Author: Jules

Forty-something; living and writing from the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Book-lover, mother, budding philosopher and finally learning to stand up, believe in my future and simply breathe.


I don’t typically post a whole lot about current events, but every so often my brain zeroes in on a particular aspect of a particular news story and it seems appropriate to write about it. Or perhaps it simply strikes me that it would be so much more cathartic to get it down on paper. Either way, it means I’m writing.

So anyway, there’s this family in Arkansas that has a reality show on TLC and there are a whole bunch of kids (19 to be exact, but who’s counting…?) And this family is practically the ultimate (painfully public) example of uber-conservative, right-wing, bible-worshipping religion (although perhaps the fruit-nuts wandering the not-so-hallowed hallways of the Westboro Baptist Church have them beat by one or two horribly and willfully misinterpreted parts of scripture).

So yeah, the Duggars. And in any case, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about: one of the older (and married) Duggar boys apparently spent some time in his teens having some extremely inappropriate contact with more than one as-of-yet unidentified and underaged girls while they were sleeping. Some are even concluding that the victims were his own sisters, which to be honest, makes sense since it’s not likely he would have ever been allowed to be in a situation where he could do this sort of thing undetected.

The story has only been out for a couple days now, and no doubt, there are about a zillion bloggers and op-ed folks out there letting the fingers fly across their keyboards as the media/social network feeding frenzy intensifies seemingly by the second. I suppose I’m just one of ’em, which is one of the reasons why I don’t delve too much into current goings-on as fodder for my writing – most of the time, there really is no need to say what is already being posted about a thousand times a minute.

But as I drove to work this morning, having earlier checked the latest developments and taking them in with the largest grain of salt possible, I got to thinking about the Duggar girls and women, all nine of them. Which really, if you think about it, is where most of the attention should be focused right now. Because even if just a few of them fell victim to their brother Josh’s “unfortunate, teen-aged mistakes”, all of them are victims – every single one.

They are victims of a systemic and deeply unhealthy religious doctrine that says essentially that they are not equals to men in the eyes of God and whose lives must be absolutely controlled by whatever dominant male happens to be in the forefront  – either father or husband, whichever one is in play (and a husband will always be in play at some point, because getting married is pretty much the only choice you have).

Those who provide power to this doctrine (and they are everywhere, not just in the Duggars’ circle) can spout all they want about how complimentarianism is a good thing and that it’s the way God set it all up, but at the end of the day, this doctrine in reality maintains unapologetically that women are inferior to men and pretty much exist only to be submissive housewives and mothers, period. It also demands complete sexual purity, whatever the hell that is, and covertly implies that if one has sex outside the boundaries of marriage, that person is ruined – unless of course you confess that filthy sin to Jesus who makes you all white and pure again. And homosexuality and same-sex marriage? Let’s just not even go there, ok?

There was a time that I was merely fascinated by this family – who they were and how on Earth they managed with all those children. It didn’t take long to become completely nauseated by their worldview and by what Jim-Bob and Michelle were (and still are) teaching those poor kids. And the sympathy I’ve always felt for Michelle is palpable – she has been either pregnant and/or nursing an infant for her entire adult life, and to hear it told, she’s probably not done yet. Think about that for a moment, seriously.

To be honest, I’ve never watched a full episode of their show – I’m pretty sure I couldn’t actually get through all 60 minutes without wanting to throw a very heavy object at the TV. But I’ve watched enough snippets, and I’ve poked around on their website just enough to understand what is going on under that roof in terms of religious indoctrination. And I think indoctrination is too kind a word to use here…brainwashing is more apropos.

And the girls? The women? Michelle?

I think they are brainwashed to the point that if one was to approach the older ones and actively provide a safe, secure and guaranteed way for them to get out from underneath their parents, perhaps to…

…go to (preferably a non-religious) college

…choose their own books to read

…have unmonitored and unchaperoned (literally) access to the Internet

…go unchaperoned to secular social events with their friends – concerts, plays, festivals, dances

…not have to be responsible for raising their younger siblings

…choose whether or not to get married or have children…

It would be pointless.

IF it was possible to offer them these choices, free and clear, with no strings attached – I predict most if not all of them would refuse. It makes me so very, very sad that they are probably so entrenched in this poisonous, misogynistic culture that they would never seriously consider the alternatives, even if these alternatives were somehow handed to them on a silver platter.

