I didn't know we were a part of THAT family!

Kristen @ We Are THAT Family invites everyone to write about how their family is THAT family. This is my first official submission to this weekly and boy, it's a good one.

I've recently been telling the horrors of Brown Re-decorating episodes 1 thru a million but in order to do this story justice, I have to re-tell some points.

Because we are THAT family, I'd been using thumbtacks to hang precious family portraits on the wall. And because my husband only married into THAT family, he insisted we use spackle to cover the holes instead of say, toothpaste. He went to work, I couldn't wait and so I proceeded to apply the spackle with my gloved hands - it was not a good job. Each thumbtack hole had about half an inch of spackle and the hole wasn't even covered. He said he'd help me spackle but he took a nap first - I bet you can predict the next part - I couldn't wait. Using a .50 cent foam sanding block, I went at that spackle for five hours. By the time Danny woke up, my entire house (and by entire I really mean from one end to the other) was covered in drywall dust. This was including our brand new TV and entertainment center but was not limited to areas such as my hair.

While I was in the shower scrubbing my skin raw and washing my hair times six, I heard screaming. This is not unusual for my family. (I guess that should have been my first clue that I was part of THAT family.) Olivia runs into the bathroom like a crazed lunatic is chasing her with weaponry and with her shrieks are giggles. "What's wrong?" I said. "dfsdfjleurewiouqpc" she answered. Huh? Oh, that's all the shampoo blocking my line of hearing. "Daddy farted on me and he's going to do it again and it really stinks." Sigh. My first instinct was correct - a crazed lunatic chasing her with weaponry.

As she's escaping out the 2nd bathroom door I hear that scream - a blood curdling scream that can only come from a small child, usually a girl - when she's really hurt.

Picture this: I am in the shower with so much shampoo on my head that more of it has dripped into my eyes, nose and ears than it has cleaned my hair. I cannot see, hear or smell (thank God for the last sense lost) but my child is screaming. "WHAT'S WRONG?"

She slammed her finger into the door as she was making her big getaway from the FartDaddy.

So, friends. I admit - I did not know that we are part of THAT family but it's true. When your daughter gets hurt while running away from her father who's farted on her and threatens to do it again; there's no denying it.

Art Projects - You can do it!

When we last left you, I told you all about my Organize THIS! project which involved crafty thing such as creating my very own artwork. Here are the details, photos and instructions.

First up are the Quote Canvases I made; they went in the main wall in my living room.

Like this: (Digression: I apologize in advance for my truly poor photography skills. It's embarrassing, really.)

This was so simple - anyone can do it. I purchased three 16x20 pre-streched canvas and painted them in pretty colors with yummy names like Robins Egg Blue, Plum and Carmel Candy. I would suggest purchasing a whole bottle of paint for each canvas as the Robins Egg Blue and Plum took several coats of paint. After they were dry, I hand-painted some famous quotes by my favorite back-in-da-day celebrities. Since the canvas was painted a solid color, mistakes were easily fixed with a little bit of touching up.

Here's how they came out:

Usually, I am very particular about everything being perfect but there was something about the whimsy of my less-than-perfect cursive that gave this art it's charm. (Olivia has been dying to be a part of this blog so her contribution to this post is her peace sign in the first photo.)

The monogram pieces were so easy that I'm going to make mass amounts of them and give them away as Christmas gifts this year.

I purchased three 8x10 flat canvases and painted them a glossy green. It's sort of a cross between Lime Green and Green Apple. I chose a glossy paint because it reflects nicely without being over-dramatic. Then, in the largest size of my favorite fonts, I printed our initials - D, S and O to use as a template. I used scrapbooking paper that I purchased with the paint so all the colors would go and traced and cut out the templates. I simply used Elmer's school glue (because it's what I had on hand) to place the initials on the canvas. I would probably use better glue when I make them for loved ones, though.

This next part of the project was my favorite! It was so fun I hope my friends and family ask me to make one for them, too. Here's where I used this piece:

And here it is up close and proper:

I used a 4th 16x20 canvas and painted it in glossy black. This time I chose a glossy paint because of the contrast it provided against the flat paper. Next, I chose 3 different scrapbooking papers all in coordinating colors but different patterns. Using a cup as a template, I traced circles onto the paper. With the squares and leaves, I did not focus on a specific part of the paper but because the circles and dots paper was so unique, I chose a specific part to cut out. I played with the circles for a while before I glued them with more Elmer's.

This week at Michaels and A.C. Moore, the canvas is 40% off. I'm going to purchase a larger canvas for my bedroom and do something else crafty with scrapbooking paper. (Scrapbooking paper is 2 for $1 at Michaels, too.)

If you try any of these ideas or have another art project to share, please post in your blog and leave a comment here to share!

Organize THIS! Re-organizing Walls

Every Sunday I post a new organizing project that I've completed this week in hopes to not only force myself but to inspire you. If you post an Organize THIS! on your blog, please link back here and don't forget to leave a comment to share.

