I just finished reading a great post over at Dani’s blog, about how she’s stopped wearing makeup and is quite happy about it. I’m just so, so terrible at applying makeup, and I used to consider it a major failing of mine. But these days, I’m feeling more and more confident and happy about going around au naturel on a day-to-day basis.

I’m even worse at keeping makeup on than I am at applying it in the first place, and I never remember to touch up throughout the day, and I almost always end up with some sort of gunk in my eye and lips that are dying for a little lip balm. So overall – just wash-and-go is working out…okay.

I even have come to the conclusion that it’s not a terrible thing to be looking my age (I say, and you can feel free to throw this back in my face in three years when I am considering a face lift – just the same way I used to smugly say at age 25 that I was never going to dye my hair, I was going to (lazily) go grey with confidence, and now, oh, what’s that 25-year-old-self, I’m touching up my roots every five weeks, GAH). Anyway, it’s just easier, and I like that there’s not so much chemical stuff on my skin, and I like the fact that I like the way I look.

Guess this is what Frank Kaiser meant when he wrote his sweet piece on why 40+ women are awesome.

I’ll still be pulling out some makeup for special events, parties – for me, it feels like part of the whole dressing-up-fancy thing, and makes me feel like a grown up. And I’ll continue to have admiration of women who can actually apply makeup, and make it look good, and keep it looking that way all day (TELL ME YOUR SECRETS).

But I’m losing the part of me that feels pressure to put my face on before leaving the house. This IS my face. I like it.

My friend Nicole over at Girl in a Boy House invented a new meme yesterday, and for Meme Monday we were to talk about what’s making us happy. Only, I didn’t get around to reading it until after 7 p.m., a time of day known as Beyond The Scope Of All Productivity, also known as You Never See Me On Twitter In The Evenings Because I Am Asleep On The Couch. So it had to wait until today.

What’s making me happy right now:

Dentist Visits. We went this morning, and I have a small cavity, and also a tooth heading down the path of root canal. Please don’t tell Sir Monkeypants, as we have a generally accepted rule in this house that when someone has a cavity, they are to be mocked mercilessly until humiliated into better brushing. In any case, what I’m happy about is excellent dental coverage provided by Sir Monkeypants’ work, that allows cavities to be caught when they are still small enough that I don’t even know they are there, and then to be repaired in 10 minutes flat, while I watch Live! With Kelly and Michael on their TV and don’t feel a thing. All good.

Transitional Hair. Am moving to a once-every-third-day wash cycle and so far it is going well, I don’t feel too greasy (thank you, spray-in dry shampoo) and my hair feels softer, although not necessarily less frizzy. I think I need the ends trimmed. Body maintenance is such a drag. But this is a happy post, so I’m just happy it is not a greaseball horror show over here.

Basement finishing, which is going very well – the framing and basic electrical are all done, drywall is up, mudding begins tomorrow. In somewhat unrelated news, having our basement couch temporarily moved upstairs has led us to suddenly realize we hate our main floor couch, passionately, and cannot stand to sit on it for one second longer. So, we spent all weekend couch shopping and we are thisclose to actually picking something out and no one died or killed each other, the kids (bless them) suffered through hundreds of hot, dry hours under furniture store lights without whining or crying and even attempted to give helpful opinions, and yay, new couch imminent, pictures to follow once we actually order it and it arrives. (No pictures of the old couch will be posted, so as to not sear your eyes.)

Soup. I cannot believe how much I totally, utterly, completely despised soup as a child, and now, I cannot get enough of it. Squash soup! Sweet potato and coconut soup! Lentil soup! Leek and potato soup! Basic old cream of tomato! The only plus to this INSANELY cold winter we are having is that I have more excuses to make soup than ever before. I could seriously eat ALL THE SOUP. Ever. Nom nom.

What’s making you happy?

So we’ve been saying for about, oh, 9 years now that we are going to finish the basement. Probably the last five years or so, we’ve been “really, really” serious.

One problem: okay, two problems, really. One, we have children who, for some reason, continue to need to be fed and clothed and driven to birthday parties and gymnastics classes. Two, we have absolutely no building skills whatsoever.

