It's all fun and games until someone gets weird

You may not know this about Corey, but he's an 8-year-old on the inside.

Way down deep inside.

Like past the aches and pains and never-ending stream of gas of a nearly 40-year-old.

He chases fire trucks and watches airplanes take off from a parking lot near his office.  And at all times we have several of those horrible 79 cent pizzas sitting in our freezer.
It's fun.  And most of the time I get a kick out of his little quirks.

Then we had some crazy person hiding in the bushes next to our apartment building.

Corey Lucas went on the case.

The night we found the guy Oliver was actually the one who rooted him out of the bushes.  He barked his big boy bark and the guy slowly walked back through the parking lot toward the street.

I watched the whole thing unfold from the safety of our bedroom, so I could see him slinking by, and then sprinting around the front of our building.

To say this dude was a creepster would have been flattering.

Corey ran upstairs.

"Did you see that?!"

We tried to spy on him through the windows as he seemed to be casing the small high school behind our building but it was too bright inside.  So I turned off all the lights.

Still too bright.  I put out the candles.

Nope, not good enough.  I unplugged the tree.

And then we were standing in pitch black.

Corey called the police.
"I'd like to report a suspicious subject."

They put him on hold.

Meanwhile, creepster was walking up and down the school's steps.  He twirled a little bit.  Then he jumped the fence and headed back toward our building.

Still on hold....

He came back to the school.  Found a rock.  Oh no!  Is he going to use that rock to bust in the school's windows?!?

No.  He just wanted to stand on it and spin in circles.

Finally we get through to the cops.  Corey tells them what happened, but in running to find my phone and tape the whole strange scene I lost track of Dr. Creepy so we couldn't say which direction he went.

Dang.

After hanging up Corey decides to take the law in his own hands.  He suits up Oliver in his walk attire and the two of them head back downstairs.  For 20 freezing (literally) minutes they walk up and down the sidewalk looking for the perp.  A few cops drive by, but no one is able to locate the guy.

Corey finally came back upstairs.  He realized how cold he was.  All the excitement must have turned off some senses in order to heighten others.

Grown up cops and robbers will do that to a person.

....

What happened to Mr. McCreepin, you ask?

Not to worry.  We found out the next week our strange friend is actually a student at the school.

Yay.

My Thoughts, Exactly: Unecessary Thriftiness

This post is brought to you by my straw hair, my clumpy eyelashes and my new daily struggle against disheveledness.

Hello friends.

Stacie, here.

Save-a-buck Stacie.

Sends-in-$2-rebates-and-waits-four-months-for-the-check Stacie.

Picks-up-quarters-off-the-street-but-just-quarters-because-it's-not-worth-risking-hepatitis-for-a-nickle....I'm thrifty is what I'm trying to say here.

I also don't get to the point quickly.

But anybaddecision, I ran out of a few beauty products two weeks ago:  shampoo, and mascara.  Usually I'll go a few weeks using Corey's man shampoo and stepping out into the world with naked eyelashes, but I felt ambitious.  So I took a lunch trip to Target.

This is what I decided to get for my hair. It said "professionals" on the bottle and I remembered the commercials showing salon hair-doers using it and thinking it was super expensive. I said to myself, I says, "Stace, you know commercials don't lie. And if those hair-doers say this stuff is the best in the world you just might want to give it a shot."

So I did.

And it's awful.

Imagine my shock when I found my $1.50 bottle of shampoo left my hair complete dry and frizzy and generally yucky.

My advice is to avoid Suave's 2 in 1 shampoo, unless hot mess is the look you're going for.

...

Now, in that same Target trip I meandered down the make-up aisle. I literally dread buying mascara (which is why I go so long before buying a tube each time I run out) because it is just too expensive.

Seriously. You stick black goop into a teeny tube with a mini toothbrush stuck to the lid. Why does that cost $15? With this latest mascara purchase I wanted to prove to myself and to the world that it doesn't make a difference whether you're spending $15 at Clinique or $4.29 on Cover Girl.

Here's another surprise: it actually does.

My new "professional" mascara goes on in four very clumpy layers and then only comes off if I pull the entire eyelash out of my skin.

Now, I'm no professional, but shouldn't this process be a little, I don't know, easier?

Or prettier??

Save yourselves. And your eyelashes. Find your nearest Clinique counter, but only during bonus time because that's the only time you can justify to your husband why you just spent $30 on a tube of mascara the size of a tampon (and not even the heavy flow kind) and a one ounce jar of foundation.

