We’re expecting a major blow here on the coast tomorrow. Power outages are likely—for how long, is anyone’s guess. I’m frantically doing laundry, have baked a huge raspberry coffee cake, put fresh sheets on the bed, and when I hunt down that dog, she’s getting a bath. We’ve got gas, and fuel, and wood, and each other. I think we’re ready.  So, I’m leaving you with a bit of sunshine in the form of lovely Meyer Lemons (my favorite!) and I’ll catch you on the flip side of this winter gale. In the meantime, if you’re feeling inspired, here’s a wonderful recipe for Lemon bars.

I woke to the laughter of little kids discovering snow outside. That sound is lovelier than the snow.

The view at dawn from the bathroom window.

New hair color—sans makeup. I may or may not have photo-touched the little wrinkles around my eyes. (Sheesh, I’m vain. But if God didn’t want you to use photoshop. . . )

My  stylist moved away last year. . . back home to Bend in February. And I’ve been in a dither ever since. But then, because the Universe knew I needed good news, she emailed me in December to say they were moving back to town and if I didn’t have a new stylist, she was available.

Somehow, I’ve only had 2 haircuts since she left. The first was a disastrous thing in June, and the second in October after growing out June’s horror!  Since then, I’ve been obsessing over my split ends via the back-light on my computer. . . gradually picking myself bald  and wondering what I was going to do about getting a haircut. There are minor miracles in life. Your fabulous stylist moving back to town in just the nick of time is one of them!

So, today she came over to our house in progress and cut my hair. And what a relief. Because she knows this crazy mop and all the fakery you have to do make it behave. She cuts, I style, and it works for us.

But then I went to the store. With a half hour to kill after dropping off the boy’s broken glasses to the optics department I browsed the baby department (SCORE! Super cute frog onesie for my nephew! He’s turning 1 month old in 4 days, that’s totally a reason to send him a present) and then stumbled into the haircolor aisle. I wasn’t drunk, and I know the name of the usual shade, but I bought a completely different color anyhow. Wreckless.

Dark Brown. Espresso, I think. Other than that, I don’t know what to think.

Figures. I own stock in buyer’s remorse. I feel badly about that too.

IZ gives it thumbs up. . .  but that boy has learned to lie to me when I’m craving chocolate and when I’ve just colored my hair. (No, you don’t look fat, have another brownie and Wow, love the color.) I wouldn’t trust him. He’s a fibber.

You can lie to me too, if you want. Or not.

Update: I’m looking at the color and liking it more. But those brows need an intervention. Or a good brow pencil. Recommendations?

Miss Sophie modeling the new paint color.

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Are you as broken up about Katy Perry and Russell Brand  as I am?¡

Well, hello. Is 2012 kicking your butt yet? It’s kicking mine. I don’t know, the most hopeful hour in my day is that fitful hour before I finally fall asleep at night. I’m convinced in that hour that I will arise the next morning and be productive. I compose lists and blog posts and dream ridiculous dreams about all the things I’m going to do. . . TOMORROW. I’m so hopeful I could burst, it’s no wonder it takes me an hour to fall asleep. It’s like New Year’s Eve every single night.

And then dawn, er, ten arrives and I realize that today is not the day.

Presently, I’m blogging this, (moan, moan, moan) and listening to a neighbor be really productive outside. He’s fixing something. Probably part of his house that is falling down into my yard. But you know, no big.

To my credit, I’ve cleaned the bathroom and tripped to Safeway for toothpaste and cleaning supplies. But now, I’m just sitting here wondering what I should eat for lunch and why I even bother making lists that I won’t tackle.  And writing this really stupid entry just so I can mark off “blog” from today’s list.

A list that isn’t even that ambitious:

Clean Bathroom, clear off stairway, change sheets, finish laundry, studio time, blog .

See?

Oh, and exercise. (maniacal laugh maniacal laugh)

Clearly it’s time to start padding these lists with things I’ve already accomplished. Better put that on the list.

Happy New Year!

Diet Champagne

New Year’s Resolutions:

Most of you know that I prefer to “theme” my year rather than do New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve belabored that point on this blog before and I’m sure I’ll do so again next week when (if)I get a clue about 2012’s theme. But for now, here’s a list of New Year’s Resolutions I could totally get behind. You know, if I did New Year’s Resolutions.

In 2012 I resolve to:

1. Drink better wine. (as opposed to drinking more wine)
2. Drink more water.
3. Complain less about having to pee so much because I’m drinking more water.
4. Complain less in general. I mean, first world problems anyone?
5. Eat more chocolate. (do I need to explain that?)
6. Have more sex. (natch!)
7. Be more organized . . . and by extension. . .
8. Do less
9. Breathe more
10. Save the cheerleader*

What are your New Year’s Resolutions?

*well, someone should save the world. It probably won’t be me, but then again. . .

Hey Amazing Kid. (and you are, amazing) Happy Birthday!

Via Ann Shen at Annplified

Rally Cry:

I’m serving notice to my soul. And to IZ’s. Because right now, we need to remember that giving up is not an option.

I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been crazy lady painting and getting out the last orders for Christmas from Mireio and dreading. Maybe it’s self-fullfilling prophecy, but I’ve been waiting for another shoe to drop and it finally did in the form of an email demanding more money. Much more money. Money we never heard about, never agreed to, wasn’t allotted by the insurance, and far beyond our means. Money we asked about over and over and were told, “Oh, no, we’re square.”

Which meant work stopped on our home. I have doors placed, but frames are missing. Wood floors laid, but no trim to hide the poor job done cutting. (I’m told that’s how all wood floors are done.) Lots of unpainted surfaces. Tons of trim just waiting to be cut with no means to do so.

We’ve been patient and forgiving. The marble floors that were marred. The 12″ scar in my brand new tub. The work-arounds, late starts, non starts, bad attitudes, garbage piled on my porch for weeks. (so bad, that a rat found one of the vats of left-over drywall mixture and drowned and then proceeded to rot.)

I’ll admit that I’ve lost my faith in anyone who wears a tool belt. And I’m heartbroken to see the state of my home. Which, should have been done with just enough time to bake a few cookies and decorate a tree. Restore some semblance of normalcy to our lives after 6 months of this state of chaos.

Instead, I’m sitting with that feeling. Beating despair back.

So, I’m serving notice to my soul. And to IZ’s as well. Don’t give up. We don’t know what the future holds. What the remedy will be or if there will even be one.

But giving up is not an option. Until it is. And then we will wait for grace.