Tuesday, February 23, 2010


Hey! I'm a guest over here all week! Come by and check out this wonderful blog, which celebrates the lives and work of ordinary women.

I have the weirdest job in the world, given my domestic limitations.

My real living room, as it is at this very moment. I've already taught several lessons in here today. I keep my pride in a closet, along with my belts and other items I gave up on years ago. The orange sticky note affixed to the piano is a reminder of the story one student told me last week. She got caught with handcuffs in class, and she told her teacher that she needed them for a religious play she was rehearsing in anticipation of her First Communion in a couple of months. Without batting an eye, she explained that the play was called "Handcuffed to Jesus", and she really needed those cuffs back because the nuns had lost theirs. I'm not even kidding.

Every week, 35 piano students and their parents traipse through my living room. This wouldn't be so bad, if I could also claim that at least one of them is wielding a vacuum cleaner. Or a dust cloth. Or GPS to locate the Jehovah's Witnesses I promised could share their message with me if they could first locate the couch. It's a trick, of course. Most days, Indiana Jones couldn't find my couch. I figure I've got a whole congregation of JW's in there playing 'Marco Polo' and hoping someone thinks to toss in some manna before they starve to death. I'm sorry, people, let this be a lesson to you. We Mormons have no patience for religious fanatics.

Every now and then, having people in my house gives me the chance to see my life the way others must see it. This isn't a pleasant experience, and it is usually followed by a peanut butter M&M bender which can go for days if I have enough bags on hand.

I took some pictures, which I am going to share with you now. Please note two things: One, I uploaded digital images to my blog, and it only required twelve hours and sacrificing a Geek Squad Agent to the gods of technology, so, you know, well done me, and Two, I didn't include any pictures of my bathroom because I didn't want the FCC giving me static about broadcasting inappropriate content without including the proper warnings.

Now, if you thought to bring a Sherpa with you and therefore have made it through the front door, straight ahead is my kitchen.

Keen observers will notice that I have a ridiculous amount of counter space, and so many cupboards I could lease them out as sleep tubes to Japanese corporations. Nevertheless, I have managed to cover nearly every square inch of those counters with items that have just one thing in common, that being they have no function whatsoever in your standard kitchen.

To your right is my purse; on its left is my wallet, which will remain there as later today I dash out to pick up a few items for dinner before the next batch of victims show up for their piano lessons. No trip to the store is complete without my stretching my arms heavenward and wailing, "NOOOOOO!" upon discovering that I have, for the two-thousandth consecutive shopping trip, left my debit card at home.

The red thing is an empty vase. It used to have some beautiful Valentine's flowers in it, but they died. A week later, we threw them out.

If you push "Ctrl" and scroll the little wheel on your mouse, the picture gets bigger or smaller depending on the direction of the scroll (all you blind old ladies like me, you're welcome). Doing this will allow you to observe that there are dishes on the counters and in the sink.

"Hey!" you say, "Dishes belong in a kitchen!" Which just shows how much you know. My family hasn't eaten in the kitchen for a decade. And our dishwasher went rogue back in October, so now we wash the dishes by hand. And by "wash the dishes by hand" I mean, "toss them in the trash at the end of the week and buy stock in Dixie products."

Of course, tossing anything in the trash is problematic around here. Observe photo three:

Yes, I took a photo of my garbage can. I've learned from Kristina that you can't have too many illustrations in your blog posts. She is the wind beneath my skirt, she really is.

Those of you who are swift of mind will already have observed that this silver tube is the approximate size and shape of a Pringles can. Toss two paper cups and a stamp into it and it overflows all over the house.

There are six large, food-consuming, trash-producing humans and a golden retriever with a shoe-destroying fettish living in this place, and I've finally decided we need a garbage can worthy of our talents. Here's hoping Dumpsters come in decorator colors.

However, there is one thing that you can always count on to make any trip to my home worthwhile. Rain or shine, I am always here. I'm such a hermit I make The Boy in the Plastic Bubble look like a nomad. And if you catch me on a good day, like on Thursdays right after Institute, when I'm still wearing a skirt and my hot tamale heels, then you will be priveleged to drink in THESE...