A lot of our friend have finished their own basements, though, and we thought we MUST be able to do it to, only, no. It was not happening. Every time we went down there – despite a rather clear vision of the project – we’d imagine ourselves cutting wood? Probably? And then attaching it to the concrete floor…somehow? With some sort of tool or device? Perhaps?

And that’s about as far as we got.

So this year, we decided to hire someone to do it for us. Not necessary all of it, but at least to get us started – maybe to do the framing and drywall, and we’d do the finishes, or something like that. Just to get the project kick-started, you understand. Not that we were not PERFECTLY CAPABLE (i.e. not at all capable) of becoming tool masters. ONLY because we were so very very busy. Orphan Black is not going to binge-watch itself, you know.

I will not bore you with the details of our search for a basement finisher, suffice to say that there is a wide, wide range of prices and levels of finishing out there.

Here is our basement, in its raw form:

(Oh, how our little ones loved to ride their trikes in a loop around the staircase…good times, good times.)

This is how we wanted it finished. Closing the area to the left (where the electrical panel is) to be a storage room; closing the area to the right (where the furnace is) to be a work room/tool room; then finishing off the stairs, hallway, and one very big room across the back to be a kids’ lounge/TV/craft/toy area.

Our basement was already framed and insulated along the outside walls, so the project only involved framing the interior walls. There were only two doors to add. There’s no bathroom down there or any fancy features and we only wanted the bare basics of finishes (plus a bunch of pot lights).

We considered this to be a pretty small project – granted, we know nothing about construction but we received quotes on this project ranging from reasonable to WILL YOU BE WALLPAPERING THE CEILING IN GOLD LEAF, JESUS. (Seriously – one quote was for $50 000. Apparently we would really, really notice the QUALITY of the finishes. SERIOUSLY.)

We chose a guy who we really, really like, who has done other basements in the area, and we’re off to the races – he’s been here all week working away on the framing, insulation, and drywall, plus an electrician friend of his has been in to do the wiring and lighting. I am already amazed at how much work everything is. I estimate just the framing – SO MANY little boxes around all kinds of ceiling crap, GAH – probably represents at least eight weekends worth of our life.

Hiring someone else, who actually knows what they’re doing, to do a fantastic job, and get it done while our children are still living at home? WORTH IT.

Surprisingly, there’s still quite a lot of work left for us to do. For starters, we did hire our awesome guy to just do part of the project – so we’re on the hook for finishing the flooring and trim, and painting the place, once it’s done. In the meantime, I’m kind of trapped in the house – I trust the guys to be alone in the house while I pop out to pick up the kids, but I’m still not sure about leaving them for the whole day, and at the least I have to be here to let them in and see them out at the end of the day.

Plus, we’re swamped with decision making – so far we’ve had to decide the location of every outlet (plus meet code), lay out the location of every pot light (working around beams and heat ducts), decide what the heck to do with the stairs (built-in shelving underneath, opening to the hallway), pick out various fixtures and switches and doorknobs and doors, and deal with minor construction issues and awkward corners.

It’s work, but also fun…will post some pictures once we get to the really fun decorating part.

So I wanted to quickly mention this app game – Stack the Countries – because it is cool and awesome and actually educational, but every time I try to write about it, it sounds like a weird sponsored post, like I’m all standing there with an iPhone next to my face, doing a Vanna White smile, tapping it with my perfectly manicured hands, while nodding wisely.

(Speaking of Vanna, I happened to catch the tail end of an episode of Wheel of Fortune the other night, and man, is she ever looking good for what, 56 years old? Damn. Pat Sajak, by the way, looks as dead-eyed and life-hating as ever. That guy should have quit at least 20 years ago and gone to build schools in Guatemala or something.)

Anyway, just to be clear, NOT A SPONSORED POST.

I heard about Stack the Countries from my friends Mary Lynn and Julie on Facebook, who mentioned it in passing, and so I thought we’d try it out. And yes, AWESOME.

