Cluck and Tweet

my most glamorous life....maybe (in the future)

I live a most glamorous life.

 Most glamorous. 

 I'm a stay-at-home-mom. 

 Well, that's the common term.  I prefer, the term-- mostly-stay-at-home-but-I-go-to-Target-a lot-mama.  Very glamorous. 

 You too can be glamorous.

  I will share my steps.

  I do lots of laundry.  You too?  awesome.  You are well on your way. 

 I have two boys. You do not have to have two boys- you could have an assortment of children and their friends tearing your place up.  It's all very glamorous. 

 I also prepare meals several times a day, to ensure the health of my growing boys between baseball practices and games. Only to have them share a GIANT bag of CHEESEBURGER DORITOS when I'm not looking.  Cheeseburger Doritos?  Seriously....a 15 year old must be on the Frito-Lay board.  A chip that tastes like meat?  Glamorous. 

  Last week I took a step out of my glamorous life because I was invited to a little music concert. 

 In Grand Rapids. 

 Two hours away.  However, it took three with all the detours.  Not my detours, but the state of Michigan's detours.  Grand Rapids appears to be lovely.  From my very glamorous mini-van.  With my dear friend, Penny.

Here we are before leaving for the gig.  And before some of that lip gloss wore off? 

 This little music concert was awesome. 

Ingrid Michaelson opening for the Bare Naked Ladies (who were fully dressed).

(here's Ingrid and Allie)

I am friendly with Allie Moss's mama.  Allie is a tremendous talent in her own right and is a part of Ingrid's band.  So, I left the kitty-littered bathroom floor and piles of laundry to sing along loudly, yet poorly to both scantily-clad Ingrid's songs and those of the Bare Naked Ladies. 

Glamorous.

Most glamorous.

 

~deborah~

 

what's the harm in looking?

Please do not read any further if you know what's best for you. 

 Seriously, you've been warned. 

 You think you can handle a simple little website.

I thought I could, too. 

 What's the harm in looking?  I mean, what could go wrong?  It is just looking. 

That's what I told myself when I read about a friend of a friend finding a puppy on www.petfinder.com. 

I'm not a dog girl. 

 I like dogs.  Who doesn't love a puppy? 

 But, dogs are more work than I'm willing to give and since I've been bit three separate times....I'm a little cool towards dogs.  So I like dogs, mostly from a distance.  Where they cannot bite me.

   Kitties warm my heart.  But, because I am honest with myself I knew that just browsing the petfinder site was innocent.  We've been living quite happily pet-free for several years.  Our beloved Sage, an American orange cat had died and we hadn't been ready to get another.  Then, so much time passed that not having cat hair everywhere was kind of nice.  So, I'm still scratching my head how we ended up with: and
 

I swear I was just looking.  And then I decided we'd get one and then we ended up with her sister, too.  Such a good decision.  Our home is so much nicer with cat hair. 

We've had the girls (true and indie) since October and we are all smitten. 

So, you've been warned.  Please, proceed with caution. 

 

~deborah~

SpirituAli-T: On God and Etsy

 

I've been brainstorming names for a new Etsy shop.  The one I have now (GlassAli) evokes images only of glass, and I'm okay with that since I do make glass beads.  

 

But I also make jewelry outs of gem stones and crystals with no glass beads in sight, so shouldn't I have a shop just for those items?

Feel free to chime in any time.

I've been brainstorming names.  WhimsicAli (someone already has this on Twitter).  Glimmer in the Woods (too long and does it really evoke pretty jewelry? Or 25¢ that someone lost while on a nature walk?).  Creek Side Studio (um, already taken about 5 times).  Lakeside Studio (already take about 500 times).  Some name that rhymes with "Ali."  Like ClassicAli (except that my jewelry isn't necessarily classic).

Not so easy, is it?

So, for now, I'll be GlassAli.  Even though, unbeknownst to me when I claimed the name, there's already a GlassAllie on Etsy.  And she makes glass beads.  And jewelry. And I thought I had covered all the bases when I checked out the name.

If I had a Personalized T-Shirt Shop, I would name it PersonAli-T.  But I don't.  Yet.  

So, lest you think this is completely a post on self-promotion, which I in no way intended it to be, I decided to mention my real intended theme:  Spirituality.  Which I like to call

SpirituAli-T

like it's all about me.

