Spring Bling

It's time to bring in spring!!


Our collaborative craft studio has made a whole bunch of spring wreaths, and Joanna Jenkins at The Fifty Factor has been kind enough to host a giveaway!

Click on her link to register. Giveaway ends April 5th.

Smooches!

ATM

Sloppy

Sloppy, sloppy work.

After all these years, I don't know if I ever said what I do in my real life, other than my passion---my work with adults who have disabilities in my collaborative craft studio.

I work as a freelance editor and I proofread legal documents made by court reporters for law firms. You know, depositions, interrogatories, etc. I don't really write about it, simply because it's confidential work, and there's no point to discussing it .

I'm not perfect, and I certainly don't go around correcting the mistakes made by others in blogland, but some things really chap my heinie.

One of those things is the inane headlines written under the guise of "news" on AOL. I've written about it before---my annoyance with the overuse of the word "Icon". Who in the heck edits this stuff?

I've collected a few AOL headlines lately that I want to bitch about/share....Not so much about structure, but about content and---ok, well you'll get it:

How Celebs Stop Sibling Rivalry:

Number one, who the eff cares? Does the fact that they're celebs make them better parents? I imagine them ordering the nannies take the brats to separate wings of the mansion. It's like trusting Tom Cruise to be the expert on mental health (you GO Brooke Shields!), or trusting Spicoli to handle our country's foreign affairs.

Kim Kardashian Spotted in Skintight Dress:

This is news? I thought maybe if she wore a tent designed by Omar it might actually be noteworthy.

Ron Paul: I Subscribed Birth Control:

Uh, as a doctor, he might have PRESCRIBED birth control to his patients, you dorts. You make it sound like he received multi-themed condoms from the "dick of the month club". And IF he prescribed birth control to patients, whose biz is it? Not ours!

How Man Monitored Wife's Sex Life:

Well duh. You'd think he'd notice every time they bumped uglies. Was he unconscious?

I made a vow not to use the word "stupid" in my blog posts a few years ago.

But geez, what else would you call it?

Tide is the New Crack

Apparently, there is a new "Grime Wave" we have to look forward to. In certain U.S. cities, thefts of the laundry detergent Tide have sky-rocketed.

Due to the low economy and rising costs of name-brand detergents, thieves have taken to stealing and selling Tide on the street.

"We sent in an informant to buy drugs," Sprague said. "The dealer said, 'I don't have drugs, but I could sell you 15 bottles of Tide.'"

Never in a million years would I have seen this coming! LOL

Getting Out of a Rut

I really hate the term "thinking outside the box". It's so freaking cliche. But I don't know what other phrase to use.

As you guys know, my stress levels have been high for months. Mostly it surrounds Big Kid and his care, as well as his appeal for his original claim for Social Security (will get into that after we hear the ruling). He's pretty much recovered as much as he's going to recover from his bout with the swine flu. Now it's just aftermath and trying to gather the pieces together to help him have a life that is meaningful for him.

The latest? He still has good insurance, but now that he has medicaid in addition, he can't see his neuropsych (of 5 years) any more. In fact, there isn't a psych (neuro or otherwise) doc in 100 miles that is taking medicaid patients. We can't just ignore the medicaid part of it and pay the co-pay (or just pay cash), because there is a law in our state that makes it a felony for providers to accept this. The county, which accepts medicaid through their mental health program, has psychiatrists, but not neuropsychs (in fact, they referred us back to his original neuropsych, believe it or not), who deal with brain injuries as well as mental illnesses. :::sigh::: Right now it seems we're up shit creek without a paddle.

So with the medical crap and the constant drama (he and/or Kitty call me 5 times a day to deal with all kinds of "crises"), I had to think of something to get me out of this rut somehow. This CAN'T be what the rest of my life is going to be like!

I love to cook. It's therapeutic for me. I'm not a natural cooking genius, like Rootietoot, nor am I a culinary marvel like Warner. I just like to cook, and I'm really good at a few things.

Last summer, when Mom and Poppa G were visiting, we were able to have a family party and I got to cook for everybody. We had gotten around to talking about the senior centers (they belong to several---LOL) and the food programs available. While balanced and nourishing, the meals served are usually bland and tasteless. I guess when you get older, you lose a lot of taste buds, so there needs to be some extra zing! to make food flavorful (at least according to my mom).