Now, with everything that is coming to light about this family, with these huge cracks that are finally (and inevitably) forming in the ridiculous facade they have been maintaining, I am also very sad to think that these same women – especially the younger girls – probably feel as if they have no choice but to continue accepting their lot in life – and the reality of sexual abuse on top of everything else they’ve already endured all their lives.

But I really hope I’m wrong about that.


Big Stump

Never let it be said that I back down from a challenge.

Well, at least most of them.

Some of them…?

Ok, one or two times every several years, someone challenges me to do something, so I guess just let it never be said that when the mood strikes me, I won’t back down from a challenge as long as it’s not too terribly inconvenient, and it’s not a leap year, and/or it’s been a minimum of 18 months since someone last threw down the gauntlet. Or something.


This past weekend was one of the definite highlights of my year so far, no doubt about it. I spent two whole days and three nights with my very newest friends (and a few of my old ones too!) at the Magic In The Mess writing retreat in Waldport. Let’s just say there was a beach, there was chocolate, there was a giant, amazing house right on that beach with balconies and a hot tub, there was delicious home-cooked food for every meal and copious amounts of wine.


Lovely and awesome writerly women!

And oh yeah, we wrote some stuff too.

But I digress, just a little.

At one point during the weekend, I took a walk on the beach with Tamara and Janelle, who came all the way from Northern California. We had our wineglasses and were feeling quite jovial and talking about everything from our work lives to our home lives to how much we were enjoying ourselves and everything in between. Eventually, we came upon what is apparently known as “Big Stump.”


Tamara and Janelle in The Stump

Now, you can’t see it very well in this picture, but it literally is a giant, hollowed-out Redwood stump that is right smack in the middle of the beach. There is a little sign tacked up on on the inside with a website you can go to and read about it. It actually has a pretty interesting history. My picture here doesn’t really do it justice (although it does make Tamara and Janelle look fabulous even if Tamara has her eyes closed – sorry, Tamara!)

On the placard, it implores its readers not to burn anything inside it, or on it, but of course only about 6 inches from the sign is a big swath of charcoaled wood, and we spent a few minutes grousing about the asshat people that clearly just wanted to be big fat jerks.

And of course, here is the obligatory selfie we took standing inside, although you can’t see the stump. You will just have to take my word for it that this is where we took it:


You totally can’t tell that I’m the one holding the phone. Not. At. All.

So! Thus completes the actual challenge part of this post – my work is done here.

Except that I do really and truly want to say that everyone I met over the weekend was absolutely wonderful. We all shared a lot, including some stuff that was kind of hard to share – very personal, gritty stuff. But all that simply served to bring us into a well-knit cohesive group that was at ease with each other and just really happy for the break from our ordinary lives to share an extraordinary weekend just laughing, writing, and drinking vino.

And writing. Yes, we all really did some of that.

Crawling out…..

Boy, oh boy.

I’ve got some serious cobweb-sweeping and dusting to do around here.

Anyhoo, for what it’s worth, I am finally on the far side of my divorce and the sale of my house, which will be done at the end of this month, good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, and all that…..

I’ve found an apartment for me and my son – small, but the rent is good, the manager is very laid-back and nice and the complex is small, set well back from the road and quiet. And only a 5 minute walk from my son’s current school, which was a serious priority for me.

The situation between my now ex-husband and myself is pleasantly amicable, and at least for now, it looks like our parenting time arrangements will be flexible and not written in concrete, which in an amicable situation is rarely necessary with older children (Nick is 12.)

Once the dust settles, I’ll be writing a lot more. But for now, I just need to get through the next 3 or 4 weeks.


An Award!


Well, I’m pretty darned proud to say that my tiny corner of the blogosphere has been nominated for a Liebster award – the very first one ever for me! And all thanks to J over at Don’t Delete Me.  Thanks, J!  😉  And I apologize for the tardiness of my acknowledgement.

Now, my confession to you is that this is the first I’ve heard of this award, but heck – I’ll certainly take it. An award is an award in my book, and I am pretty tickled that one of my new bloggy friends thought of little ol’ me. And apparently, there is a short list of rules for acceptance:

  1. The nominated user must provide a link back to the person who nominated them
  2. Provide 11 facts about yourself.
  3. Answer 11 questions set by the person who nominated you.
  4. Choose 11 more people and ask them 11 questions.

So, because I don’t mind following the rules (most of the time) – and hey, I’ve already obliged to #1 on the list, so I may as well keep going – here is the rest.

