Four years ago today I became a first-time homeowner.

My own first house. Well, our own first house… me and Steve had made the big purchase together, as a soon-to-be-married couple. And we made it our home.

I felt old at the time, but I was only 23. That year, 2004, was a big year for me. I graduated from college, got engaged and bought my first house… and by December of that year, I was a newlywed.

But 4 years ago today was all about the new house. I remember walking into it and feeling very overwhelmed at the many tasks at hand.

It was a little white ranch built in 1952. There were only 2 owners before us. The owner right before us, who purchased the house in the late 1950’s, had recently passed away and his daughter put the house on the market.

It needed work. A lot of it. It was a straight-up 1970’s nightmare, with shag carpets, Formica countertops, textured wallpaper, hideous interesting light fixtures and paneling, paneling and more paneling.

Exhibits A and B:

Oh, and the previous owner was a smoker, so the wallpaper and ceilings had a nice yellow tint to complement the smell.

But those things, of course, could all be taken care of. And they were, little by little.

We made that little house our home for two years. We replaced the carpets, took down the wallpaper and painted the walls. Painted all the trim white. Bought new light fixtures. Tiled the half bathroom.

Then exactly two years later, we sold it and moved to another house, one neighborhood over. This one has shag carpeting, too, which we haven’t yet replaced (it’s only in two rooms upstairs that we hardly use).

So that means tomorrow it will be exactly two years since I became a homeowner for a second time.

But since we live close enough to our first house, we often drive by just to see how it’s doing. There’s a family there now with young kids. They keep the house looking nice, and they always decorate for the different seasons, which makes me happy.

I miss our old house in a way. I miss some of the things about it… I have wonderful memories of the Ryder and Bismarck playing ball down the long hallway and romping in the backyard. We never knew that we would lose Bismarck just under a year after we moved from the house… or that Seth would be part of our family in just over a year.

Judging by our pattern, we’re past due to move to another house. Who knows… maybe it’s time to make another house our home.

Whenever we move, though, we have learned our lesson with the carpeting. Shag need not apply.

Around this time last year, I came across a copy of Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon, one of my favorite books from childhood. The goodnight theme seemed to tie in perfectly with summer’s farewell, and I wrote the following post to sum up my thoughts about it.

Since we are once again saying goodnight to the season, I thought I would re-publish my little “farewell to summer” poem:

In the light gray house
There was a fan
And a handsome man
And the feeling of…

Whatever may come

And there were two dogs lying on their beds

And a hydrangea vase
And an empty fireplace

And a juicy ripe peach
To eat on the beach

And a book to be read
In a blanketless bed

And sheets and a pillow and an open bedroom window

And a quiet young lady who was looking around

Goodnight room

Goodnight summer

Goodnight whatever may come

Goodnight long days

And the handsome man

Goodnight dogs

Goodnight beds

Goodnight peach
And goodnight beach

Goodnight bare feet
And goodnight sunshine heat

Goodnight green trees
And goodnight gentle breeze

Goodnight ice cream stand
And goodnight beach sand

Goodnight summer

Goodnight cricket sound

And goodnight to the young lady
Looking around

Goodnight tan

Goodnight warm air

Goodnight summer everywhere

As of September 5, we will have lived in our house for two years. That’s almost 731 days of staring at a white primed-but-not-painted wall. It’s time for some color.

Last month I asked you, my readers, to help me decide which color to paint my bedroom. MyPerfectColor.com had sent me 5 different paint samples of Benjamin Moore paint to test out, and it was up to you to decide on the color.

It was a photo finish, but Northern Air (Benjamin Moore 1676) ended up coming out on top.

And I am determined to paint my room Northern Air before the 2 year anniversary mark hits. Determined.

Now, I had never bought paint online before. Two years ago, when we were first moving into our house and I took care of painting the downstairs rooms, I made countless - countless - trips to the paint store down the street. I seriously felt like I lived there at times.

I wanted to get everything just right in my new home. And despite the fact that people were there to help the customers, I was never really assisted in any way. It was just kind of like, “Oh, you know what you want? OK, I’ll mix it and ring you up.”

That’s what has been one of the best things about working with Jason at MyPerfectColor. He is awesome at customer service and incredibly knowledgeable about all things paint. Whenever I’ve had a question about paint colors, paint finish, paint color combinations - anything - he has gotten back to me promptly, with great advice.