Anyhoo, early in January, in the midst of my funk, I was trying to think of a project or activity we could do as a family. Something out of the ordinary---that didn't involve doctors, or lawyers, or advocates, or angry feelings.

Well, we did it! Last week we cooked and served a Chinese food feast at our local senior center as a family! It was sort of a dim-summy kind of meal---sesame chicken wings, pearl balls, crab rangoon, cantonese egg rolls and more.

All the family got in on the prep work----rolling egg rolls and pearl balls, etc. All we had to do was fry, steam and bake at the site. The guys and Kitty created festive baskets for the tables, full of condiments and fortune cookies.

Everything went smashingly well. Except that Big Kid started to have a panic attack in the middle (even friendly crowds frighten him after a point) and Kitty had to zip him home. That was ok---there were plenty of volunteer servers on hand.

They had reservations for about 75, but we cooked enough for 100. Good thing we did---all that was left was a couple of egg rolls and wings!

Little Guy had a blast, and went around volunteering for us to do this again. LOL Next time I think we're going to do lasagna.

So that was my idea of getting us out of a rut. Of course, I had to sleep for two days afterwards! Snarf.

Hope you're having a great week!

xo

Cutting Through the Bullsh*t

Cripes on a cracker, I have had two weeks just steeped in bureaucratic BS.

Our family doc of 15 years recently became chief of staff of our local hospital. His practice is separate, although the billing office of the hospital has started taking over that part of it. The hospital farms its billing service out of state.

About a month ago, I got a call out of the blue from their collection department. They asked for Little Guy, and said they were representing the hospital, and wanted to talk to him about "his account".

I explained to the woman about his disability, and that I was his parent/guardian. She said she couldn't talk to me because of the HIPPA laws (which I fully understand) and asked me to fax over my guardianship papers. I declined. I mean, who in the hell are these people? I suggested she contact us in writing, because my son has never even stepped foot in the hospital, much less had "an account". We've never received a billing statement for anything ever, and now it's "suddenly" in collections?

Instead, they kept calling and calling. I refused to send them my son's personal info, and they (for some reason) declined to send me anything in writing. I went to the hospital personally and talked to the director of admissions. They had no record of Little Guy receiving any treatment. The director suggested I contact our doc's office, since their crack business office (which has nobody on site) is now handling his billing as well.

I called the office, talked to the office manager, and she pulled up his records. The last time Little Guy was in there was for his yearly physical 7 months ago. The insurance had paid up, and I had paid the co-pay, so no problem.

In the meantime, the business office kept calling to talk to Little Guy. I finally told them, "do NOT contact us by phone again. I've already spoken with both the hospital and our doctor's office, we don't owe a balance at either place. If you feel this is incorrect, then send me a statement."

So I get a statement, and they were billing us almost 200.00 for the kid's physical 7 months ago. And they said we had 10 days to pay or they were sending it to an outside collection agency. Sheesh.

I contacted doc's office manager. Our insurance is excellent and covers a yearly physical. She said she'd get right on it. I haven't had any calls, so hopefully they were able to straighten that mess out.
_______________________________________________

We FINALLY went to court last week on Big Kid's social security appeal. It has taken 4 YEARS from his initial claim. I don't want to say anything more before the ruling, because I have a LOT to say about this and don't want to jinx it (or have a judge who googles).

________________________________________________

The Aspiring Adult is working at a nursing home as a CNA while he works towards a degree. He started the semester last month.

3 weeks into it, I get an email from the college stating that there is a refund in our account. I go online, check to see what it is, and there is nothing there. I pull up the kid's schedule, and one of his classes has been dropped.

I left him a message on his cell. "That little sh*t", I thought. "What did he do, drop a class and keep the refund? We spent over 250.00 on books for that class!"

Thank GOD I didn't accuse him of it. He was as bewildered as I was. Since he works from 6 to 6, he asked me to call the registrar.

She told me that he had been dropped from class for non-attendance. To get back in, he had to get a letter from his teacher, one from the dean and we had to pay again. The money supposedly had been credited back to my credit card. Oh, and he had 3 days to do it, because of the cut-off date.

Great. He was working the 6am to 6pm shift for the rest of the week.

When he got home, he texted his instructor. He HAD been in attendance for all three classes, although he was 10 minutes late for his first class because he got lost. There is only 5 students in the class---how could the guy have MISSED him?

