Monthly Archive

Harry Potter has been released, purchased and completely read. “Transformers the Movie” is now behind us, and the tie-in toys are mostly already broken. The kids are tired of playing outside, in the dirt pile and in their tree-fort. The heat is no longer warm and welcome on our faces, but now irratating and tiring and grump-inducing.

Thirty-eight days ’till school starts. *sigh*

What am I going to do with them for the rest of the summer? Birthdays, grandparents visiting, and even the county fair are all due after school starts. The long, long days of August stretch out before us in a hot, tiring yawn. I feel helpless, short on patience and even shorter on ideas to get us all through happy and intact.

Currently, they’ve pulled the cusions off the living room couch and are taking videos of each other with my cell phone. If I send them out back to play this time of day, their little red-head skin will look like a chalupa in a matter minutes. Even with spf 60 slathered all over them.

My allergies are manic and sneezing fits irritate the crap out of me. Not the least of which because I never know when a sneeze is going to be just too much for my poor birthed-three-children bladder.

Today, out of desperation, I have a babysitter coming over so I can get out alone. I think they may be looking forward to her more than I am. There is nothing really pressing I need to do- besides be alone. Sweet, delicious alone-ness.

Thirty-eight days. Thirty eight days thirtyeightdays thirtyeightdaysthirty…

A few of my favorite things… 

I needed a breather after that horrendous Kate Spade colored-legs torture. Ugh. The bags, maybe. The shoes? Definately. The colors? Over my dead body.

This is the Frog Prince Under glass. I have made him a nice little nest from tree branches, and he can see out, but the little stinker is not going run rampant in my house. NO kissing of frogs for my little girl to find a prince. Nope. That sucker is mine.

 As you can see, I have a thing for cloche, or bell, jars. Love, love, love them. The only green one I have is over the cast iron toadie. Oh, I know. Toads and frogs are devastatingly different. All you amphibiaovers just keep it to yourselves.

I believe it was Edith Wharton who said a well designed room should always have somethign whimsical for the eye to alight upon. I like that.

And again with the cloche jar. What can I say? This one is on cake stand, also something I positively love, and contains a woodland sprite I caught in south-eastern Germany in 1998. She is lovely, isn’t she?

Love the green rannuculas bursting roots from their gavanized little tin- nevermind that they came from Target. The picture is of a great-grandmother holding a parosel in the sun. Beanie strives to be like her.

So there’s a little tiny glimpse into what I think is pretty. These are my favorite parts of the inside. At least while the kid’s are awake. Once they’re asleep, my favorite part’s are their little faces. But until then… 

This is the fall preview for Kate Spade in New York. Can anyone join me in crying a mightly “Nooooooooooo!” the Heavens? Please. Pleasepleaseplease. I’m not ready for the eighties. Candy colored legs are just nine ways of wrong. Wroooooooong! NOoooo!

Finished. 4:12 p.m.

Very nicely done, Ms. Rowling. No spoilers here, since I don’t split my screen, but if you want to talk about it the comments, I’m all game. Let’s just say it was a satisfying read and a good culmination of 10 years of waiting. I am not let down.

Now, I just can’t wait until my kids are old enough to thoroughly enjoy them.

Taking the day off to read Harry Potter. Be back soon!

A fenced yard is one of the tender mercies for mothers of young children. I know this is true.

How did I do it for almost five years at the Old Place? Oh, I have no idea. But now, now that we live in Heaven, and I’m beginning to feel like it may stick, like maybe no one is going to show up and tell us it’s all a joke and we have to move, I think I could give up disposable diapers, or running water,  before I could go without a fenced yard. Well, ok, maybe not, but you get the idea.

Right now, I’m watching Beanie dance around on the patio, holding a large green Japanese parosel and twirling in the sunbeams- and I can see he forgot to put his undies on again. Jeffrey is zooming back and forth across the yard on his bike, and Abby is standing at the wall-length picture window in my sunlit studio banging on the glass and laughing at her brothers.

