It's not that I'm lazy

I'm not lazy.

It wasn't more than two weeks ago that I schlepped the kids to the pumpkin patch and lifted, transferred, returned, lifted others, returned those and basically carted around about 200 pounds of pumpkins for about an hour while they decided which pumpkins they would take home for the Great Jack-o-Lantern Carving of 2011.

I was just tired.

Well tired and none to eager to relive the not-so-Great Jack-o-Lantern Carving event of 2010.

Which produced hives.

It was really practicality that caused me to impulse buy four sets of reusable plastic face parts at the dollar store on the night before Halloween.

That and we'd not yet carved the pumpkins.

But Ittybit would have none of it.

Didn't matter that her red, itchy rash lasted three days. She was prepared to wear rubber kitchen gloves up to her elbows and carve the pumpkins with a Sharpie if it came to that.

My husband didn't say anything about my plastic shopping bag full of toxic waste. But I could read his mind.

I wasn't being lazy.

I just wasn't going to carve the pumpkins.

Even thinking about it made my skin itch.

So the three of them hunkered down in front of the fire and started to work their magic. Square eyes, jagged teeth, a nose that looked like a question mark melting in fear of the answer.



Four pumpkins in ... halfway through the pile ... bedtime beckoned.

"We'll have to finish these tomorrow," said dad.

"If we have time after school, you mean," scoffed Ittybit.

"And hell freezes over," I added.

Only The Champed laughed.

He knew about the bag.



It's not that he's lazy.

He just takes after me.





Happy Halloweening to you!

ETA:

I just wanted to thank my neighbors in advance.



Because my neighborhood rocks this holiday.

Autumn in New York

How do I love thee?

Let me count the accessories.

Projects like this make me wish school was year-round

... and that we started this assignment in June.

She's decided ...

Her costume, that is.

Little Miss Early Bershon has decided she's had it with all the princess stuff.

She's going to be a "Butterfly Girl" this year.

Woe to the person who confuses the two on their doorstep. They might wish they'd left their lights off ...

We began this year's project by making a paper template.



Folded lots of construction paper.



And cut out dozens of paper butterflies, which she decorated with marker and sequined scales.



I took all the dried butterflies and basted them to a green pinafore dress she's almost outgrown.



And here it is: Chica Mariposa!



We are also working on hot-gluing some of these paper creatures to a headband so they will flutter around her head as she walks around the neighborhood.



We also made a ring out of ribbon and crepe.



Next it's his turn.

He wants to be (and I kid you not) a superhero skeleton man. ...

"Like when Metroman faked his own death."

Chef Boyr'he

He's mastered the egg cracking.

I gare-un-tee

Homegrown, would you believe it?

Good days are made of sweet bananas and Cajun spice.

A craftacularly bad dream come true

So I happened on a fixer-upper of a dollhouse at a swap meet recently.

I didn't think twice before picking it up and hauling it two blocks back to our car (along with the volume of stuffed animals the kids had appropriated).

I had visions of haunted dollhouse in my head.

But ... I am not crafty, no matter what you may think. I'm rarely able to make anything the way I see it in my head ... or even in pictures by people whose ideas I wish to purloin.

But as is usual in delusions like mine, the idea that I might actually be able to make something of this took the shape of a discolored set of curtains, tacks already piercing the fabric, stuffed inside the attic crevice. Horror included.

Taking it home, and setting up near my computer ... where I could stare at it and think. And mull. And Google expensive dollhouse furnishings. And wonder what I was getting myself into.

Finally, I decided on a first step.

I'd make a mattress for the bed I didn't yet have.

I made plans:



And got to work.

After 15 minutes or so I managed to sew this:



It went so well, I'm wondering if I could turn the "Princess and the Pea" fairytale a nightmare?

Shadows

Or an ode to Harry Chapin.

Not sure.

He may win in foosball ...

But he won't let it go to his head.

Interpretive dance

It's all in the eye of the beholder.



Unless it's in their ears.

It's 'Take Your Monkeybaby to Work' day

He's not putting up with any monkey business though.

Moderation

The Champ is sharing our fascination for our new favorite drink, the Dark & Stormy.

The virgin version is apple cider and a wedge of Key lime served in a measuring shot glass.

He's all about moderation.

Reason number 2,200,023 ...

Why riding your bike to the bus stop may be a risky undertaking.



Papa Wheelie has way too much fun bringing it back to the house.



Hopefully, your friends were looking off in the other direction.

They go up ... And they go down

A month ago we welcomed Lulu the wonder dog to our old, falling-apart home, with the hopes that her person, Dappa John, could remedy some of its ills.

Four weeks, fully three of them rainy, and somehow he managed to pull off a string of miracles.

Insulated foundation, revised landscaping and a side porch that makes the rest of the house look shabby.

Not to mention felling a few trees, getting in some firewood and even measuring for windows ... when we get around to that.

A thank-you doesn't seem enough.

But here it is: A start -- Thanks, Dappa John.

And thanks, Lulu ...

We'd almost forgotten how nice it was to have a pre-lick cycle for the dishwasher.

The soundtrack of our lives

What were you singing about?

"I don't know."

Maybe we shouldn't tempt fate

FIRST we had fleas.

THEN floods.

and NOW we have FLIES?!!!

If this is god's wrath I'd just as soon he skip to the bit about Three Days of Darkness Over The Land and leave it at that.

I could use the sleep.

Of course, having said that, the next infestation will probably be frogs.

Maybe it would be a good thing: They'd eat the flies.

He's leaving!

Jed's dad is heading back to Louisiana after enduring four weeks of indentured servitude and countless snide remarks about ziggurats and other Mesopotamian building techniques.

To celebrate his grace and generosity we'd like to invite friends and neighbors to a little going away party in his honor this Friday, October 7, at quitting time and not a moment sooner.

He's so Sharpie

I'm not that Sharpie.

(At least he kept it off the furniture.)

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Literally.