So there was a recent discussion on cleanliness and I thought I would share my TOP 10 Cleanliness Secrets - CRISSY STYLE. Try em', you'll love em'! (I wrote this list a few years ago, but I always pull it out to reshare)
1. Never put the dishes in the dishwasher until NOT ONE MORE dirty dish will fit in that sink. (Such a daily time saver). As a side note, never wash the dishes until NOT ONE MORE dish can fit into the DISHWASHER.
2. If your cat or dog pukes on your carpet, don't clean it right away. Cleaning it right away means dealing with a nasty stain, not to mention puky matter. Wait AT LEAST 48 hours, preferably 72 hours. At that point all you have to do is pick up or vacuum the DRY matter, then do a once over with carpet cleaner. Such a time saver, if you can stand to walk over the puke for 3 days (which I so can.)
3. When washing clothes, don't separate darks and lights and whites. There is no need. Just wash them all together. I have never had any clothes dye other clothes. The only time this might be a hazard is if an item of clothing is new, then you might want to wash it with like colors. Otherwise, just throw em' all in, HUGE Time Saver!!! (I have been doing this for about 10 years).
4. When your clothes say "Dry Clean Only", Whatever, don't listen. Just wash it. Don't dry it though, hang it to dry. I do this all of the time and I have never had an article of clothing ruined. Then again my wardrobe is from Old Navy. If it says "hand wash only" you had better listen though, as one of my sweaters is now going to an 8 year old at daycare.
5. Do you buy beer by the huge 24 pack boxes? If so, those are immediate Toy Boxes, you can place them in all corners of the house. Then you won't be walking on cars in the middle of the night.
6. Are any of you out there raking leaves? Why? All you have to do is mow them up a few times. It creates mulch which is actually GOOD for your lawn. I don't understand these people who are still raking leaves. And if you have SO MANY leaves that you can't just mulch them, well then get that little bag attachment on your mower. No one should be using a rake anymore.
7. Folding clothes right out of the dryer? Why? Who cares? Keep them in your clean laundry basket until you want to wear it again. (This only works with an Old Navy wardrobe).
8. Have a dog that poops a lot? Don't bother picking up the poop and putting it in an environmentally friendly bag for the recyclers to pick up. Just pick up the poop and put it in an area of the yard where you don't walk much, preferably one in a wooded or bushy area that is not noticeable and out of range from your nose. This recycles into the GROUND. It is nature's way! You people are working too hard.
9. Don't wash your jeans every time you wear them. You can wear them at least 3-5 times. (this I am just learning) Unless you smell. Same with towels after a shower. Sheets I would recommend weekly if you have a dog that sleeps with you. If you don't have a dog you can wash sheets every OTHER week.
10. Dusting every week? Why? Who cares. Dust when you have company coming over. Same with making your bed. There is no reason to do it.
And there you have my top 10 cleanly secrets!
Here's to having more time for fun! This is JUST ME! - Crissy
Showing posts with label Minneapolis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Minneapolis. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
The Mortician's Daughter
Growing up the daughter of a mortician is an interesting upbringing. I saw my first dead body at age 5. Dead bodies just weren't a big deal to me. I would often go to work with my dad and watch him work (embalm bodies). My dad was very funny and strange, and so were the other morticians. I guess you would have to be, to be in that business. Being there was always a lot of fun. When I was really little they would all let me try out all of the coffins and lay in them. That is really sort of creepy if I think back about it.
There were some things that happened that were a bit odd though...for example, I remember one time my dad bringing home some white sneakers with flecks of blood on them. A woman was wearing them when she was hit by a car and died. My dad thought I would like the shoes. He said to me, "Mom can get the blood right out of those..."
One other time he brought home a pair of grey sweatpants. He held them up to me and said "Looks like they'll fit." Turns out they were worn on a teenaged boy who hung himself in his parents' basement. Those grey sweatpants sat folded on a table in the laundry room for 2 years because no one wanted to touch them. My point is, what totally freaks out a normal person, is an every day sort of occurrence to a mortician...you know, perfectly good clothes that shouldn't go to waste. Ewwwww!
