The STUFF Sisters
S. Sloane Simmons and Casey Simmons
Sisters and business partners sharing life's stuff....
Several days ago, while walking through the living room on my way to my bedroom, something caught my eye. New art in the living room …
A well-appointed home makes room for painter’s tape and Scotch tape.
My husband and I have lived in our historic home for over twenty-five years. We have started and completed many projects, with and without help. Early in our time here, we did most of the work ourselves. Plaster repair, painting, wall-to-wall carpet removal, flooring repair. We have light skills in electrical and plumbing. Continue reading “Classy”
SHARE THIS: 
When the new parameters for my behavior with shopping carts was agreed to by both parties, I instituted them on the very next visit, which was last Friday.
I am easing back into wanting to go the grocery store. As in, on one of my days off, when there isn’t a time crunch or a huge list to be purchased, I will enter the store. Alone or with my husband, I am easing back into what was a huge part of my life for so many years.
I have written before about myself and grocery stores. My last two trips to the store have been with my husband and almost a month apart. Both very different experiences. One got me a “talking to,” and the other, after following preset parameters from the “talking to,” got me a good dose of the stink eye.
Continue reading “Easing Back”
SHARE THIS: 
The musings of others ran from serious to humorous, insightful to flippant. I loved reading every word. These were my people on my planet in this epoch.
A week ago, my husband and I puttered around one of my favorite places, The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. There were several things I was itching to see, and the current show on Roman luxury was one of three inside the museum walls that was calling to me.
Near the end of our meanderings through the outstanding Luxury: Treasures of the Roman Empire exhibit, there was a great spot where the curators and museum staff provided little cards, pencils, and a spot to write what we thought luxury was in our lives. Now. Currently.
I wrote nothing down, because I wasn’t wanting to think that hard on that particular day. However, I read every piece on the large board. Handwritten tomes were held delicately to the fabric with satin ribbon. You just slid your thought in with the others and moved on with your life.
The musings of others ran from serious to humorous, insightful to flippant. I loved reading every word. These were my people on my planet in this epoch. This was important, as the Romans had proved in rooms right behind me.
The next morning, early, I realized exactly what I would have written: “freedom from alarm clocks”.
I was serious about it and found it very insightful.
p.s. Photo credits for the top three photos must go to Harl Van Deursen, who cracked up quietly at quite a few. The final photo belongs to me. I love the rays of daylight hitting the dusty bedside table.
p.p.s. I strongly recommend seeing the show at The Nelson. In addition, pop in and see the photo collections of Peter J. Cohen in Anonymous Art. Heck, while you’re at it, you can cry like I did at the new acquisition of Nick Cave’s Property. Wow.
SHARE THIS: 
I planned to write a blog today. I really did.
I planned to write a blog today. I really did.
Is it really 10:23pm already? Where does the time go?
SHARE THIS: 
We all turn into our parents and grandparents. I think I’m ready to talk about this.
I think I’m ready to talk about this.
On the premise that we all turn into our parents and grandparents, I have decided that I might most be like my dad’s dad, who saved old, used, no-longer-lightable light bulbs in cardboard boxes in his workshop. Or I might be like my mom’s dad, who used the very last of the Chapstick by digging out the remaining wax magic with a Q-tip and then proceeding with the application process in private.
Yep. That’s who I am most like. Cal Price.
I have used the same body lotion for over 30 years. Vaseline Intensive Care in the jumbo container with the pump. I have very sensitive skin, and I can’t just jump willy-nilly from brand to brand, or I will end up at the dermatologist with the rash to end all rashes. Been there, done that.
I will admit to using specialty lotions on elbows, ankles and kneecaps – Soaplogies shea butter in the lavender scent – but, on the whole, I am a Vaseline girl. I have lived through the scent changes, bottle re-designs, and various other attempts by them to knock me off course. But I’ve stayed true.
Even through this last bottle re-design where there is over TWO INCHES of lotion left in the bottom of the plastic bottle when the last squirt has been eased from the pump. It seems like the well is dry when in fact it is not!
So I have taken to using our serrated bread knife to saw through the plastic bottle – tossing the top in the recycle bin and the pump in the trash bin – and going after the lotion with my fingertips. There is usually several weeks of lotion remaining for use, and I just have to removed the very fancy – designed by me for easy access! – Cling Wrap topper for daily use.
I was too embarrassed to show the fancy plastic wrap lid in the photo above. I do have my principles.
Just like my grandfather who kept the Q-tips and old Chapstick tube in his bathroom drawer while the new Chapstick tube rode in his pocket with his change.
SHARE THIS: 
NOTE: These next few paragraphs will be chock-full of strong words and graphic images. They are not for the faint of heart….
I am in real pain. I know this to be true, because I gave birth vaginally 16+ years ago and this is worse. Every year I enter into this zone of pain, a place that was made for me genetically.
I have fingertips that split the minute the temperature drops, the swimming pools close, and my work load increases. One minute, all is well. Computer keystrokes and ink pen holding is painless. Minute two: there is blood on the keypad, and the pen unable to be lifted.
