Technical difficulties.

My picture art project was done Thursday evening.

Stress the word was.

But because I used inadequate hanging materials to stick those buggers to the wall, I woke up Friday morning to two frames on the floor - one of them with the glass broken - and another fell off during the day, and another frame was on the floor Saturday morning.

So my apologies for not providing an update as promised on Friday.

I had a feeling this might happen. I sometimes get a little impatient and find ways to cut corners. Most of the time it works out good enough. This time? Not so much.

Don't use massive amounts of poster putty to stick picture frames to the wall. Just don't.

 

Talk about a lesson in haste. FAIL.

But now it's done! Properly! And I love it.

It was hard to find a good angle to show this off, but I can tell you this picture doesn't really do it justice. These are some of my favorite family photos and now I smile every time I walk through this end of the house and see them hanging there.

Happy Monday.

Empty.

I have emptied an entire can of black spray paint on eight picture frames today.

Indoors.

With Christmas music playing while I work.

I feel good.

I mean I feel good about how the frames look, silly. Of course I have windows and doors open and a fan blowing to vent the paint fumes.

Remember this post? No better time to get started on the next phase of the project than a day like today - rainy and dreary outside and not a thing on my calendar to get done. The Christmas tunes ... well, they have a way of keeping me motivated.

Update tomorrow.

10 things.

1. My son said some very hurtful things to me last night. I still love him. I might not like him very much at the moment, but I do love him.

2. My daughter continues to scream bloody murder at the slightest offense. I still love her.

3. There is potential for snow in the forecast this week. I'm OK with that.

4. When I got back from dropping the kids off at the bus stop this morning I saw some object hanging from the gutters near the front door. It was Rachel's coat. I got nothin'.

5. Patch the kitty has recovered from his head cold quite nicely. He has now begun to torment the other cat. Whiskers does not appear to be amused.

6. I'm not really feeling it at the moment, but I will force myself to have a good day today. My strategy includes playing good music, burning yummy candles, and wearing fluffy socks.

7. Lately we sound like a family of frogs in the mornings. It's time to get the humidifier going.

8. I paid to have some modifications done and new tires installed on Steve's truck yesterday. It felt good to have the cash for all of it.

9. I now have to stretch a little to get up into the truck. It makes me feel like I'm back in high school.

10. I miss my husband. I just saw him on Sunday and it's only Wednesday, but I miss him like crazy. Some weeks are harder than others.

Nice view.

We had visitors this morning.

This was the view from our back slider, taken with my cell phone through the glass door.

These deer (no bucks - sorry guys) have been visiting us every day for the last few days.

Now, seeing deer in our back yard is not a big deal, but these deer have been coming closer and closer every day. This morning when I looked out the kitchen window they startled me a bit; they were maybe five yards from the back of the house. Of course as soon as they saw movement they backed off a little but they were curious enough to stick around.

Our older cat Whiskers has been very interested in them. Today I was able to slowly slide the door open enough to let her outside while the deer pranced around, twitching their ears at us. Whiskers sat on the back steps just mesmerized. The deer came a few steps closer to check her out, but they bolted as soon as she jumped down onto the ground. It was pretty fun to watch.

A kitty update.

The new kitty Patch went to the vet this week.

Poor Patch. He has ear mites (BAD), fleas (eww), intestinal parasites (ick), a fever, a head cold, and a brewing eye infection.

No wonder he seemed so laid back. He felt like poop.

It hasn't stopped him from making himself at home, though.

 

Look at Ladybug. You know she's thinking don't eat the kitty, don't eat the kitty. Or maybe what have you stupid humans gone and done now?

Ya' know how I'm always talking about simplifying life? Yeah, well, nothing about bringing a stray kitten into your home is simple. For one thing, I detest fleas. And I'm not crazy about having to teach a kitty to use the litter box, to use scratching posts, and that he can't sleep on my face. But I'm sure it will all be worth it in a few months when Patch is curled in my lap purring contentedly.

I can't wait for the first time one of my future grandchildren brings a stray home to Sam or Rachel and asks if they can keep it. Heh.

The good news is Patch is perking up quite nicely after just a few doses of antibiotics. Tomorrow he gets the treatment that will take care of all the pesky freeloaders, inside and out.

See? He's already gettin' feisty. 

Just look at those eyes.

Lord help us.