I remember one of my first dates with my boyfriend at the time, who is now my husband, was spent at the mortuary. We were hanging out there while my dad worked and embalmed bodies. We were playing cards and there was a ROW of feet in front of us - dead bodies waiting for their turn in the embalming room. My dad even let me put makeup on a corpse that night. It was creepy doing her nails and putting on her makeup - she was stiff, like a doll, not human... My dad was a big jokester and would have a blast at work while he worked on the bodies. But, then the phone would ring and he would immediately become another person because the person on the other end of the line was most likely someone who had a family member just die and need someone to come pick it up. So, he would immediately switch from the jokester to a sincere, soft spoken and caring man. It really was amazing to see...like a light switch.
One other time I was clearing out the garage of my parents' home and I found an actual body...ok not a real body, but a cremated one! I found the ashes of someone in a box with their name and dates of birth and death. It had been there since the 1970's. I asked my dad about it and he said he must have put it on the shelf for some reason and forgot about it. He said that a lot of people would not pick up ashes of loved ones, or that person didn't have relatives, and so those ashes would just sit on a shelf in the mortuatry forever. How sad. He must have had it in his hearse and then set it on the shelf for some reason. So anyway, that "body" was returned to the mortuary, and there she will sit for probably, eternity.
I'm trying to think of more interesting stories and I realized there are just too many and this blog could go on forever. It certainly was an interesting childhood growing up the daughter of a mortician. Have you ever seen My Girl (the movie)? I always loved that movie because it reminded me of my life. So anyway, maybe I will share more stories someday about being the Mortician's Daughter. I even wanted to be a mortician when I grew up but then I realized how hard Science and Chemistry are and I said FORGET THAT SH*T! :-)
There were some things that happened that were a bit odd though...for example, I remember one time my dad bringing home some white sneakers with flecks of blood on them. A woman was wearing them when she was hit by a car and died. My dad thought I would like the shoes. He said to me, "Mom can get the blood right out of those..."
One other time he brought home a pair of grey sweatpants. He held them up to me and said "Looks like they'll fit." Turns out they were worn on a teenaged boy who hung himself in his parents' basement. Those grey sweatpants sat folded on a table in the laundry room for 2 years because no one wanted to touch them. My point is, what totally freaks out a normal person, is an every day sort of occurrence to a mortician...you know, perfectly good clothes that shouldn't go to waste. Ewwwww!
I remember one of my first dates with my boyfriend at the time, who is now my husband, was spent at the mortuary. We were hanging out there while my dad worked and embalmed bodies. We were playing cards and there was a ROW of feet in front of us - dead bodies waiting for their turn in the embalming room. My dad even let me put makeup on a corpse that night. It was creepy doing her nails and putting on her makeup - she was stiff, like a doll, not human... My dad was a big jokester and would have a blast at work while he worked on the bodies. But, then the phone would ring and he would immediately become another person because the person on the other end of the line was most likely someone who had a family member just die and need someone to come pick it up. So, he would immediately switch from the jokester to a sincere, soft spoken and caring man. It really was amazing to see...like a light switch.
One other time I was clearing out the garage of my parents' home and I found an actual body...ok not a real body, but a cremated one! I found the ashes of someone in a box with their name and dates of birth and death. It had been there since the 1970's. I asked my dad about it and he said he must have put it on the shelf for some reason and forgot about it. He said that a lot of people would not pick up ashes of loved ones, or that person didn't have relatives, and so those ashes would just sit on a shelf in the mortuatry forever. How sad. He must have had it in his hearse and then set it on the shelf for some reason. So anyway, that "body" was returned to the mortuary, and there she will sit for probably, eternity.
I'm trying to think of more interesting stories and I realized there are just too many and this blog could go on forever. It certainly was an interesting childhood growing up the daughter of a mortician. Have you ever seen My Girl (the movie)? I always loved that movie because it reminded me of my life. So anyway, maybe I will share more stories someday about being the Mortician's Daughter. I even wanted to be a mortician when I grew up but then I realized how hard Science and Chemistry are and I said FORGET THAT SH*T! :-)
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The Full One
So I talked about my 2 half siblings, so it's only fair I make a blog about my full one. My sister is 3 1/2 years older than me. We are polar opposites! I mean entirely.
