floors refinished and Halloween - SCARY!

I've been a bit distracted lately.  I've been shopping online for kitchen tables.  The options are endless.  Have you ever gotten sucked into something online and then wondered what happened to the day?  OK, two days, but who's counting?  I'm glad that Coach doesn't read this, because then it might be tough to fake my daily accomplishments.

In my downtime, I'm trying to pack up the first floor.  It's like we are moving.  It feels like an impossible task, but they are about to refinish the floors.  Curly keeps pestering me that I don't have any Halloween decorations on display.  I snapped at her yesterday, so I was feeling bad when I woke up this morning and I yanked this pumpkin guy out of storage.  She doesn't get that I am trying to find a place to put EVERYTHING without adding to the clutter.

I shouldn't share this glimpse into our utter chaos, but I feel compelled lest you think I was exaggerating.  The living room couch is covered in the coats I yanked from the cedar chest before we removed it from the study.  I kid you not, moments after I took this pic, a floor 'guy' started sawing the floor to make room for the flush vent covers.  Dust EVERYWHERE.  Winter coats all whitish.  My eyes are burning.  If you look carefully you will notice the pumpkin man standing in the middle of the table.  It's like he's the Mayor of Mayhem.  Hope you're happy, Curly

I still have to finish up Curly's Halloween costume.  No big deal, I just need to carve out the time.  She plans to dress as Big Bird or Oscar the Grouch for Halloween at school on Tuesday.  Those costumes are a bit clumsy and won't work for the activities we have this weekend.

Years ago the fantastic four:  Tank, Mini,
Reggie, and Curly dressed as Sesame
Street characters.  Now Curly just picks
her favorite.  Reggie takes a pass
on these awesome costumes that I
spent hours crafting.  I'm over it.  Really!

Mini's Goldilocks apron.  A work in progress. 

The girls are Irish dancing in two back to back competitions this weekend.  Fortunately the contests are close to  home.  Tomorrow's event is called a Halloween Feis.  The dancers dress in costume, but they need to choose something that works for dancing.

When Curly was very young, I made her a Goldilocks costume.  I made the apron and ironed lettering on the front that read:  'I 💗 porridge.'  I sewed little buttons that were made in the shape of little bears down the front of it.  With her blond curly hair, the costume was a big hit.  This weekend Curly is reprising her role as Goldi.  She needed a larger apron.  I ordered one this time.  Duh.  I just need to get around to ironing on the letters.

I attended a jewelry party last night.  It was great to be out and be social.  Before I left the house, I needed to change my clothes because I was covered in dust.  The workers had sanded the drywall yesterday.  Ah, progress.

When I am out on a school night, I find that the crew is going to wake up the next morning and have 'issues.'  Sure enough, Reg woke up pouting this morning.  He didn't know what costume to wear for the junior high's Halloween dance.  The dance was after school today.

This is the study.  It's all the last minute
shit that never has a place to begin
 with and I can't decide where
 to stick it.  My master plan is to
pack it and then unpack it and stare
 at it some more. 
That should prove very successful.

He did mention the costume dilemma yesterday afternoon, but I was distracted trying to pack up the study.  I needed to make up for lost time when the body snatchers possessed me and I got sucked into furniture shopping online.

Part of his problem was that he wanted to coordinate a costume with one of his buddies.  I was unaware that our landline doesn't function when I am not home.  Is that a thing at your house, or just mine?

I was racing around so that I could get to the high school parent teacher conferences on time this morning.  Reg wasn't loving the idea of dressing in one of the amazing costumes that we have in the basement.  Our storage room resembles Jim Hensen's workshop since it houses the many creations I've whipped up over the years.  Even if he didn't go that route, I felt like he had plenty of good options. 

In the end, it was my last minute costume suggestion for Mini that was sure to get some attention at the junior high dance . . .

humming a hymn adds to carpool awesomeness

Because my day had already gotten away from me, the rest of this makes perfect sense . . . .

Kyle showed up just as I sat down to help Mom complete the last few details of the mass booklet for my Uncle's memorial mass.  Kyle is Curly's friend's brother.  He is on Curly's soccer team, and his sister, who doesn't play soccer, cheers from the sidelines.  Coach is - you guessed it - their soccer coach.

Kyle gets dropped off at our house on practice days by his grandpa because his mom works.  Coach drives him to practice with Curly.  The kid is supposedly very active and a bit mischievous.  His mother has described him as a handful.  She laughed out loud when I revealed his timid and quiet demeanor when he gets dropped off at our place for his ride to soccer.

I told Mini to wave him inside.  He entered the house and stood in my front hall.  He looked frightened despite the hip sunglasses he wore.  He's 8 years old.  I swear none of us have threatened to do him bodily harm or tried to bite him, but he is clearly uncomfortable and tense in our constant-motion home.

Mom greeted him from her position at my elbow at the computer.  I half wondered if he thought the sunglasses served as an invisibility cloak, because he didn't respond.  I assured him Mr. Coach would arrive shortly, but then I became slightly panicked that this wasn't the case at all.

I texted Coach.  'Do you remember soccer practice today?  Kyle is here and Curly is getting ready.'

I turned my attention back to Mom but occasionally called out into the great abyss, 'Curly are you getting ready for soccer?  Bring a sweatshirt.  Grab a water bottle.'  Mom was pointing to her official copy of the prayer booklet.  She managed to tape a dozen pieces of paper together and write in little chicken scratch all over it, so she must sit and interpret the mass booklet for me instead of leaving it with me to decipher.

If I struggled to cut and paste something into a spot just the way I wanted it, Mom would hear me groan.  Then she would look from the screen to my face and ask, 'It's saved though, right?  I mean it's in there and you can still print it out, right?'

Oh, how I wished I had gotten my nap!

'OK, Aunt Nora wants us to use the song:  'Here I am Lord.'  It's right here.'  Then Mom began to read it to me, so I could type it into the book.  This reading evolved into singing.  I think she thought her choir imitation was helping me type.  It wasn't.  Kyle was still standing about 5 feet from us wearing shades and most likely begging the good Lord to make him invisible as Mom broke into:  'Here I am Lord.  Is it I Lord?  I have heard you calling in the night . . . '

Ah, that awkward moment when a kid gets dropped off for soccer practice, your husband forgets about running soccer practice, and your mom starts belting out church hymns!

I am pretty certain that Kyle will instruct his mom to let him skip soccer practices going forward unless she arranges another carpool.

After typing one stanza, I realized that Coach never texted me back.  Not unusual as he is typically with patients.  I called the main number.  When the office manager answered, I simply said several times, 'Please, tell me Coach already left.  Did he leave?  He's not still there, right?'  I flashed Kyle a grin from my spot by the computer to assure him that Coach was definitely coming.  There was no way I could coach a soccer practice.

The call was transferred to wherever Coach was in the office.  'What?  Soccer practice?!  For who?  Shit!  Can you drive them to the field.  Bring me a sweatshirt.  I'm leaving now.'

Swell.

'I'll be right back', I called to my hymn-singing Mom as I directed Curly and Kyle to hop in the car.