The Most Random-y Randomness in All of Randomville

The nice thing about getting sick is that vomiting and diarrhea are a quick way to lose 5 pounds. I'm feeling much better now, but have been inspired to continue the weight loss, without the expelling of gross bodily fluids thank you very much. Thus far, I have shed 14 pounds. However, I am extremely grumpy due to my lack of chips and salsa intake.

I am painting my family room yellow. I've got about five color swatches that I've been going back and forth on for more than a year; none of them are yellow. Then I found an unopened can of Pale Cowslip 2 in the garage, and in a fit of spontaneity, decided to slap it on the family room walls. I hope I don't regret it.

As a kid, I was so irritated by my dad's constantly turning off lights and complaining about the electric bill. It drove me crazy. The only bulb allowed to stay lit was the one hanging over our head. Guess what? I now spend my days walking from room to room turning off the freaking lights. It's unbelievable how my kids turn on every single lamp and overhead fixture in the house. And garage. And over the stove. My girls are like stealth ninjas, moving with speed and deadly silence through our home, switching on lights. And radios. And ceiling fans. They even leave the dryer door open, which means its interior light brightens up the lonely laundry room all day and all night, until I happen to wander in there to look for some clean socks and close the dryer door for the five-thousandth time.

You know what I'm craving? Chips and salsa. Salty, fresh tortilla chips. Delicious, fresh salsa.

Why do my kids have to doodle on my one and only notebook? They have hundreds, possibly thousands, of tablets, papers, coloring books, and cute journals, but each of my four children seem interested only in scrawling their graffiti across MY little notebook that I bought for keeping track of my shopping and to do lists.

It's raining.

Exactly one year ago today, I posted Harvest Decorations.

Quite possibly, chips and salsa taste better than being thin feels.

Dinner last night: beef stroganoff

Hair of the Dog

We went out to breakfast on Saturday morning to a local restaurant that's been here forever. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than to say it's very Alaskan. While I preferred a cup of coffee with my eggs and reindeer sausage, the couple at a nearby table washed down their toast and home fries with tall glasses of their favorite ale. Vive la diffèrence.

Hey, it's 5:00 somewhere.

Dinner last night: sweet mustard-glazed salmon fillets, rice

Books I Loved

Happy October, everyone! I wasn't planning on posting today, but I see that Steph in the City has a fun little group blog topic: What book(s) did you love growing up? Here's what I've got to say about that . . .

I remember at age 4 begging—begging—my mother to teach me how to read. She waved me off with an unconcerned, You'll learn to read in school. Back in those days, sometime around the Great Flood, children weren't taught to read until first grade, so I had to wait TWO MORE YEARS before I could start reading. And once I did, watch out! I actually don't recall what I read during first or second grade, except for the Dick and Jane series, but third grade was a milestone for me because . . . I got myself a library card.

When I was a kid, long ago and years before the wheel was invented, ankle biters didn't need a picture ID or a parent's permission or a pint of blood to check out books. The nice librarian hooked me up with a library card, talked me through the process of checking out and returning materials, then set me loose in the children's section.

I clearly remember the very first book I checked out: The Wizard of Oz. Oh, yeah, baby. After I finished that piece of heaven, I read every single title in the series. Then I moved on to Nancy Drew. Then the Hardy Boys. Then a fantastic series about Irish Setters. Then I discovered Agatha Christie—LOVED her, although she ruined my ability to sit through any kind of a mystery movie because I now can almost always figure out whodunnit. Except for Presumed Innocent. I never saw that one coming.

Here in no particular order are a few books that I really loved as a kid—back when woolly mammoths roamed the Alaskan tundra—books that I read more than once. Except for the Diary of Anne Frank. Can you believe that I read that when I was only 9 years old? I had no idea about the Holocaust or what it meant for Anne, until the end of her diary. I turned the final page and . . . nothing. Just a short epilogue, which stated when and where she was last seen. I've never read the book again. I don't need to, because I carry her story with me in my heart. God bless that precious little girl.

Here are the five books from my youth (can you tell I'm a girl?) that first came to my mind when I read Stephanie's question, What books did you love growing up?

Diary of Anne Frank

Little Women

Anne of Green Gables

The Secret Garden

A Little Princess

Dinner last night: soccer team pizza party

Exactly one year ago today: Go Ahead, Make My Day