Here’s what you do:
* answer a multiple-choice trivia question about geography (which country has this flag, which country is in Africa, which country has French as its official language, etc)
* if you’re right, you get the right-answer country as a little puzzle piece
* rotate and move the country piece until it’s just the way you want it, then drop it onto a tower you’re building
* when the tower is big enough, you’ll be awarded a country on your world map, and you can then go there and read about it (basic facts only – my one complaint is that I wish there was more info, or maybe a link to wikipedia for each country so we could find out more).

So we are all playing this game now (up to 6 different player profiles are allowed, so we can each work towards building our own world map) and it is SO fun, and building the towers is so exciting. Someone around here is always yelling something like,

“No, United Kingdom, no no no no!”
“Hang in there, Belize, YOU CAN DO IT.”
“What the HELL, Uganda, WHAT THE HELL?”
“Hey, has anyone else noticed how much Israel looks like a carrot?”

And so on. Everyone now knows all kinds of stuff about where world countries are, and what they look like, and what borders what, and my favourite part, all about world flags. And it’s amazing just how many countries there are in the world – close to 200 – and so many are tiny little things, and that has led to plenty of googling so we can figure out just how these countries came into existence (like, why does South Africa have a whole other nation, Lesotho, right in the middle of it?) and how they survive (like, how does Nauru, being just one tiny island nation, have any income?) and why there are some blanks on the map (like, why isn’t there any country between Suriname and Brazil, when clearly there is land there?).

And, we are constantly debating as to who has the best/most interesting/weirdest flag, which has led to much mocking of Libya for having a pure green rectangle as their flag, and then we found out on a game show (The Chase, if you must know, another of my new obsessions) that Libya got a new flag about a year ago, and that was GIANT HOUSE NEWS, like, we almost woke up the children to tell them.

So although I never considered us to be geography nerds, or the kind of family who makes their kids play educational games, or even the kind of family who might one day have a lively debate on where in the world you’d most like to explore…we are now.

Stack the Countries – HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

In my ongoing series of posts on things-I-really-should-know-by-now-but-do-not, I recently had a chat with FameThrowa and our friend LuckySevens about the care and maintenance of long hair. This was after I met up with them on an evening when my hair was so frizzy I had no choice but to bind it into Pippi Longstocking-style braids. They told me the secret is actually not to wash it too often. Apparently long hair is much happier if you let a little natural oil build up.

Then later, I was reading this new book I got for my birthday called Because I Said So, by my celebrity crush Ken Jennings. Not that I want to mess around with him or anything – he’s like, Mormon, and married, so the mere thought of something physical is just too weird. Rather, I really want him to come to one of my pie parties and entertain us all with witty and odd facts of the world, and maybe a little tour through my atlas of the world, followed by a series of wickedly funny Alex Trebek impressions. And maybe between sets we can have Chris Hadfield come in for a little earnest discussion of how The View From Space Makes Us All One Planet, and maybe he could also throw in an Alex Trebek (mustache era, of course) impression, and then I could seriously DIE HAPPY, having my belly full of pie and my brain full of fun and funny facts brought to you by the Thinking Woman’s Ultimate Sex Symbols.

Aaaaaaanyway, I was reading Because I Said So, which is a book in which KenJen discusses the truth, or falsity, of various long-lived parenting legends, like whether or not it’s okay to read in the dark, or swallow gum, or run with scissors. I read a few of these out loud to my older kids, and they particularly enjoyed the entry on running with scissors, because apparently it’s much more likely for a kid to be sent to the emergency room for sitting on scissors rather than running with them, which led to excessive and intentionally hilarious use of the phrase “buttocks lacerations,” a phrase which still pops up almost daily in our dinner conversations. Although, if I were to meet KenJen I would argue that the only reason why buttocks lacerations are more common than running injuries is because Good Parents Everywhere have been super diligent about stopping the scissors-running for years, and if we were to compare the actual incidents to the actual number of running situations we’d probably be close to a 100% injury ratio.

And also, my need to actually discuss the nitty gritty of scissors injuries is exactly why my dream pie party guest is Ken Jennings. QED.