Because of our fenced backyard, the boys, and soon enough Abby too, have freedom they never knew and the Old Place. They can safely come and go as they please; creating forts and secret areas and hidden worlds away from mom’s eyes, but near enought that I know exactly where they are- a balm for them and for me.

Everyone needs a fenced backyard.

We’ve been Simpson-ized. It’s kinda scary! I wanted to give myself the svelte thin Marge body, but honesty won out. DH isn’t really that scary in real life- and we had a good laugh at the “angry eyes”. Even with all the crazy Simpson hair, this was the best I could simulate- and it’s pretty tame, folks.

Just look at them! They’re soooo delicious. I am in LOVE with this wonderful woman’s creativity. She has taken something I positively adore, vintage linens, and made them into something even more adorable. Don’t you just want those shoes for your baby?? I may give it a try- I have an old pillow case that just tore today, and I was wondering what to do with it- and now I may try and make Abby some shoesies.

The store is called tiny happy on Etsy, and she is based out of New Zealand. All the shoes are gone- I already checked! But check back in, and if I don’t beat you to it, maybe you can score some shoes too! She also makes other lovely things.

No, not me! My very good friend and blogger Mo Mommy is in the hospital as we speak (or type- what’s the etiquette these days?) working on getting out her own little Maybe.

She was supposed to be induced tomorrow morning, but Baby had other plans- we have one of her boys, Thing 1, here tonight for a camp-out- which means many boys piled in a bed and not a lot of sleeping.

Send some prayers and goodness vibes her way… she’s in for a long night- but with a bundle of joy at the end. Yay for babies!

Update: Baby is born- all are well and healthy. I’ll leave the details to Mo Mommy to share when she gets home. Yay for healthy, born babies! 

I couldn’t stop myself. I ate the whole thing. I’m now going to beach myself in front of the Laser Beam of Wind and not move for three days.

I kid you not, this conversation just took place in my living room.

Jeffrey: “Mom, can I marry Abby when I grow up?”

Me: “Nope. You can’t marry your sister. Not anywhere. Sorry. You have to find another girl and fall in love”

Jeffrey: “Hmmm. I think I pick Bella. I love her. She’s pretty. Or maybe Emma, in class at church.”

Me: “Well, you should probably wait until you’re a little older to make that decision, and you don’t just get to pick- you have to get the girl to agree to your proposal.”

Jeffrey: “Oh dang, that means I have to be handsome.”

Me, hiding laughter: “Weeeeellll….handsome comes mostly from the inside, Babe. If you’re a good person with a good heart and good character, it makes you handsome. The outside is only a tiny part.”

Jeffrey: “Oh. I thought it was just about hair gel.”

Warning: TMI post- men, beware! 

Last night, just settled into bed, the tender wails of a crying baby were miraculously heard above the wail of the Laser Beam of Wind. *sigh* She’s calling my name. Literally. Mamamama! Mamama! Yes, my darling, I hear.

Entering her midnight-dim room, the smell of poop assails me- Oh, great. No wonder she woke up. OK, Precious, let’s change you. Plopping her on the changing table, I take off her jammies and remove the noxious diaper- reaching for the wipe, what to my wondering eyes should appear? An empty wipe container. Gee, who changed her last? Hmmmm…

I have a midnight-poopy, wiggly and now naked daughter. No wipes anywhere. If I pick her up, I will get poop all over my jammies- if I leave her there to search for wipes, she will surely jump to her doom in fearless one-year old bravado. The carpet is new, and I don’t really want poo on it, either. Hmmm….

To the bathroom, then. As I pick up her poopy self, for some unholy reason, by body decides this is absolute perfect time to start my period. A week early.  Now I am holding a poopy-squirming-midnight-baby, standing on new-light-carpet, no wipes anywhere, and doing the Pengin Walk towards the bathroom, praying not to leave a delightful trail in my wake. Hmmm….

