Trick or treat, I'm packin' heat...

I am going to a costume party for Halloween, and I wanted a fake gun to go with my Halloween costume. Due to gun violence and kids getting shot and all that stuff that ruins the innocent fun of blood and guts and Halloween, you can't buy a decent fake 9mm in the toy department anymore (or even the dollar store, thank you, China). I will add that you can still buy fake hatchets, machetes, and bloody fake body parts, however, so all is not lost.

So I went online for my fake gun. As luck would have it, I found the perfect little plastic model through Amazon for 75 cents -- with $3.25 shipping and handling, I still considered this a bargain. It arrived yesterday. Here it is...



No, this is not a re-enactment of Lincoln's assassination, nor is it a photo commentary on the state of the economy. It is my 75-cent gun, and yes, it is smaller than a penny. In my defense, that's not how it looked in the online photo when I placed the order. However, if I had clicked photo number 2, I would have seen this guy, and that might have clued me in...




I am still going to strap this baby to my thigh, with a piece of scotch tape. Can you say sexxxxxxy?

Heading to Boston for a weekend with my peeps...

It's time for our annual girly weekend -- Female Bonding Weekend is the official term -- and it's a tradition we've kept up for about 20 years now. To be honest, I don't remember the exact year it began, but I think it was the late 90s. My stepdaughters, who are now 30 and 32 (happy birthday today, Sarah!!) were around 12 and 14 for the first one, which they both attended. It has evolved, as have we, but the basic essence of it remains the same. We eat, drink, shop, laugh, and thoroughly enjoy each other's company...and after about 2.5 days, we've had exactly enough of one another and go home!!!

And speaking of females that I am fond of, here is a set of 3 little paintings that I made for a friend's birthday which is coming up very soon...



Detail...

Sweet Sixteen!

This one was created for someone special...



detail:

Here is something about art and being in the moment that I always find magical, no matter how often I experience it. I had been thinking about this painting (a 16th birthday gift), for awhile. On the day that I had finally carved out time to make it, I started, as I always do, with my baskets (many) and bins (also many) of collage materials -- mostly paper but also all sorts of ephemera and found objects. And what I continually find amazing is that without alot of searching among what is admittedly an overwhelming amount of (artful) stuff, the right pieces landed in my vision and my hands with almost no effort to bring this artwork into being. It was like I had willed each piece of ephemera into my hands to create this very personal piece.

I know that this is a common experience among anyone who has ever had an idea and allowed that idea to germinate. It both grows roots and reaches for the sun, and all you have to do is water it with your imagination and something both expected and surprising emerges.

Oh, to be 16, and or sweet again!

"You can freeze them!"

You all know what I'm talking about. This statement is the clever sales pitch of the most ingenious marketers on the planet. And you know who they are -- those little girls in green, who knock on our doors, selling their totally addictive, crack-like, thigh-expanding cookies. They're the daughters of our neighbors and co-workers, and they're the only door-to-door salespeople we actually look forward to seeing, year after year.

They're Girl Scouts.
And every year, I buy more boxes than a person who lives alone with a dog should ever buy. And I do this because the phrase "You can freeze them!" allows me to pretend, as I buy way too many boxes of cookies, that I will allow myself, -- oh, let's say, two cookies a day until they come around again next year.

Now, it's absolutely true that you can freeze them. I know. Because this year, I did just that. I froze them. And you know how that worked out? I'll bet you do...

I ate entire sleeves of cookies, night after night, just like I always do.. only this year, they were FROZEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Post party depression

My incredibly fun and funny cousin Bonnie, (or Zondra, as I prefer to call her), came for an overnight and to accompany me to Halloween costume party on Saturday evening... There is just something (OKAY everything) about this picture that makes us both crack up...



We have always been partners in crime, or if not crime, just general mischief, since we were kids... and Saturday night was no exception. Love you Bon Zon!! xo

The most fun I've ever had in a roomful of Lawyers...

Sometimes it's difficult to find the right words -- or words that seem adequate to express the myriad of emotions that this experience made me feel. Two months later, I have no better words, so here goes...



As some of you know, a year ago last August my niece Avery (then five years old) received a heart transplant. More than one year later, she is a happy, energetic six-year old, and regular biopsies report zero percent rejection of her new heart. Avery was critically ill for a long time before her transplant, so our family had a lot of time to think seriously about what it would mean for Avery to get a new heart -- not just for us, but for the donor family, whomever they might be.

In August of this year, while vacationing together on Martha's Vineyard, our family was able to personally thank the family of the little boy whose heart now beats in Avery. More than just an opportunity to thank them for making the decision that saved Avery's life (and the lives of several others), it was a chance for us to learn about and celebrate the life of their oldest son, Dalton Lawyer.