Plus, I loved being able to browse the paint selection online, get color ideas by mood and style, see which Benjamin Moore interior paint colors Pottery Barn has chosen each season, and even see the trends in paint buying at MyPerfectColor (such as popular paint choices by room, hue, geographic area, etc.)

In any case, once I told Jason that the votes were in and Northern Air would be the color, he helped me with the next steps. I went with Benjamin Moore Aura paint because of its durability. As for the paint finish, I wanted something not too dull but not too shiny (I believe those are industry words, right?).

Jason explained to me over email that, “the shinier the finish the more imperfections you’ll see on your wall. The Aura is very durable, the matte is just as durable as the semi-gloss, so you don’t need the shine for more washability. It would only be for aesthetics.” And thus, I went with the matte.

(Incidentally, you will remember how much I loathe the phone, so to be able to converse over email is awesome. But if you’re not like me, you’ll like that MyPerfectColor offers live, offline help, too.)

I put my order in, quickly received email confirmation that my order had shipped - and my paint arrived the next day. When I saw FedEx drive up to my house, I thought to myself, “That can’t be the paint already!” But sure enough, it was.

I am looking forward to seeing what my bedroom finally looks like freshly painted in Northern Air. I will be documenting the painting party - party of one (unless anyone wants to help?) - right here!

At the risk of sounding anti-social (a risk I’m willing to take), I have something to share: I hate talking to people on the phone.

I mean, really hate it.

I express myself better in writing. I always have. I’m not the type of person who can come up with the right thing to say off the cuff. (Quite the contrary, actually.)

But beyond that, I find phone conversations incredibly tedious and, most of the time, unnecessary.

Take, for example, a simple question someone needs answered. Say someone just wants to invite me to see a movie.

It’s as simple as sending me a text message to this effect: Do you want to meet at the theater to see House Bunny at 7:30? (The answer, by the way? Yes!)

See how simple that was? No small talk. No pointlessness. Just a simple, non-verbal communication.

Now let’s take that same question and put it in a phone scenario:

*Ring, ring*

I check Caller ID. (Of note here: if it’s a blocked or otherwise unlisted number, or if I don’t recognize it, I’m not answering the phone. But for argument’s sake, let’s say the number is there and I know who it is).

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “Hey, it’s so-and-so. What are you up to?”

Me: “Oh, just cleaning the house.” (Which is a total lie, but since I have to say something, it’s better than, “Reading blogs.”)

Caller: “Yeah, I just cleaned mine, too. Don’t you just love the feeling of accomplishment? The fresh lemon scent wafting through the house? The crisp linens on the bed, just ready for a wonderful night’s sleep?”

So now I have to a.) go along with the cleaning-not-blogging angle, b.) be aware of my lackluster housekeeping skills (crisp linens? How about, Yay, my sheets don’t smell tonight!), and c.) engage in the dreaded small talk.

After putting in the minimally required amount of talk time, I’m usually ready to cut to the chase.

Me: “So, what’s going on?” (It’s better than, “Why did you call?” but still gets the point across.)

Caller: “Oh, I was wondering if you’re free for a movie tonight.”

Me: “Yeah, I’d love to go.”

Caller: “OK, great! Let me see what’s playing tonight. What do you feel like seeing? Well, first I’ll have to find the newspaper to get the showtimes.”

Me: “Well, I know my laptop is around here somewhere (translation: on my lap)… I can find the showtimes quickly once I turn my laptop on.”

Caller: “I’ve heard Pineapple Express is funny. But House Bunny looks pretty good, too. Or is that too stupid? You know, I still haven’t seen Mamma Mia! Or should we see something more serious?”

Me (in my head, of course): This is excrutiating. Couldn’t we have done this by text/email/Facebook/smoke signals? Anything else?

(See? I told you I was going to sound anti-social.)

Truth is, I’m just a fan of cutting to the chase. If I need to ask someone a question, I just want to ask the damn question.

Now, if I’m talking to someone in person, it’s a different story. It’s just the phone I have a problem with when it comes to dragging out conversation.

I know, I’m weird. I don’t mind if you tell me to my face. Or in an email. Or if you text it to me. Or send me a carrier pigeon with that message.

Just don’t call me!

See the title of this post? That’s, like, the daily mantra in our house.

As soon as we walk through the door, usually Steve or I will scope the downstairs rooms to see if anything’s amiss.

