Uppers and Downers

The past week has been an swirly blend of ups and downs. Like really high ups and really low downs.

First, I met Ruble for drinks and chit chat and ran into my good friend Beth. Mega upper.

Then I found out my darling Sarah's mom is in the hospital in the ICU and facing a battle with cancer. Mega downer.

Then I went out for sushi, sake, and redneck pool with my soulmate Heather for her birthday. Mega upper.
Then we found out Heather's sister had a run-in with the law that landed her a night in the slammer. Mega downer.

Then I saw Renee in her new glasses and she threw a snowball at me without being prompted, proving her inner rottenness is, in fact, awesome. Mega upper.
Then I found out Betsy is having some major struggles involving school, anxiety, life in general. Mega downer.

Then I took an anatomy test and freaking aced it like a test expert maniac. Mega upper.

Then I smacked my knee really, really hard on the corner of the coffee table, so hard it made me fall on the couch and cry. Mega downer.

Then I got an email that my picture from the No Nonsense contest was blasted over Times Square last month. Mega upper.
It's crazy how the goods have been soooo good and the bads have been soooo bad, only to balance everything out in such a way that reminds you life is so precious and special and worth it. Overall.

Four Solid Years

I just realized that today, like this actual day, marks the start of my fifth year of blogging.

Four years done, completely... 411 random ramblings about what I'm doing... hundreds of hours spent in this strange little life archive thing I've got going on.

That's a shocking degree of commitment to something created from a misunderstanding. I hope it's been as fun for you, all five of you, as it's been for me.

Six Years Later

The day after Shannon and Charles got married, Leiah and I went to Indiana for our cousin's wedding and met up with the Scott side of the family, including our dad Greg. That was 2003.

It's almost 2010.

Our dad has been splitting time between here and Iraq, working on the rebuild and shooting guns that are bigger than my nephew for fun. He came back to the states over Thanksgiving, so we made a plan to catch up before I left for LA. He booked a smoking room at the Holiday Inn Express and it was official.

The first night he was here Mack and I met him for a beer near his hotel. It was the first time he and Mack met, and the conversation was aglow with contractor talk. Overseas contractor talk. A subject I know nothing about, which was good because it made me a good listener.

And I realized something.

My dad is happy. He seems to love being on missions, overseas assignments, rebuilds, away from home. He's a Marine, and I think that experience scratched an itch he has for danger and gave credence to his preference for being left alone.

That being said, I also realized he cares about his family. He brought us a copy of some 8mm films my Grandpa made of them as kids -- my dad as a 1-year-old walking up the driveway at my grandparents' house and eating rocks, my uncle Mike who died when I was 11 carrying around their pet raccoons, my aunt Deb leading around a giant horse named Buttercup. I saw my Grandma as a stunning 30-something on Easter morning and that ornery twinkle that my Grandpa has apparently had in his eye all his life. I learned that they lived in 12 Mile at the farmhouse I remember but that they also did a stint in Dayton, OH. And then I saw a video of me, about 6 months old, Shan, at the age Renee is now, and my mom, younger than Betsy is now.

For a lot of my life, my time with the Scotts was spent in the moment, for the weekend, enjoying them as they were at that time... which means that I know very little about who they were before these people assumed the identities of my dad, my grandparents, my aunts, my uncles. I've had the opportunity to talk to my mom about her childhood, about the experiences that shaped who she is, and our relationship is richer for it. I haven't been able to talk to my dad about those things, so while some of me may feel like he's a stranger, a big piece of me understands that when you know nothing, you have the chance to learn a lot.

The Dollhouse Saga... also Why I Was Accused of Being a Hoarder

Back in July, in the throes of unemployment and with entirely too much time on my hands, I started thinking about Halloween. And then I started thinking about my party. And then I started thinking about a dollhouse theme. And then I went on Ebay, bought a dollhouse, and officially bit off more than I could chew.

I thought, oh I'll just glue it all together and it'll be easy. Nope.
I started gluing door adornments together. Then I glued windows together. Then I realized I should be painting all these things before I assemble them because painting them once assembled would be impossible... unless I was miniature. So I went to buy stain and paint and proceeded to step 2.
Which is when I realized, holy crap, building a dollhouse is H.A.R.D. First I had to give myself a crash course in dollhouse building language, which is a lot of RPs and Gs and numbers on wood pieces that fall apart and make you wonder if it was a 4 or an 8. Then I had to look at these strange drawings and squeeze my brain into knowing what partition 1 is and how exactly is should line up with slat 97.
After I got the thing mostly built, or at least built enough that I could tell what was going on, I was just about to burn out on the Dollhouse Saga of 2009. I wanted to get to the fun part of decorating it with cute miniature things, but no. Instead it was time to decide if I wanted lighting. And if I wanted lighting, I had to know where I wanted it so that I could then make sure that my flooring or wall covering would cover it... if I lived long enough to get to the part of putting in flooring and wall covering.