Spending time with his parents and three younger brothers was at once, poignant, comfortable, and quite simply, fun. I don't have many opportunities to be around "little boy" energy, which is much different and laid back than the "little girl" energy to which I am accustomed...

From the arcade: you need MORE quarters????
To the beach: closed for E-Coli????
To shopping: where are your shoes???? and, Was that Obama???
To Texas hold 'em: so you're a 6-year old card shark???
To arts & crafts: peace, love & Beadniks!!
To words of wisdom: "I just don't get her sometimes!" (and alas, you never will, Austin!)
...I think it's safe to say a good time was had by all.

Thank you Jim, Jeri, Ty, Miles & Austin. I think of you all, and of Dalton, whom I've never met, and yet feel like I knew, more often than you might imagine.

Priceless...

13 party dresses ruined with tie dye--$585.
13 tie-dyed t-shirts--$130.
One grandmother in a rented shark costume--$82...
And the local police responding to the 9-1-1 call from a
terrified 5-year old at Avery's party--PRICELESS.

So this is how it went down. First, I told my sister that I saw no reason for the girls to wear smocks to do TIE DYE. (DYE being the operative word here folks). I had done it myself and didn't make a mess, so I had every confidence that a group of 13 little girls hopped up on sugar would also be perfectly neat and tidy. -- Oh, and I wanted to dress like a hippie in honor of the craft, but my headband made me look like much more like Pocahontas than Joni Mitchell. Meanwhile, the "theme" of the party was Avery's favorite cartoon - Charlie & Lola. And Avery also likes sharks, so grandma Gigi volunteered to sport the (very warm, on a summer day) shark suit. Any other ideas we can roll into one birthday??

So first, it was introductions, pretty party dresses, and pizza. Then tie dye, very messy party dresses, and tears from one little girl who actually cared that her dress was totally trashed.

And then there was a knock at the door! The shark arrived! Five little girls screamed, four little girls cried, three little girls laughed, AND one little girl calmly retreated to the home office and called 9-1-1... The police officer was very nice. He didn't handcuff Gigi the shark and he wished Avery a very happy birthday.

Happy Birthday Avery!! This one's going to be hard to top!

Blog, sweet blog...

I feel like I've been away from home on my blog lately. One reason is a technological catastrophe -- my digital camera is broken -- I see a weird blur through the viewfinder rather than any clear idea of what I am photographing, and while I can still take pictures, they look like this --kind of like I typically feel after a particularly fun night out...



Anyway, I need to find someone locally who can look at my four-year-old SONY Cybershot and tell me if there's any hope -- or if I just need to start shopping for a new one.

Meanwhile, a funnier story about technology... I mentioned several posts ago that I finally upgraded my cable package to include DVR ability. One thing I still often forget is that I can fast-forward through commercials. So I was catching up on some DVR programs last night and I listened to the weather guy report on the impending storm, and I awoke this morning to clear skies and no accumulation. Now, normally this is because let's face it, the weather people and all of their doppler radar and fancy graphics still have no better idea than you and I about what the weather will be like. But in this case, it was because I was listening to last week's weather report.

So I really want to be able to fix this camera and not have to learn to use a new one. Or else get used to lots of images like this on my blog...

Painting as therapy...

I had a bad day at work yesterday. My bad days at work are very few and far between, but nonetheless, it was not one of my better days. At 5 sharp, I left hastily, looking forward to wrapping some holiday gifts, lighting a fire, and watching tv with Max curled up at my side.

When I pulled into my driveway, it was 5:30-ish and dark. I glanced across my front lawn and thought, "What's all over the lawn?" As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I figured it out. It was most of my split rail fence. I live on a main road, and for the second time in less than a year, someone crashed into my fence. The first time, there was just minor damage to one post, but this time, two-thirds of my fence was spewed like matchsticks all over my lawn. This was not the way I had envisioned my evening to begin. But a couple hundred profanities later, I was over it.

I mean, first of all, the person who hit my fence was obviously having an even worse day than me. And according to the accident report, she wasn't injured, which was good news, and a miracle, given the condition of my fence the auto debris that she left behind.

So I walked Max, lit a fire, ordered a pizza, poured a glass of wine, (and then another) and finished this painting, which is a gift for a friend who has been doing some interior decorating. I stayed up way too late, because I was totally in the zone, but it was the perfect ending to a much less than perfect day.

A wet summer...