More often than not, it usually ends up with one of going, “Oh, God…” And the other one of us just knows.

“What did Sethy eat now?”

We remember the infamous Seth-ate-a-box-of-chocolate-Luna-bars Incident of ‘07, right? That has promted us more than once, when out and about, to stop and say, “Oh no. I think I left (insert food product here) out on the counter/on the table/in the kitchen.”

And again, we just know that we’ll come home to a nice little treat in the form of food strewn about.

A few weeks ago it was old turkey lunch meat that he had gotten in the trash (he had to have actually opened it with his paw because it’s a flip lid). Then it was leftovers my mom accidentally left on our counter.

Ryder, for her part, wants nothing to do with this. She looks at us as we kneel like idiots on the floor, like, “Well, don’t look at me.”

But anyway, yesterday I came home to find Seth taking his wrath out on an innocent Booda dog bone. When he saw me coming, there was no regard for the taboo-ness of it all. He just glanced up at me and kept going to town. Even when I got my camera.

So now, poor Booda has no more squeak, only half of a body, and about 1/3 of his stuffing.

So that’s what Sethy ate now. The question is: What will Sethy eat next?

Audrey let me borrow a tank top this weekend. I was waiting in my car, picking her up at her house, and she ran out with a tank for me to put on.

It fit perfectly up top. The stomach? Wonderfully roomy.

Seriously, I was astonished at how much material gathered at my stomach.

“Wow, Tweightloss is really working for me!” I was thinking.

When I took the tank top off to shower that night, I glanced at the size.

It was a small. Score!

Then a particular word caught my eye…

Maternity. Motherhood Maternity, to be specific.

Well, it figures that after being pregnant for practically 4 years in a row, a maternity top would be most accessible to Audrey in her house.

It’s just too bad it had to be at the expense of my ego.

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Classy Mommy is giving away 2 pairs of Pedipeds shoes for Fall!

Jodi at Mom’s Favorite Stuff reviews her favorite mommy tees.

Leeanthro describes why you should always listen to your mother’s intuition.

This Full House Reviews: The White Trash Mom Handbook (She’s less than perfect and she’s okay!)

Kim is hosting her biggest and best giveaway ever! Win a Lands’ End backpack filled with books, bling and Boca Burgers.

I never cease to be amazed about where this blog takes me.

The people I have met, the places I have gone, the connections I have made, the work it has brought me… this blog, my voice as a part of Mom Generations, has been an incredible vehicle.

And please forgive me that metaphor as I tell you about the latest place it has taken me - Dearborn, Michigan, to the Ford Motor Company for its 2009 Model Year media day last week.

You see, social media is a powerful thing. What we, as consumers, do and say and discuss online has become increasingly important to corporations looking to connect with their customer base. That is, the corporations that are doing it right.

Ford recently got it “right” by hiring Scott Monty to head up the company’s social media efforts. It was Scott’s idea to shake things up a bit for Ford’s media day, and not just bring in automotive reporters and bloggers (though there were plenty of them there).

It was his thought to (in his own words), “look beyond the usual suspects of auto bloggers … and to look for lifestyles - people interested in technology, environmental issues, family and luxury.”

And that would be where I come in. (And a special thanks here to Melanie “Savvy Auntie” Notkin for recommending me to Scott as an influential PANK!)

I don’t know all that much about what goes on under the hood of a car (though I know more now, after some chats with Ford engineers). I don’t particularly care about horsepower. I don’t think about the rims on my tires.

I have 2 big dogs and 11 nieces and nephews. I care about safety. And if there’s one thing I walked away with after my day in Dearborn, it’s the knowledge that the people designing and engineering Ford vehicles are incredibly committed to the safety of their customers. They devote some serious time and research to finding and developing the latest safety technologies out there.

How do I know? I actually had the chance to talk to some of the people in charge of developing and implementing this very research for Ford. They were smart, proud of their work and ready to answer any questions about it. They took us through their latest developments in air bag safety, how they apply lessons learned from race car crashes to Ford passenger cars, how they’re making crash test dummies more lifelike to better understand how injuries occur, etc.

The opportunity to discuss these things with the people who develop them was invaluable.

In addition to quality and safety, Ford is also leading the way in environmental technologies. We heard a lot about the company’s commitment to producing cars with improved fuel economy, and the company’s plan to double hybrid production in the coming year - two exciting things, for sure.

