we are off in the mornin’.
so… you have a very merry christmas
(and do remember the reason for the season)
and a happy new year.
and be good… or else.
{it… it… it twas… soap poisoning.}
Off for the holidaze…
a Friday in December & Bridget’s favorite things, no. 19
Yesterday we made sugar cookies.
Ate some sugar cookies.
Lost a rogue sugar cookie to Gracie’s water bowl
(she was grateful).
(she was grateful).
Got dressed up.
Had dinner at our delightful friends’ home
(a really good dinner–if only she had a blog).
(a really good dinner–if only she had a blog).
And some pictures were taken
(mostly of her lovely home because it’s decorated for
Christmas way lovelier than I’ve done up my own).
Evidence below.
(mostly of her lovely home because it’s decorated for
Christmas way lovelier than I’ve done up my own).
Evidence below.
Merry Christmas!
——————–
And favorite things…
In need of a good book this Christmas vacation?
Read these!!
Nyquil & Bridget’s favorite things, no. 17
So cute, right? You can get her here (and by her, I mean the flower, not the girl).
……………………………………………
Last night, laying in bed, my cold was getting the better of me. I was pretty miserable. Drip, drip, drip, down my throat… mucus that is. Blow the nose. Drip. Drip. Blow. Drip. Too much information? You can stop reading. I shall continue.
I am very reticent to ever take Nyquil. While I know it will make me feel better, I think of it as a band-aid for the pain, rather than something that really heals it. I’m more in the Neti-Pot, enema, herbal tea boat. Nyquil just pales in comparison to an enema, come on now!
“That snot needs to come out for a purpose, oh Nyquil, why are you drying it up?”
“Because that’s what I do. I am a remedy for the weak and weary.”
I have to be in a pretty pitiful state to ever take the stuff.
Last night I was. I asked the husband,
“What exactly does Nyquil do?”
And like a robot who’d rehearsed the whole thing, he said,
“For coughing, sneezing, sniffling, aches and pains, so you can rest and have a good night medicine.”
I smiled, took some, and had a good night.
Jordan, we gonna beatchu! & Bridget’s favorite things, no. 16.
The husband brings in the mail (I don’t bring it in, it’s too far. All the way at the end of the driveway sits our little mailbox! I mean, come on, what do you expect from this 25-year old!?). So, he comes home from work bearing it like a heavy burden, plopping it onto the kitchen counter, and sighing, “More bills,” quite often. These days though, it’s a little exciting as most of what’s milling through our U.S. Postal Service is Christmas cards… or “holiday” cards… or Chrismahanukwanzaakah… (I’m oh-so accomodating). So, with bated breath we shuffle through our stack looking for the newest family picture and accompanying letter (Delilah got so big! Jack is good at math–so glad to know! Quinton got braces! Eugene is taking fencing lessons! Go Eugene! (Note to sender: we really do love these cards)). Anyway, these days, there are fewer Christmas cards than last. Of course, it is the 16th, so maybe they are still on their way. God-speed to you, little Christmas cards!
So, yesterday’s mail presented this precious little envelope. A pregnancy resource center sending Jordan mail.
Jordan is a 15-year old boy.
I imagine opening it and reading the words:
Dearest Jordan,
It is with glad tidings that we inform you of So-and-so’s pregnancy! You’re going to be a father. Congratulations, boy! You’ve done the species proud! And a very, merry Christmas to you!
While I do this, the husband is quickly removing his belt to give Jordan a good, old fashioned whipping and Jordan is screaming, “Save me! I didn’t do it! I don’t even know a So-and-so!”
In reality, Jordan’s school did a fundraiser for this organization (filling a baby bottle with change) so I guess we’re slave to their automatic mail service now. But, one can imagine the other scenario.
And favorite thing #16. This thing is awesome and for under $30, I might just make it mine.
A Holga camera.
Did you think YOUR eyes were open?
Bridget’s favorite things, no. 15 & 15 1/2
dear congaplex,
thanks for making me feel better after i swallow your gross little pills that i’ve never really minded the taste of because my mom made me take it when i was too little to have a say so that now i actually enjoy you, a little, if for nothing else that you always save me from a cold that would otherwise last over a week.
and elderberry, you’re not too bad yourself. you got a little more proving to do though.
love always,
bridget
seriously though. i pull out all the stops when i gots me a cold (which is happnin’ now) and you won’t be sorry that you added congaplex to your “cold system” – you know, we all have a “system.”
and red lips can’t hurt either.