Part 2 of my travels took my sister Jennifer and I to the NY State Fair in Syracuse for the Kenny Chesney concert. If you think we were wet running through the Prudential fountain (previous post), you should have seen us by the encore.

Thank heavens for Cowgirl hats & stylin' rain phonchos! The Fair boasts a booth called Pride of NY where you can purchase NY grown/manufactured goods. I wanted(naturally) a bottle of NY State wine, but apparently State law prohibits my carrying the bottle around the Fair -- I could, however, carry 4 plastic cups of the same bottle, poured for me. Ya gotta love the law! I was also tempted to get an airbrush temporary tattoo, but I am glad I resisted this urge, as it would have been dripping down my back by the end of the concert.

I would also be remiss if I didnt' mention Kenny's warm-up act - one Jake Owen - I see a crush of the month blog in my future.

Here, again are the highlights.

Road trip update...

Within the last week, I've been to Maine (Rockland), Massachusetts (Boston) and Syracuse, so I've not had much time to blog. My overnight of mischief with Ali was pretty tame by our standards, and I only took one decent photo, so I don't have much to share, in spite of the build-up in the last post.

Then I was off to Boston with my cousin Susan to visit my niece Avery, and take my sister Cheryl out for a night (actually 2) on the town. In spite of (or because of) having spent the better part of 2009 in a hospital with her daughter, Cheryl decided to dare us all to run (repeatedly) through the fountain at Prudential Center. We don't need much coaxing...and quite frankly, after all my sister has been through, if Cheryl had asked us to walk against traffic on the yellow line, we would probably would have indulged her, so the fountain was just plain fun. She then dared me to wade in the reflecting pool, which earned me a serious scolding by the Prudential security madame with the big flashlight. Kinda scary (not!)- unfortunately it was dark and we could not capture this second dare, but here are some of the highlights (above).

It was a smash!

The McElroy Clan reunion...



An impromptu gathering of my mom & two of her siblings last night at my house led to a little too much red wine (not me this time!!!), and sadly, my table did not fare well. In fact, it was like a movie stage prop from a bar brawl scene. Although it looks as though it was perhaps smashed over someone's head, it was just breaking the fall (literally) of one of my guests, who shall remain nameless.

You may recall that I featured this formerly cute little table (now reduced to kindling) in a recent post, and while I am sad that this great little piece has had such a short life in my home and would perhaps have fared better in a more sedate household, I will remember it fondly, along with this evening stroll down McElroy memory lane. A stroll, I must add, that is not for the faint-hearted. I remember my grandmother as caring and well-dressed, but somewhat aloof. Apparently aloofness (I'm not sure that's even a word), is not the most desirable trait in a mother, if this band of McElroy hooligans can be believed...and I think they can.

An aside to the missing sibling:
Roberta, I apologize that I was unable to invite you - but this was a very last-minute-same-day invitation. Ed had a meeting in my office building, and the next I knew, I'd invited the local sibs to my house for food, wine and destruction of property. If I have the opportunity to do it again, I'll let you know!

The wedding platter - part 2

Several readers have expressed interest in actually SEEING the wedding platter, and one expressed some concern that the gift-giver might see my story. Fortunately, the giver of this gift (on my soon to be ex-husband's side of the aisle), is not much of a computer user. In spite of how dreadful this gift was, I would never have posted the story if I thought she might see it and recognize herself. In fact, she is a woman possessed of such (misplaced) confidence in her sense of style that even knowing she had given us a Lefton wedding platter, I am sure she would not suspect it was her gift I was writing about. (hear strains of Carly Simon's "You're so Vain).

In truth, I wanted to post a photo, but I left the wedding platter at my sister's -- and that's PART 2. Last Halloween when my sister left her house to take my niece trick-or-treating, she decided to use the honor system for giving out candy, and she left her candy on the front steps in a very nice stainless steel bowl. When she returned, the candy -- and the bowl -- were gone. So this year, my other sister, upon hearing the story of the wedding platter, suggested it would make an excellent Halloween dish!! We can't wait to see if someone will take it once we demonstrate with tiny boxes of Raisinettes how useful it is.

In the meantime, I did several google searches to see if I could find the same platter pictured online, but it seems to be a one of a kind! This platter is much prettier, for example.

"I'm looking for broken watches..."

"...and broken clocks."
That was the first inquiry from and older gentleman who was our first visitor on Saturday morning at 8:15 am -- 45 minutes before the sale officially began. At nine on the dot, a second older gentleman -- Rudy -- asked the same question. I told him that he was the second man to ask about broken watches, and he shook his fist and exclaimed, "Bob! He always beats me to these sales!" My brother-in-law commented that he never considered selling broken things. I thought this was very telling of the times. Back when Rudy and Bob were young, people knew how to fix things, so a broken item still had value.

