Doing what I love

Since many of you have never seen them, I thought I would share some pics of the thing I love to do -- paint crazy things on peoples' walls (with permission, of course).

This is a little girl's room in a house I did in the ATL before I moved. The circles were time-consuming and it was a real PAIN to find the right green, but I LOVE the finished look. So cute for a young girl, and it can grow with her with minor changes in the room.


This is my parents' kitchen. Before the paint job, it had TEN YEAR OLD wallpaper that was more yellow than white (its original color). Mom likes blue (in case you have some sort of color-blindness). :-)

I love the subtlety of these stripes. Very elegant, yet more interesting than just plain walls. I've actually since done this in my own house in the dinning room.

This is my latest creation. It's in my friend Angie's "craft room". If this doesn't inspire you to do something, not much will (unless what you're trying to reach inspiration FOR is sleep). :-) ha

Love & Shipoopies!

Leslie

PS - You'll notice a change in the spelling of shipoopies. My father corrected me on my spelling of this made-up word. Silly, I know, but his creation, his spelling, I guess. :-)

What have I become?!?

I have fond memories from a time around my Junior/Senior year in high school shortly after my grandfathers passed away when, for a couple of months, my Uncle Ric -- a super-cool, super-funny, sarcastic hippy who normally resides in Pennsylvania and with whom until that time I had spent most of my "visiting" on the phone -- lived in Clanton helping Munner adjust to life without Grandad and helping us fix-up my other Grandad's house so we could live in it. (He's a carpenter by trade.)

When he was at "our house", he replaced a wall of windows and a window seat with beautiful French doors and windows that lead out onto a deck that he built for us. The deck was perfectly built to our specifications with a place built for a grill (with a hole underneath for ashes), "tables" for mother's planters and our drinks, and benches built to my height specifications for "laying out". I found his work fascinating -- learning about levels, chalk lines, and the like. More importantly, I found HIM fascinating. This was one of the first times when I spend QUALITY one-on-one time with him since I was old enough to appreciate one-on-one time with adults. He knew so much and was so funny and I found myself spending much time with him listening to his stories and learning about "handyman" kind of things. The one thing about those days that stands out the most is listening to his "Classic Rock" station with him while he worked.

Now, I was raised on oldies -- it's almost all we listened to in my house -- and I still love them, but we never listened to "classic rock". My parents were more into the animal groups -- you know, the Beatles and Monkeys -- than the Stones and Hendrix. Uncle Ric opened a new world of music to my ears, and though I didn't like it all since I couldn't sing along, I still associate MANY of those songs to Uncle Ric when I hear them. They entered into my memory box of sounds and smells so that when I hear them, I want to think of some supremely witty comment and call my Uncle Ric so he can remember how "cool" I am. :-) ha! They are part of my "cool hippy uncle" descriptors.

Fast forward, now, to last week. I was (and you'll excuse the confession, but it's relevant to the story) in the shower trying to find a station on my "shower radio" which is pretty complicated. (Reception isn't so grand in there.) The only station I could pick-up was a "classic rock" station. I immediately thought of Uncle Ric as "Give me Three Steps" came on. I drifted into a world of memories of time with my cool hippy uncle who listened to this OLD music. "Give me three steps. Give me three steps, mister. Give me three steps towards the door."

However, I was in for a rude awakening when the VERY NEXT SONG was a "rock" song from when I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL!!! I almost fainted. When did I become "CLASSIC"? How is it possible that MY MUSIC is now in the same category as Uncle Ric's? What has come of me? When did I become this "classic" person grouped with hippies and oldies? Where did my young, cool self go? Who knew one could so quickly become OLD?!? So Sad!!!

Henceforth, if any of you needs me, you can find me thumbing through the adds for retirement villages and nursing homes. I might as well! The time can't be TOO FAR off. :-D ha!!!

I need Blogger help

Okay, for all of my friends who are wizards at the Blogger format, I need help with this one. I am used to another format and I can't figure out all of the neat things you have on your pages like "blogs I like" and the other little notes that are in the margins of your page.

