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Paint It Like It’s 1988: DIY Child’s Coat Rack

When we moved into our 100 year old house in 2004, there were already shelves and coat racks and key racks screwed into the walls. I eliminated the shelves that were in what we referred to as “the dog room” when it became “the nursery”. That is before it was the “man room.” They were white and wire and, in my opinion, ugly. I ripped out the one that was in what is now my son’s bedroom as well.

The coat rack and key rack by the back door I left untouched. We actually use the front door more than the back, so we always find ourselves walking to the back door to get our coat, then walking back to the front to leave. The keys that hang on the rack back there are ones we almost never use. The ones we need for cars and houses and our mothers’ houses we carry with us.

When we redid a bedroom upstairs for my son last year, we made him a cool train room [You can see it here: https://imnotstalkingyou.com/2015/08/05/ms-train-station-bedroom-my-new-upstairs/], complete with a coat rack that looks like a train sign. (We made a white one, he wanted the round yellow one. Le sigh.) It is great for his robe and baseball hats and such, but if we are leaving and I send him upstairs for a coat, he will get sidetracked and never make it back down again. The coat rack by the back door, while useful, was not very functional for a shorty like my almost six year old.

So, I came up with the idea that I needed to make him his own coat rack that he could reach downstairs. I was so fed up last spring, that I wandered into the local Habitat for Humanity Restore. (If you don’t know about these places and their treasure-trove of recycled goodies, look into it.) Twenty minutes later I walked out with an old oak board and enough hardware to handle coats for an army of children. I don’t remember the exact amount, but it seems like it was around $5 for my haul that day. I always intended to splatter-paint it with the leftover paint from my upstairs revitalization project, but never got to it all summer. With autumn’s cold mornings, it became necessary once again.

The completed board. The paint is still wet here.

The completed board. The paint is still wet here.

So, one day I designated as “paint day”, my son and I went out in the front yard in our junky clothes and painted his proton pack for Halloween, as well as the board for this project.

My son did all the painting himself. He did an excellent job, even if it is slightly more paint than I myself would have used. He had fun. And it got done.

Manly husband with power tools doing installation. Ahr, ahr, ahr. Now, where did we leave those studs???

Manly husband with power tools doing installation. Ahr, ahr, ahr. Now, where did we leave those studs???

While I have my own drill and bits and hoped to do the whole project myself, I am a giant loser wuss woman and had to have my husband come in and save me to screw on the hardware and attach it to the wall. But I think it came out pretty sweet!

Finished product. Reminds me of a New Kids on the Block shirt that I used to own.

Finished product. Reminds me of a New Kids on the Block shirt that I used to own.

Now, if only my son would quit wearing his coats to school on cool mornings and then LEAVING THEM IN HIS LOCKER instead of bringing them home. His coat rack looks a little empty at the moment.

Follow the romantic entanglements of The Riley Sisters in my books:
Be Careful What You Wish ForAVAILABLE NOW!
When You Least Expect It THE CONTINUING ROMANCE!
The Wind Could Blow a BugWHERE IT ALL BEGAN!

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My Earliest Memory

MEMORY-green fog

My earliest memory is of being awake super early in the morning standing in my living room. Like, maybe 5:00AM. It is the only time as a kid I can remember being up that early. Captain Kangaroo was on. It was only on very early in the morning. That was the only time I ever watched it. (And it was kinda weird.) I remember the screen on the color television being kind of greenish, because it didn’t work right and the tubes were going out on it or something. I looked out the tall window at the end of our living room in our old farmhouse, and there was a wall of green fog outside. It was so thick I could not see our next door neighbor’s house. It was as if an alien ship had landed outside, the lights from their ship reflecting off of the fog. It was strange and frightening, but also exciting at the same time.

That might all sound super fake and trippy. And, I will admit there are probably inaccuracies in it as my brain has been rotted over the last 35 years by too many Pop-Tarts and watching too much Beavis & Butthead while I was in college. I would say I was probably only three or four years old when that all took place.

But I know there is some truth in it, because my mom remembers that day too. Just a little differently than I do…

She remembers it as a day when, in a fit of stubbornness the night before, I told her I was not going to go to sleep. And, well, apparently I didn’t. (Most every kid threatens it, but very few follow through. I was a determined little Capricorn!) She says it was incredibly foggy that morning and there was an eerie green glow to everything. She needed to go to the post office that morning, so she loaded me in the car…where I promptly fell asleep.

Now, this was Riga, Michigan, a quaint but tiny farming town. The post office was literally a 65 second drive from our house.

I find it interesting that even at that young age I would defy her on purpose, just to be difficult. I guess that proves there is no hope for stopping that habit now.

Follow the romantic entanglements of The Riley Sisters in my books:
The Wind Could Blow a BugAVAILABLE NOW!
When You Least Expect It NEW RELEASE!

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Christmas: The I’m Not Stalking You Way! Part 2

For Part 1, please click here: https://imnotstalkingyou.com/2014/12/12/christmas-the-im-not-stalking-you-way-part-1/

NOTE: This post has ADULT CONTENT. Not for young eyes.

Adult Content

Adult Content

Now that I have that disclaimer out of the way, let’s talk about Santa Claus.