This week was a multi-tasking project; not only did I re-organize several walls and purge them of much needed clutter but I crafted my very own artwork, too.

This is the main wall in my living room opposite the entertainment center. As you can see, it was a shrine to Olivia and was in serious need of help.

All of these pictures were removed and relocated (more on that later). Unfortunately, because when we do it, we do it big; we had to spackle all of the existing holes (aprx. 7 million and four). And by we I mean me because I was too impatient to wait for Danny to help me.

As usual, I killed an ant hill with a stick of dynamite and the result was this:

I thought a couple of swipes with the sanding block would fix it up right good. Except what you cannot see in the picture is that each of those patches had about half an inch of spackle. And I was sanding by hand. For 5 hours. Not only did I break my arm (not really but still) but my entire home now looks like a construction site from all the white dust. Also, Danny is really mad at me. (Sorry, babe!)

Once we were done throwing things at each other (kidding - maybe), I could hang the new artwork I crafted myself.

I left Danny's head in the picture on purpose because I wanted to show the permanent fixtures in our living room. As you can see, the sanding job was not my best work. But that wall has to be re-painted soon anyway so I'm really, really trying not to let it bother me. (More details on this and the other craft projects I did will follow this week.)

But wait! Where did those pictures go of that gorgeous family, you ask. Not to worry, they've merely been re-located to the entry hallway.

Here's what that wall looked like before:

This is how I've kept this space since we moved here 6 years ago. It functioned but it was time for a change.

Here's what it looks like now:

Close - ups:

This, so far, has been the most creative project I've taken on in my home. It was a lot of fun but did you know that you have to wash your hair six times in order to remove all the drywall dust? I also predict that I will have white boogers for the next three years.

PS. This is my 93rd post. In celebration my upcoming 100th post, I'm asking all of my new blog friends to post a comment asking me a question. All questions will be answered honestly in my 100th post.

Blog Etiquette and That Game We're Playing

Remember when I told you all it was my 96th post and that for my 100th post I wanted to answer questions that all of you, my new friends, asked me?
Um, yeah.
I thought it was my 96th post because Blogger told me so. But they were counting my drafts - which I was not. So, THIS is actually my 92nd post. Which, really - is great news because it means there's more time for you to submit your questions!
I ask (ahem - beg) all of you who visit to leave a comment asking me a question. The more random, the more personal, the funnier - the better.

Speaking of my 100th post. I found out today that it's Blog Tradition to post 100 facts about yourself (or something) in honor of your 100th post. Well, I've never been one to follow the rules and I'm sure as hell not going to start now. I'll post my 100 facts as my 101st post. TAKE THAT BLOGOSPHERE! (It's really quite sad how happy the slightest rebellion makes me.)

Know what else I learned about blogging today? That you're supposed to ask permission before you add someone to your blog roll. Rut-roh, Shaggy. I haven't asked anyone for any kind of permission. I feel pretty bad but not bad enough that I'm willing to go back and ask permission after the fact. But if you're on my blog roll and don't want to be, let me know and I'll gladly remove you. I will also stop reading your blog and possibly tell everyone about how rude you are. Just kidding. Maybe.

Uncle Roger

My Uncle Roger died last week. For 10 years, he fought the good fight against cancer; throughout random places in his body. I am pleased to tell you all that cancer did not beat him, he beat it; even if he died as a result. I really think he would like that we think of him in this way.

Before I go on to tell you more about Uncle Roger and the good fight, I should preface it with some background in the crazies (ahem - family). My grandmother was a divorcee in the 60's living in Brattleboro, VT with 4 children - two deaf, one with serious emotional needs and the cutest little boy who ever lived. Across the Connecticut River in Walpole, NH, my grandpa had just lost his wife shortly after she gave birth to their 6th child. She left him with a drunken teenage boy, two wild and loose teenage girls, another pre-teen boy, another girl with uncontrollable hair and of course, a colicky newborn. My grandpa had a good job, was responsible and had an ass-load of kids. My grandma; with 4 kids of her own, didn't mind 6 more and could make a beef stew like no body's business. They wed and piled all 10 of their children into a great farm house on a nice piece of land. Grandpa worked for John Deere, Grandma raised the kids, sewed dresses for the girls, slacks for the boys and only slightly struggled with what was an unusual situation during that time in America. But the kids got along and there was enough money to survive and the biggest battles were held over who got to use the only bathroom first in the morning. I imagine their land; on a hillside in Walpole, NH at the end of a windy road, was fertilized with more boy urine than anywhere else this side of the river. Things were so great, in fact, that Grandma and Grandpa thought it would be fun to have a baby together. Grandma wanted another girl of her own and grandpa's job was pretty secure and so they had their 11th (and thankfully, final) child. The story of how this family came to Florida is really irrelevant. Grandpa's oldest boy (the drunk) was killed in a car accident shortly after moving here in the late 70's. Some children graduated high school, some got pregnant on purpose so they could move out early, one even went to college. Throughout the years, our family would face feuds, deaths, births and run-aways.