I have (as you can see) figured out how to add a picture into a blog. (I am very proud because I just discovered that I can do that.) But I haven't figured out how to get a picture into my profile.

This picture, by the way will be most appreciated by Nolan. This is our SEC-touring family photo. The Bama fan and her Aubbie husband living in the world where they spell it "geaux".

Thanks in advance!

Love & Shapoopies,

Les

The tax people...

Drew and I decided that since we were going to have many new deductions that we were unsure about (due to my having a full-time home office now) that we would go to H&R to have our taxes done this year. We decided that the papers are complicated and it was our first time writing-off some pretty complicated stuff, so we'd better go to the experts. Now, I must say first off that after about 5 minutes with the two ladies still at H&R at 6:15pm it was crystal clear that "expert" was a VERY strong word to be used in this situation. "Yeller", "Food smacker", "person who talks with her mouth full", "Person who guesses at things more than she actually knows how to do things" -- all of these would be more appropriate terms to describe these two ladies. That said, after spending 2 1/2 hours (Yes, you heard me right TWO AND A HALF HOURS!!!!!) trying to get everything done (at least an hour of this was spent "guessing" how to make the little green flag saying something wasn't right go away), we are getting a fabulous return and for that I am grateful -- VERY GRATEFUL!!! :-) (Woo-hoo!)

However, because we were filing in two states (having moved from Geawgeeah to the hurricane-infested sauna that is Louisiana during this year), they had to send our state taxes to be done by someone who does "Allstate". (I'll add here that they kept using this term as if it was some common terminology that all Americans should know. As far as I know, Allstate is a car insurance company and should, therefore, have nothing to do with filing my state taxes. My best guess is that she, the woman who does "Allstate", does taxes for ALL STATES meaning they can only do Louisiana and she knows how to do other states. That's just my guess, though.)

Now, understand that this means that someone we've never met will do our taxes without us there to explain things to her. She's going solely on the knowledge and paperwork she has received from "yellie-yellerson" and "smackie-smackerson" (described above). When we finally got to look at these state taxes (surprisingly only 2 days after we did our federal taxes), it had us owing the state of GA (in which we only resided 7 of the 12 months of the year and for whom we witheld taxes all 7 of those months) almost $800. Now, I will say that we always owe GA some money over what we withold (which I have always found strange), but it's usually around $100. How can the same jobs with the same tax forms have a $700 difference in taxes from one year to the next -- especially since the later of the two years wasn't even a full year?!?

We called and after much run around from one office to the next and messages back and forth, Drew finally got to talk to the "Allstate" lady who actually IS an expert. It seems "Yellie" and "Smackie" told her that we lived in Georgia for the entire year. Now, I find it odd that she didn't see a problem with that as she filed our Louisiana taxes at the same time, but still... Since we weren't full-time residents of Georgia for the entire year, she fixed the taxes and Georgia owes us $400!!!!!

I don't know how many of you are math whizzes, but if you haven't figured it out, that's a $1200 difference from what we were originally told. TWELVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

This is just a friendly reminder that if your taxes look iffy and were filled-out by anyone who makes the name "tweedle" start popping into your head, CALL AND CHECK!!!

Oh my gosh!!!

Love and Shapoopies!
Les

Learning

It's amazing how we, as humans, can get so arrogant as to think that we have "learned it all" in any area of our lives. Of course, this never lasts long, for, almost immediately after one gets comfortable in the "knowledge" they possess, some new knowledge will present itself. In school, church, friendships, and marriage -- especially in marriage. All of the kinks can be worked-out and then WHAM!!! Something happens and you are reminded that every conversation and situation presents something new to learn about life, about people, about yourself. Always learning....

It's not half bad if you think about it.

