Jesus Loves You (4634-4717)

All this summertime fun is taking a toll on my house (and writing, and purging). I feel like we are gone all the time and before I know it the house reverts to its normal state of bursting at the seams.

My sun room this morning.

My sun room this morning.

Two things brought this fact to light recently. The other day a friend came by and said, “Wow, you must be busy. Your house is usually very tidy …” Granted, she stopped by unannounced (which is totally OK with me) whereas she usually comes over for dinner parties which gives me a day to shove everything around. Point taken.

Piles of bedding.

Piles of bedding.

The second moment of clarity came when I welcomed our new neighbors to the neighborhood with a plate of tasty empanadas.

A conversation with a MIchiganer got me craving little meat pies. Of course I had to make three versions. That was such a stupid, time consuming project but at least I could share them with our new neighbors.

A conversation with a Michigander got me craving little meat pies. Of course I had to make three versions (sweet potato and black bean, spinach and egg, Argentine beef). That was such a stupid, time consuming project but at least I could share them with our new neighbors.

They invited us in but begged us to excuse the mess. “We finally got everything out of the boxes but we’re still putting stuff away. This should make you feel good about your house, right?” Clearly she doesn’t read my blog.

At least they have an excuse for their house being (a little) messy. Me? I have no excuse.

Yesterday I had a major laundry crisis and did about a million loads at the laundromat (there was that much) and I got to enjoy some Christian WI-FI because my computer doesn’t like my Arris router and woke up today ready to face the sun room. But GOOD NEWS, the network password Jesuslovesyou might have healed my laptop because it’s working today. Hallelujah!

What’s that, you ask? Do I have another sun room because didn’t I already purge that room? Well, yes. But I have the destructive/hoarding force of two little boys working against me. This is serious shoveling during a snowstorm territory.

Phyllis Diller says it is futile to clean up while you have kids in the house but I maintain that if I don’t, I might not be able to open the doors one day; so I went to town. I hauled so much shit out of there!

This was no 10 minute purge, my friends. This was the big Kahuna. Given that I am going camping again (and won’t be able to post) and I never know when the solar flares will align so that my computer’s WI-FI card will decide to bestow me with internet, I’m posting it all now (80+ items!) rather than doling it out over a few days. You never know.

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This picture came with a box of used Legos Lonny brought home, almost as if the newly Lego-less parents were thumbing their noses at me. Clearly this is their way of saying, “They’re your problem now.”

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Shawn came by and it’s the first time I’ve seen him since the fire. I’m sending him back to Colorado Springs with boxes of kid’s toys for all the families who are rebuilding. I’m also sending him home with the gorgeous SOLID GOLD AND DIAMOND ring on his middle finger. Hopefully it won’t turn his finger green.

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This is a knick-knack from our trip to Costa Rica a few years ago. It epitomizes tchotchke. It’s cute, was rather charming at the moment when I bought it, but now it plagues our house. DONATE.

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Donate.

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A Lego set that has been forgotten and possesses very few useful cannibal pieces. Donate. (Count as 10 items)

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Random crap including one of those Color Wonder pens that only work on special (and expensive) paper. This is to allow kids creativity (but not really) without getting their anal retentive mothers (such as myself) all worried about the furniture. I’m against all of it. A mess is better. TRASH.

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TRASH.

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One state is missing but it is otherwise a cool puzzle map. The only thing is that I’m the only one who ever puts it together after separating the pieces out from the pile of Legos. Fuck that. Donate.

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This is a sadistic gift. Does anyone really need a train whistle? Or two as the case may be in my house? Donate.

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TRASH.

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A whole laundry basket of retired bedding. DONATE.

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More busted crayons and junk. TRASH.

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Vintage 45 record holder. Donate.

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TRASH.

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A Viewmaster projector, which seems so cool but never ever got used. Donate.

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Donate.

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This is the coolest toy ever; you make up your own creatures and bugs. Harmy gave it to Testiclese a couple years ago but he’s not organized enough to enjoy it. That, or he has too many toys. Or both. Either way, it has been really challenging to keep all the pieces together so I’m going to donate it to a kid who doesn’t have any toys.

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Recycle the boxes.

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A leftover sash from a dress that I hated and remade into one that I like. Why I still have this fabric is a mystery to me. TRASH.

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A knight costume. DONATE. 

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Western kid’s costume vest. DONATE

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Cape. DONATE.

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Viewmasters are great. Do you know what is even greater? Youtube. DONATE.

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Solar powered car that is interesting exactly for as long as it takes to put it together, then it’s clutter. Legos are kind of the same deal ever since they went from being creative toys to overpriced one-time model kits. DONATE.

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DONATE.

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RECYCLE.

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Little green Army men which mix in with all the Legos and make me want to kill myself. I realize that they don’t have the same effect on the boys, just me. But still. DONATE.

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This is my bad. I learned how to tie my shoes in preschool but I am embarrassed to say that my boys suck at tying bows because of Velcro and shock cords. I should drill down on this but mornings are hard enough. DONATE.

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RECYCLE.

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Chess pieces. DONATE.

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DONATE.

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DONATE.