Not really.  It's about the fact that today is Sunday and that for over a year now I've felt very ostracized and a bit betrayed by my church for a couple of reasons that I won't go into here.  The events that precipitated these feelings have, on a very positive level, led me to question some of my beliefs (not the big ones, just the ones where humans are involved), and shown me that the church building along with blind faith is not enough.  And that confrontation, when done right, is not only good, it's necessary. 

So today I attempted to "attend" church through its live feed.  

I lasted about 3 minutes.  And then we all watched this:

And I got more out of 10.5 minutes than 3 months of sermons.   It's genuine, as Sam says.  

A couple weeks ago I posted this on my Facebook status:

Does going to Wal-Mart instead of church count for something?

Tammy responded:  yup!  feeding the hungry! :)

and Tom, a minister for his whole adult life, responded: @Tammy, my thoughts, too! BTW, Alison, what's for dinner today?

Sara, a former student of mine, who has a baby (this absolves you of all guilt, in my book), was also looking for assurance and wrote: Does sleeping in like a sloth instead of going to church count for something?

Tammy, bless her, had just the right words: yup! restoring the body, mind , soul....

Tom let her know that he is more than ready for some sloth-like behavior fairly soon.  Which we'll believe when we see.

I appreciated the genuineness.  The non-judgmental responses.  And the fact that when my dad called later that day he didn't ask if I had gone to church.  

You know, I think Christianity is all about the people.  Well, of course it's all about God and Jesus, too, but I think that They want us to be all about the people we're put on earth with.  To comfort them and help them and deal with them and forgive them.  

Which is what I'll have to remember the next time I go to church.  

it's a sunshine day....everybody smilin'

I'm in a mood. 

 A really really good mood.

  Why? 

Sun.  Shine.

  Light.  The prospect of SPRING.  Mostly, it's the sunshine. 

 The sunshine for the last 5 days.  Warm, mellow, yummy sunshine.  I would like to  scoop it up with a spoon and lick that spoon clean. 

SO, because the sun is shining, I've accomplished nothing.

 Well, I've accomplished sitting in the living room or front porch reading in the sunlight.

I've watched the boys play catch in the yard for hours. And I let them do this without asking about their homework.   

 I've opened some windows, to bring in the fresh March air (really, because we shut our windows for good in November and that only means we've been soaking in some really really old air)

I've thought about painting the whole house Sherwin Williams--champagne.  Because it looks like any room painted this color is sunlit.  So far, only the downstairs hall is champagne.  I've got a way to go.  

(it looks a LOT better in person...on a wall)

 I've decided that the light fixtures should be changed.  ( These are my in-sunshine thoughts...they are not deep)  This is what I'm thinking: 

  from Ikea. 

and I'm thinking about this one:
also from Ikea.

Not to forget to mention this:
from  http://www.etsy.com/shop/eqlight

Yep, I'm making decisions today.  On the porch with some lemonade.  In between laundry and bills and carpool and dinner. 

If you have sunshine where you are...enjoy.  If not...it's coming.  I promise.

--deborah

Read It and Weep. What Your Child Is Reading Now.

 

 

I might just completely boycott the adult fiction area of the book store and go straight to the young adult section.  And when I say "adult," it is totally not what you're thinking.  There isn't that kind of section in the book stores that I frequent, and even if there were I'm sure it would be called "erotica," or something else more sophisticated.

But there isn't an erotica section in my book store, either.  Not that I've been looking for it.

Last week's foray into young adult literature led to two books read by both Sam and me.  One is I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak, the same author of The Book Thief.   Let me say again that I was blown away by The Book Thief.  And let me say now that I was blown away by I Am the Messenger.  Let me also say that neither my 11-year-old boy or 13-year-old daughter will be reading this any time soon.

Ed is the protagonist of the story.  He lives in a working-class neighborhood in a working-class town. He's not just smart, he's intelligent, yet highly unmotivated, employed as an underage cab driver and living with his smelly dog (well, aren't they all in some way or another?) in a tiny run-down apartment.  He's in love with one of his best friends, Audrey, a damaged girl who has feelings in return but who can't allow herself emotions that might lead to hurt.  So she sleeps with other guys and Ed knows it.  And he wants her and is quite explicit in his want for her.  He's also open and tender and willing to take her on her terms, but I'm not ready to have that conversation with my children.  Yet.