"But just look at all this free stuff!"

Friday Confessions

1.  This is several weeks of confessions lumped together because:

• I kept forgetting it was Friday
• I kept forgetting the dumb things I did/said each week
• I sometimes get lazy

2.  But I have an excuse: I get carried away with everything the entire month of Christmas.

Except blogging.

3.  On one of the blogs I follow someone wrote "Whole Foods has a 'grow your own mushroom garden'".  I read: "grow your own mustache garden" and was totally psyched!

Even though I have no idea what a mustache garden would even look like.

4.  I ran into my favorite cashier (see #2) last week.  This time when he saw me he said, "oh it's you...how are you?" as coyly as a 17 year old can be.

5.  Last Monday I thought it was Friday.

6.  I ordered a few small gifts for Corey from Amazon.  They offer free shipping on some items as long as the entire order is over $25 but my order was only $24.42.  I broke down and bought the cheapest thing I could find.

7.  A used Don Juan Demarco DVD.

8.  It was for myself.

9.  A lot of people find Corey & Stacie by Google searching Devon Sawa. 

My first thought: how many obsessed 13-year-old girls in the mid-90s turned obsessed late twenty-somethings are there?

And my next thought: I wonder what he looks like today....

10.  I kid.  I already know what he looks like today.  (obsessed late twenty-something raises hand)

What?!.  Have you seen him in Little Giants??  A-dor-a-ble.

And then it's over...

Merry (belated) Christmas!!

In a whirlwind of Christmas activities I chose to neglect the blog.

No hard feelings though, several activities got the ax this year.

There were no Christmas cookies.

No holiday newsletter.

And my homemade gifts to all the families were less work than usual.

After a full year of blech (this is a sound effect word, I sometimes substitute actual words for sounds, don't judge) I needed to be able to enjoy this Christmas season.

And I did!

There still was a little flurry of activity toward the end, but I was still able to have actual conversations with people in which I could fully participate without scrolling through mental checklists, Corey and I were able to slip away to Lake Placid for a couple days (more on that tomorrow), and I could enjoy our church's Christmas Eve service.

People, you have no idea how necessary it was to (almost) end this year on a good note.

I may still make a huge, ginormous black X over 2011 in my mind forever and ever but for right now I can start 2012 in a pretty state of mind.

...

As long as the Giants beat Dallas on New Year's Day, of course.  More on that Tuesday after I've recovered from what looks like will be a long, cold night in New Jersey.

Ten on Tuesday

It's been awhile Ten on Tuesday....
1. What is your favorite online-only store?
Etsy.  A thousand times Etsy!  You can find handmade, unique, one of a kind items.  (like felted jewelry, shameless plug)  In second place: Amazon.


2. Do you enjoy wrapping gifts?
Yes, and I pride myself on my perfect corners.

However, if you've received a less-than-perfectly wrapped gift from me it's because I didn't feel like trying.  Nothing personal.

3. What is the temperature in your city today?
32.  Which is warm.  So warm I didn't bring a coat to add to the four layers I'm already wearing.  Yesterday at this time it was 20.

4. What time do you eat dinner?
Usually around 6:30 or 7:00....whenever Corey finishes making it.

Don't judge.

5. Will you be making New Years Resolutions?
Probably.  And I will probably forget about them by February.

6. How old is your oldest pair of shoes that you still wear?
I have a pair of sandals I bought my junior year of high school, so 13 years.  I can probably attribute their long life to me wearing grocery bags over my feet when it rained.

7. Do you have any restaurant phone numbers saved in your phone?
I have two: my favorite local eatery, GG Mama's and the Thai place for those intense pineapple fried rice cravings.

8. What is your favorite and least favorite letter to write in cursive?
I write in a combination of cursive and print.  I call it lazy hand.  So I only use what feels good scrolling across the page.  If I don't like how my cursive r's look, I don't use 'em.

This is by far the most random question I have ever been asked in. my. life.  Congrats Chelsea.

9. Do you know any good riddles?
Yes.  But I don't remember a single one of them.

I have the memory of an earthworm.

10. How do you feel about snow?
Love, love, love.  As long as I'm dressed for it.  Like head to toe thermal, waterproof everything, and I don't care if my hair gets frizzy.  I always say if it's going to be this darn cold, why not have a foot of snow to cover up all the brown?

Think about it...it makes sense.

...