Luckily the instructor hadn't missed him---it was some snafu in the school's computer system. But rules are rules---they couldn't just reverse THEIR mistake. The instructor had prepared the letter and got the dean to sign off, but the kid still had to get down to the school in person. Grrr. So he had to take time off of work to take care of it, and I had to pay again, even though their initial refund hadn't been credited back to my card yet.

I need a nap before my head explodes. LOL

Farewell, My Friend

Martha Callahan called me to let me know that Charlie passed away this afternoon.


I was able to talk to him for a little while last week when he was moved to hospice. He didn't want anyone to blog about it until after he was gone. Charlie, being Charlie, didn't want us to fret over him. Martha has asked me to write a little something to let all his friends know.


I met Charlie when I started my blog 6 years ago. He was my first friend in blogland. We bonded over a mutual loathing of Nora Roberts and her writing, if you can believe it. :-) Although we've never met in person, we've talked on the phone from time to time over the years.


During a conversation after Christmas, he wanted his blog friends to know how much you meant to him. He hadn't been able to get out and around for quite a while, and having you in his life became a whole new world. And near the end, during our last conversation, he was thinking of us---people he'd never met in real life---but people who brought a lot of joy to him.


I looked around for an appropriate poem or quote to use for this---something solemn and deep and meaningful. But every time I found a poem with possibilities, I could just hear him snorting into my ear, "what a load of crap!"


So what would Charlie have said? I imagine it would have been something like "See, I told you I was sick!" That would have been more his style, smartass that he was.


There's an old Inuit legend that talks about the stars in the night sky. "Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."


I want to remember you with that, Charlie.


Tonight I'm going to go outside and tell the stars how much I'm going to miss you. I hope you can hear me.


Godspeed, my dear, dear friend.


If anyone wants to say words in celebration of Charlie's life on his blog, I'm sure it will be a comfort to Martha.


Blessings to all,
Attila the Mom

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

Sorry I've been out of the loop for a couple of weeks. I took some much needed R & R to recover from the holiday season both at home and work.

I've been catching up on all the recorded shows I missed and trying to veg-out a bit. Hard to do with everybody in the family wanting/needing something, but I'm doing my best.

Ok, being the juvenile potty-humorist that I am (I blame adoption, I really do!), a couple of commercials have me going WTF?

The first is that vaginal deodorant ad where the character says, "I found out the hard way..."

How? How did you find out? Did your hubby come to bed with a clothespin on his nose? Did somebody on the bus exclaim, "girlfriend, you got some funk?" Did you sit on the lawn and make your own crop circle when all the grass and flowers wilted around your stanky butt? How?

The other commercial that has my head spinning is the new Activia commercial.

Jamie Lee Curtis says, "Keep a video diary and let me know about your new normal"!

Huh? What are you supposed to video? The results in the bowl? You with a smile on your face every day saying, "I just dropped a huge doody, and boy do I feel great!!"???

WTF?

Holiday Hell aka No Good Deed...

Ok, gotta get this off my chest. Hopefully you guys will throw me a bone and share a holiday from hell story from your past or present so I don't feel so crappy. LOL

My ex-father-in-law is a narcissistic control freak. I've talked about him before and about my issues with him. Both of his children have fled the state and want nothing to do with him. My ex-hubby's inability to deal with him played a part in my decision to divorce.

As the mother of his two oldest grandchildren, I've basically inherited the irascible bastard. After my divorce from his son and over the years, we've hammered out a civil relationship based on---"you follow my rules or you don't get to spend time with my kids".

It's not malice on my part. I recognize the need for my kids to having loving familial relationships. But I also know why Ex-FIL's kids want nothing to do with him. He was an autocratic, abusive bully.

Having f*cked up with his own children, I have to admit that "R", as I'll call him, has worked hard to stay on my good side and has worked hard to be a good grandfather over the years. We've come to have a mutual and tentative respect for each other and our roles in the boys' lives.

Now he is in his 70's, lives alone in an assisted living place, where he scares the crap out of the other residents by bullying them into joining him in his self-styled regimen of diet and exercise. LOL He gets around ok, it's just that he's had some financial and medical setbacks over the past few years.

And he's starting to lose what mind he has left. You know what I mean---some older people get to a point where they just don't care about good manners or they revert back to being the same asshole they were before they started "mellowing".

This year for the first time, he's started trying to march Hubby and I around like we were his actual children, not people who put up with him for the sake of the grandchildren.