Let's just say that Anne of Green Gables never smelled like sex.  Of that I can be certain.  Nor did Black Beauty.  Or Percy Jackson.  

We'll stick to those characters for the time being.

There's also quite a lot of swearing which is perfectly authentic for 19-year-olds.  But there's a lot of growing and maturity from 13 to 19 and this leads me to question why in the world this book is even considered Young Adult literature.  

I Am the Messenger is also quite violent.  

I'm not an adherent to violence.  I don't enjoy watching it.  I don't enjoy reading about it.  Perhaps I'm overly empathetic, but I avoid violence at all costs.  That being said, I have to admit that the violence in this book is not only the opposite of gratuitous, it's actually necessary.  Which, I know, is the opposite of gratuitous.  

There's a rape.  There's retaliation for the rape.  There are beatings.  And then more beatings.  There's bleeding and bruises and crying.

That was me crying.

Yes, I cried while reading this book.  And I wasn't even hormonal.  I wasn't even sad.  I was moved.  I was moved down to the core by this book and its possibilities.

Because Ed is a messenger.  He is on the receiving end of anonymous messages that are written on playing cards, specifically the aces of each suit.  He must

protect the diamonds

survive the clubs

dig deep through the spades

feel the hearts.

And he does.  And so do we.  And it's such a worthwhile journey.  A journey paved with people, which is really why we're all put on this planet, isn't it?  Isn't it about the people who happen to inhabit this world at the same time we do?

I will recommend this book to my children without reservations. Okay, with a few reservations.  Reservations that are greatly subdued by the greater truths held in the book.   But probably not until they are around 16 and the truths have some place to take root.  Childhood is such a short amount of time, and the weight of the world can wait for awhile.

How about you?  Do you hold off on what your children can or cannot read?  Or do you allow them to read just about anything that appeals to them since it's better than not reading at all?  I'd love to hear your reading philosophy.  Because this parenting gig consists of a lot of holding my breath and hoping I'm doing the right thing.

...alison...

jonesing for a three-way and other secrets

There are days when I crave junk-food.  Ususally candy.  Junk candy.  I'm most certain it's the sugar.  Sugar is crack.  Really. Well, technically it's not, but it's addictive. 

 But, sometimes I crave a three-way.  Yep.  All steamy and yummy.  And cheesy. 

Keep reading.

 I spent a lot of time in Cincinnati in my early 20's.  I had a "friend" from Cincy.  He turned me onto the three-way.  Then became a vegetarian.  But I haven't seen him in 17 years except for the 14 seconds he walked past me in Whole Foods last Thursday.  (and didn't notice me, that's a whole other story)

Anywho, when I get these cravings,  driving to Cincinnati and pulling into a http://www.skylinechili.com/   isn't always feasible.  It's a 4 hour drive in good weather and easy traffic.  And that would mean it is a 4 hour drive back as well.  But, after searching the internet for a reasonable fake-out  recipe and tweaking it a bit, I think I've found my answer. It goes like this:

1 tbsp olive oil

1/2 cup chopped onion

1-2 pounds ground turkey ( I use the 97% lean turkey, but you can certainly use ground beef, like Skyline does)

1 tbsp chili powder

2 tsp ground cinnamon

2 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp ground allspice

1/2 tsp ground cloves

30 oz  beef broth (but I think you could go with vegetable broth or chicken broth)

30 oz tomato sauce

3 tbsp cider vinegar

1/4 tsp ground cayenne pepper

shhhh...the secret ingredient, semi-sweet chocolate chips, about 1/4 cup

1 box whole wheat spaghetti ( Skyline uses regular spaghetti, but we like the whole wheat pasta)

lots of finely shredded mild cheddar cheese

1. Heat oil in pan and add chopped onions.  Stirring frequently, until tender.

2. Add all liquids and spices into crock pot (I LOVE my crock pot).   Add ground turkey (or beef) RAW to the crock pot.  Add cooked onions.

3. Add secret ingredient.  Mix well with a fork to break up meat and dissolve spices into liquid.  Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer at least 3 hours, stirring occasionally. 