11 Facts About Me:

  1. I was almost born in a VW Beetle. Apparently, I made my grand entrance into the world about only 15 minutes after getting to the hospital.
  2. I was a licensed real estate agent for about a year or so when we lived in Connecticut.
  3. I secretly (or maybe not-so-secretly now) have an affinity for disco music. Loud, and in the car.
  4. When I was in first grade, we had an amazing black lab/dalmation mix dog named Boogie. He had only three legs for about the last 3 or 4 years of his life. He was the most wonderful dog ever.
  5. My first real job was at Taco Bell. I eventually was let go for too many unders/overs on my cash register check-outs, which at the time was nearly earth-shattering. I think I was making a whopping $2.75 an hour.
  6. I have been to the top of the St. Louis Arch, but not to the top of the Statue of Liberty (despite a visit there as well.)
  7. If I had to choose: creamy/sweet over salty/crunchy.
  8. I absolutely loathe, with every fiber of my being, the color pink.
  9. If I could move anywhere in the world, right now, and cost/family/zoning laws weren’t a factor: a small, cozy cabin/cottage right smack in the middle of here:

      banff-national-park-7514-1920x1200(Banff National Park, Canada. I’d be there in a New York minute.)

  10. I am an incurable Law and Order junkie. Mike Logan and Lennie Brisco – the best forever.
  11. I wear tie-dye t-shirts 90% of the time when I’m not at work. And sometimes even when I am at work.

And here is where I answer some  specific questions:

  1. What do you really think will happen if there is a Zombie outbreak? That’s hard to say, but I’m pretty sure I would learn how to use a really sturdy and reliable weapon in a big-ass hurry! 
  2. If you met your idol in person, what would you do? First, I’d have to invent a time machine, but once I got over that little hurdle, I’d likely ask him and her to a very long and leisurely lunch. And in case you’re wondering: Henry David Thoreau and Mother Teresa, because I have two idols. And in a perfect scenario, I’d have lunch with both of them at the same time. 
  3. If you could travel back in time, where/when would you go? This is a helpful corollary question to #2…but putting #2 aside for a moment, I would love to go back to Medieval England. Around the mid-to-late 15th century. To meet Richard III and get the real skinny about the nephews in the Tower. 
  4. What is your favourite movie? Hoo-boy – only one?? Well, I guess it would have to boil down to a three-way tie between Forrest Gump, Inception and Dances With Wolvesand it’s probably cheating, but I can’t choose so this is what I’m sticking with. 
  5. What is your main goal in life? To always keep learning. And exploring. And reading. And writing.
  6. Do you have a pet? If so, what is it? One cat, and one parakeet. And never the two shall meet. Ever. 
  7. What are you most afraid of? A terrible death.
  8. What is your favourite quote? “. . . remember, no matter where you go, there you are.” ~Buckaroo Banzai, from The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension
  9. If someone told you when you were going to die, would you believe them? If so, how would you live your life up until that final day? I would probably believe her or him, because everyone dies, so technically speaking it wouldn’t be false no matter what. I would spend my remaining time in as much deep spiritual contemplation as I possibly could, as well as spending as much time as possible with my family. And hopefully, #7 would have nothing to do with this question. 
  10. What do you think the meaning of life is? My knee-jerk response here is, of course, 42. But on a more serious note…I think life is all about relationship with others and relationship with God, whatever that looks like to anyone in particular. And ultimately, somehow, some way, it’s going to be all good for everyone in every corner. 
  11. Are you wondering why there are 11 questions for everything and not an even number like 10 or 12? Not really, but admittedly, it *is* a bit unusual. And that’s what makes it interesting.

And now, I hereby am awarding, in turn, this prestigious and deeply reflective award to the following awesome bloggers:

  1. The Ubiquity Principle
  2. Run. Or Die Trying.
  3. True East
  4. The Silver Leaf Journal
  5. 20/20 Hines Sight
  6. TwistedSifter
  7. Rain’s Writing Realm
  8. Bumblepuppies
  9. espresso coco
  10. Not a Punk Rocker
  11. The TransNationalist

Finally, here are 11 questions of my own devising, springing from the most creative vein I can muster at the moment, for the tagged bloggers to answer if they so desire:

  1. If he was ever a part of your family tradition, when did you find out the truth about Santa Claus? If not part of your tradition, was there a particular fable represented to you as truth that you later found out wasn’t true?
  2. If you were being exiled to a desert island along with three of your best friends, what one board game would you take with you?
  3. What is the most unusual food you have ever tried?
  4. Name a book that changed your life (or worldview) and why.
  5. Star Wars Harrison Ford, or Indiana Jones Harrison Ford?
  6. What was the very first car you ever owned?
  7. If you could own any exotic pet you wanted (and cost/safety/health of the animal wasn’t a factor) – what would it be?
  8. What one thing, uncategorically, is the ONE thing you MUST do before you die?
  9. If there is one talent (that you currently don’t have) that you could acquire to the point of perfection overnight, what would it be?
  10. Mayonnaise or mustard?
  11. Shaken or stirred?

I think that about covers it.  😉


Mother’s Day

The most beautiful artwork in the universe.

photo(4)          photo(1)           photo(3)
The most amazing sons in the universe.

(that’s a bit of a pun, but one will never hear me deny the statement.)

Thank you, Christian, Justin and Nicholas for the most amazing, incredible, loving, joyful, heartbreaking and (sometimes heartstopping) roller-coaster ride of my entire life.

I could not ever sufficiently express to you how much I love you.

Emotional Intelligence

The last couple of days have been a very interesting opportunity for some serious reflection on how I deal internally with stress and criticism. I won’t go into huge detail as to why – suffice to say that my cage has been rattled quite unexpectedly and violently so, and I’m still trying to steady myself.

But at this point, after hearing a lot of things I never imagined were true and dealing with some folks who really, REALLY got under my skin – unintentionally, but nevertheless they did – and just dealing with a whole lot of generalized crap, I’ve been able to pause and suck in a few huge breaths, and think more clearly. describes emotional intelligence as “skill in perceiving, understanding, and managing emotions and feelings.” I don’t like the word “intelligence” in this context, because at first blush, the very phrase itself suggests that a low emotional intelligence level is something akin to being stupid, and I’m pretty sure that’s not true in most cases. And in my case, I see myself as someone who can perceive and understand the emotions of others very well, but oftentimes I don’t do so well in managing my own, and I definitely don’t think that makes me stupid. Not sure what it does make me, but unintelligent isn’t it!

Out of curiosity, I took one of those “” quizzes I found in the Googledom to test my own “EI” score. Here are my results:

“Your results indicate an above average score on emotional intelligence.

People with a better than average score on emotional intelligence tend to be good at interpreting, understanding, and acting upon emotions. They are usually quite good at dealing with social or emotional conflicts, expressing their feelings, and dealing with emotional situations.

It’s important to remember that no matter how good your score is, there is always room to improve your emotional intelligence. Consider areas where you are not as strong and think of ways that you can learn and grow. Take stock of your strong points and find ways to continue to develop and apply these skills.”

Hmmm. Interesting, because given my somewhat visceral reaction to comments made about me and other people’s behavior, I would score myself somewhere in the vicinity of the toilet bowl.

Obviously, these sorts of Internet exercises must be taken with a grain of salt (or two). Filling out a 3-minute pop quiz on the web and interpreting the results as anything other than superficial is kind of like giving your very last dime to buy sand in the Sahara Desert. And unfortunately, that doesn’t bode too well for the reality of my score. But at least in this case, the quiz master’s follow-up advice seems pretty sound:

Consider areas where you are not as strong and think of ways that you can learn and grow.

This is where the pausing and the breathing comes in real handy. And the reflection.

So, ok – a few people said some things that really surprised and angered you, but didn’t necessarily attack you personally, so there’s really no reason to get on that boat. And then, someone irritated the crap out of  you and displayed rude behavior, but that’s not really your problem and it’s way over and done with now, so why are you insisting on replaying that tape over and over in your head? And oh – just because you made a mistake here doesn’t mean you will never get there.

And so on.

One of the benefits of getting older is that it becomes easier to see the value in stopping (or at least slowing) the out-of-control freight train that emotions can often emulate by forcing one’s thinking into an objective, outside-of-oneself framework. It’s sure as hell not easy, and I don’t have as good a grasp of that skill as I’d like, but I’ve had lots of scenarios lately just begging to use the practice. All the more emotional intelligence for me, right?

I’m thinking that, barring a tragic natural disaster or some other nuclear meltdown in my personal life, tomorrow will be a better day.


(And just in case you’re interested, you can take that quiz here.)