My grandmother – my mother’s mother – suffered from this horrible syndrome, and I paid little or no attention to her concerns or yearly warnings. She was the queen of lotions and personal nail & hand care. She had a file, a clipper, a buffer and cream for everything that ailed her hands. Still the splits came on with the drier weather. She was strong, but I saw her wince more than once when her hands entered warm soapy water with the dinner dishes.
I have never broken a bone – knock on wood. I have never been admitted to a hospital – OK, one night with the young man’s arrival. I take only two pills a day – one aspirin and one vitamin. I have only well-person visits to my retinue of doctors every year. I volunteer at a health clinic, but I only meet, plan and joke with the staff and board of directors.
This is real pain. It never stops throbbing. Band-Aids and Neosporin at night are no match for Nu-Skin during the day. Nu-Skin is my savior and drug of choice. However, my pain is so powerful that it only takes a few hours for me to break through the Nu-Skin crust and run gasping for the little bottle and miniscule brush when the oxygen reaches the nerve endings. Second and third coats are my nirvana. My increased fourth-quarter work load with packing tape, box cutters, labels and cardboard only adds to the workplace stressors.
At the end of a meeting the other day at the health clinic, I mentioned to the lead physician that I lived in fear of lymphoma entering my open wounds with my addiction to Nu-Skin. He looked at me like the crazy person I am and said, “Well, you could do what doctors do and use Super Glue.” This from a trusted professional and friend.
I suffer. I do.
If I’m not at work, here’s why: I’ll be out scouting new pain medication – maybe at the liquor store or possibly trying to score meth.
SHARE THIS: 
Below you will find evidence that I have an amazingly smart, witty and loving family. It is also evidence that they are crazy.
Below you will find evidence that I have an amazingly smart and witty family. It is also evidence that they are crazy. Warning: You may not want to be drinking hot coffee when you get to the end.
Cast of Characters:
Cathryn Simmons – my mother – who co-owns a local soap company.
Sloane Simmons – my sister – and co-owner of STUFF (with me).
Lori Buntin – artist at STUFF and co-owner of the soap company.
Harl Van Deursen – my brother in-law – Sloane’s husband and our tech guru at STUFF.
Dakota Van Deursen – my nephew – Sloane’s and Harl’s son.
Me.
I am sure this all for the betterment of my life.
SHARE THIS: 
My sister Casey and I spent some time this morning at work writing the fine print for an upcoming giveaway. We tried to write it using as few words as possible, but it is never few enough for me.
My sister Casey and I spent some time this morning at work writing the fine print for an upcoming giveaway. We tried to write it using as few words as possible, but it is never few enough for me. “Lawyer speak” steps in and before you know it, you’ve written 100 words to give one great thing away.
In my previous post, I shared a few signs that made me happy or smile. These signs – spotted after lunch today – just cracked me up. I guess whoever placed them there thought six signs could tell the story so much better than just one concise one.
It’s a struggle. I know.
SHARE THIS: 
I am beginning to almost embarrass my family with the camera I carry in my purse. I whip it out for the semi-serious family shots, but mostly I’m trying to capture things to not forget. The color of something. The mood of a moment. Whatever catches my eye.
I am beginning to almost embarrass my family with the camera I carry in my purse. I whip it out for the semi-serious family shots, but mostly I’m trying to capture things to not forget. The color of something. The mood of a moment. Whatever catches my eye.
In the past two weeks, I have had to take shots of signage I think is so ridiculously obvious. But it does make me pause to wonder what the impetus was to have the sign made in the first place. Something had to have gone horribly wrong to warrant a specialty sign.
Like this one at on the wall at the parking lot at the orthodontist:
Duh.
Or this one that just plain cracked me up:
With so many non-working buttons to chose from, it would be hard to choose without the written help.
Pure silliness.
SHARE THIS: 
Last week I went to my niece’s art fair at her school. It is for the students in grades K thru 8, and it encompasses all pieces from their year in art class.
Last week I went to my niece’s art fair at her school. It is for the students in grades K thru 8, and it encompasses all pieces from their year in art class. I went to this show for nine years when my son was at the same school, and it is my favorite event. Children pull their parents – tugging really – to their artwork. God help the parent that has more than one child, because they risk bone dislocation.
This year, this piece was my favorite in the entire show:
The colors weren’t captured well in the softly lit gymnasium. It was captivating and is the work of a 4th grader. I don’t know what the process was, but it struck a chord. And what’s not to love when mounted to colored construction paper?
This was my niece’s favorite in the entire show. Clarification: her favorite that wasn’t of her own hand.
Her favorite of her pieces is here:
She called me out on the fact that my favorite wasn’t one that she had labored over. I talked myself deftly out of that by letting her know I had to take her pieces out of the running in able to even be able to vote at all. I didn’t go into the ethical practices of jurying an art show – something I use in my work on occasion.
Not my first rodeo.
SHARE THIS: 