4. Serve over hot, drained spaghetti.  Top with shredded cheese. 

It is even better the second day, if you have any left.

 To make a 4-way add diced white onion or red beans.  5-way adding both the onions and beans along with the shredded cheese. 

My boys EAT. THIS. UP. They are beginning to crave the three-way, though I think we will rename this meal, Spaghetti-the Cincy way.

Censorship. It's My Responsibility as the Adult. And Why Is There So Much S-E-X in These Young Adult Novels?

  

 I am the adult.  Sometimes I have to remind myself of this.  

Back in the day, when I had a room full of teenagers held captive by classroom rules and truancy laws, I would sometimes pause my words of wisdom and think to myself,

"I think they're actually listening to me!  Do they know I have no idea what I'm talking about?"  

And then I'd wax poetic about tone of voice, or symbolism or how I've always remembered the difference between metaphor and simile by remembering this pneumonic device:

Smile like an as(s).  

Because the word simile reminds me of the word smile.  And similes use like and as.  Not ass.  But close enough.  And just so you know, I never actually said the word ass.  Actually, if I had they probably would have listened to me.  

Now I sometimes pause and think to myself,

"I am the parent." 

And then I have to do some parent-y job like talk about s-e-x (because no one else is going to do it) or proper table manners, or how to remember the difference between metaphor and simile.

Now as the parent I find myself reading young adult literature in an effort to keep my daughter from reading things like Judy Blume's Forever, which I read in sixth grade.  And probably shouldn't have.  Because it is nothing like Are You There God, It's Me Margaret.  And it's pretty much the opposite of Super Fudge.  

Fortunately I love young adult fiction.  One of my favorite books ever was Little Women.  And Eight Cousins.  And my heart warms a little when I spy Anna curled up over Anne of Green Gables.  The Book Thief is close to brilliant, and because it was written for a young adult audience, the book is cheaper to buy.  Bonus!

I'm always on the lookout for new, well-written young adult books that don't have main characters who are on the prowl or going to camp in an effort to find a guy to sleep with.   But I don't always have the time to read them before Anna gets to them.  Here are some brief critiques of books I have read.  Maybe it will give you insight into whether or not your child is ready for them.  

 Twilight series:  I've read them all.  And really, really enjoyed them.  That said, I'm 44 years old and can separate fact from fiction.  Most of the time.  One of the first things I said to Anna was, "Edward Cullen does not, and will never, exist."  Because the romantic aspect of these books is incredibly, well, romantic.  To have some hot, hot guy think that you are the most desirable person on the planet is a bit heady, to say the least.  Obviously geared to girls.  Or women.  

What I like about this series: 

1. There is no sex until the characters are married.  

2. Edward is chivalrous and quite chaste.

3. It is swooningly romantic. (Really?  "Swooningly" didn't come up in my spell-check?  I thought for sure I made that word up!)

4. It's a very imaginative premise that carries you away from the first chapter.

What makes me hesitate:

1. Bella is very forthright in her desire to become a vampire.  Which euphemistically means that she pressures Edward for sex.  This is not a characteristic I want to promote in my daughter.  

2. Some of the sections are quite violent.  And a bit scary.  And I'm a chicken.

I told Anna that if she wanted to read the last two books, we'd have to have "the talk."  She has never expressed any desire to finish the series.  Even after we had "the talk."

 

Graceling:

I'm not a big fantasy fan.  I read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but didn't finish the series until a couple of years ago.  And that was by listening to them on tape.  That being said, I was entranced by this book.  It's about an 18-year-old girl who is born with a "grace."  Gracelings eventually expose themselves when their eyes develop into two different colors.  And a grace can be anything from being able to cook a mean hollandaise to being able to kill people effortlessly.  Which happens to be the grace bestowed upon Katsa.  I was immediately swept away with the story.  Katsa is a strong heroine who also has quite the chip on her shoulder.  Again there is sex.  Anna read the book before I did (Sam also read it and thoroughly enjoyed it), but after I read it I made sure to talk to her about the sexual relationship in the book:  it's between Katsa and a young man whom she trusts implicitly and who would never betray her, but whom she will never marry.  We talked about how important trust is in a relationship.  And how deciding to have sex is not a decision to take lightly.  Truly, any opening into this type of conversation is good.   It's also good to know before running out and buying the book for your child.  