Boys in the House

Today was a day off for me, and I intended to write all day, but instead ended up spending a lot of time sorting my massive digital photo collection and reading blog posts, and then almost two solid hours trying to update my cellphone – crashing it hard and then having to Google my way through a factory default restore to get it running again.

So, definitely not quite how I planned the day out, but somewhere in the midst of sifting through photos, it occurred to me that I’ve never done an entire post on my kids – at least, not all three of them at once. I also didn’t have a blogging topic for today, and I really wanted to post something, so I decided to put the two together, and voila – ! here I am at 10:35 at night, which of course is the perfect time to bang out a blog post.

If I were to write in-depth here about them, I would be writing all night, and quite possibly all through tomorrow and the next day. I’ve been with them for the last 25 years or so, in varying timeframes of course…having triplets probably would have secured me a permanent post in the local nut factory! 25 years is a long time, almost half of my life, and it’s fair to say that at times, it’s felt like 10 lifetimes. But I’ve figured out the positives outweigh the negatives, though – by a long shot. So I am grateful for every single day I’ve had with them.

My three sons….a brief snapshot

Christian is the oldest, the first-born, the guinea-pig of sorts. He was always smiling and shy when he was young, a head full of blonde curls and a sunny disposition.  Once he learned to read he was a voracious consumer of books, he grew to love music and hate tomatoes and cheese (except pizza cheese.) Now he lives about 25 minutes south of us and works hard in the gaming world. As you might be able to discern:


I’ll bet you couldn’t tell he’s into XBox. At all. But technically, it’s part of his job.

Justin is next down the line, unflappable and endlessly inquisitive. Terribly clumsy as a child and has multiple scars to prove it; we made more trips to emergency room with this kid than for the other two put together. Sharp as a tack with a wicked sense of humor. Another big reader and music lover like his older brother, and very active in Scouting when he was in school. He’s a bit unreadable at times but has a tender, empathic nature that shows when one least expects it.


You hardly ever know what this one is thinking. And when you *do* figure it out…

And last but never, ever least, there’s Nicholas. Full of headstrong energy and a precise knowledge of exactly which buttons to push with his brothers to get what he wants. When he’s in the mood, he’s a great conversationalist. Asks lots of tough questions and makes poignant observations. Bright affections, sunny smile, and the most brilliant blue eyes ever. Totally unapologetic Minecraft nut.


I have a lot of favorite pictures of Nicholas, but this one not only takes the cake, it pours the batter and bakes it too.

And this is one of the most amazing pictures ever of the three of them together:


Christmas, 2012. Happy shiny boys.  ❤

All I can say to sum up here is that there isn’t enough a room big enough anywhere in this universe to contain the love I have for them, for the richness they add to my life, for the ways in which they have made me a better person.

Three Good Things Thursday

I’ve not done one of these posts in a while, so it’s time.

Today is my Friday, since we here at George Fox get Good Friday off as a paid holiday, and three-day-weekends are always a good thing. Not sure what I’m going to do with the extra time, other than take Nicholas to his second post-surgery follow-up, but I’m pretty confident I can figure it out.

This lovely thing is right outside my window at work:


Red Rhodies…  ❤

Can’t wait to see the full bush in bloom – it’s not particularly large, as rhodie bushes go, but it’s got a whole bunch of buds and it will soon be a veritable explosion of red. Flowers are a particularly wonderful and brilliant creation, in my opinion, truly a gift.

I’ve got strong writing mojo these past several days, maybe even the past couple of weeks. All I want to do is write, and I wish this desire would camp out with me permanently. Maybe someday- but for now, I’m enjoying the ride. I’m even participating in a “Blogger 201” class being hosted by some WordPress folks, and it’s helping keep me motivated.

Here’s a parting thought as we (or at least I) head into the weekend:

“…I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful.”
~Elizabeth Edwards

Indeed. 😉

A hard afternoon

My youngest son’s guinea pig Eeyore died yesterday.

He’d not been ill, as his cagemate Piglet had been for several weeks before he went to the Great Beyond a couple years ago, so his passing was a shock. He had been fine the night before, Nicholas said, and before he left for school in the morning he still seemed fine with no indication of what was to come. But Eeyore was also technically a “senior citizen” as guinea pigs go, who typically live to be only between 5 and 7 years old or so.

It’s really tough watching your kids deal with grief. Tears of mourning are so much different from those of resentment or anger, fueled by tantrums or the result of rebellious defiance. As a parent, you deal with your own sort of grief in observing what your kids experience when these difficult situations fall on us. While I felt sad that Eeyore was gone, my deeper sadness came from the clear fact that my son was feeling it much harder than I.