But most exciting is the new EcoBoost engine that Ford will launch in 2009 on the Lincoln MKS (with other vehicles to follow shortly). Within 5 years, this new technology will account for 20 percent better fuel economy, and up to 15 percent fewer CO2 emissions in half a million Ford, Lincoln and Mercury vehicles.

Another cool “green” feature Ford is working on is the EnviroSeat, which has been in development for about six years. We were able to take a look at the prototype of the EnviroSeat, the features of which include:

• Soy-based foam for the cushions in the seat and the headrest

• Seating fabric and headrest bag made of polylactide, a compostable type of plastic that is 100% derived from corn

• Side shield plastic material derived from sugar cane

• Seating clips made from recycled water bottles

The Ford engineer who led us through the development stages of the EnviroSeat, and has been an integral part of building it? She has her Ph.D. from MIT. Very cool.

Of course, everything we learned from the development teams and people behind the technology was incredibly informative and important.

But the real fun part was getting to test drive the cars. Oh yes, this is where we were able to actually experience the features and technologies.

I was most excited to check out the cars with SYNC - technology that allows you to hook up digital mobile device (I hooked up my iPod) and operate it while driving, either through voice activation, the radio, or buttons on the steering wheel.

And I am officially in awe of the “next generation” of navigation Ford is introducing with SIRIUS Travel Link, which offers:

• Coast-to-coast coverage of real-time traffic data

• Weather reports (both current and 5-day forecasts - even ski resort conditions)

• Fuel options from more than 120,000 stations, sorted by price or distance (along with directions on how to get to the gas station you want to go to)

• Major league pro and college sports scores

• Movie listing listings from more than 4,500 theaters

I was able to sit in the Lincoln MKS, in Michigan, and check out what the weather looked like for my flight back home to Rhode Island that night. (Thunderstorms over Buffalo, NY, by the way.)

My favorite ride of the day was the new Ford Flex.

With all the things I look for in a car - safety, style, technology, environmental consideration and roominess (see previously mentioned 2 big dogs and 11 nieces and nephews) - the Flex gets my vote.

It’s a pretty big car, but doesn’t handle like one. I don’t think I even knocked down one cone while hugging the curves around the track. Now that’s steering (not to mention impulse) control.

I left my day in Dearborn with a real appreciation for the people behind Ford. I am proud to have been among those invited to this event, especially as it marked the first time that non-automotive press was asked to come along.

I hope Ford saw the value in bringing bloggers with different interests and perspectives into the mix.

I have a feeling they did.

See my photos from the event here

Nana had a wooden spoon. She kept it in a kitchen drawer that was about eye level to a child-sized me. When I would act up, she’d take me by the hand and bring me to that drawer, take out the wooden spoon and tell me that if I didn’t stop, she’d shoot me “to the moon” with it.

Sometimes I would go on my own to that drawer, take out the wooden spoon and examine it closely, wondering just how it would feel if she ever actually used it for that purpose. Because, of course, she never did.

***

As children, Audrey and I were determined to grow up to be waitresses. We lived out that fantasy whenever we went to Nana’s. She had a little cupboard that housed a lot of things we couldn’t touch - “Papa’s things” - but also all of our “play restaurant” paraphernalia.

Nana would humor us and play along as we went through the entire dining experience - from “How many today, Mrs. Couto?” to “I just talked to the chef and we’re out of that today. Can I get you something else?” to “That will be $42.50 for that plastic banana and cup of ice.”

***

Running through the sprinklers in Nana’s back yard was a favorite summer pasttime. One hot summer day, when we were probably about 6 and 4 years old, respectively, Audrey and I must have forgotten our bathing suits… but it was too perfect of a running-through-the-sprinklers type of day to pass up.

So Nana took two pairs of her underwear - real Granny panties - put a pair on each of us, and clothespinned them at our shoulders. Voilà! I don’t know what made me and Audrey laugh more, the joy of the refreshing sprinkler or seeing each other enveloped in flesh-colored Granny underwear.

****

Sometimes if I had to stay home from school sick, I would stay at Nana’s house, as Mom and Dad were both teachers. Nana would make me homemade chicken noodle soup and hot tea, and set me up on the reclining seat of her couch with my own tray and call me “dahlin’.”

I would watch TV or read her stash of People magazines. She always had a steady supply because she would renew her subscription each year for our school’s magazine drives.

