Hanging Bucket Brilliance

I bought these sweet wall buckets at Re-Feather Your Nest in Mount Vernon to keep art supplies easily accessible in the girls' room.

The system was well received by all.  Now I just need to get through to them that toilet paper soaked in lotion does not qualify as an art supply in this context. 

Travelling Basket

The Edison Women's Club has a traveling basket that gets refilled and gifted from member to member.  Marguerite and I went shopping today to fill it up while G was in preschool, and I handed it off tonight to Susan who owns Bow Hill Blueberries.  It was a fun way to support a couple of local businesses and to do something kind and neighborly. 

Pussy Willows and Listening

My new Fiskar's pruners came in the mail today!

 

Just in time to cut a bouquet of pussy willows from my neighbor James' slash pile.  

 

My mom has been telling my for YEARS to buy these.  Glad I finally listened. 

Every Good Plan Involves a New Pair of Shoes

The first Saturday of every month there is an art opening on the other side of the door that separates my home from my husband's business.  The first Saturday of every month, at approximately 4:45 p.m., I find myself scrambling to pull myself together into something presentable for the opening.  I'm declaring war on the scramble.  I'm planning on planning ahead.  I have a chance once a month to shake out my frowzy mom ponytail and put myself together.  Wish me luck.

A wise woman once said, "every good plan involves a new pair of shoes."  Okay, that was me who said that.  Here are the shoes that came in the mail today from Sundance Catalog:

General Consumption

I'm starting a new category on my www.realizedmama.com homepage titled "general consumption" to post all things edible and material that are blog worthy.  I'll keep you posted.  (haha, posted, haha).

Blending for Survival

Smoothie's, thank you for saving my family from getting scurvy. 

Quote of the Day

Me:  G, it's time to brush teeth.
Genevieve:  I'm not going to be able to.  I'm going to a dirty teeth party tonight and don't want to be unwelcome by showing up with pearly whites.  Sorry.

Important Job

Marguerite has a new very important job in our house.  Setting the table for dinner. 

Not pretty, but it'll do. 

House Project: Art Revisited

Drew and I found ourselves with.....TIME this weekend to get a few projects done on the house.  Time seems to be our most precious and fleeting resource. 

The majority of our art collection has been taking up storage space in the gallery since we did our major blow out upstairs last summer.  I reacquainted myself with them while dusting off their neglected frames.  Our art collection is taking form as a timeline of our lives together.  A story, a place, a time, an artist to remember. 

Here are a few favorites. 

Becky Fletcher's (come see her new show, opening this Saturday at the gallery) cherry blossoms are cheering up the end of the hallway:

Todd Horton graces the well above the bath tub.  Well, his art does, not Todd himself.  Todd hanging on the wall above the bath tub would be all wrong:

And Jasmine Valandani's work greats us in almost every room of our house, now including the entrance to our bedroom:

On less creative, but just as satisfying fronts, Drew hung the new rack in our downstairs bathroom/laundry room.   

I can see clearly now, the crap is gone:

Spring Bloom...

Spring bloom...still inside for now:

 

My mom and I spent a couple of hours doing yard work when she was here.  Weeding, pruning, spotting signs of life.  The clematis and hydrangeas are loaded with buds.  The peonies and bleeding hearts are breaking earth around woody stems.  The hellebore is almost in full bloom.  

I've been geeking out on pinterest the past few nights, madly pinning all things gardening.  My hope is that this will be the year of the climber.  Root systems established and trellises in place for the purple clematis, Cecile Brunner climbing rose, honeysuckle and climbing hydrangea.  Fingers and vines crossed.

Bare Minimum

My pre-kids vision of adorable outfits, bob haircuts, squeaky clean faces, trimmed nails and unchipped teeth was officially shattered when Marguerite fell in step with her sister and started demanding to dress herself.  Instead of french braids and matching dresses, my children wear primarily swimsuits when we're home and bizarro layered mismatched numbers when we're out and about.  I realize that technically I'm in charge, but as soon as I hear myself nagging about outfit choices I feel like I've fallen off track.  As long as I keep them from becoming hypothermic or over-heated I'm doing my due diligence.  I'm good at pulling off the bare minimum.  Bare being the operative word here.