That's right, girls. Those are my legs. I've been telling you for some time now that I have the foxiest legs ever to support a torso developed by Pillsbury. I'm pretty sure there is a stork or an Ikea table in my ancestry, because no matter how much...um...life experience I pack into my waistband, I can always depend on a nice, streamlined taper from the tops of my perfectly curved calves to the ends of my evenly tipped toes.

Which, of course, explains a lot. Who would ever expect a pair of legs like these to push a Hoover around the floor? Come on! Think the Rockettes clean their own floors?

No. They. Do. Not.

Nor, apparently, do piano teachers. And that's probably just as well. I'm pretty sure slurping up a band of wandering Jehovah's Witnesses plays unholy havoc with vacuum bags.

Or so I would imagine.


Kristina P. said...

I can see your knickers! And seriously you have better legs than The Hoff!

Katherine said...

Awesome! I'm not quite to the point where I'm brave enough to publish pictures of how dirty our house is. I still like to delude people into thinking we've got it all pulled together. But honestly, when the 3-year-old comments about how dirty the floor is, it may be time to sweep. But, even then, I usually just give him the Swiffer and let him play house.

Happy Mom said...

I can't tell you how impressed I am that you uploaded pictures!!!! You go girl!!!

I would feel right at home in your house and am impressed with your calves!! I'm built much the same and have quite the shapely calves. Impressive unless you glance upwards to my semi-truck sized spare tire.

L.T. Elliot said...

You're right. I couldn't even find Waldo in there. PUH-LEASE! You're house is so clean it virtually looks sparse! ;)

And your legs? Is your husband that cartoon wolf because I bet his eyes are always coming out of his head. =]

Sher said...

I feel your pain! Back in the old days, when I used to have 30 some ot piano students, my house was ALWAYS in disarray, and my children also roamed the street unsupervised.
However, I have been in your house, and it was beautiful, clean, and uh, beautiful!
(Folks--I've also seen her bathroom!)

p.s. you have the sexiest legs I ever seen. I never vaccum, and my legs don't look that good!

Migillicutty said...

You call that living room dirty???

No comprendo.

SRSLY, did you see the pictures of MY (Ok, it's my Mom's) living room back in December? Hey, I posted messy living room... and then YOU posted messy (NOT messy) living room... I'm a trendsetter... cool :)

And congrats on uploading pictures!!!

M-Cat said...

At least you can see enough to know that you are IN the kitchen. I'm working on that one.

Kimberly said...

No. Fair.

There are some pretty serious attrocities I would commit for those legs...

I keep meaning to post pictures of my house (it's been on my bloggy to do list for a month or so). I feel inspired now...even though mine is WAY messier than yours.


Seriously. Way.

Wonder Woman said...

Sounds like we're built similarly -- foxy legs, well-endowed mid-section. You're smart to have moved to Vegas where you can show those babies off year round. It's one of the reasons I hate winter.

And seriously, your messy house has nothing on mine. But I'm glad you posted a pic of it.

Wonder Woman said...

Just for kicks, here's a post I did a while in response to an anonymous commenter wondering if my kids ran a muck when I blogged.


annie valentine said...

Now those are some sexy gams, seriously girl, best profile picture ever.

Thora said...

Man, I've never had legs that good. I never will, either (and I'm still in my twenties, when I aught to be at the top of my game). Also, I thought your living room looked basically spotless. I guess it's all in comparison, huh?

Jami said...

Mighty fine legs there. And I hereby declare your home just fine.

Maureen said...

You have Betty Grable legs (not Bette Davis eyes)!! You are a foxy chick inside and out. Loved the pix!

Stacy said...

Um, I just posted a post exactly like this not five minutes ago. Tee-hee! I am sitting here staring at the mess that is my house and willing it to clean itself. There has to be a self-clean feature here somewhere!

And I'm giggling at the post-it note, because I have one just like it hanging off my music stand. It has the name of one of my student's accompanists. Why I need that permanantly affized to my music stand I don't know.

And just today, I was in the checkout line trying to buy $250 in groceries with a screaming toddler who was intent on throwing my wallet as far as humanly possible, when I realized that my debit card was in the ATM where I left it yesterday.

We might be living the same life.

Lara said...

Okay, I realize everyone has already said it, but those legs? They rock. I am jealous. And also, I am jealous of your shoes.