Congratulations & Bridget’s favorite things, no. 14
I’m tickled, just plain tickled, to announce a lil’ something about Dr. Hunt (I don’t get the opportunity to call him that very often–except when I was his student, but that’s for another day–so I’m taking it by the reigns).
{Doctah, doctah, tell me the news!
I got a bad case of lovin’ you!}
The news is that my handsome, hubbalicious, hubby-of-a-husband (say that 5x fast) is the newest tenured faculty member at the college. Yahoo for you!
I really am quite proud of him.
Being tenured doesn’t actually get him a raise, so the backyard wildlife still is at risk to take a bullet now and then, but being that we’re pseudo-vegetarians, they escape with their life most of the time.
Anyway, I’m declaring it on my blog for ALL THE WORLD (18 or so of you) TO SEE,
I’m proud of you honey. And thanks for all the hard work.
This next favorite thing is seriously a favorite. If only I owned it.
Here’s the clincher… ready for it? It’s all one dress. And it’s called Butter. Because, I think, when you put it on your body, it feels like buttahh. It’s $246, but think of it as ten dresses in one. Making each dress cost a mere $24.60. Now that, we can do.
Bridget’s favorite things, no. 12 & 13.
easy to find & cheap
both at trader joes… got to love that place.
whenever i go, i am always in awe at how nice everyone is. i think the application must have a checkbox for whether you are nice. no? you’re not? NEXT!
anyway, this soap smells like fresh lavender mixed with a really delicious shea butter
(the shea butter scent trumping the lavender in my humble opinion).
do give it a try.
and after your delicious shower, eat one of these.
slightly heavy on the salt, but still real yummy.
and so random, but i’m talking about tj’s, so i thought i’d include it.
Bridget’s favorite things, no. 11 & Lindsey can’t remember a thing.
This morning Steve and I were in absentia (can I use it that way?) for the morning routine. We had somewhere to be at an ungodly hour, so a gracious friend of ours came and sat in on the delightful morning-at-the-Hunt’s in our stead.
Let me make it clear that none of what I’m about to say is her fault (in case she reads this, ya know, gotta cover my bases). And let me also make it clear that what I’m about to say isn’t at all ground-breaking that it should be granted such an introduction as was just given.
Anyway, we don’t worry about William when we’re not around. I mean, we think about him, miss him, whatever, but we don’t worry like, “Will William remember to put his jacket on? Will William remember his homework folder? Will William miss the bus?” Lindsey knows that William’s got it together, too. The other day she left for school with her lunch in her hand instead of her backpack. Recipe for trouble. Lunch in hand = lunch left on bus seat. We told her this.
“William will remind me to get it,” she says.
“Lindsey, you can’t rely on William all the time.”
“I know, but really, William will remind me to get it.”
Uh-oh.
So back to today.
I made their lunches the night before so that our gracious friend wouldn’t have to.
I came home at 3, opened the fridge, and there sat Lindsey’s purple lunch bag.
Maybe it’s empty, I thought. Strange that it’s in the fridge, but just maybe.
I shook it.
Definitely full.
She forgot her lunch. There are pretty much two things she needs to remember in the morning, every morning, since September when she’s been going to school. Her backpack and her lunch. Three things if you count her head but luckily, it’s attached. So, today, she was lunch-less. This is especially frustrating because her teacher already suspects me of plotting to destroy the second grade class as I sent Lindsey with almonds once (in a nut-free zone, mind you). So, I like to be on the ball now. Sending a child with no lunch and no money to buy lunch is definitely not “on the ball.” It’s more “bad Mom.”
Alas, by the time I noticed this, the school day was over and Lindsey was granted lunch in the cafeteria. They don’t let a kid go hungry. Maybe they should and there’d be way less forgotten lunches, don’t you think (call me “mean Mom” now)?
Moral of the story: Lindsey can’t remember a thing.
Luckily, she is cute.
(Did that totally bore you?)
And this beauty marks favorite thing #11.
Found at the one, the only, Anthropologie.
Usefulness and Bridget’s favorite thing, no. 10.
I have felt that I need something for me. That I need something that fulfills me, makes me happy, makes me feel useful, makes me feel like I’m making a contribution. There sure are a lot of “me’s” in those two sentences which is what this is all really about. Me. Here is my head, and the world spinning around it, after all. Just joshin’… sort of.