Things that come in threes

Okay. I had the most unbelievable day of "things that come in threes" on Thursday. I have already typed (for like 20 min) the whole thing out once on Thursday when it was fresh in my mind and I was still blown away by it. It was tremendously witty and a fantastic piece of writing if I do say so myself. Of course (and I guess this would count as the fourth thing... hmmm), as I tried to post the blog, it got erased. So none of you will get to read the perfect description of my day, but here's as close as I can get on a Saturday evening. :-)
Thursday began as any other Thursday would. I worked for a while, did some calls, ate some food, etc. THEN, I left to go to a dentist appointment where I was to have my teeth cleaned and get a crown put on a root canal that was done in like June or something. :-) (No avoidance happening there.) I had been to my dentist here in BR once before and loved him and the office. The office is run very well. They actually TELL YOU what's going on rather than leaving you in the dark. Very nice.
My hygenist begins cleaning my teeth and proceeds to tell me that she's going to go ahead and give me my shots of novacain while she's doing the cleaning and that way my mouth will be numb and ready for the crown to be placed. Now, at this point, I'm thinking to myself, "Self, I've never had a hygenist do the anesthesia before. It's always been the dentist." But then I responded to myself, "Yeah, but self, she said something about having taken anesthesia classes and this office runs so well. It's probably just how they do it. No worries." (Is anyone sensing a big problem about to occur? If not, you need to work on recognizing foreshadowing.)
Then, the hygenists asks another dental assistant to get her the syringe because she's going to go ahead and do the shots so I'll be ready for the crown. Then, she says, "Don't tell him (the dentist). He'll just want to come and watch." [In my head at this moment, "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!] Then she turns to me, and probably seeing the panick in my eyes, says, "He always wants to watch me do shots because he says I do them better than he does. Hee-hee." (Yes, she actually giggled at that statement.) I try to remain calm at this moment because I figure if anything were really wrong with this situation, the other dental assistant would have said something or gone and gotten the dentist.
The hygenist then begins to prepare me for the shots. I can't help but notice that she's not shooting into my cheek like is normally done. She's actually fiddling her finger between my upper and lower jaws at the joint. Yes, that's right, she actually put the shot INTO my jaw joint. I actually believe that part was supposed to be done, but let me say that intentional or not, it hurt LIKE HELL!!! I actually yelped aloud (something I try my best not to do in public, being an adult an all). Her response to this was that I "shouldn't be feeling anything at all by now." I don't know if she was trying to "logic" me out of my pain or if she thought I was faking it or what, but I have never understood what good telling someone they shouldn't be in pain does when they are obviously in pain. Did she stop? Readjust? NO!!! She just kept on pushing in that crappy medicine and then reached for the second syringe (or possibly refilled the first. I was in too much pain at that moment to notice.) and pumped it in, too -- hurting even more than the first point. At which time, she again reassured me that I shouldn't be in any pain. [HELLO!!! DO YOU HEAR ME FREAKING SCREAMING HERE?!?]
Now, you may think that this is the bad part of my dentist story. YOU'D BE WRONG!!! After the two painful shots into my jaw bone, she goes back to polishing the ole' teeth. And occassionally, she taps on my lip and says, "Are you starting to feel funny here?" But oddly enough, I am not starting to feel funny in my bottom lip. My body is quivering and I'm getting sick to my stomach from the pain of the shot. (I tend to pass out when given shots into joints -- which I've had done before -- and these are the signs my body gives when it's about to pass-out.) Now, I'm freaking out a bit at this point because I can tell I'm about to pass-out. THEN, the oddest thing starts happening. My bottom eyelid starts jumping -- like I have a twitch nerve. Within 10 seconds, it was totally asleep. SHE NUMBED MY FREAKING EYE -- THE WHOLE TOP LEFT QUADRANT OF MY FACE!!!!! I became unable to BLINK!!! My eye would not close without the help of my fingers because all of the stuff inside the eyelids was asleep.
Does the giggly hygenist apologize? Of course not!!! She begins explaining to me (in at least 8 different ways that were all different) why it wasn't her fault or an accident -- how these things just "happen" sometimes. Then, she proceeds to give me 2 MORE SHOTS into my jawbone into the right (gosh, let's hope so) nerve rather than the one that puts your freaking eyelids to sleep!!! And, of course, since my mouth isn't numb at all, they were excruciating as well. (Am I having fun yet?)