Wonderful set of random questions by Chelsea, as usual!  Hop over to Roots and Rings to play along!

Christmas Songs!!!

It's no secret: I enjoy me some 12 Days of Christmas.

And Jingle Bell Rock.

And Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You.

But most especially 12 Days of Christmas.

Last year I posted one of my favorite versions as sung by the muppets.  And today I post another favorite as sung by a coupla crazy Canadians:

Enjoy (smiley face).

Christmas Cookies!!!

This post is brought to you by my mom.  On those days when I just don't have it in me I can always count on, "You know your last post was FRIDAY."

Thanks, mom.

I'm really excited about this week.  And for a number of different reasons:

• There is nothing going on at work.  I mean, there's stuff, but nothing urgent that can't wait until mid-January when everyone gets back into the swing of things.
• I am stress free.  I still have things to buy, wrap, and make but it's such a small manageable amount I can practically check everything off my list.  I mean, without actually checking it off because then, you know, it wouldn't get done.
• I'm on drugs.  Just kidding.  Bad joke.  Sorry.

Corey and I are so stress-free we took last weekend, as in the last weekend before Christmas, to travel up to his hometown and make gingerbread cookies with his mom.  It was a tradition that went back many, many years but Corey hadn't participated since we've been together.  He was literally giddy to go.

I'm going to mention a key part of this story here: Corey made three gingerbread men.

Three.

As in three out of several dozen.

The rest of the time he played with the dog, talked football with his dad, and told his mom, my sister, and me we weren't doing it right because none of them looked like his.

This is my life with a perpetual eight-year-old.

We had a good time anyway; me, his mom and my sister.  We were decoratin' fools!

And then we just got foolish.

But in our defense: there were a lot of cookies.  And there are just so many things you can do with a little brown cookie man. 

Eventually we turned some into ladies.

Well dressed ladies, if I might add.

I ended up with a well deserved stomach ache at the end of the day.  After so much decorating I opted to eat the last few cookies rather than paste 'em with frosting and more sugar. 

And then I ate several more the next day...for no good reason at all.

We drove home mid-day Sunday. 

Luckily there was football and laundry waiting for us to really top off a fabulous weekend.

(sarcasm font)

...

And now back to the Christmas grindstone...."weeeeeeeeeee wish you a Merry Christmas!"

No one told me it was Friday

Oh dear, look at the time.  I completely forgot it was Friday.

And if we're going to go there, I could also say I completely forgot it was Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday!

'Tis the season to lose your head in Christmas merriment and forget about daily routines like blogging and walking the dog and deodorant.  But now here we are just nine days away from the big day; the culmination of all this bustling.

(One could also say we're only eight days away from the dumbest day to leave your house.  On which day Corey and I will be fighting the crowds of NYC, but more on that later.  Like after I know we're going to make it home alive.)

So check back next year for a real Friday Confessions because until then I might only have to say stuff like how I'm not a fan of Michael Buble anymore because he has a potty mouth and that I got mad at Corey one night and told him what I got him for Christmas.

And then you'll hate me for being so mean.

Because, I mean, who doesn't have a potty mouth these days, right?

So until then, peace on earth and goodwill toward men.

Deck the halls with egg nog and more cookies please

And now all the news that's fit to put out on the Interwebs:

Corey and I had a few friends over to celebrate Christmas Saturday night.  It was a twist on our usual invite-everyone-we-know-and-hope-and-pray-none-of-them-spill-red-wine-on-the-couches Christmas event.  Instead we spent a few hours munching on appetizers before heading out to our favorite restaurant for dinner.

It's simple math: less people means less chances our furniture will get ruined.

But somewhere in that formula x = Corey's dropsies and amounts to a bottle of tonic exploding everywhere and our glass Pyrex measuring cup shattering.

...

One of our guests is responsible for making egg nog every year.  And I am responsible for drinking most of it.  This usually leads to complaining very loudly about how hot it is right where I am standing.

Bourbon has this horrible effect of tasting oh-so-good when the burny characteristics are masked over by raw egg.  You have a tendency to forget what you are drinking is going to make you tell secrets and laugh at inappropriate times.

Hypothetically, of course.

Another guest made cheese cookies, which is simply a combination of two of my most favorite things: cheese and cookies.  Duh.  There were chocolate crackle cookies (more of my favorite ingredients), veggies, dips and cheeses. 

Food weighs heavily in how I rank events.  And based on this year's weight gain I've had myself a grand time.