Against everybody else's better judgement, I invited R for Christmas dinner. I mean the guy has NOBODY. He's chased his own kids away, and has few friends. I just knew that I couldn't stand the guilt I'd feel thinking that he would be alone for the holidays. And hey---it's good for the kids to spend a little time with him, as tough as it can be (R is the kind of person who has to be the center of attention and monopolizes every conversation to make it revolve around himself, his life, his opinions).

I said, "We'll have dinner and festivities from 2 to 4, so that will give you time to drive home while it's still light" (it's about an hour and a half drive).

Christmas Day dawned early and bright. Got up early, put the stockings under the tree, made breakfast. All the kids (including Kitty) were here, as well as a friend who has been staying as a houseguest. Had a lovely time opening gifts.

Then it hit me. I hurt. I hurt everywhere. From my scalp (which felt like it was on fire) down to my toes. My back ached, my hips ached, my legs ached. I was exhausted and could barely move.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia a few years ago. It's been very mild so far and treatable with aspirin or advil. I guess this was my first big "attack". I was down for the count.

Went to bed and woke up a couple of hours later. If possible, I felt worse. My friend said, "You know things are bad when even your eyelashes hurt". Luckily I had prepared the entire Christmas dinner in advance and all it needed was to be heated in the oven. Hubby to the rescue!

As usual, Ex-FIL called to say he would be late, never taking into account that he would upset plans other people made for the rest of the day. Hubby tried to head him off at the pass, saying that I was ill and that we should get together another time. But no, that would be too easy. R was "on his way" and nothing would stop him.

I woke up long enough to chat with him (and apologize for my state) for about 15 or 20 minutes before collapsing back into bed. The kids were kind of freaking out---mom sick? Oh no! The world is ending!

Slept through most of the rest of it, so it was relayed to me by the survivors.

After the meal and visiting, he Just Wouldn't Leave. Even though the Aspiring Adult had plans with his friends and Kitty and Big Kid had to go see her parents, R's car was blocking them in the driveway and he Just Wouldn't Leave. Finally, after ignoring hints and their obvious desperation, Hubby asked him to move his car (it was around 5pm at this time). He moved his car, parked it back in the driveway and parked his ass back on the couch.

Some time later he mentioned that since he was already down here, he thought he'd spend the night and go see some of his friends in the morning. Sorry Dude, no room at the inn. I mean really, where did he think we would put him? Our houseguest is sleeping in Little Guy's room, and Little Guy, Big Kid and Kitty were bunked out in sleeping bags up in the loft.

So he "instructed" my hubby to find him a motel in the area. He was willing to pay $35 a night.

Was he freaking serious? Really? On Christmas? Up here in a mountain town? Even in the off-season, you can't get a room up here for $35 a night.

Hubby, with infinite patience I might add, called up the locals. No go. So R called down to the city (about a half an hour away) and found himself a room. Told them to expect him around 8 or 9pm. Oy.

Around 7, I stumbled out of our room. I heard R's voice and thought I was hallucinating. I turned around and went back to bed.

A little later, just after Hubby had packed up the remains of Christmas dinner and cleaned the kitchen, R says to him. "Since all of the restaurants are probably closed, how about making me a meal to take with me?"

As it turned out, Hubby and Houseguest spent hours entertaining my ex-FIL long after the kids had bailed and left the reservation. Of course that meant listening to the incessant monologue about his life, his interests, his political opinions. He even went out to his car and brought in a bag of jewelry (that was his hobby before he retired) to show our houseguest every piece "because she was so interested" (she wasn't). And then tried to sell her some because he's hard up for cash.

I've apologized over and over for abandoning them to what is essentially, a problem person that I have inherited. They've been very kind about it, but it was a very stressful day. I slept for a day and a night, and felt 100% better afterwards.

The worst part is that next year I'll feel all guilty because he's alone and invite him again, because I always forget THERE'S A REASON HE'S ALL ALONE!!

Grrr.

Synchronicity

Well, I actually had a Holiday from Hell story, but I'm trying to be upbeat and positive. LOL

Maybe I'll share it later in the week if any of you have similar stories to tell.

As many of you guys know, I'm adopted and that after a long search and journey, I finally found my birth family about 10 years ago. My birth father didn't want to acknowledge a relationship, which I respect, but I've developed a close, loving and lasting relationship with my birth mother and her side of the family.