I had to splice electrical wires together to make them longer and magically keep everything from short circuiting. I learned about transformers and power strips and found some very adorable blogs by people who have made several dollhouses and are still not institutionalized!
Finding my fellow miniaturists gave me a good little push, but rather than work on finishing the inside of the house, painting and wallpapering and carpeting, I decided to do some siding work. Mainly because I realized I had none of the supplies necessary to do the flooring or wallpapering work I needed to do -- except painting. I could have painted but painting meant laying on the floor with my face mashed into the ground and getting hand cramps from trying to paint miniature inside spaces.

So, instead of heading to Hobby Lobby, which I discovered is a social destination for Pentecostals, I started gluing down some creep siding. It was colorful and came with an instant gratification factor that was necessary at that point.
You see that? You see that workspace up there. Well, it just so happens that the corner of our living room started looking like this right when the A&E show Hoarders debuted. Mack and I would watch Hoarders and look over at that corner and I had to swear to him that it was a craft project for Halloween and NOT a compulsion that would take over our lives. At least not for forever.

After the siding, I got to build the porch, and the porch was fun... once I consulted to dollhouse translation dictionary to discover what a porch roof was called.
The last major hurdle to building the house was putting on the third floor walls and dormer windows. That required a magic trick using wet paper towels and finger muscles I didn't know I had. But once that was all done, it was finally finished!
Almost. (Look, I warned you this was a saga.)

With the outside finished, it was time to look inside. I had to furnish my house. Which meant I had to go back on Ebay and look for beds and chairs and tables and couches and art and books and a Ouija board and a crystal ball and a microscope and tarot cards and plants and magical money to fall out of the sky to pay for all of this crap that I got addicted to because it was miniature and cute.

While I waited for the furniture to arrive, I set to work hiding electrical cables underneath door moldings and carpet and wallpaper. Good miniaturists take care to cut out little channels to recess their wires. I just put electrical tape over mine to create a ramp up and down from the bump they cause.

And then, when the goodies arrived, it was time to finish my vision. To make the dollhouse I'd dreamed of come to life. To see the fruits of my labor. To finally make tiny dolls commit suicide.
And with that, the saga comes to an end... until next year.

Summer Times

Since summer is winding down and my life hiatus of the last 6 months is coming to an end, well, it's making me need a vacation.

Or at least a look back at one of the best yet.

Create your own video slideshow at animoto.com.

It's a nice day for... Walt's wedding

Mack is buddies with this guy Walt, a super nice but quiet guy with a decoratively checkered past who says "Oh, snap" just the way it ought to be said.

Well, this weekend Walt married Joni at Lake Cumberland and I got to meet all of Mr. T's friends, including the ones he lived with that one time he pooped in the corner.
Do you see how remarkable it is that these people were still excited to see him despite knowing of his pooping episode? That is true friendship.
The groom's cake was a robot. Complete with treads and grippy pinchers. I've seen cakes for certain sports teams, cakes with poker cards, even an X-wing Fighter cake, but I'd never seen a robot cake so I asked Mack to explain the symbolism.
"Walt's a robot," was his response.

It was then that I started to discover this inside joke threaded throughout the event. They had some CDs as wedding favors, and several people were asked to suggest a song for the collection. Among those songs featured: Mr. Roboto, Robots and Build the Robots. Also Stanky Leg, but I'm not privy to that joke and not entirely sure I want to be.

After the wedding and reception, we were hanging out at a cabin with some of his other pals and I got to asking how people met Walt. Some people worked with him, some people knew him through other people, but when I asked Brad about it, he looked at me very sternly and said, "I built Walt in the 3rd grade."

All of Mack's friends were a pleasant surprise. I genuinely had a ton of fun getting to know them, from the people who sat at the reception table with us to the people partying at the cabin at 3 am. I don't mind meeting new people at weddings, but rarely do I ever party with strangers after the main event.

But then again, rarely do wedding guests have a hearse that they let me drive.

What they mean by belated

We have a spring festival of birthdays in my family. It starts in April and it goes through June, and the only people not covered by it are Betsy and Mack. Shan's birthday, which was Saturday, officially brought Birthday Season 2009 to a close, meaning that most of us are officially older and wiser.

Hee hee.

The biggest birthday we had this year was my mom's. She turned the big 50, and as a surprise, Shan and I redid her office so that it was more organized and showed off her little bits of inspiration in a better light. Not that anything is wrong with taped up post-it notes, but she deserves better.

Mom's reaction was so cute it got me all gangbusters for surprises, so I decided we should throw a surprise 50th birthday party. In three days.

We called our aunts and the friends we knew how to get ahold of, devised sneaky plotlines like a 400-mile yardsale, concocted an immediate need for a pedicure, and finally, on her 50th birthday, we surprised her.

It was a blast. We all told stories about her, and I got to learn a lot about my mom as she is as a friend and a sister. We were going to roast her but that's a little hard when you've got nothing bad on a person, so instead we just told our favorite stories and relived old memories.

And we ate decadent cupcakes.

As part of the kickoff, I put together this little video slideshow, and I'm putting it here now mostly so Shan can see it and so I can keep track of it. Better late than never, eh?