We made our dinner reservation for 9pm.  As in one hour before I usually drift off to sleep without a belly full of eggy bourbon.  I was able to stay awake and jolly through the jokes and stories and holiday merriment, but when the clock struck midnight my buggy turned back into a pumpkin and I nearly face planted into my chocolate lava cake.

My dear, sweet, I-can-function-just-fine-on-four-hours-of-sleep, husband stayed out with his friends while I crawled into bed at 12:45am.  It was a miracle I managed to also crawl into pjs.

Overall, it was a lovely time, we have some pretty great family and friends.

...

Annnnnd now it's time for Christmas frenzy.  Only 14 days to go, people.

Santa's crazy shopper, over and out.

Warm fuzzies for sale

Aside from a few confessions, like how I sometimes pick up the phone when I hear the front door open and that I married into Fraser Fir snobbery, I have very little else on the brain than Christmas.

I've heard a rumor that it's the most wonderful time of the year.

I'd have to concur.

This is also the first holiday gift-giving season my jewelry business, SJL Original, has really been out there, available to the masses.  Around this time last year I dabbled in different mediums; clay, wood, felt, wire before finally settling into the felt groove.

And my felt beads give me warm fuzzies inside and out.

So consider me tickled to be featured in the winter edition of Saratoga Living magazine written by interior designer and blogger Leah Margolis.

She gives us all the scoop on what's hot and affordable in and around our town, and although I'm quite proud of IRIS in mint with the shiny asymmetrical ball, I can't help but to wonder...

...what kind of mask is that?  Boy would a facial be most welcomed right about now.

You were thinking that too?

'Tis the season for treating your pores, that's what I always say.

But I digress.

I'm just happy (and thankful to Leah!) to be included with such wonderful gift ideas.  If you are in or around the Saratoga Springs area grab a magazine and shop around!

...

Thanks also to Petra at Anchor No. 5 in Troy, New York and to Christina at Sterling & Co. in Glens Falls, New York....may your stores be full of Christmas shoppers!

And may they all want fuzzy jewelry by me!

Lunchtime Tidbit

There's a guy in my office right now, he's fixing one of our doors.

He's probably thinking to himself, "Why can't that girl eat without getting food all over her face??"

Because I'm hungry, sir.

I hate salad

This post is brought to you by my truly horrendous lunch today.

Ever since my body realized I'm almost 30 and my metabolism retired to Del Boca Vista I've noticed a genuine need to watch what I eat.

But I ignored it.

And then my butt got big.

And then I went to a ladies Christmas program where I sampled 15 different desserts and had to unbuckle my pants to drive.

And then I tried to run on a bloated belly and found myself waddling and unable to breathe.

Time for ch-ch-ch-ch-changes, Stace!

So, on Saturday I bought myself some greens at our local farmer's market.  As an avoid-salad-at-all-cost eater I was unsure of which type of greens to purchase:  there were spiky greens and purple greens (?) and big greens and small greens and grass-looking greens.  The nice farmer suggested a mixed bag.  She said it was more of a spicy mix and that I would really enjoy it.

I hate it.

Yes, it is 100% the worst.

The spiky greens make my mouth tingle, the purple greens taste green and the other greens taste even greener than green.

My poor bottle of honey mustard put up a good fight but is completely under seasoned; it was definitely made to compliment another ingredient in the salad, one I am missing terribly.  I found myself today sitting at my desk with dressing all over my face and my mouth stuffed with my horrible mixed bag of lettuce I'm "really going to like" in an attempt to get it down as fast as possible and not actually taste one bite of it.

I may or may not have immediately afterward shoved a milk chocolate truffle in my mouth.

...

So in conclusion: I gave salad a chance.  Several chances, actually.  And now I'm going back to carbs and brownies and big butts and walking 5k races.

Don't judge.

New Developments

My family is wacky:

--My sister Kimberlie and I have a new way of communicating, we blink the Morse code (which neither of us actually knows) and then try to translate what the other is saying.

"Every Thursday you train your dolphin to fart cookies??"

What's worse: in a fit of blinks looking like you're pre-seizure or cackling in the middle of a ladies Christmas program at church?

--This same sister, in a serious conversation, said our grandmother's ashes are in a urinal.

She meant to say "urn."

--I sat down to talk to my dad in his office on Friday about some semi-serious stuff.  He interrupted me:

"Hold on, I need my thinking hat."

