A Shitty August

*Forgive the crappy iphone pics in this post...my 'good' camera wasn't available, maybe I'll take some better ones another day :)*

Okay, so my mom always buys us calendars every year. Seriously, every year. She gets each of the kids one and then she gets one for Seth and I to share. I’ve always lovingly teased her about it; we’ll be at the store near the end of the year and I’ll see a cute calendar for the upcoming year and I tell myself, “Self, you don’t need to buy that calendar because your mother will be shipping you a box of goodies and calendars will be included.” Or when we get the ‘Christmas box’ from her, we unload all the presents to put them around the tree and the kids all know that the thin, square-shaped ones are the calendars. It’s a tradition she’s done since I can remember. But this year, when they came to visit for Christmas…she forgot the calendars at home. Dun dun duuuuun…*cue suspenseful music*

So I decided I wanted to make one. First, I tried my hand at Photoshop (you may recall my previous Photoshop woes here), but I swear you need a PhD in photoshopology to make that damn program work. So then I decided to check out the calendar templates where you can simply pick the photos you want and Photoshop does the rest, but I didn’t like any of the templates. I wanted to make my own design, but alas, I am not a photoshoptolgist and therefore couldn’t make one from scratch with my nonexistent photoshop skills. Ugh, my heart rate increases just thinking about it.

After walking away from my computer and eating a piece of pumpkin pie with far too much cool whip on it, I had calmed down enough to revisit my inner calendar making self, and that’s when I decided to use Pages (think of it as Mac’s version of Word). And I sorta liked what I came up with, but it still looked fairly standard and typical, like a customized photo calendar you’d buy online. And if you know me, you know that I’m not one for standard or typical. I mean, come on, I have a cardboard rhino as décor on my sideboard, tealish blue dining chairs and a fish bowl hanging on my wall, just to name a few.

       

Not.typical.

So I decided to forego the photo idea and go with some quotes.

January - Today's a new day

February - I'm Yours

March - That's my birfday song

April - Baby, wanna eat at Roosters?

May - It's my body

June - Boyfriend/girlfriend time?

July - Do not...touch

August - Eat shit and die.

September - What she waaaants?

October - Don't be scurred

November - For Better or Worse

December - Sang out

I simply picked phrases that we use around our house often. Most of them inside jokes, therefore they would make no sense to anyone outside our home. Some of them, however, are universal; the hubby and I were sitting on the couch last night watching TV as I was fiddling around with my calender project and as I filled in the first 5 or so months I asked him for his input, “Give me one babe, I feel like I’m picking them all.” Seth replied with, “Hmm, how ‘bout…’Eat shit and die.’” I just gave him ‘the look,’ scrolled down to August (his birth month) and typed “Eat shit and die.” He laughed. I continued with ‘the look.’

Here's this month's in all it's glory in our kitchen:  

Most are silly, one is sentimental (November, the month we got married is simply, "For Better or Worse"), one is vulgar (cough, cough, Seth, cough, cough), but some are super cereal (that’s my way of saying ‘serious,’ btw). Like January: Today is a new day. A few years ago, when I was dealing with a health issue, Seth would just know that some days were harder for me than others and one particularly tough morning, before heading to school, he said, “Remember, today’s a new day, Love.” Short. Sweet. Simple. And just what I needed to hear.

So while we may be quirky with our ceramic animals, unlikely wall décor and vulgar language, our calendar reminds us what we are, the places we’ve been, and where, exactly, we wish to go. Who would’ve thought a little ol’ calendar could do that?

And with my luck, the Pope will come visit our home in August. And as he’s making a cup of coffee he’ll see our little calendar hanging on the side of the fridge, at which point, he promptly save a place in hell for us. At least I'll have my boo with me.

Spicy,

Lor