In spite of the fact that we advertised no earlybirds, we discovered this phrase really means "get here early or all the good stuff will be gone" to yard sale officianados. In fact, Bob, my first broken watch inquirer, was actually our second earlybird. The first was a woman who arrived 18 hours early, knocking on my sister's door on Friday afternoon, desperate to find a pocket book, jewelry, a bookcase, and little buddhas. She explained to me that she was going to be working all day Saturday, so she was hoping she could shop a day early. After I explained that we had not yet begun to sort and price things, and that I had no idea what my sister was selling, she tried to persuade me to let her stop back at 7 am the following morning on her way in to work. Since I foresaw (accurately) a late evening of wine, takeout chinese, and yard sale prep, I told her that 7 am was going to be much too early. Still, she continued to stand on my sister's porch, as though I was hiding the crown jewels inside. I could not get her to leave, so I asked if I could take her name (Lucia) and number, and promised to call her if I found any of the items she mentioned.

At around 8:30 on Friday evening, we finally sat down with aching backs, wine glasses and takeout when the doorbell rang. Lucia, the pocket book and buddha hunting earlybird, had now elevated her status to kinda scary yard sale stalker. She just happened to be picking her daughter up from karate lessons, and wondered if we'd had a chance to check on her items of interest. When I told her we had nothing she was looking for, she lingered on the steps for a rather awkward moment. I don't know what reasoning she was using to think that I would hide things that we clearly wanted to get rid of, but she seemed unconvinced as she (finally) got into her car and drove away.

After the initial rush of earlybirds, we had a steady stream of bargain hunters, including the woman in designer clothes who re-negotiated every sale, "Will you take $2 instead of $3?" ---And a local landscaper (Jeffrey) who, after piling up all his purchases, made himself comfortable in an old wing chair that was for sale, and filled me in on his entire life from college at SUNY Morrisville in the 70s, to his latest landscaping job, his need to lose 30 pounds, and his dad's recent death. He bought $40 worth of "stuff" but I think he just wanted someone to talk to. ---And the couple whose 40-plus daughter was having her first child, so they were buying all of the "baby's first" items that my sister never had the time to use for my niece.

Finally, it all ended with Celine, my sister's neighbor and great samaritan, who brought the remains to Goodwill, and meeting a needy family in the parking lot, gave them everything.

Oh, except for the wedding platter. I received a hideous piece of Lefton china as a wedding gift, which has remained in my attic in it's original box since 1989, and which I've attempted to sell (for $3) in the past three yard sales. After Celine left with a carload for Goodwill, we put 5 items at the end of my sister's driveway, marked "free." Four of the five items were furniture and toys that would not fit into Celine's car, and the fifth was the wedding platter, which was mysteriously left behind. One by one as the day wore on, we noticed that the remaining items were claimed. While my sister and I prepared dishes for a neighborhood barbecue that evening, my mom came inside and announced excitedly "Kerri, someone took the wedding platter!" It's gone, with the wooden chair. My sister and I exchanged a look, and I said, half kidding "They probably tossed the platter onto the lawn and just took the chair." One hour later, my brother-in-law confirmed that the wedding platter was sitting beside their mailbox, in a spot my mom apparently couldn't see. Some things you can't even give away!

She has a gift...

"I spit celery at you..."

That was one of the more memorable quotes from our girly weekend. My niece was enjoying a piece of celery during lunch, and spit the stringy part over her shoulder, where a couple happened to be sitting. She then turned around and realizing what she had done, confessed to them. I don't think they would have been quite so charmed if I had made the same confession, but you can say just about anything when you're cute and four years old.

It was a short and utterly sweet girls week on Martha's Vineyard. The weather was divine, the shopping was endless, the wine flowed generously, the food was delicious, and it was just a great time with a group of my favorite women. After two long visits to our favorite bead store -- Beadniks -- where we spent great sums of money on teeny tiny bags of beads & findings -- we made some wonderful jewelry pieces, and returned with just enough money to get our car out of hock in the ferry parking lot -- $48 for 3 days -- yikes. Add to that our fare for the ferry, and we are thinking of taking our car on the boat next year, just for the convenience. The weather reports before we left looked ominous, and while it poured buckets on the ride over and back, the trip in between was absolutely perfect. Sunny days, low humidity and cooler nights. Our girls weekend has been going on for more than 10 years with various dates and locations, and we've been blessed with unbelievably fair skies every time.