Have I mentioned that this is mainly a one-sided conversation?  And that I think she might be humming a Taylor Swift song in her head as I blather on?  

 

Fire: 

This novel is by the same author as Graceling, Kristin Cashore.   You might want to check out her blog since it has fascinating insight into her process as a writer.  

Fire is a companion to Graceling.  Not a sequel.  Not a prequel.  A companion.  A story that takes place almost at the same time with a character or two in common.  It's about Fire, a female monster who is so beautiful that she causes men to want to possess her.  There's mention of rape.  And men wanting to harm her.  What was really valuable was when Sam mentioned that he found it disturbing that Anna may read this.  So we decided that he should be the one to talk to her about the treatment of Fire by many of the men in the novel.  How it is unacceptable to treat a woman this way.  Again, was she humming a Black Eyed Peas song or nodding in agreement?  I don't know.  It's just our job to keep talking.  

Fire also has sex with her best friend.  When she is 15.  Enough already, people!  Why?  Why?  Why?  

I just had to get that out.  Thanks.

Anyway, there it is.  There's sex in this book, too.  So we talked about that, too.  And how this act seemed very nonchalant to Fire but not necessarily to her friend.  And how it's definitely not an act to take lightly.  No matter what you read.  

This reading thing is hard work.  

But not as hard as this parenting gig.  

If you have favorite young-adult novels, feel free to share them here!  And next week I'll tackle The Dairy Queen series and perhaps something more appropriate to the male species.  

Halloween: It's Not Just for October Anymore

 

Last October when this post was fermenting in this little brain of mine, I was quite busy walking dogs and feeling sorry for myself and making costumes and feeling sorry for myself and attending soccer matches. And perhaps feeling a bit sorry for myself.  But Halloween really brings out the personality in my kids and rather wait for next October, I figure I'll beat the rush.

My very favorite picture of my children (Anna, who is now 13, and Jimmie, 11) is still the one at the top of this post.  Anna is still all about horses.  And cats.  And dogs.  This is the child that when I once said, "I think you like the dog better than me,"  she replied, "Oh no!  I like you both the same!"

And Jimmie, who insisted on wearing swim trunks over his jeans and had a rubber "cow hat."  I think the Santa pin is a nice touch.  This is not a costume you can find in stores.  Just so you don't go running out looking for a swim trunk/cow hat/Santa pin costume.  You'll be looking a long time.  

 

Obviously, a year or two later we have progressed to a princess (who is either cursing or blessing her brother) and Bob-the-Builder.  Who no less than 30 minutes before this picture was an M&M Chicken.  The M&M Chicken costume was all the rage that year.  We had to get to the store the night before and wait in line to be the first one in to nab that costume.  

Right.

Aunt Harriet had sent Jimmie a rubber chicken mask that was actually very artistic and cool.  Not like what you're imagining right now.  It was made of individual pieces of foam rubber and included a string to open and shut the beak.  It went very well with the M&M costume handed down from Aunt MeMe.  A natural pairing.  But before heading out to go trick-or-treating, Jimmie changed his mind and went with the Bob-the-Builder look.   Not as avant garde, but it also needs no explanation.

Harbor Springs has an annual Halloween Parade that includes the high school band and all the kids from preschool to kindergarten parade through the town in their costumes.  It's just one of the reasons to live here.  This was the year that Jimmie was a bush.  Not George Bush.  And definitely not a tree.  We had told him perhaps six months prior that his hair "looked like a bush,"  and that's all it took.  He thought a bush would be a great costume.  And, aside from being hot and heavy and hard to see out of, he loved that costume.  People remarked on it.  It made them laugh.  And he won the "Best Costume" award at the house across the street from our friend John.  The prize was an extra large Hershey's almond bar.  I won't really go into the fact that most kids don't like almonds.  And that the Hershey bar sat, unopened, on his desk for months.  It was just nice being nominated.  