Roger was the 2nd oldest boy for my Grandfather and man, did he love Roger. Roger got a decent job in New England, married and had 2 boys. He was more like my grandfather than any of the other kids; which I know Grandpa loves. In other families, favorites are not usually so obvious but Grandpa's love for Roger ran deeper than anyone could imagine.

In the early 90's Roger fell off Fall Mountain in New Hampshire and survived. This would serve for good story telling in the coming years because the guy obviously had 9 lives. That man could survive anything; which is why none of us were overly concerned with he was diagnosed with cancer shortly after falling off the mountain. You can guess correctly that he kicked that cancer's ass. And the other several cancers that would try to compete with Roger's pure will to live over the next 10 years.

Over those 10 years, his children grew up, he divorced and was lucky enough to have met the actual love of his life. They married this past March after a very, very, very long courtship. In April, while getting new, experimental cancer treatment, he collapsed in the hospital because apparently, his spine was ravaged by that bitch, cancer. He remained positive and confident as he signed up for more experimental treatments while we worried about his cancer.

Shortly before Roger passed, he called a family meeting and announced that the doctor has advised him to stop all treatments and simply enjoy life because he was not long for this world. Roger asked everyone to not be afraid and to simply make peace with him and enjoy what little time was left. He conducted this meeting with the same brilliance and dignity he conducted his life. I was not blessed with the presence of Roger throughout my life; he lived far away from us and our side of the family was not especially close with him. But I am so thankful that this summer, while vacationing in Vermont, I visited with him. I hope that Olivia will never forget the time Uncle Roger lay in hospital bed, located in his living room, and took a big whiff of her Crocs; "how does such a pretty girl have such smelly shoes?" he asked. We all laughed and laughed. Always a joker, that Uncle Roger.

I want to say - out loud and in writing - how proud I am of Uncle Roger. Not only for his bravery towards the end of his life but for all the joy he's brought to my Grandpa, too and for the legacy he's left for his two grown sons and brand new grandson.

Try not to fall off any of eternity's mountains this time, Roger and say hi to your mom for me.

They say He works in mysterious ways - I think he's got a sense of humor

This morning, just after I was greeted by That Bitch Aunt Flo, I read that Jenna Jameson and Tito Ortiz are having a baby. I thought - seriously? God gives Jenna Jameson and Tito Ortiz a baby as I sit here in a pool of tears over the lack of my own pregnancy? I wallowed that way for a good part of this morning until I read my horoscope:

It may seem like everyone around you is happy and getting what they want, while you are still stuck in the trenches, dear Sagittarius. Don't compare yourself to other people and make judgments based on their outside appearances.

Ok, now I feel bad for judging Jenna Jameson for her choice of profession and Tito Ortiz for being an ultimate moron. They deserve a baby just as much as I do and who am I to bargain with God on matters of life?

But still...Jenna Jameson and Tito Ortiz?

Sincerely 'Fro Me To You - The Husband Edition

Kristen @ We Are That Family leads this Blog Carnival every Thursday.
To see my entire archives of Sincerely 'Fro posts, click here.

This week, I've decided to go a different route for Sincerely 'Fro and do a husband edition. Mostly because I came across these hilarious (and adorable) photos of his childhood and a little because I'm kissing his ass so he'll let me paint the dining room eggplant.


Danny was born with a different name; one I won't divulge here. (Kissing ass, remember?) However, even at less than a year old he was a stud. It reminds me why I want to carry a million of his babies.


When Danny and I were looking through these pictures together, he was excited to discover that he had a belly even at under 2 years old. "I'm not fat - I'm just deformed!" he shrieked with glee.


This is Boots The Siamese Cat - in all capitals - he's a Brown Family icon. Legend has it he used to crawl into Danny's crib and groom him. Want to know a secret? To this day, whenever Danny gets to thinking about Boots, he still cries a little.


It's nice to know that even back then, he enjoyed a nice breeze - if you know what I mean. And I think you do.


The house he grew up in during the late 60's & entire 70's was located in Carnarsie, Brooklyn. Which explains why I'm pretty sure this TV fell off the back of the truck.


Notice the ashtray in the back? DCF was a long ways away back then.


I wonder if he had a coat on under the costume? Otherwise, babe...? I think you were just fat.


This is my very favorite photo of my husband. This picture is going to be included with the living room re-decorating project. Although I'm in my right mind to believe that he threw this book to whoever the photographer shortly after the shutter closed.


The true beauty of this photo is the ring he's showcasing. His parents never wanted him to forget that he was raised in Mafia Country. He was ready to bust heads at 9 years old - if only he wasn't Jewish.


I think these pants are coming back in style.


Silly perverted child, that's a boy Indian, not a girl Indian.


He was kicking this kid's ass because his parents made him go to karate instead of letting him stay home to watch Happy Days.


Don't worry about all that hair hair, sweetie. In about 20 years, you're going to meet me and I'm going to fix you up right good.