I realize that I promised funny stories, but while we laughed almost constantly, most of my stories are the "ya hadda be there" kind. Like when Liz wanted to face forward on the ferry to avoid getting sick, and the ferry kept changing direction out of the dock so she switched seats 4 times backward/forward/backward/forward. It was hilarious to watch, but see -- Not so funny here. Or when my sister's car kept stalling anytime she idled at a red light -- because she'll spend $150 on .25 oz. of designer facial moisturizer, but she won't get the part replaced that will keep her car from stalling.

But I did just think of one funny story that involves a previous year and this year...
While shopping on the Vineyard, my mom once again bought a rather expensive piece of clothing without trying it on, because she has "a gift" for being able to tell her size. This wouldn't be a big deal if she was shopping at a local retail store, but she does this on vacation in unique boutiques and then goes home before trying on the clothes. I'll begin with last year, when we stayed at my sister's house outside of Boston, and travelled to Newport, Rhode Island for the day and evening...

Mom: I love this dress. Ooh, it's expensive. Oh well, I'm on vacation. I'm buying it.
Mary: You'd better try it on first.
Mom: I don't have to. I have a gift.
Mary: A gift?
Mom: Yes. I've always been able to just look at clothing on the rack and tell if it fits me.
Mary: But we're in Newport. And we're leaving today. Don't you want to be sure?
Mom: I am sure! Look (holding it up) it fits. I can tell.
Mary: Okay, if you say so. But I'd try it on if I were you.
Mom. Nope. I'm fine.

Returning to my sister's house, hours from Newport and the swanky little boutique, we engage in one of our favorite activities -- wine-tasting. Lots and lots of tasting of entire bottles of wine. Well into bottle number three, we remember mom's dress, and ask her to try it on for us. (You can see where this is going). It's a white, flowy, lacy sundress, made of absolutely unforgivable cotton. We all agree it's very pretty and summery. She retreats to the spare bedroom, and we wait. And wait. And wait.

And wait? Was that a call for help? My sister Cheryl retreats to the bedroom, and fits of giggles ensue.

Mom: I'm stuck.
Cheryl: I see that. Let me help you (choke, laugh, gasp). Yup. There's no denying it. You have a gift, mom.

Indeed. For sure, my mom's greatest gift is the ability to laugh at herself, and to allow all of us to join in the fun. Apparently my mom's "gift" was also on vacation that week, and she came out of the room looking like 50 pounds of potatoes in a 10 pound bag. All that white, flowy cotton was deceivingly small.

Fast forward to this year on the Vineyard. We are in a sweet little boutique, and mom sees some black fabric on a display table. It gathers at the top and bottom, and has a strap at the top.

Mom: Oh, it's a purse. But wait, it has a hole in the bottom.
Kerri: That's because it's not a purse, it's a halter top.
Mom: Ooh. (holding it up). I like this.
Kerri: It's cute. It's drapy around the middle. I think it's very "you." Go try it on.
Mom: (scrunching up her nose). Naah. I don't want to. Besides, I have a gift.
Kerri: Seriously mom. A minute ago you didn't even know it was a shirt.
Mom: Yeah, but I can tell it will fit. Really.
Kerri: I can't believe you are doing this again.
Mom: I'm just getting it.
Kerri: Of course you are. Whatever!

Once again, this was our last day on the Vineyard, and we had already relinquished our house, so after shopping, we were returning to the ferry and to my sister's house for our last night. And once again, we began with wine-tasting, and then, with mom's fashion show. To our amazement, her gift had returned! The halter fit perfectly, and really really looked great.

So own your gifts. Believe in yourself. Occasionally you may fail. But that's okay. Particularly if you can laugh about it.

Good night, sleep tight...

...don't let the bed bugs bite!

That's what my dad said to us every night at bedtime when we were growing up. I don't believe, at that time, my dad new about the millions of dust mites that live on beds, and therefore the accuracy of his statement, but maybe he did and just thought it best not to mention them. It was difficult enough to get us to go to bed at all.

My bedtime as a child was embarrassingly early -- 8 pm until I hit puberty. I dreaded the bus ride to school in the morning, because my friends would all be talking about the tv shows they watched the night before --The Six Million Dollar Man and The Bionic Woman, among others, and I would try to pretend I had seen them too, when in reality, I had to hit the sheets after Beat the Clock and To Tell the Truth. I was sure someone would call my bluff.

Our bedtime ritual included saying our prayers, followed by a shout out to my mother the minute we were tucked in, so that we could have glass of milk. That was followed, of course, by one more trip to the bathroom, all stall tactics to postpone the inevitable.

What I would do for an 8 pm bedtime and to sleep like a child again now!!
Sweet dreams today everyone!!