She is tall and really thin, like Ally McBeal skinny. I am shorter and average weight. Our hair is both dark brown (mine is darker) but our faces are not alike (at least I don't think so). She was a ballerina growing up, I was into sports (gymnastics, softball and swimming). She is VERY clean. I am VERY messy. She is OCD - to the tee. Everything in it's place, everything dusted, beds made, etc. I am polar opposite of that. I HATE order. I HATE routine and rules. My house is messy cuz I don't like to clean. Don't get me wrong, I love a clean house and wish it would stay that way, but with myself, my hubby, 3 kids and a dog, it doesn't stay clean for long, and I'm not about to spend all day every day keeping it orderly when I would rather play with my kids, watch tv, or just SIT on the couch :)
And, I don't really understand how we can be so opposite when we both had the same exact upbringing. My mom is a pack rat so I got that from her. But I'm even messier than she was. My sister's room was always clean. She obsessed about her room but knew the rest of the house was a lost cause, except for ONE chair. The ONE chair in the living room had to have a STRAIGHT blanket on it and I would mess up that blanket just to bug her, almost every day. HA!
Before we all (my friends, my sister and I) had kids, we would go to parties at each other's houses on the weekends. We all loved going to my sister's house because we could mess with her. She had a bench in the front area of her home and she would measure it out by straightness by placing 2 fingers between the bench and the wall on either side. So we would always bring it out just slightly on one side. We would turn her ballerina nicknacks around on the shelf so some were facing the back or the side. We would tilt pictures on the wall or tilt pillows on her couch. Then, the game was to see how long she noticed everything we had done. It never took more than 5 minutes. CRAZY! One time at Christmas time she had a big party and there was a Christmas tree with TONS of presents underneath it. My friend came over and placed a tiny gift in the pile (it was not bigger than 3 inches). A few minutes later my sister came into the room and said, "Oh, who brought me a present?" JUST INSANE I TELL YOU!
So, yeah, that is my sister in a nutshell. She is very OCD and orderly. She is a different mom than me too. Her kids are never dirty and pick up their toys every night. They like coming to my house and they love eating on my bed because at home they are only allowed to eat at the table. It's funny to me. My nephew will say to people, "My Auntie Cris, she has NO rules!" HAHAHA!
I guess I figure life is too short to worry about the small stuff. So...come over, eat on my bed and get crumbs all over, I couldn't care less! :-)
She is tall and really thin, like Ally McBeal skinny. I am shorter and average weight. Our hair is both dark brown (mine is darker) but our faces are not alike (at least I don't think so). She was a ballerina growing up, I was into sports (gymnastics, softball and swimming). She is VERY clean. I am VERY messy. She is OCD - to the tee. Everything in it's place, everything dusted, beds made, etc. I am polar opposite of that. I HATE order. I HATE routine and rules. My house is messy cuz I don't like to clean. Don't get me wrong, I love a clean house and wish it would stay that way, but with myself, my hubby, 3 kids and a dog, it doesn't stay clean for long, and I'm not about to spend all day every day keeping it orderly when I would rather play with my kids, watch tv, or just SIT on the couch :)
And, I don't really understand how we can be so opposite when we both had the same exact upbringing. My mom is a pack rat so I got that from her. But I'm even messier than she was. My sister's room was always clean. She obsessed about her room but knew the rest of the house was a lost cause, except for ONE chair. The ONE chair in the living room had to have a STRAIGHT blanket on it and I would mess up that blanket just to bug her, almost every day. HA!
Before we all (my friends, my sister and I) had kids, we would go to parties at each other's houses on the weekends. We all loved going to my sister's house because we could mess with her. She had a bench in the front area of her home and she would measure it out by straightness by placing 2 fingers between the bench and the wall on either side. So we would always bring it out just slightly on one side. We would turn her ballerina nicknacks around on the shelf so some were facing the back or the side. We would tilt pictures on the wall or tilt pillows on her couch. Then, the game was to see how long she noticed everything we had done. It never took more than 5 minutes. CRAZY! One time at Christmas time she had a big party and there was a Christmas tree with TONS of presents underneath it. My friend came over and placed a tiny gift in the pile (it was not bigger than 3 inches). A few minutes later my sister came into the room and said, "Oh, who brought me a present?" JUST INSANE I TELL YOU!
So, yeah, that is my sister in a nutshell. She is very OCD and orderly. She is a different mom than me too. Her kids are never dirty and pick up their toys every night. They like coming to my house and they love eating on my bed because at home they are only allowed to eat at the table. It's funny to me. My nephew will say to people, "My Auntie Cris, she has NO rules!" HAHAHA!