Aaaaaaaaanyway, one of the entries in the book is about hair washing, and it was interesting to me that as recently as 100 years ago, people only washed their hair perhaps twice a month. I remember an interview with Annette Funicello I read back in the 80s that talked about how once a week, no matter where she was in the world, she’d fly in her hairdresser for a wash and a set, and then I realized that she literally did not wash it or touch it the rest of the week, and that was a shocker. And yet, it gives so much more meaning and weight to the infamous, “I have to wash my hair,” excuse, don’t you think, when it’s such a rare and big deal, and involves rollers and product and the flying-in of a stylist.

So FameThrowa and LuckySevens taught me that not only should I consider a maximum once-every-three-days wash cycle, but when I do wash it, I need to bind it up with various clips and braids and things to ensure it doesn’t frizz out. It seems like a lot of work but the results have been encouraging so far, but really, now that poor Annette Funicello has passed on, I’m thinking her hairdresser is likely looking for a regular gig. So very soon after I get totally famous for…something …and throw fabulous parties featuring Alex Trebek impressions, I’m thinking I’ll give her a call. That’s how grown-ups do it, right?

Well, hi there! How are you? I’m cranky, nice to meet you.

Making me cranky? First up, it’s my not-a-resolution-dammit need to lose a few pounds, as I am currently experiencing a pants crisis in which the only pair I have that fit are my Pie Party Pants, supposedly meant to allow for massive amounts of buffet-style eating, and now barely zip up. I haven’t been able to get into my favourite pair of purple cords for months so I am trying to do something about it, but doing something about it means eating less crap, and since crap makes up a good 30% of my daily diet, eating less crap makes me CRANKY.

The other day my son accidentally opened the dishwasher while it was still running, and I sighed and gently explained about being more aware of our surroundings and how to listen for the sounds of rushing water and blah blah, and he nodded and was grateful I handled it all so well, then THREE FREAKING MINUTES LATER he did it again, and I was like MOUNT SAINT HELENS, erupting all over his poor little shoulders.

Warning: MAMA HUNGRY.

Also making me cranky? The state of my house right now.

This is my living room:

And here is my office:

And here is the playroom:

That’s happening because we are having our basement finished, starting today, and we had to bring half the stuff from down there up to the main level. Which is good! And I’m excited! I just wish it didn’t feel so much like an episode of Hoarders in here. GAH.

I’ll post some happier reno pics when I’m in a better mood. Which will likely be shortly after I break down and eat an entire tube of Pringles. IT’S HAPPENING, DAMMIT.

[* Title shamelessly stolen from Allison, who is sometimes surly but always hilarious.]

The other day I was saying to Tudor that I thought I’d have everything all figured out by now, and yet still, I am constantly struggling with seemingly simple household dilemmas. For example, we are having our basement finished starting on Monday, and I’m all in a tizzy about What People Do when they are having work done. Like, are you required to be here all the time that they are here? Or is it okay if I go shopping or to a business meeting? Should I give them a key, or should I be here to greet them each day? Should I offer them coffee/snacks/lunch? What if I’m not here to feed them?

Most importantly: do I need to actually get dressed each day? Or are my standard couture – pyjamas – acceptable?

It’s all just so awkward.

In other news, I am having a serious issue with our kitchen table, and what to cover it with. The entire time we have been in this house, it has been covered with a series of cheap, ugly, eye-searingly bright plastic tablecloths. They’re smelly and unattractive, but can’t be beat for table protection. Our kitchen table is the only table surface in the house – my office desk is perma-buried under a foot of stacked magazines and bills, our dining room is actually a big toy closet, and we don’t have a coffee table. So that means the kitchen table, on any given day, hosts three separate meals, does all the homework, is the site of many colouring and gluing type crafts, is a LEGO and Playmobil centre, and is our games table.

The plastic tablecloth is the only thing I have found that works in that a) I don’t care if it gets coated in glitter glue, b) it’s hard and flat enough for people to write on, but protects the table from pen impressions, c) doesn’t shift around, and d) wipes clean quickly and easily between events.