And I was so enamored by your sexy legs that I have completely forgotten anything else you have posted about.

Amber said...

Lady, my house could kick your house's trash. For real. Today my daughter managed to dump 3 boxes of crackers on the floor. And, I didn't clean them up. Nope. I let the carpet soak them up. I'm not sure my husband was impressed.

Kazzy said...

*Cat call, whistle, etc etc* I want to know who you asked to take the photo and what you said.

I think your home looks lovingly lived in. Kitchen counters are for papers, bills, keys, etc.

The Garden of Egan said...

Uh, some Japanese guy just called and left a message to let him out of the sleeping pod in the kitchen.
Help him out will ya?
Yes, your countertop space should be illegal....I hope you appreciate what you've got there. Sheesh! So not fair.
Ya, about those legs.......really? Are they yours or did you borrow them from one of the Rockettes? Pretty dang nice.
With legs like that who needs to cook and clean....after all you are living in Vegas.

becca said...

Has it really been weeks since I told you how much I love you? Oh, I do. Also I love your legs.And we have opposite bodies. I still have a waist (!!) but my legs look, and have always looked, like they came off my dad. (which, in a way, they did. He's sorry.)

The Damsel In DisDress said...

Here's my question. I watched the iPad introductory video and swooned, because I love geekery. But how could I justify it? And then...and then...I thought about the snowdrifts of music that is piled in my house (every Monday I "debulk" the piano of its towering stacks)...and then I wondered...what if that music was scanned and there was a single thing sitting there on the music rack...an iPad...and I could quickly find any piece I need...DeNae, am I delusional? Or could this dream really come true?

MommyJ said...

My legs look like tree trunks. I'm not kidding. Doesn't matter what state of slender or not so slender or totally pregnant I'm in... my legs are always one size. And it's tree trunk like. But that's life.

The trashcan in my mother's house looks like it belongs inside an amusement park. It's THAT big. She uses the oversized lawn and leaf bags inside. But no worries... she painted some decorative flowers on the top so it looks like it belonged in her kitchen. Except it doesn't. Now it just looks like an amusement park trashcan with flowers on top. But hey. It gets the job done.

Just like me legs.

Melanie J said...

Not that it's a contest but my kitchen could so kick the trash out of yours.

And seriously, VERY foxy legs. Whoo hoo!

Karen said...

At least you can FIND your counters. We haven't seen ours in months! I'm thinking of hanging signs around the neighborhood.

Steph @ Diapers and Divinity said...

I love peanut butter M&Ms. And you.

And, I'm totally going to take a picture of my legs someday, probably in the Spring when I think about shaving them again. But don't worry, they don't compete with yours. I just have no shame.

Kara Herron said...

Crap - you have really nice legs. I used to. Really. My legs were gorgeous. Not so much anymore. I've got to get working on that.

Oh, and I LUV that you're not perfect - just like me! ;-)

Amber Lynae said...

Thanks DeNae now I feel even worse that my house is messy because I looked at your pictures and thought how nice and clean everything was. Clean house and great legs... Man i butter get out the toilet brush I have some work to do.

Just ME the MOM said...

Ahhh, I can hardly get motivated to clean anymore, I keep hoping it's a hormonal problem kind of like menopause, eventually I'll outgrow it. But no such luck just yet . . .


AS Amber said...

I showed the picture of your legs to Tavis and asked if they were nice legs. His eyes got all "mmmmmm" like and he asked if they were mine. I said, "no, they're DeNae's". He was embarrassed.

K, seriously, people. You don't even know. Her counters go on for another quarter-mile to the right of that picture. And yes, you win the award for the smallest kitchen garbage can.

If your living room is messy then someone needs to get Hazmat over to my house 'cause...ya.

tammy said...

I am jealous.

Of your legs,

of your counter space,

and of your piano.

Jeannetta said...

If you call that a mess, you should really come visit my house!
Thanks for the Ctrl/scoll, I NEVER knew that! I love it when the computer works for me instead of me bowing to it!

Beka said...

You know, when I want my husband to get the hint that I really am excited about something, ie: what to get me for my birthday, I say something like, "That really blows my skirt up, I gotta say!"

He asked me to stop.