Many people who grow up within their intact biological families take their shared traits and experiences in stride as being part of a tribe. Is it nature or nurture? Really can't tell.

Parents who adopted from my generation were told that we were little "blank slates" ready to be imprinted with whatever they could "nurture" into us. "Nature" had no value in the psychology of the 60's.

Fast forward a number of years. Many adoptees and birthparents who've reunited have reported eerie happenings of similarity and parallels in our lives.

We call it synchronicity.

As an example, one adoptee I know moved to Arizona because her husband was transferred in his job. She had never lived there, didn't know anybody, or have any friends there, so she volunteered at a terminal cancer ward in a local hospital to bring books and visit with patients there. They were there for about a year.

A few years later after they had moved away and when she had a successful search, she found that her birth father was one of the terminal patients she was ministering to.

How freaky is that?

So here is my synchronicity story.

My birthmom's birthday is around Christmas, so I always send her two presents together. One is her favorite perfume, the other is totally random.

One year I was looking at designer purses online. Since I can't afford the REALLY expensive shit (Louis Vuitton, Kate Spade, etc), I was looking hard at some lesser designers. One designer I really liked, but I rethought it, because buying somebody a purse is as personal as buying underwear. I passed, and bought her something a little more neutral.

What did she send ME for Xmas? The purse I was loving and thinking of sending to HER!

Another year I sent her a zippy red patent leather tote that I thought she would be stylin' in. Turns out she bought the very same tote for a good friend of hers for Xmas.

The year I was diagnosed with heart failure and lost 100 lbs of water, my skin was really loose and dry. In early December I searched around to find SOMETHING that might help me retain some elasticity and decided to splurge on some Clinique Watertherapy (out of the blue. Normally I buy something cheap like Jergens or Vaseline Intensive Care).

What did she send me for Xmas? A basket of Clinique Watertherapy!

So this year, birth mother made a move farther up the east coast where it gets cold, cold, cold. I sent the same favorite foof, and thought I'd send her something to reflect her new climes. A cashmere scarf and gloves.

What did she send ME?

A fantastically gorgeous scarf and gloves. LOL

We had a huge laugh over it. It was another WTF moment.

I talked to my Mom about it today (my adoptive mom). She was one of the parents that the adoption agency told that "nature" was irrelevant and that I was a little blank slate she could imprint herself on. We had another laugh over it all.

She thought she "broke" me because I ended up so quirky.

Mom's so relieved to know that it's all genetic and not her fault.

Snarf.

'Twas the Week Before Christmas

‘Twas the week before Christmas, and in the Attila house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the mantel above,
The guys hope Mom will fill them with love.
(Or better yet, cash)

My offspring were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of I-phones danced in their heads.
Hubby in skivvies and I in my sweats,
Were dreaming of all our holiday debts.

When out of the phone there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
I ran to answer, it was 4 in the morn
Who could it be? It was my first born.

"Are you ok?” I breathlessly said.
"I threw up" he cried, "and I pooped in the bed!”
His voice was filled with such angst and doom;
I convinced him to nix the emergency room.

"It sounds like a bout of the stomach flu.
You will feel better if you follow these rules.
Nothing to eat or drink, just a little water,
and call me later if you start feeling hotter.”

In 24 hours he was a new man,
But then Kitty was puking it up in the can.
We heard on the news of the flu going round
It was another day ‘til she could keep any food down.

The next day my youngest called from his job.
"Mom I’ve got a really big prob.
I’ve been hurling and crapping all morning long,
They won’t send me home and that’s just plain wrong!”

A day after that the kid passed the buck.
Little Guy was awash in a ton of upchuck.
He was so sick; he didn’t fight,
Spent the day in bed sipping broth and flat Sprite.

Two days later I thought we were out of the woods.
Then I woke up and didn’t feel so good.
In fact, I felt sick as a dog;
Was it the flu or the shits from too much egg nog?

Now we’re all better, but stomachs are tender.
If we receive fruit cake, it’s “Return to Sender”.
Christmas dinner is here in our little venue,
So I asked the boys what to leave off the menu.

No eggnog, no pickles, no pumpkin pie,
No bean salad or coleslaw for any one of the guys.
No seafood, corn or even glazed carrots,
And a list of still more; they won’t even dare it.