***

Nana loved to entertain and cook, and she was particularly famous for a few things: her pasta sauce (or as she called it, “gravy”), her meatballs, her baked beans, her deviled eggs and her famous rolled snickerdoodle cookies.

She gave me the recipe for her snickerdoodles and I tried to make them once. Saying I didn’t have Nana’s touch is putting it mildly.

***

Until her health started declining in her latter years, I never saw Nana sitting down, just doing nothing. She always had her hand in something - cooking, baking, knitting, crocheting, volunteering at the Knights of Columbus.

In the early days of my dad’s printing company, I remember we would all go to Nana’s house and sit around her kitchen table, collating, folding, labeling, stapling. And of course, eating Nana’s delicious food. She loved having her family and lots of activity around her.

***

Nana was one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. I remember her telling me that the night she had one of my uncles, my Papa had friends over to watch “the fight.” She knew she was in labor, but didn’t want to say anything until the fight was over. So she paced around her house having contractions.

She barely made it to the hospital to deliver her son.

***

Nana was born on March 9, 1919. She married my Papa, Joe, in September of 1940. They were married for 57 years, until his death in 1998.

They had three boys - Stephen, Barry and Richard. Nana loved her boys. They, along with my mother - Nana’s daughter-in-law of 32 years - are at the hospital with her as I type this, holding her hand as she peacefully passes on.

She had 9 grandchildren and 15 great-grandchildren.

It is the duty of us, Nana’s children and grandchildren, to preserve her legacy for all those great-grandchildren she loved to much - and the generations of family to come.

Nana was so much more than the matriarch of our family. She was truly the glue, the center. I don’t know what we are going to do without her.

But I thank her for raising my dad as the wonderful, loving man, husband, father and grandfather he is. I know how much joy it brought her to see him become a grandfather 9 times over.

And I thank her for the grandmotherly love and patience she always showed me.

A few months ago, we were reminiscing together about how Audrey and I loved playing waitress at her house.

“We were pretty cute, weren’t we, Nana?” I asked her.

She smiled. “The cutest, dahlin’.”

And I know she meant it. Even when I deserved to be sent to the moon.

Nana surrounded by many of her great-grandchildren, September 2007

Me, Keith and Finnegan in the summer of 1999

Last week, my brother Keith and his family had to say goodbye to their yellow Lab, Finnegan.

Finny was 11 1/2 years old. She had been ill for awhile. It was time.

But knowing that it’s “time” still doesn’t make it any easier.

I remember meeting Finny when she was just weeks old in late 1996, a little butterball with soft yellow fur and droopy puppy-dog eyes. She was, really, my first “niece” and we bonded very quickly. I loved going over to my brother’s house to visit her and play with her.

When Keith proposed to Nicole, his girlfriend at the time (now his wife of almost 10 years!), Finny was there. Keith videoed the proposal, and you can hear Nicole say, “Finny, now I am going to be your real Mommy!”

When Keith and Nicole had their first child, Taylor, I was honored to be in the delivery room with them, videoing my niece’s birth and taking pictures. I so vividly remember my brother holding his first child, and through tears, saying, “She’s going to love Finny.”

And she did. And so did their second child, Andrew. We all loved Finny.

When I got my first “baby” Ryder, I couldn’t wait to introduce her to her big cousin - and first friend - Finny. Ryder loved Finny. She would climb and jump all over Finny, who, true to form, would patiently let her.

When Steve and I started dating, and I was lucky enough to become a doggy mom to Bismarck, too, I couldn’t wait to introduce him to Finny. I remember bringing Bizzy over to Keith and Nicole’s house and watching Finny, Bismarck and Ryder all play together in the back yard.

As time went on, Finny started getting arthritis and had a hard time walking. Eventually, it got worse and she couldn’t even walk anymore. My brother would lift her up and carry her outside to go to the bathroom. It broke all of our hearts because other than that, Finny was still that happy, smiling, tail-wagging puppy she had always been. She just simply couldn’t move anymore.

Last Thursday Keith and Nicole made the tough decision to let Finny be free from her pain.

And with that, doggy heaven gained another angel.

I know Bismarck was waiting for Finnegan at the Rainbow Bridge, and the two of them - both free from any pain - are playing together just like the first time they met.

Finny waiting for a treat in my kitchen, 2006