And yet, I hate the plastic tablecloth. I have earned the right, I feel, for a more grown-up table.

So this past week I threw out the tablecloth, but I just cannot get the hang of how to work the table without it. We’ve tried cloth coverings and placemats, but both don’t work well with the crafts or homework, and plus the table took a ton of damage in just a handful of days. I love the table so much – it’s a cheapy IKEA table, hence the quick damage and terrible, terrible lack of actual finish on the thing – but it’s the perfect size and shape for the space, plus has two leaves that store inside it so it can handle big events with ease.

So today I broke down and spent over an hour picking out a crappy plastic tablecloth at Bed Bath and Beyond. Now it is over there being crappy and smelly on my table and I hate it, and yet I can’t think of anything else to do.

Plastic tablecloths, oh how I wish I could quit you!

What do you keep on your main table surface, and how does that work?

Just a quick post to say my January column for Capital Parent is now up on their website.

Back during the holidays, Gal Smiley made her own lunch and was pretty proud of the care she took “plating” it (I should mention that Sir Monkeypants had a major hand in it by cutting the cheese into artful triangles). That led to a discussion of food bloggers and what they do, and she thought that was pretty cool, and asked if I would photograph her lunch and blog it.

So I present to you, Gal Smiley’s first ever foodie blog post – Ham and Cheese with Crackers, Juice with Umbrella. Featured on page 3 of her new cookbook, “The Best Snaks.” (Cooking: yes, Spelling: no.)

Happy New Year! I didn’t mean to completely vanish over the holidays, but we were busy having a really, really nice Christmas together. The kids were good, and traveled well, and got along with their cousins and were nice to their grandparents. Many, many treats were eaten (good and bad, I suppose), the kids loved their gifts and declared it to be the best Christmas ever, and our family activities were fun and funny and memorable, and all was well.

The Captain got some Harry Potter Lego sets that I had bought used online from a very nice teenage boy back in the summer, and he adores them, and I think I may be looking at buying used stuff a little more often, considering the enormous cost-to-adoration ratio. One thing I totally messed up, though, was that I completely forgot that Little Miss Sunshine was with me when I went to pick this stuff up, and after much, much dithering over who would be giving who what, I finally decided that the Harry Potter Lego would be the Captain’s “Santa” gift, and yes…I think you can see where this is going. About one millisecond after the Captain opened the Lego, the Little Miss ran over to me and whisper yelled that SHE WAS WITH ME WHEN WE BOUGHT THAT STUFF, and I said some very, very strong words of exclamation in my inner monologue. CRAP.

Later I tried to talk to her about it and I told her that Santa needed help with the Captain’s gift this year because the Captain did not write a letter or visit him at the mall. She told me that maybe Santa didn’t come to the Captain because he was bad, and she seems surprisingly okay with that – guess the news that her brother is lump-of-coal-worthy isn’t a huge shocker? Man, it’s tough to be the youngest.

Anyway, she seems to still believe for now but I believe in future therapy sessions she will be able to pinpoint this incident as the exact moment in time when her mother killed Santa. MOMMY WIN.

Speaking of the Little Miss, she got some lovely things for Christmas and she likes them all, but the one thing she loves more than anything else is this little plastic game thing that my niece was about to throw out, and the Little Miss rescued from the garbage while we were visiting. It’s kind of like a tangram only with about 12 pieces that you have to fit inside a square shape. There’s sixty different ways to get all the pieces in and the Little Miss seems determined to find them all. It’s super cheapy plastic and probably was a dollar store loot bag item and it has easily seen the MOST hours of use and play and enjoyment of all the new Christmas things. SIGH. Although, it does seem like there is a lesson to be learned here about Less being More and so forth. Double SIGH.

In any case, it was a lovely holiday, and I’m really, really looking forward to a few more days of not making lunches, combined with hiding in the house all day in our PJs with video games and movies and Lego because it is NEGATIVE THREE BILLION outside, and I’m NOT looking forward to Monday at all, but at least we’ll always have fond gauzy memories of Christmas 2013. Stay warm!