Beyond frustrated.

Sam has a little problem with authority. Always has. He used to take it out mostly on me and Steve, but as he has gotten older he has begun to spread the love a little more - to his teachers, his grandparents, anyone who would have the audacity to give him orders, or even politely ask him to do something.

He will be 12 years old in a few weeks. I know some of this behavior is typical of a preteen, but when we have struggled with him all his life it's hard to know what is "normal" and what isn't. Either way, there are some things that are just plain unacceptable. Unacceptable in our home, unacceptable at school or in society. 

As an added bonus, Sam's moods are unpredictable. One minute he could be quietly working on a project with his sister, all lovey-dovey, and the next he is hollering about how unfair it is that emptying the dishwasher is on his chore list again.

He is also a negotiator. Read: manipulator. He's always trying to make deals with anyone who will listen. "I'll let you have my iPod for two days if you take the dog out for me" was a common one until Rachel finally realized that he will renege every time. He'll come up with some loophole like "well I didn't say when I'd let you have my iPod" and he will insist he hasn't truly defaulted on his end of the bargain, which of course sends Rachel into a tailspin. These kinds of things happen every day in our house. It's like a power play for Sam, a way to feel in control; he thinks life is so unfair and everyone is out to disappoint him, so he's going to get revenge by disappointing someone else.

As a parent, this is exhausting. We are always on guard, always trying to predict his next move, always feeling there must have been something we failed at to have caused him to be this way. OK, well that last one is mostly me, but still. I get frustrated because while Steve is working away from home he's not here to give Sam the evil eye or back me up on discipline or be a good male role model for Sam. Steve gets frustrated because ... well ... for the same reasons. He gets the phone calls from me saying "I've handled it as well as I know how, now what?"

I hate that it is this way, but when things appear to be going really good with Sam I start to wonder what's up. I try to be an optimist and not assume all the good is about to come crashing down, but I've been disappointed so many times I just throw up my hands in defeat when it finally happens. Because it will happen, and it did happen last night.

After an evening full of struggles over chores and homework and all the usual suspects, I finally tucked the kids into bed and sat down to get lost in some mindless TV. About 15 minutes later Sam calls me from his room. He needs me to sign something, he says.

Huh?

He came out from his room and brought me a packet of papers containing details about how he had been disciplined at school for disrespecting and defying two of his teachers, not doing his work, and disrupting class. He would not be allowed back to his classes until he brought this packet back to school, signed by a parent.

Really.

I might as well start beating my head against a wall. I swear it would accomplish more than trying to get this kid to make good choices.

We had a chat. He shed some tears. I sent him back to bed with the promise that I would be talking to his dad and together we would devise a plan to make Sam's life a living hell. (I'm kidding! Sort of.) I signed the papers and left them on the table for him to take back to school. I even put a check for his lunch money right on top of the pile so he wouldn't forget them. I set it all at his place at the table.

He took the check.

He did not take the papers.

Hear that? It's me beating my head against a wall.

More tomorrow ...

Seriously?!?

The kitty saga continues.

I had barely gotten used to the fact that we lost Snowbell when Sam walks in last night with an orange tabby kitten in his arms.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Me: "Wait. Wait! Wha?"

Sam: "Can we keep it? Just for a little while?"

As the dog slobbered all over the poor thing I did a quick assessment. Kitty is in pretty rough shape. It had been hiding under grandpa's car and emerged at just the moment Sam walked outside.

Perfect timing, right?

Seriously?!?

I cannot say no. I am a sucker for kittens always, but this one just weaseled his way into my heart.

Meet Patch:

It's been difficult to type this because Mr. Patch apparently thinks I'm his mama. He likes to curl up on my chest, and he won't take no for an answer.

He's had a bath already, but it's going to take a few days to get him thoroughly cleaned up. He has something gray - paint, I think - all over his tail and on his ears. The insides of his ears are nasty; I cleaned them with Q-tips last night and it was not pretty. The pads on his paws are caked with grit, and he has a couple patches of missing fur (hence his name, Patch) where he's been injured or maybe got too cold outside.

But he's a sweet, sweet kitty. He is not bothered by the dog, who seems to think Patch is her new toy. I think he already has the litter box thing figured out.

He slept on my bed last night.

Oh, dear. This was not how I planned things.

Aren't life's little surprises the best? Heh.