Too Far Away

I just got the voicemail from my mom saying, "We made it home!  I love you!"  A long journey it is from my house to theirs.  Too long.  Here are a few highlights from their visit:

My first post-duck-hunting walk of the season along the dike, just me and my mom (accompanied by our favorite Edison dogs Buddy and Studly), on a glorious sunny morning:

My Dad and Marguerite strolling town after he'd spent all day taking care of the girls so we could have a ladies day in LaConner:

We already miss you two.

Best Part About My Day

Genevieve:  The best part about my day was laughing when I ripped your arm hair off (a direct result of the removal of the faux cast made of drywall tape "Dr." Genevieve Vallee administered).  Oh, and also making you mad calling Marguerite "Marge."  Marge.  Ha ha ha.  Marge.  Marge.  Marge.

Ponied Up

How cute are these two, brothers-in-law, married to the Petrangelo sisters, well matched in bullshitting-ability, ponied up to the bar at Boundary Bay?! 

And here we are, three meatballs out to lunch:

Here's the sweet cottage they rented on Samish Island:

Can't you stay another three months Grandmama and Grandpapa?  Handing out cookies and reminding us to have a sense of adventure?

Man Up, Woman

B47.  I19.  N29.  G3.  O16.  Between my squirming 2 year old who was obsessed with the kid-scale bathroom at the elementary school and my entourage of family, we only lasted until intermission at BINGO night.  The highlight was both girls winning their first Barbies.  Genevieve kept squealing with excitement and saying things like, "She's Barbie!  She's the President of the United States of America!  She's the President who lifts her shirt up and wears platform shoes!" Now that's what we need in the White House to really shake things up.

Here's Aunt Anita and Uncle Bob, probably wondering how the hell they found themselves playing BINGO in Edison, WA.  Good sports.

Me:  You like tired.
Drew:  So do you.
Me:  Why are we so tired?
Drew:  Because we're weak.  Stop yawning.  Man up, woman.
Me:  Maybe I should start wearing makeup.  That might help.  Or sleeping.

Here's G showing off her hussy President:

Bingo, Glitter Glue and Assbackwards Pants

My parents were here for the last 5 days and return tomorrow for another few days with my Aunt and Uncle who flew in from New York to join them.  Watch out Edison, your Italian American population is about to triple.  Excessive talking, laughing, eating, bingo and drinking champagne are on the agenda.  Does one seem not like the others?  Bingo you say?  That's right.  We'll be playing bingo on Saturday night for the Edison Women's Club fundraiser to keep the street lights of Edison on.  Locals, be there!

Marguerite has been going through an extreme "I can't let mama out of my sight" phase.  The furthest she's willing to be away from me is sitting on the bath mat directly on the other side of the shower curtain.  My parents have patiently embraced her wailing body while I separate myself from her for an hour here and there.  It's hard, but good for her and I both to remember how to operate without constant contact.

Listening to the ducks laugh on the slough with Grandmama is a daily ritual:

 

The days leading up to Valentine's Day have been wrought with shredded bits of pink paper cuttings on the floor, 30 requests to have her name spelled out loud while she carefully prints, glitter glue everywhere, and a general consensus that getting the pre-made cards would have been 100 times easier and tidier.  Now that the glitter has settled, it was fun watching G chip away at a project and feel the sense of satisfaction that comes with completing something that at times felt monumental.

 

Speaking of monumental, convincing Marguerite that the pockets go in back when it comes to wearing jeans is going to take some serious work on my part:

 

Happy Valentine's Day to all you love birds!

 

 

 

Chicken Parade

The second annual Edison Bird Festival filled this little town with hustle and bustle and feather ruffling this weekend.  Drew put a lot of work into pulling it all off (all planning meetings were held at the Edison Inn, so at least he got to drink beer while working).  The festival starts off with a chicken parade through town, so I covered my little chicks with feathers and shuffled them along in the crowd.

Here's my handsome rooster head and his chicken wrangling homies:

I wanted to make us t-shirts that said "Cock" "Layer" "Chick" "Chick" but listened to my faint voice of reason that told me better to keep things family appropriate - so I'm just writing about it on my mom blog instead.  Like I said, my voice of reason is soft spoken.

Today was less feather-full, but eventful all the same.  BOTH sets of grandparents were here at the same time which made for some over the moon granddaughters.  Action packed weekend!

This mama bird is ready to roost for the night.