.



Is Ken Burns making a documentary about civility in my town?


Is he running for my city council?


Does he just think he's really civil?

Doesn't he know there was a very famous documentary about Webbie G that aired on PBS in the sixties and painted the town as a racist, backwards Stepford? (Clearly, this was before the hippies descended upon us.)


Hmmm.....



- H

The worst vacation. Ever.

We got home last night from the worst vacation we've ever taken. That's not saying much because we've only taken a handful of family vacations.

But seriously? Could have skipped this one and probably been healthier and happier.

Here were the high points:

1. We got to see my parents.
2. We got to see my parents.

Here were the low points:

1. It was really freaking cold. Like, 20 degrees below normal the entire time we were there. I actually put on my swimsuit and took my kids to the pool and hot tub when it was 60 degrees out. In a gale force wind. One night we went down to the beach in Naples and managed to stay five minutes. While the wind blew 50 mph and it was about 20 degrees out. Sickening.
2. We all got the stomach flu. Griffin woke up the first day with gray skin, his usual low low low body temperature (the child is like the living dead when he gets a virus, he goes cold), diarrhea and crankiness. The next night I woke up to spend most of the night in the bathroom, hugging the toilet. Then my dad got it. Then my husband. Now we're waiting for my mom and Cooper to declare themselves ill or healthy.
3. Since I was so sick I couldn't even go shopping. Can you believe that?
4. I can't even remember the rest. It just stunk all around.

So I'm glad to be home. We're all glad to be home, although it was good to see my parents (sorry about the flu we gave you, dad). The day we got back it was as warm (if not warmer) here than it'd been the entire week in Florida. Irony.

- H

There should be a law

No one should ever get the stomach flu while on vacation. That should be a law.

In light of my imminent death by dysentery, I am sharing a recent photo from our trip.

Cooper's self-portrait.

- H

Hold my calls

I'm on vacation. Vacations are super relaxing.

Or so I'm told.

I read this on Stitch in my Side. It's perfect.

Don't flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things to your intimates. The nearer you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact and courtesy become. Except in cases of necessity, which are rare, leave your friend to learn unpleasant things from his enemies; they are ready enough to tell them.
-- Oliver Wendell Holmes



- H

Cooper's famous

Hey, check it out! I submitted the boys' Halloween costumes to the Flickr Celebrate the Boy photo pool, and looky who made it onto Rae's front page?

Can you believe that? Can you believe the garden ga-nome didn't make the pool?

Still, it feels good to be famous.

- H