Christmas dinner in our house will be a bland affair,
But I can serve mashed potatoes with a definite flair.
I wish for the Holidays that your bowels stay tight.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Love from the Attila Family!

More Angels

Just got done with our final Holiday Show, and I have to say it completely wiped us out!! Although the weather was really crappy and snowy, there was a decent turn-out, and as for volume---I think we did as good or better than most of the vendors there!

My hubby was a saint. Because parking was limited and far away, he came every hour or so, and picked one of us up and dropped one of us off. That way we always had two people at the booth, but was able to have a breather---work two hours and take one off.

When it was my turn, I had peeled off a big chunk of money from "the wad" (as we called it), plus a check someone wrote us. I didn't want to carry around an excess of big bills, so I asked him to take it home and put it someplace safe.

That night, when we got home, we couldn't find it. And he couldn't remember what he did with it. It was a very very busy day for all of us, and we were all exhausted. He tore the house apart, tore his vehicle apart, etc etc etc. I figured it would show up somewhere, and I was too tired to be worried.

The next day I told a lady at a neighboring booth about it, and she gathered a bunch of vendors together and made everybody put their hands up and call on Saint Anthony---the Saint of finding lost things. Then she firmly stated that it would come back to us.

It was very funny and sweet, and I was touched that the other vendors joined in. There is a lot of camraderie with this group of people.

This lady was a hoot. She was manning a fundraiser booth and she took some of our ornaments and looped them around her ears like earrings and went out in the crowd trying to goad people to our booth. She didn't just do that for us, but for other vendors as well. I think she did wonders for our sales.

Little Guy jumped in with the sales too. He shook hands with passersby and introduced himself (and didn't even ask to see their socks!). He saw quite a few friends that he hadn't seen in awhile and had a wonderful time.

When we got home, again exhausted, Hubby still hadn't been able to find the money. We did pretty well without it, but it really was a bit of a blow. He was beating himself up about it, and I finally said, "PLEASE PLEASE STOP!! If it shows up, it shows up, if it doesn't, it doesn't. I'm feeling worse about YOU feeling bad than about the money!!"

On Monday, I sent the Aspiring Adult to the bank to deposit all the checks we had received. About an hour later, the bank called. I thought it was a problem with one of the checks (one lady had almost walked away without signing hers and I wondered if I had missed one).

"Is this Attila the Mom?" the teller asked. I said, why yes it is.

"There's a man here who just brought in a large sum of cash and a check with your name on it. He's been trying to locate you. Could you tell me about this money?"

I did and did it eagerly! LOL

Turns out this guy found the wad in the snow at the shopping center. Apparently it fell out of Hubby's pocket when he went to pick up sodas and stuff.

And he saved it for two days and went to the bank where the check was from to try to trace me through the person who wrote the check. The teller JUST HAPPENED to be the person who processed my deposit a short time earlier and recognized my name.

How freaking neat is that?

I asked her to give him some of the money as a reward, but he refused it. But she DID happen to note his name and where he worked.

I'm gonna send the guy a gift basket.

Now doesn't that sort of restore some of your faith in humanity?

It does for me. :-)

There's 4 days left to win an ornament and a $50 dollar Visa gift card over at The Fifty Factor. Drop on by!

ATM

Angels Among Us

They really DO exist! Joanna Jenkins from The Fifty Factor is hosting a giveaway of one of our ornaments plus a $50.00 Visa Gift Card.

Drop on by and register with her. Remember that we ship worldwide, so this giveaway is open to everybody!

xo

ATM

Bling For Everyone!

Hi all,

We had such a darned time working with the shopping cart on our website that we just don't have enough MORE time to mess with it because we're gearing up for our busy season.

Soooo...we've moved our inventory to Ruby Plaza, where their shopping carts are working just fine!



Check back often because we'll be adding new inventory frequently during the next two weeks.

Also, if you're interested in a custom team-color ornament such as we have listed for your favorite sports fan, we'll be taking orders up until November 30th.



Go take a look and let me know what you think!

HighlandRosesDesign

xoxo

ATM

Busy, Busy, Busy!!

I'm so sorry I haven't been around to visit you all or posting. I'm exhausted, but ecstatic.

As my long-time blog friends know, a few years ago I started a collaborative craft studio for adults who have developmental disabilities or mental illnesses (and for family caregivers).

It started out as an informal endeavor for art therapy in my dining room, and expanded to an actual business.

First we sold our Christmas creations online, and last year we sold in three venues plus from our website.