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The boys are going to be so pissed about these but I’m hoping they won’t notice they are gone. They can think about how happy some kids with NOTHING will be when they get them. DONATE.

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Tiny lamp. DONATE.

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DONATE.

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TRASH.

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Yarn. DONATE.

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Wheels to go with the Viewmaster. DONATE.

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This is what people buy when they are afraid their kids aren’t smart enough, then they never use them. These are all complete sets that Lonny picked up at garage sales. DONATE.

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DONATE.

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DONATE.

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Trash.

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Lincoln Logs. I’m giving these to Jason. He’s a builder and is totally into this kind of toy for his kids. (Count as 10 items)

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Magnetos. DONATE.

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I uncovered this piece of a piñata that Scrotus got at a birthday party and found his secret stash. TRASH.

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Shoes my boys have outgrown. DONATE.

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DONATE

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TRASH.

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Gift bags left by a tenant. TRASH.

After!

After!

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This is all the stuff that is going to the Springs with Shawn, and never back into my sun room!

Happiness!

Happiness!

26 thoughts on “Jesus Loves You (4634-4717)

  1. #1- I wish we were neighbors because those empanadas look TASTEEE. #2- I am glad your computer was resurrected, PRAISE JESUS #3- No more of this vacationy camping business because then you’re not on WP and we are lonely without you. 🙁

    • Those empanadas were good. Really good. My computer isn’t all the way resurrected, but it works right now so I’m getting as much done as a I can. My connection can crap out without any notice. It fucking sucks.

      Only one (or two) more camp things coming up. This next one will rule because another person is doing all the food. All I have to do is show up. It’s like being married to a woman. It must be nice.

      The other camping trip will be awesome because we go to a hotspring that is “clothing optional” which means I will post lots of pictures of Lonny’s penis.

  2. Wow, Vivienne. I do love all the photos. It makes me feel better to know there is someone out there who thinks like I do. I’m surprised that Zeb didn’t grab that Vintage 45 record holder and sell it on ebay. I mean …it’s Disney; isn’t everything Disney over-priced and in demand? Oh, and maybe I’ve missed it along the way but who the hell is Lonny?

    • Ahh. Zeb and Lonny are the same. I was trying out a pseudonym to protect his anonymity (but since I plan on posting pictures of his penis at some point, what’s the use?) but it just didn’t feel right. Scrotus and Testiclese, however, feel spot on.

      As for the record holder, maybe I’ll ebay it. A search didn’t look too promising, though.

  3. Wow, today’s offering really is a major move, a mega-purge! Your sunroom “after” looks wonderful, inviting, peaceful…so why on earth did you let the boys in there again, post-purge? (just kidding, Viv, Scrote & Teste look like they BELONG. I’m sure it melts your heart, as it does mine, to see those guys so chill and sweet-looking there…that perspective from 1000 miles away, of course.

    This person Cindy, now. “Your nemesis” as you say in passing. One of your followers, or respondents? I don’t know who she is; she could be somebody, nobody, anybody. A grammar Nazi: OK, she wins a
    couple points with me on that count. But listen: I know that you write mostly in haste and the “errors” in your blog are nothing more than typos. So…LET IT GO, PEOPLE! If you’re reading Vivian’s blog for its stellar wit and style, then please just comment on the content and lay off the rest…OK?

    It occurs to me to wonder how I would take your writing straight, i.e. if I didn’t know you.

    • I wish I could keep the boys out of the sun room. It really is gorgeous. Suzi Plooster, our in-loco-grandparentis, felt that they didn’t deserve such a nice room. And they had too many toys. I would love to see them installed in the basement with an ugly brown plaid couch with that nasty weave (you know what I’m talking about), a furry brown beanbag and a nice stash of comic books and maybe even a vintage Playboy or two. Those days are a long way off but I look forward to the sun room being mine-all-mine.

  4. Now WITHOUT errors in punctuation. There were three “you’re” errors. I’m gonna blame this one on the new Apple OS because I know the difference between they’re, there and their, as well as your and you’re, and its’, it’s and its. Hopefully I have a grasp on when to lay and lie and the use of the elusive semicolon.

    I like it that my readers are intelligent.

  5. Spelled your name wrong? Yeah I did, didn’t I? Not like I don’t know, Viv–just an example of what can happen when you’re bangin’ it out here. Speaking of which–nothing personal and no offense to your other readers, I just gotta comment the way I see it in response…

    p.s. your readers seem to be hyper-intelligent, which must say something…

    • I wonder if we still have identical handwriting? It’s been so long since we’ve done real letters. I remember sitting through an Awakening, bored out of my skull, keeping myself busy by carefully trying to copy your script.

  6. p.p.s. Adrian a “master grammarian”? I confess I’ve never noticed, and certainly he and I have never gone head-to-head…(jesus, I know he reads these things, too) Well shit…Hi Buzz! & Mary Ann! you must be very proud of your daughter Vivienne…’til we meet again…

    • My dad rarely talks shop with non-colleagues, but yes, he’s a stickler. What he loves is to feel superior, which is why we both enjoy hanging at Costco. What he loves almost as much is to be taken down a notch, which is something I find very endearing about him.

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