I can’t take care of Abby until I can stop with the Penguin walk, so the bathroom floor is looking pretty good as a poopy baby depository. Naked midnight-girl on the floor, I try and clean up the now-wreakage that are my jammies. Unsalvagable. Ok, now I’m naked too, and realize I am in the BOYS bathroom. Ya think there are any supplies for such an emergency in there? Yeah, nope. Hmmmm….

Wads of kleenex, more Penguin waddling in the dark, past sleeping-snoring husband, into my own bathroom, with poopy-girl toddling behind. *Sigh* Warm washcloths help both of us, and soon we are both in clean, dry skivvies. Do ya think the husband so much as rolled over? Hmmmm…..

Abby safely and dryly back in bed, I crawl back under my blankets (still needed to avoid the gale-force winds in my bedroom) and sink into my soft pillow. *sigh*

“MOOOOOOOMMMMMM! I had a BAD DREAM! Bugs were eating me!”

Jeffrey is standing at my bedside, wailing and pleading to climb in bed with me… How much sleep do you think I got last night? Hmmmm….

It’s been more than six weeks since we moved into our fancy, and wonderful, new house. There isn’t much about this house I don’t love- seriously, it’s pretty close to my dream-home. Wonderful kitchen, four (!) bathrooms, nice bedrooms, hardwood floors, new appliances, old-house charm and quirks but with new-house electrical and plumbing, a fenced yard full of mature trees; it’s just plain wonderful. Everything about it is wonderful.

So why do I still feel so out of place?

Puttering around, moving furniture, hanging and re-hanging pictures, unpacking boxes (yes, I still have boxes to unpack- the piano and Phoebe set me back a little)- I still just don’t feel like this is my home. Is is because we bought it from friends, and I know how she kept it? It is because it just takes time for a house to become home? At our old house, I suppose I went through this, but I really can’t remember. I think maybe the homesickness for California overshadowed the feeling of the house. Could be.

So tonight, I figured I would really give it a big effort, trying to hang some more artwork and make at least one room feel “done”, instead of half thrown together. It might have worked- I like the main-floor powder-room a lot more than I did an hour ago- and it’s quirky. It has toile wallpaper, and I hung a big chalkboard on the wall next to the toilet, so you can doodle while you, um, do your stuff. I also put a tiny table in there and loaded it up with decorating and design magazines, rolled some white towels and stacked them on a silver tray, put a hobnail vase full of pink peonies on the counter and stacked some family photos in the corner of the vanity. Hmmm. Feels pretty good. 

Maybe now I’ll at least feel at home when I pee.

You think I’m kidding. He’s already priced one out- at the local FARM supply store. Because only COWS and my husband need that kind of wind.  There is NO way this one will ever come in the house.

This is actually sitting at the foot of my bed. Yes, it is what it looks like- an industrial shop fan, and it peels the sheets right off the bed. This is what I have to live with. DH is giddy. He says it’s a laser beam of wind.

*sigh*

It’s an ongoing saga.

The heat has sucked all the words and creativity from my noodle.  I’m now counting the days until school starts, as the glory and revelry of the unstructured, everyone at home, free-for-all has absolutely worn off.

I haven’t even MADE anything in two or three days… Just give me an Otter Pop and no one touch me.

Here is my thrift store find- Actually, it came from Stephen King’s thrift store, if you’ve been reading awhile, you may recall that post. Looking at it now, I wish I had taken a picture beforehand. It was ugly, dark brown, scratched and missing it’s legs.

This is the piece that was marked as a “dresser” for short people. That’s what the guy told me- one look and I knew it was a buffet, only missing the legs. Some ninny cut the legs off once upon a time, and all I did was go to Lowes and buy six new legs and the hardware to attach them. It required a little elbow grease and some patience, and about six trips to the hardware store to get all the right pieces, but it was a good learning experience. Now I know how to put legs on things, using dowels, t-nuts, clamps and some glue. Everyone needs to know that, right?

Some cream paint, a little polish and a rubbing of the hardware… Voila, a new, country French, kinda shabby but way cool, one of a kind buffet.

I’ve decided to use it in my dining room as a major photography statement. I like it totally crowded with all my black and white photography and hydrangeas from the yard.

