some stuff

I'm back!  Did you miss me?  Me too.  I've been meeting myself coming and going and the 2 of us don't fit through the door at the same time very well.

Don't you hate it when you take a bath and forget to bathe?  Me too.

I'm a fart in a skillet.  But I have some miscellaneous stuff to share.  If you're not into miscellaneous stuff, my apologies.

Philly doing his best Vanna showing off our new water heater:

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blueberry banana parfait {the sloppy chef series}

I haven't blogged about food in a while which is is strange, because I eat food every single day.

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g*#d@%%!# andi!!!!

It's so hot here I can practically feel the skin melting off my leg.  Oh wait.  It was melting off, but that was from the burn pile incident.

I hopped out of bed and set off on my morning walk bright and early.  

Actually, I was quite a bit more like Mr. Hilltop.

Nice hopping.

source

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what the hell is LittleMyoo?

On more than one occasion people have asked what "LittleMyoo" means.  When I created my Google ID, I had no idea that LittleMyoo would show up everywhere.  (I was a total blog novice.)

But gee, I guess "identity" means "identity."

When I started force-feeding my blog to my dad (without telling him), he deleted the first several e-mails because he had no idea who or what "LittleMyoo" was.  Or why this freak was sending him e-mails.

My friend Janie Junebug, Grammar Queen Extraordinaire, wrote this hilarious post and publicly addressed my screwed-up blog name.

So let's get to it.  My hubby and I tend to speak a language that no one else understands (or would even want to).  For years, every time we would pass a field with cows, we would both start mooing.

That was the beginning.

Then when my mom, my daughter, and I started our little trio choir at mass, mom prompted us to sing "nyew" instead of "new" (nooh).

Following so far?

Philly and I started adding a "y" sound everywhere on words that rhymed with "new."  Dyew, gyoo, Jyew, nyew, pee-yew (okay, that doesn't count).  You get the picture.

Moo became Myoo.  (I'm sorry if you're falling asleep.)

On occasion, Philly and I have been known to overeat.  A lot.  We pretty much feel like cows at that point.  

Naturally, we'll start mooing.  Only now it's myooing. 

Philly quickly became "Myoo" and I became "Little Myoo."

I even got him this little flashlight cow.  He moos...he doesn't myoo.  But that's okay. 

Here's our cow:

I made a voice recording of Philly lowing "myooooooo" and that's my phone ringtone.  And when he calls me, I answer, "myoo??"  People never quite know what to think of it because we both sound like cows mooing.

But not quite.

Mystery solved.  Now have a myoo day.

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the roof...the roof...the roof is on fire

Not literally.

You don't remember that song?

They throw the F-bomb around on this song, so if you have delicate sensibilities (or simply don't want to sit through a really stupid, albeit catchy 3 1/2 minute video), don't watch it.

It is a pretty dumb song and I confess I don't really get it, but they mention Han Solo and a wookiee.  Not in a very clean way, but I'm a Star Wars freak, so there you have it.

Why are we here again?

Oh yeah!  The roof!

Philly and Brent got some of the shingles up a couple weeks ago.  Remember this shot?

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birds in my belfry, fire, and sawhorses

Philly's been working me like a house elf.

We spent the whole weekend working at the job site.  I'm so exhausted I can't seem to focus and I keep repeating myself.

Philly's been working me like a house elf.

...

But we did have a cute little visitor!  Isn't he sweet?

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the crappers {the farewell tour part 3}

We have three crappers in our house.  

I'm calling them crappers instead of toilets or privies or bathrooms because I want to and because I can.  And because of Thomas Crapper.  Even though he did not invent the toilet.  But according to Wikipedia, he did have something to do with the ballcock.  I'll leave you to research that further.

Anyway, one of the crappers is small and the other two are tiny.  I'm going to start with the basement crapper because it's the same as it ever was.

I have a Diet Coke addiction that I would love to forever get over.  But in the meantime, I love me some Coca-Cola stuff.

I despise Pepsi, BTW.

The (tiny) basement bathroom.  That I've refused to ever re-do.

Because of my addiction.

No before...just as-is:

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button, button, who's got the button...?

source

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don't hate me for NOT having a white kitchen

I spent the previous year glued to HGTV and DIY Network, and more recently, I've been looking at more blogs than should be allowed.
 
If there's one thing I've noticed (besides shabby-chic, distressed, beachy, etc.), it's that white kitchens are very popular. 

I love white kitchens, and I know they're timeless.  In fact, if we were staying in our current home (or had another 12 months to get it ready), I would definitely be painting my cabinetry white.  And putting in new wood flooring.  And new light fixtures.  Okay, I realize there's no good place to stop.

But am I nuts for not wanting a white kitchen in the new pad?

Perhaps.  Look at how beautiful these white kitchens are!

Traditional Kitchen by San Francisco Architects & Designers Taylor Lombardo Architects

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emma's room... {the farewell tour part 2}

Emma was 7 years old when we moved into this house.  She inherited my full-size bed and headboard (which totally rocks and I can't wait to use it again in the new house).  She also inherited the quilt I had on the bed (the quilt has finally gone to GoodWillLand).

And some kitty cat wallpaper border.  Well, that was new.

Here's how her room started out.

I apologize for the pics...I took digital pics of printed photos...how times have changed.

See that super-cute cross-stitch project over the bed??  Yeah...I didn't make that.

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windows and sliders and doors...oh my!

This post has a real slider in it, unlike my sliders and roofies post.

Philly thought I was nuts when I said I wanted either French doors or a slider off the back of our bedroom.  Of course, Philly thinks I'm nuts most of the time.

We decided on a slider because it was more cost-effective (I think), and it would provide more stability than French doors (Philly thinks).

Je suis désolé, mes amis français! 

Here it is before installation (those grids are inside the glass, BTW):

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dumpster diving -- in my own dumpster

I've officially hit rock bottom and I need an intervention.

Unless, of course, y'all can give me some good ideas.

(That's the first time I've ever used "y'all" on the blog.  I'm test-driving it...see how I like it.  No, I'm not from the South, but it just feels happier than saying, "you guys.")

I wasn't going to cover anything relating to the re-shingling of our current home, because there just wasn't much of interest to report.  Philly and our son Anthony tore it down:

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