We (my husband, me and middle son Justin) all immediately rallied around Nicholas with hugs and love, and helped give Eeyore a dignified burial out in the back yard next to Piglet, under the huge Japanese maple tree now freshly endowed with green spring finery. A few good words were said, and we took turns reassuring him that it was old age, and not a lack of care, that had brought on Eeyore’s demise.

Normally, Nicholas’s demeanor doesn’t reveal much of his emotional side – he’s rarely willing to talk about how he’s feeling. But pets are clearly a soft spot with him, as is probably the case with most kids. Something about the responsibility of caring for another living thing, something about the inherent sadness with death, it’s hard to say what it is, or what it was, but yesterday Nicholas displayed a very tender side I’ve not seen very often. While his reaction was hard to see, it also made me proud that he seems to possess a deep sense of empathy for life.

It’s terribly easy to second-guess your parenting skills, and even easier to invite judgement from others, but I guess we’re definitely doing something right.

A Bit of Sage Advice

Always check your paint cans.

To wit:

Our kitchen has been in dire need of painting for a very long time, so I decided it was time to do so over the weekend. After some prep work on Saturday, we decided Sunday was The Big Day. We already had two gallon-sized cans of paint – I believe the color was “Honeysuckle Lilac Beige Dream” or something equally ridiculous and trendy. We’d had this paint for some time, since we’d actually intended to do this painting a few years ago.

Well, ok – seven years ago. Some decisions just shouldn’t be rushed, you know.

Anyway, Sunday came, and after taking the cans back to the big-box hardware store to have them re-shaken, ensuring they were still good (does house paint ever really go bad?) – we cracked open one of the cans and spent nearly four hours with brushes and rollers – a few walls and lots of ledges and crevices and tiny little strips next to door frames – some areas were a serious pain in the ass. Some areas we had to go over twice, which was an even bigger pain in the ass. But good tunes were on the radio, the weather outside was brilliant so the windows were open to beckon the fresh air, and it was getting done.

All the while, I was thinking to myself: Wow, this is really white.

And I kept thinking, as I painted and painted and wiped up dribbles and climbed up and down the step stool, about a million times it seemed. I didn’t think it was going to look quite this…white.

But I reasoned. Maybe it will be better when it dries.

You might already see where this is going.

We finished up, all sore and hungry and paint-splattered, totally ready to call it a day, and although everything was pretty darned white it looked nice. No problem – anything was better than the way it was, in any case. We could deal with it.

Now, we’d gone through one entire can of the paint. But there were still a few spots needing touching up. So pop went the other can, a bit more paint was poured, and back to work I went to cover those few renegade places, while the other half went out to the living room to watch a bit of the news.

After a few moments, it finally, slowly dawned on me that what I was now slathering on the walls was darker, definitely more beige – Honeysuckle Lilac Beige Dream, to be exact – than the paint we’d already spent the entire afternoon using – which was likely just good ol’ Base White. It wasn’t blaringly obvious, as if we’d just accidentally lost our minds with a can of Glossy Red Lipstick Flame Orchid, but it was noticeable. So, after a few choice strings of words left my mouth but still amazingly enough under my breath, the following exchange ensued between me (in the kitchen) and the husband (in the living room):

“Charles, I don’t think the paint in this can is the same color.”

There was barely a brief second of silence, and then –

“Oh yes it is!”

“Um, really – I don’t think so.”

“Yes, it is! The labels both have the same numbers and the same name on them.”

“I know, but seriously – come look at this!”

“Just let it dry for a while, ok? It’s fine.”

Ok, fine.

So I went downstairs to my office and futzed round on Facebook for a little while. When I went back to the kitchen, my heart sank straight to the bottom of my stomach faster than a brakeless bullet train down the side of Mt. Everest. But all I could do was laugh, except that I didn’t sound amused so much as a bit deranged.

“This isn’t good news, is it?” piped up the husband from the living room.

“Nope.” I said.

He finally came into the kitchen, looked at the spot I was pointing to, and uttered a single word beginning with “F” and ending with “K” at a relatively high pitch and volume.

Oh, yeah, baby…freakin’ Honeysuckle Lilac Beige Dream!!

Fortunately for us, it only took about an hour and a half to re-do everything, since we had a really nice base coat to work with.

So, now you know.