But really, coming into a ready-made family and jumping headfirst (Back up… I might’ve waded in slowly, I’m not sure. In fact, maybe I’m still wading? Ask my husband.) into the role of wife, mother, and homemaker, does give me some satisfaction but it’s also easy to get lost in it. There are times where I have felt totally lost in it. So, I think about what I want, I continue my degree (which will finally be over in about 2 weeks! Yee-haw, yahoo, and woo-hootie toot toot!), and I consider what might come next. Next. Next. Next. What about now?
So, I have been brainstorming. I love Etsy and I thought,
“Why not ‘open shop’ on Etsy?”
“Well, Bridget, you don’t have any artistic talent whatsoever.”
“Indeed…{thinking, thinking, thinking}… I can cut and paint though! And I think I can put good colors together.”
“Mmm… we’ll see about that.”
So my inner dialogue went and sometimes my sleep went with it. That is, I stayed up late a few nights in a row, just laying in bed thinking… “I could do this, and this! And this one! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
(It’s a little sad, huh? I clearly need a life.)
Nevertheless, it is with some satisfaction (more when I actually sell something) that I introduce Silly & Sage. So far just a blog (mosey on over and become a follower), soon to be on Etsy, methinks. My sister Kate came up with the name (she’s a clever one) and wants to help somewhere along the way. She’s way more artsy fartsy than I. She is also a labor and delivery nurse though so time ain’t what she got (but placenta, she’s got plenty of). Let me tell you, time’s all I got.
So, please do tell me what you think. Totally stupid? Totally cool? Innovative like you’ve never before seen in your whole, whole life?! Waste of time? Never gonna sell??
I hope to do some personalizing, some nursery-looking stuff, but right now lettering scares me a little and I really need to get some homework done. I will continue making and uploading and hoping for your feedback.
I told Steve that now I need one of these.
Doesn’t that seem like a creator’s paradise? Like there should a be a cotton candy machine off in the corner and lavender-scented perfume wafting through the vents all day long while a little maid brings you thick hot chocolate to your heart’s content?
It is Heather Bailey‘s reality. Daaayumm!
(long drawn-out damn in case you didn’t get it. Some things are lost in translation, you know).
So, until I get my craft room, I will continue using my kitchen island and a handy-dandy giant Target storage bin to keep it all neat when I’m not using it.
Of course, favorite thing number 10 (that means 15 days till Christmas!)…
I have been eyeing these babies for quite some time. They come in so many colors, shapes, and sizes, and are available at all the boutiquey kitchen&home-goods places where only the cool people shop. You know the places I’m talking about. They’re only for loose tea and they’re by Beehouse.
And just for plain, ol’ viewing pleasure’s sake… what would you give to be sitting in that chair with some tea from the aforementioned teapot, and a good book?! Your right arm like me with Greece? You’re right handed? What about your left then?
The point is, SOMEBODY does live there, and that person has the most spectacular Christmas tree, wood floors, and all-over coziness ever. Ugh (I might be personally offended by this).
*cottageliving.com
Have a lovely Thursday.
Say it isn’t so & Bridget’s favorite thing, no. 8
This is my view at the moment and the snow is still falling. Say it isn’t so!!!!! I can’t say I’m happy about this. The more time I spend in Massachusetts the less I enjoy winter. I think S.A.D. is setting in (I’ve always thought it so appropriate that its acronym spells sad, since that’s how you feel when you have it. And I have it, I’m afraid.). Arghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!
This is what I want. And I would GIVE MY RIGHT ARM to be in this hot sun, this beautiful place, this glory that is Greece, right now. I am going to need to work on my love of winter (my husband just reminded me though that it’s technically still fall. Winter hasn’t even arrived. I sweetly asked him to shut up).
from theodora.com
But, in other news, Gracie is 8 months old today.
We really like her. She has taken her place as my shadow most of the time (even following me into the bathroom, sitting, looking at me (“Gracie, this is really inappropriate,” I tell her. She doesn’t care. She does it anyway.), and then following me out when I am done), much like Allie was, and for that, I am really grateful. So, as long as she’s not grabbing a pen in her mouth, waiting until we make eye-contact, then darting away to run around and around the coffee table while we chase her, she’s on our good list.
And favorite thing numberrrrrrrr 8! Really raw honey. So good, especially the little chunks of bee hive (or propolis, as it’s really called, and you are allowed to be a smartie and call it that once you’ve owned some of it) that are at the top. Don’t be surprised though, it’s not the liquid honey you’re used to. Try some.