I guess I figure life is too short to worry about the small stuff. So...come over, eat on my bed and get crumbs all over, I couldn't care less! :-)
Friday, August 12, 2011
Halfises Part 2: The Poor Life of W
OK…yesterday I talked about my half brother on my dad’s side. Today I will talk about my half sister on my mom’s side. This story will take a bit longer to tell. My mom was first married to a man named Morris. The reason I’m sharing his name is because the name is just hilarious. I used to have a t-shirt with Morris the cat on it, and whenever I wore it, it would make me think of my mom’s first husband. He is dead now. My mom found out a few years ago that he had been dead awhile and she said, “Oh.” It was so weird to me that she was once married and in love with this man, and had a child with him and then years and a life-time later she didn’t even know if he was alive or dead. Together they had a daughter I will call W. All I know about Morris is that he was a “liar” and she never really loved him. Fair enough.
Then she married another guy who I will call E. All I know about E is that she was only married to him for a few months, he was an alcoholic, and then he died. Hmmm. Ok. Kind of odd. We only found out about him after scrounging through drawers one night that my sister was babysitting me. We came across a photo of my mom in a newspaper with a really weird last name that we didn’t recognize. Then we confronted her about it. That’s when she seemed upset and told us the shortened version of their “marriage.”
So then my mom married my dad. My mom’s daughter, W, wanted to finish up high school with my mom’s mom (Grandma). So my mom and dad moved to the cities and W stayed on the farm with Grandma. Apparently, my mom and W never got along very well. This is hard for me to understand since my mom and I are very close.
When W was 16 she went to a picnic with friends, on her horse. Her horse’s name was Peanut. Well one of her drunken friends wanted to ride Peanut but he scared the horse and the horse took off running. W hitched a ride with friends in a car to go find her horse. The seen they came upon mere minutes later was one that I can only imagine as “horrific.” Her horse had been hit by a truck and died on the side of the road. The driver of the truck was rushed to a hospital with injuries unknown. W and a few friends decided to go to the hospital to see if the driver would be ok. It turns out he would live.
On their way home from the hospital, the driver of the car W was in had been drinking too, and he hit another car head on. Both drivers were killed instantly. Is this day bad or what? W was thrown from the car but lived. The others in the car survived as well. But maybe W would have been better off if she had died that day too. She has severe brain damage. She was in a coma for 3 months. They didn’t even set her broken leg because they didn’t expect her to live, so one leg is 3 inches shorter then the other. Her long-term memory is in tact but she basically doesn’t have a short-term memory.
I only see her about once a year when my mom and I go to the “home” she lives in and bring her birthday presents in November. She smells. She doesn’t brush her teeth (and god knows why no one else there does) so they are rotten. My mom tells them over and over to get her teeth fixed but she has little control now that W is a ward of the state. W keeps rotten apples in her purse and offers you gum that appears to be 3 years old, that snaps when you accept it. The thing that is hard is that W doesn’t even remember we were there. That is, I think, why the visits from my mom have dwindled down to once per year.
W will still talk about the dog my mom had when W was little, or she will talk about Gramma and Grampa like they aren’t dead. She just doesn’t have a clue. And, it’s really sad. I think a lot about “what could have been.” She was so beautiful as a teen, with long straight brown hair. She was a VERY talented artist and she taught herself how to play the guitar fluently. I like to think she and my sister and I would all be sort of close. She would probably be married with kids of her own and those little “ghost children who will never come to be” would be so cute and fun and full of life.
There have been some crazy stories about her over the years. She had a “boyfriend” at one time who was basically a pedofile criminal who kidnapped her from her “handicap home”. They ran off and got married and she was eventually found living with him in a van with 3 cats. He was obviously arrested. Anyway, it’s just a sad life full of so many “what ifs” and I try not to think about her too often. She is in her late 50’s now.
I still have a few boxes full of her things from high school: a diary with typical teenage rumors and gossip, a bunch of horse riding ribbons, goddy jewelry that she loved, yearbooks, photos of her dad, photos of her as a baby, a toddler, a child, and a teen…a life that was never really lived, all stored in 3 boxes in my basement. Oh, W, how your life could have been…so very beautiful.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Halfsies Part 1: Dysfunction with L
Yesterday in my first post I mentioned that I have 2 half siblings. Well it’s sort of a strange story. I will start with my dad’s side. My dad was married once before to a lady I will call P. He had a son who I will call L. Then he and P divorced when L was 3. From what I have heard, P married a new guy soon after and wanted to move to Arizona. They asked my dad for permission and though he didn’t want them to move, he relented.
The new guy adopted L. I don’t think I could let someone do this. I would have fought more. But for whatever reason, that is how it went down. According to my mom, they sent letters to L, but P never showed them to him. He grew up not knowing his dad. And sadly enough, his new father by adoption, left him and P shortly thereafter, so he grew up with a last name of someone he didn’t even know.