One of my earliest childhood memories (I cannot even tell you how old I would have been) was of waking up in the middle of the night in December and hearing the sound of gift wrapping in my kitchen. I sort of groggily thought, “Oh, I guess there is no Santa Claus. I guess my mom just buys all my gifts and wraps them for me.” Then I went back to sleep.

Futurama rules

Futurama rules

I never felt cheated by that experience. I actually think it saved me from waking up to the harsh reality years later that many kids have to go through, when they find out all their gifts come from family members shopping on Black Friday. I have just always known that there is no Santa Claus. Sure, my mom would always sign a few of the gift tags “From: Santa”. My stockings would magically be filled Christmas morning “by Santa”. We had no chimney. She would try to tell me, when I asked, that she would let Santa in the door.

Peeping Santa

Peeping Santa

I know my mother. There is no way she is opening the door for a strange old man while she is in her nightgown in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t even let people we KNEW in the house while she was in her nightgown.

I never saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus

I never saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus

Don’t get me wrong, I love THE IDEA of Santa and his sleigh and reindeer and elves. I love the songs. I love the Classic Coca-Cola ads with his image. I just don’t fully buy into it. I blame the realistic Capricorn in me that always seeks the truth.

Just wrong, in so many ways...

Just wrong, in so many ways…

But, the little that I DO believe about the legend of Santa comes from an unlikely source.

PM Magazine.

PM Magazine was a syndicated news show back in the early 1980’s, which featured human interest stories and lots of entertainment content. In my area, it was shown on WTOL Channel 11, just before The Muppet Show. So, I would often see the last five minutes as I was waiting for The Muppets to come on. In my memory, the picture is a little greenish. I think that was because of the color TV we had that was dying and only had one color left–green.

Anyway, I remember a story near Christmas time on PM Magazine about the REAL Santa Claus.* I recall the story being about some old guy who lived in a town near the North Pole. For his town, he would dress up as Santa and deliver toys to all the kids in town.

And that was enough for me.

To know that there was one guy who played the part of Santa in one town in the whole world was enough for me. To know that something like that exists has kept me going with the Christmas spirit all these years. Of course, that was 30 years ago. Dude is probably dead by now. And there was probably one mom like mine in that town who wouldn’t want to let him in the door anyway. But maybe, just maybe, he is still delivering those presents, to this day.

What?! Ugh!

What?! Ugh!

I do not plan to encourage or discourage my son’s belief in Santa Claus. But if he asks me if their is a real Santa, I will recite my fuzzy memories of that green news story to him from three decades ago.

Working at the mall recently, I got to know the Santa there very well. He is a super-nice guy. Even though I found out what his secret identity is the rest of the year, he still seems like Santa to me, because he is the only one I have gotten to know personally.

Santa is my BFF

Santa is my BFF

* I am sure many of my details about the PM Magazine story are inaccurate. I found where it may have aired on 12/24/1984, with the title of Real Life Santa.  I would have been only like 8 years old. But that show aired so long ago, that anyone else’s memory would be tainted with time as well. Unless someone has the actual classic footage for the Santa story, in which case I would LOVE to see it.

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Book Review: The Weirdest Family

I ordered this book from Amazon several months ago. It traveled around my house. I finally got a spot of time to read this delightful story.

Click picture to purchase

Click here to purchase

The Weirdest Family is a children’s chapter fantasy book that focuses on a family made up of Abby the mom, Charlie the dad, Tesi the teenager, and Eliza precocious little sister. This book tends towards supernatural flights of fancy, so it comes in handy that there is an unknown narrator to keep the story on track.

And I am pretty sure the author must like sandwiches and nachos and fruit. They are mentioned several times.

You might think that you cannot have a gratifying book that includes zombies, vampires, mummies, super senses, God, and a baby man-eating bat. There are also aliens, and an apocalypse. But, once Tesi gets a palace for her birthday, it all begins to come together. Because, after all, don’t the most unusual families live in palaces?

And just when you think the story has come to a close, you turn the page, start a new chapter and a new adventure. This book is truly fantastical.

I didn’t just stumble across this book. A good friend of mine, who happens to have only been 9 years old at the time of publication, wrote it. I could never have written anything this impressive (let alone long) at her age.

I cannot imagine being 9 years old and seeing my book that I wrote for sale on Amazon. (There was no Internet, and therefore no Amazon when I was that age.)

But I WANT TO. I hunger, thirst, ache, crave, yearn to have my writing displayed like that for the world to partake of. (Thank you, thesaurus.com.)

To sum up, the title says it all. This is, indeed, The Weirdest Family. I also found them quite entertaining.

Foto Phriday: What is wrong with this picture?

Posted on

Now, look at this picture, circa 1984. What looks out of place to you?

What looks unusual?

What looks wrong?

Dinosaur Gardens

Dinosaur Gardens

If you said the dinosaur, you are incorrect. This picture was taken at Dinosaur Gardens Prehistoric Zoo in Ossineke, Michigan. So, well, there were dinosaurs roaming all over that place. The brontosaurus in the picture happened to be drooling on me. But he obviously didn’t eat me, because I am still here.

No, what is wrong with this picture is that I am WEARING a DRESS.

And on vacation? What the f was I thinking?

I didn’t even wear a dress to my own wedding

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