He then put on a fedora.

...

And Corey wonders why I am the way I am.

Friday Confessions

I pulled this post out of storage, it's a little dusty:




1. Sometimes I forget to keep track of things I need to confess. Like this week. Sorry in advance for the gobbledygook, or lack thereof, to follow.


2. The measured weight of my shampoo is 10.5 Fl. oz. I read this as ten point five floppy ounces. Because in my book, the abbreviation "FL" is always floppy.

3. In this weather my car goes from zero to sixty in five minutes.

4. I threw an apple in my purse, not knowing it would be swimming around in there with about eight perfume samples from the weekend. It tasted very much like Jimmy Choo's newest fragrance.

5. Corey threw out a jar of hot fudge that had at least a third still left. I may or may not have had a minor meltdown. But in my defense, when you're looking forward to hot fudge, chocolate syrup is just not an adequate substitute.

My dad will agree.

6. Speaking of my dad, we went out to breakfast this morning. I had the French toast...just like when he would take me out for breakfast Friday mornings when I was in fifth grade.

Awwww.

7. I've taken to defending Justin Bieber when slammed by co-workers, friends, people in line at the grocery store...

8. I'm jealous of people from the south. They have these cute little sayings that make any bad thing sound cute. Up here we just say what we're thinkin':

down there: "That girl is just two chickens short of a pot pie...y'all!"

up here: "She's dumb."

down there: " Well slap me silly at sunrise!"

up here: "I'm shocked."

down there: "You'll love it so much you'll wanna slap yer mama!"

up here: "It's good. Trust me."

Boooo-ring.

9. Because TV people are making more shows that are super sappy and aimed at emotional weirdos like me, my family thinks I'm preggo and just full of raging hormones.

10. I emailed a friend of mine about my busy day and how tired I was. I tried to write that I crawled in bed at 11pm but I started typing "crap." I know this is a little too much poo talk for one week, and I swear I'll take it easy for a day or two, but think about how that would have turned out...I crapped in bed?!?

**crickets**



Sheesh, tough crowd.

...

Visit Housewife Eclectic to link up and play along!

Extreme casual Thursday

And on a much lighter note, Corey was funny this morning.

The dear delivers my jewelry to one of the stores that sells it because it's close to his office.  This morning he was planning to make a drop but I wanted to take pictures of it all first:

"Have you taken pictures of the jewelry yet?"

"No."

"Well, I'm leaving right now."

"Corey, you're still in a towel."

Stacie says: "Love your animals, Please!"

I've put my stamp on this day: it's not going to be good.

I'll make this quick because I'm a total emotional basketcase when it comes to most certain things.

Like animals.

Oh I love me some animals.  And I've had plenty: dogs, fish, a rabbit, a guinea pig, a turtle, some lizards, a couple birds, ducks, ferrets and probably more I'm forgetting.

And when I see even the slightest hint of mistreatment I'm affected.

I saw a guy yell at his puppy for barking and then yank up on his collar while walking in Saratoga Sunday and I had to call Corey in tears.  I don't know why I'm like this, but I am.  Corey definitely doesn't understand it.

And today is the worst of it: a friend of ours has an appointment this afternoon to put her dog to sleep.

Her perfectly healthy seven year old dog.

I'm not going for "misery loves company" here, I have a point.

This dog, Dierks Bentley, is a pit bull that lead a much different life before he found his permanent home with our friend.  He was abused and mistreated and taught to be aggressive.  They were his formative years and so he carried this aggression with him.

Corey and I looked after him not too long ago.  He's sweet and loves to play, walk and chase squirrels.  His only flaw, besides shredding expensive comforters, is this strong desire to attack other dogs.  He got that chance on Sunday.  Due to a situation beyond our friend's control Dierks came into contact with a small dog and killed it.

So now he is going to die.  This afternoon.  I tried as hard as I could to find a better alternative; rehabilitation or placement at a farm far, far, far away from other dogs but what I found is that there are thousands of pit bulls in this same situation just in our region every single week. 

And they are put down too.

This is too much for me, people.  I hope it is too much for you too.

You don't have to be like Corey and me and have a special blanket so your dog can climb up on the couch because the floor is just not soft enough or make special trips for the treats he really likes.  But you should, at the very least, show your animals the respect they deserve as contributing member of your household.  Because they do provide in some way; either through companionship, protection or entertainment.

To treat them any other way is cruel and always leads to pain further down the road.

Let people know that.