Living the Suite Life

Salutations from sunny (and rainy and calm and windy) Park City! I've just spent a glorious and indulgent week with the Close To My Heart Advisory Board at the awesome Grand Summit Resort at the Canyons.


In case you're wondering what the heck an Advisory Board retreat is, in a nutshell, it's like a weeklong focus group with some of your best girlfriends: days of chocolate and chatting, evenings of gourmet dining and scrapbooking, with a rejuvenating daily workout thrown in just to mitigate the guilt you MIGHT feel from the nonstop munching.

And because I AM the cheapest woman you know, I couldn't check out early and waste a night already booked for the suite--Pete and the boys joined me and the three flat screen TVs and the humongo jetted tub. (The kids particularly grocked on that appliance, learning the valuable lesson that blasting jets will turn the tiniest squirt of shampoo into a tub o' foam.)

Saturday morning, the boys--we had to reign them in until sunrise--splashed in the pool until the staff forced us to check out and dry off, almost in that order. Then we headed back home, where "room service" means you have to make your own bed!

What's better than a poke in the eye?

I was awakened in the pre-dawn hours today by a repeated poking in my eye. My EYE.

When I clambered out from unconsciousness, there was my son T blinking at me in the darkness. "Oh, good, mom. You're awake," he said.

"Yup." It was all I could muster. I had been repeatedly poked in the eye, after all.

"I'm having a scary dream and the new fridge is making loud noises and Eragon is staring at me and my bed is too hot and... can I sleep by you?" He was already halfway into the bed before he finished his explanation.

As for me, I was so happy I couldn't drift back to sleep.

See, I've been kind of dreading September 10. It's T's birthday today and he's 7. SEVEN! He's already marching off to first grade with a purpose that is borderline militaristic. He takes piano lessons. Pours his own milk. Buckles his seat belt without ever being asked. Takes his shoes off when entering a friend's house. Knows his address and phone number. Can program the Tivo and various other gadgets that completely mystify me.

Some days, I feel like if I blink he'll be off for good, my baby driving into the world. It will happen, I know, and each birthday draws us nearer to that inevitable fork in the road. But this morning, there were no forks. There was just a little spoon in my bed, trembly and worried about the noisy fridge and the staring lizard.

And I still had the power to make everything all better.

Happy, happy birthday to both of us.

And Then There Were Two

My house is cleaner. I've been going to bed earlier. I'm watching less television and reading more. There is more food in my fridge and pantry. My laundry loads are noticeably smaller.

And I don't like it one bit.

Last Wednesday, Miss L moved into the dorms, leaving me with just two critters at home instead of the comfy chaos of three offspring that feels like a family. And even though getting more sleep at night is great, I admit I miss the late-night laugh fests of "30 Rock" and sob-sagas of "House," coupled with detailed reviews of each day's activities.

Not to mention the obvious: I'M NOW THE ONLY FEMALE IN A HOUSE FULL OF BOYS.

Still, watching her settle into her 10x10 corner of independence, bedecked with all things green and butterflied, was pretty cool. She's already auditioned for a play. Prepared dinners, made friends, worked in her university job. Trekked across campus without getting lost, and even admitted that her Book of Mormon professor is cool.

So she's moved out of my house and into her life. But it's a great life and she's one smart cookie. I feel pretty lucky to be her mom.

And she still plans to come home for the long Labor Day weekend.

And I like that a lot.

Take My Fridge... Please!

Last week, we finished a nearly yearlong kitchen remodel. The floors are now a walnutty chocolate, the granite is mesmerizing, and the new cream cabinets are cheery... and don't match the WHITE appliances at all. So, we're finishing with a big budget bang of all four new appliances in stainless steel (fridge, dishwasher, micro and stove).

The big truck full of workers ready to install the gismos will arrive on Labor Day--yah, ironic, I know--so everything must go! Drastically reduced prices! Fabulous bargains! Selling to the bare walls!

To move the items, I turned to my favorite addiction in the world: KSL classifieds. This little gem is like a giant garbage disposal that spits out money whenever you feed it your unwanted chud. Even better, it is almost instant gratification: today, I actually SOLD my fridge within TWO MINUTES of posting it online... and my dishwasher didn't even get posted before it sold. Someone calling on another appliance bought the washer even before I had a chance to hit the "submit" button.

It's like a garage sale without the peering neighbors, awkward sifting, or dispirited haul to DI after the fact. I'm in de-clutter heaven!

I've also learned that my price-to-value-o-meter is irreparably broken. Because I'm inherently unsentimental, I tend to underprice my junk to avoid the disappointment of it languishing unsold. Instead, people are shocked when they call. Giddy when they buy. Joyous when they find out that the price I'm asking is for something that actually WORKS. I'm like some sort of Second-Hand Santa, ho ho ho-ing my way to thrift store nirvana.

So now: what else can I sell? Hmm. Kids, time to lock up your closets!