Next time you are at a yard sale or a thrift store- start looking at the “bones” of things- sometimes something really ugly is actually a swan waiting for a little TLC- this was one of those times. Look for solid wood, dovetail joinery, solid construction, few to no staples or brads, and at the overall silhouette- it’s amazing what a coat of paint or a little stripping and sanding can do. Give it a try.

Oh, and p.s.- this little gem cost $28 bucks.

Hot. Hot hot hot. Like most of the west, we are in the middle of a scorcher- days of triple digit temps- euchk! Not my thing. I hate being hot; hate it! Tonight, as I made my way down the street towards the mailbox, I realize it was the first time in three days I had even been outside. Boy, am I grateful for air conditioning. I guess we’ll have to buy some carbon credits, or lose our cool mojo. I don’t care. I hate hot.

It looked like Beanie was over the whole cross-dressing thing, but today we backslid, and I caught him three times in Abby’s closet, trying to squeeze into her sundresses. Hmmm. We compromised and he wore a tee and shorts of hers. What am I supposed to DO?

Jeffrey was signed up for swim lessons, but has decided swimming is a skill he can live without. Completely refused to put his toes in the pool- wouldn’t even put his swim trunks on. $25 bucks down that drain. Oh well.

We went on our annual strawberry picking trip this week- it wasn’t as hot as last year, and we got more berries, but it seems we have eaten too many and I don’t have enough left to put up some jam. Abby is my strawberry baby- she crams them in as fast as I hand them to her- cute little pink stained cheeks, arms, nose, shirt, elbows, high chair, walls, floor. Maybe not so cute after all…

After the piano, I needed a project. At a second-hand store, I came across what they had labeled as a “dresser” for short people- really. It was a buffet, only someone had cut the legs off- and I saw that immediately. So I bought the “special” dresser- and found six new legs, sanded, painted and polished, and I have a fabulous French country buffet. For $28. I’ll post pictures later.

Up next: Slipcovers for the sofa and wing-back chair.

Also, I have a painting I have to start for the winner, JS, of the fabulous Tales giveaway. Looking forward to that.

Oh, and on the fourth? Beanie fell asleep at 5 p.m. and we all missed fireworks. So, we baked a cake today, decorated it with stars and stripes and sang Happy Birthday to America. Then we watched fireworks on YouTube. The kids were thrilled. How long before they figure out how much that sucked?

Endure the rest of your July. August is right around the corner! Yay!

This one I can’t take credit for; it’s my mom’s, and it’s seriously the best. Usually I won’t touch potato salad- euwsch! It’s a texture thing, I think. But this one is divine- well, it is if you like dill and eggs… otherwise, you may hate it. Like all family recipes, it doesn’t really rely on exact-ness, so tailor to your own tastes.

• 15 medium russets, boiled in their skin, until tender.
• 8 eggs, hardboiled and chopped.
• 1 cup, or so, of mayonaise. We like Best Foods (Helman’s, on the wrong side of the mountains)
• 2 good blops of stoneground mustard (3-4 Tbsp, I guess)
• 5-6 dill pickles, diced
• 2 good splashes of dill pickle juice from the jar (I know it sounds gross, but it’s really the secret ingredient here)
• 1 tsp onion powder (grind up your cannery onions in your spice grinder!)
• salt and course pepper to taste.

Put the potatoes and eggs on to boil. While they’re cooking, in the bottom of a large bowl, combine the mayonaise, mustard, pickle dices and juice, and spices. Combine into a uniform dressing, with the consistency of, say, thick cream. That’s how you know you’ve added enough pickle juice.

When potatoes are fork tender, remove from water and cool enough to handle. Or if you’re like me, you won’t wait, so peel them with your oven mitts on and get on with the show. Chop the potatoes into nice size chunks, and dice the boiled eggs.

Top the dressing with the chopped potatoes and eggs, and carefully fold all together.  That’s it. Tah-da! I love it hot and fresh, but it’s even better the next day, chilled and ready for your picnic.