Needless to say, I finally got to meet my half brother, but not until I was 14, and it was his wedding day. It was strange meeting my “brother” who was in his 20’s or 30’s by this time. I got to watch him hug my dad (his dad) for the first time since he was 3.
He lives in Texas now and I don’t know him very well. I am friends with his wife and kids on facebook so we share things once in awhile. Their family came to my wedding and both of my sister’s weddings (she was married twice). He is an anesthesiologist, so very smart and very busy. Our family went down to visit him for a week when I was in college. When we were together he would call our dad “your dad.” He would say, “Your dad said this, or did this.” (even though he is his dad too…just kind of awkward and weird.)
The thing is that growing up, I always wanted a brother. I had my sister and we got along well enough but I always wanted a bigger family. So, I made up a brother named Julian. I even drew what Julian looked like. He had longer curly black hair. He was tall and lanky. He would play the drums and then I would yell at him "Be Quiet, Julian!" (see I told you I was kind of strange). So yeah, Julian was my pretend brother. And, when I found out I had a real brother somewhere, I dreamed of the day I could meet him. But though he is my brother by blood, I don't really know him as a person, and that is a bit sad. It is what it is I guess.
Then there is my mom’s side. You know what? I think that should be a whole blog post of it’s own because the story is so long and sad and strange and I have to think of how to say it… Until next time!!!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
My first blog!
So you would think I would have a blog by now, but I don't. Well now I do, I guess. Since I am a writer and writing comes easy for me and I do actually enjoy it, it is surprising that I don't have a blog. Well I do now I guess. I really don't know what I will talk about here or if I will keep up on it but I hope that I do. So what should my first post be about? Where do I begin? From the beginning? The middle? The present? hmmmmmm.
The beginning...I was born in 1975. So I guess that makes me...well, kinda old (35). But I don't feel old. I still feel like I'm 25. I have one "full" sister. She is almost 4 years older than me. I call her full cuz I have a couple of "halfsies." My mom and dad were both married before. They each have one kid. Their kids are both super old. By super old I mean like 40's and 50's. They could be my parents. Well maybe not. But they are still old. I didn't grow up with them. I hardly know them. I guess details about them can come up in a later blog.
I grew up in a cute little suburb in Minneapolis. And I still live there. I love it. I don't want to be anywhere else. It's so nice and has a small town feel even though it is very near the big Twin Cities area. My upbringing was pretty normal. My parents didn't have the greatest marriage but that, I realize now, has to do with the fact that my dad had bipolar much of his adult life. The thing is, we didn't discover this until about 2 years ago. We always just thought he was an alcoholic. Boy were we wrong.
I guess I'm sharing a lot on my first blog. But I will share a lot more and go into more detail in posts to come, about everything I mentioned above. I am now married to my highschool sweetheart. We have 3 kids. I am a graphic designer. I love animals. I love cheese. I really like to sneeze. I'm kinda weird. I think this is enough for the day. I hope you will enjoy reading about my life, my views, and anything else I decide to share here because this, after all...is JUST ME.
The beginning...I was born in 1975. So I guess that makes me...well, kinda old (35). But I don't feel old. I still feel like I'm 25. I have one "full" sister. She is almost 4 years older than me. I call her full cuz I have a couple of "halfsies." My mom and dad were both married before. They each have one kid. Their kids are both super old. By super old I mean like 40's and 50's. They could be my parents. Well maybe not. But they are still old. I didn't grow up with them. I hardly know them. I guess details about them can come up in a later blog.
I grew up in a cute little suburb in Minneapolis. And I still live there. I love it. I don't want to be anywhere else. It's so nice and has a small town feel even though it is very near the big Twin Cities area. My upbringing was pretty normal. My parents didn't have the greatest marriage but that, I realize now, has to do with the fact that my dad had bipolar much of his adult life. The thing is, we didn't discover this until about 2 years ago. We always just thought he was an alcoholic. Boy were we wrong.
I guess I'm sharing a lot on my first blog. But I will share a lot more and go into more detail in posts to come, about everything I mentioned above. I am now married to my highschool sweetheart. We have 3 kids. I am a graphic designer. I love animals. I love cheese. I really like to sneeze. I'm kinda weird. I think this is enough for the day. I hope you will enjoy reading about my life, my views, and anything else I decide to share here because this, after all...is JUST ME.
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