Now, I must point out that at this point, I am (like a true southern gal) keeping my cool. I haven't complained. I haven't screamed (other than from the pain). I haven't even cried (though I am fighting tears a bit because I'm so freaked-out at not being able to close my eye). But I am so calm, you wouldn't believe it!!!
They move me to a different room where the crown will be done. The dentist comes in and (after obviously being told by the hygenist that she'd screwed-up my face) asks me to scrunch up my face. When I told him I couldn't (believe me, I tried), he tapped me on the cheek and said, "That'll come back." (As if the thought had crossed his mind that it might not come back!!!) I wanted to scream, "I sure as HECK hope so!!! I was working under that assumption. Do you think that I would be anywhere near this calm if I thought that my eye was PERMANENTLY open?!?" I mean really, people!!!
So then I proceed to have a crown placed which included the dust from drilling and that bright light aimed directly in my eyes -- WHICH I CAN'T CLOSE!!! (Please don't tell my eye doctor about this. He'd have a fit at the danger I put my eyes in to have a tooth fixed.)
Now, I know some of you are thinking that this is over, but you 've forgotten the title of this blog -- "Things that happen in THREES". That's right, folks!!! This is just the first of three things (all-be-it, the worst by far).
After the dentist, I napped, went to Supper Studio (which I loved) and then decided that after a morning like that, I deserved to have dinner fixed for me and it be something I love. So I went to Zippy's (the best fast-food authentic Mexican ever) to get Tamales El Juan (Mmmmmmm!) -- my favorite!!! We're talking homemade REAL tamales smothered in chili and cheese. I go in, order, talk with the staff who are always super friendly, and then I go to pay and after it won't run my credit card through 2 times, the cashier realizes that they don't take Discover -- the only method of payment I have with me!!! (If you're suprised by this, then you have once again, forgotten that things come in threes.) Now, though I'd rather skip it all and go home to bed, I (being the polite Southerner that I am), hate that they have fixed food that I can not pay for and it will, therefore, go to waste, so I tell them to please keep it and I will drive home, get money, and come back to get my Tamales El Juan.
So I pull out of Zippy's, drive home, run upstairs, find some cash, run back downstairs, get in the car, drive back to Zippy's and pay for my food. All is well, right? Ahhh, no, that's just number TWO of the three things.
I get back in my car, set my Tamales El Juan (which are cold by now, by the way) carefully in the passenger seat, lock the doors, go to crank my car, and -- YOU GUESSED IT -- my battery is dead. My car won't crank!!!!!! Now, I didn't leave anything on. I have done nothing to wish this upon myself. It simply died of it's own lack of a will to live, I suppose.
I then had to go back inside Zippy's to the people who already think I'm stupid because I couldn't initially pay for my food and ask for assistance because (I can't believe I forgot to mention this a minute ago) my husband is currently singing in a concert downtown and cannot be reached for assistance. All of our friends that I could call for such assistance are also either singing in the concert or at the concert watching. Thank goodness the people at Zippy's are so nice. The owner and one worker came outside with flashlights, PUSHED my car out of the parking spot so they could get another car near it, jumped me off, and had even offered to drive me home if they couldn't get it jumped off. NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL SERVICE!!! Kudos to Zippy's.
Now, I must mention at this point that by the time I finally got home (after a quick panick thinking I had lost my cell phone somewhere in the chaos but then finding it) and get my Tamales El Juan (which I will remind you is homemade tamales smothered in chili and cheese) out to eat, the cornbread-like substance that is the essence of the tamale has basically disentigrated into the smothering and rather than being big chunks of cornbread-like substance (which is the only reason I love the tamales so) is now microscopic bits of cornbread-like substance mixed-in with the smothering. AFter all of that, I couldn't even eat it. HOW SAD!!!

WHAT A FREAKING DAY!!! I figure I've had my share of "three things" to last me at least a year if not longer. :-)
And for those of you who were wondering, it did "come back". My eye finally woke-up like 5 hours later. (Though I will say my nap with my eye open was rather interesting.)
Ciao, loves!!!