This year it's expanded to 8--yes---8 venues, not including on the web! Our ornaments are going to be at one craft show, our town's Home and Garden Tour Boutique, a fine arts gallery up in the big city, 3 gift shops (one is an internationally famous institution that I'm not allowed to name) and a couple of local organizations.

Woohoo!

I'll probably be hawking our stuff a time or two in the next month. Please bear with me. I don't ever try to sell crap or advertisements on my blog for any reason. Our website hasn't been yet been updated, but it will be in the next couple of weeks. We've been so inundated with real-time orders for our ornaments that this has fallen a bit on the wayside.

I've been asked a few times in the last year by a couple of organizations to talk to them about my non-profit project.

I've had to decline, simply because we're not a non-profit.

Why does everybody seem to think that if you employ people who have disabilities, you have to be a non-profit? Sheesh! Why can't we be capitalists too?

We accept no grants or government funding.

The philosophy behind this project?

There is dignity in producing something useful or beautiful. There is dignity in being able to produce something that is lovely and saleable on its own without having to be subsidized because of a perceived disabled condition.

I'll let you guys know when our website has been updated.

Hopefully you'll find something beautiful there that you just have to have this holiday season!

xoxox

ATM

Date Night

My husband is a saint. I've told you guys over the years how fantastic he is and it's true. Except for one day of the year. Then he's a raging bonehead.

7 or 8 years ago, we put in a pool in our backyard. There is no rec center or YMCA in our town, and for several summers we had to drive the boys down from the mountains into the city so that they could get swimming lessons. One year we decided to forgo our yearly vacation and use the money to put in an outside heated pool instead.

It's been really great for everybody. Except for "pool closing day", which is usually in September.

I dread it.

My mostly easy-going and sweet hubby turns into another person. To close the pool for the winter, we have to drain it by half, put in a bunch of big blow up balls (to keep the remaining water from freezing over), tie down a couple of big heavy-duty tarps and then have the pool company come and disconnect the gas heater.

The first year I helped. But after he started screaming and cussing up a blue moon, I told him that I would never help again. Since then, he's gone through all the boys as helpers---whoever is there and available---and each year, the asshat comes out.

He has an idea of how everything will work in his head. He doesn't articulate it well to whoever is helping. So he gets frustrated and all kinds of foul language flies out of his butt.

Since the weather has been so great, he didn't close the pool until yesterday. And the minion available for "helping" was the Aspiring Adult.

Little Guy was away last night, so I scheduled it as "date night". It's been ages since Hubby and I have had a night alone together and I made reservations at a local steak house a week ago. The fact that the Aspiring Adult had the day off from work was sudden and coincidental, so Hubby planned to have him help close the pool.

Gah.

Yes, the day went as usual. The Aspiring Adult put up with his shit and they got the pool closed.

When the Aspiring Adult found out that we had plans to go out to dinner (without him) he got a little whiny. According to him, old people don't need time alone, since it's inconceivable that in our decrepitude we'd have any romantic feelings (oh! the horror!) left. We never take HIM out to dinner (uh---the last time we all went out we treated not only him, but his girlfriend as well). But since he was the designated "pool helper" this year, I compromised and agreed to bring him home a steak dinner.

At the restaurant, Mr. Grumpy was still---well grumpy. I wasn't planning on spending two hours without kids with THAT, so extreme measures had to be taken.

While the waiter (young college guy) was taking our drink order, Hubby was looking at the menu. "What's the soup of the day?" he asked.

The waiter went into a rambling description of the chef's specialty, Brussels Sprouts Bisque.

"Hmm, sounds good."

NO! I blurted out. If you eat that, you'll be farting all night long! The waiter's jaw dropped.

Hubby started snickering. "You're right. Guess I better pass." The waiter scurried off to get our drinks. When he came back, we were ready to order.

My beloved ordered the crab dip.

I ordered the Brussels Sprouts Bisque.

The waiter raised his eyebrows, and said, "er, Ma'am, aren't you worried about the-er-unfortunate side effects?"

Of course not, I responded breezily. My farts I can stand. His, on the other hand, are dreadful.

Then Hubby and I burst out laughing. By the end of the meal, when we shared a heavenly Banana's Foster, my saint was back.

Oh golly, we're such juveniles! Good thing the Aspiring Adult wasn't there. He'd be so embarrassed.