 (imagine this with a head coming out of it)
 

The year before he was a thunderstorm.  That was a good costume, I must say.  I can't find a picture of it, but if you close  your eyes, I will describe it to you:  two pieces of cardboard cut out in the shape of a cloud with a circle cut out in front for the head and a thunderbolt hanging down.  The cloud had fluffy cotton glued on it and it was spray painted silver in areas to create a "cloudy" feel.  My coat was also spray painted silver.  As is the table on our deck.  Jimmie got to carry a spray bottle filled with water, too.  To use selectively, of course.  

You may now open your eyes.  

Anna was a Halloween present that year.  I would recommend this costume even if the picture is a bit blurry because it is EASY!  And when I say "easy" I mean night-before-Halloween easy.  Which is my number one criteria for a costume.  

 

This year, 2009, both kids were still excited to dress up and go trick-or-treating.  And I don't know when the cut off should be.  Perhaps when they no longer dress up?  Like I did one year, in 7th grade.  I put on a straw hat and colored my face blue.  I have no idea what I was supposed to be.  I guess I just wanted some candy.

This year Anna wanted to go to the Halloween shop where I could have easily spent $100 on each costume and where I overheard "Grandma" tell her granddaughter that the stripper costume was a great choice.  

As great costumes are wont to do, they evolve and Anna, who started off wanting to be some sort of cowgirl (predictably, but truly) ended up being this:

 ...the ghost of a dead clown.  It was all about the clown shoes for her.  And it was a rather scary costume in the dark.  If you're afraid of clowns.

Jimmie's wish was to be toxic waste.  But that's rather hard to come by.  And dangerous, so he opted for regular trash:

Who knows what 2010 will bring.  But I guarantee it will be scary.

Boo! 

   

 

sharing the whole big pie

  Isn't is funny how the world works?

I mean, how today's world works.  It's pretty amazing.  The internet (of which I did NOT invent) has changed us.

  And how we "know" each other...how we find each other in the big Big BIG world.  We can find our people, our people that do not share our DNA or weird cowlicks.  You know, people that get you. People that you connect with as soon as you begin reading their words.  Even if you've never hear the tones of their speech, you've heard their "voice".  Even if our people live hundreds, if not thousands of miles away.  Even if a large expanse of water separates them.

  That's amazing.

  So, here I am writing a little post with some of my people. 

 Alison and Kate.

  People I've never shared a meal with nor have I knocked on their front door with a casserole pie.  I have never sat on their porches with a glass of wine or sent them home with soup or muffins.  But, I feel like I have.  These chicks are my people, my peeps.
  I've teared up and cried with them from more than one of their stories and I've laughed out loud more times than I can count.  

The world is funny in how it works. And it's amazing.  In this big world of ours we can find our people and the world becomes smaller.  And tighter.  And better.  What's not to like about that?

  It seems to work best when we each find our people.  And when you do, hold on to them and bring pie. 

 So, if you hear knock on your door someday soon and weren't expecting company, just grab the forks.  I'll bring the pie.

-deborah

glad to be here:)

Old Age Is Not for Sissies

 

Today I went to visit my mom at the hospice house where's she's been since December after my dad spent two consecutive nights in the emergency room for what turned out to be stress related symptoms.  It's a lovely spot (the hospice house, not the emergency room), kind of French country provincial with a beautiful new solarium and green and wine and gold colors. I could probably live there.  Plus, they have good food. 

I brought my camera to take pictures of Mom's new surroundings and to update how she's doing.    

But first I lost my camera.  And I had to run back to the beach where we had been earlier.  And I found it on the rocks where Sam said I would find it.   It is quite annoying being married to someone who is often right.  I would not recommend it.

I also would not recommend standing next to anyone (who shall remain nameless) who likes to throw snowballs.  Because chances are that person will be the target for someone else. 

   

 And I would recommend not using the "snow" setting on your camera.  Unless you like a dreamy, ethereal feel to your photos.  And the feeling that your eyes aren't focusing correctly.

Once I arrived at the hospice house I greeted my mom and told her who I was.   She gets the most delighted smile on her face when she greets me.  And she usually exclaims, "OH!" like I'm just the person she wanted to see.  And then she gets distracted by other conversations going on around us.  Much like a teenager texting while talking to you.  But not as rude since she has dementia and teenagers just have hormones.  

We talked a little.  Really, I talked.  About her cats when she was young.  How every one of them was named Billy.  Regardless of gender.  She laughed at that. Then I asked where Dorothy was and the women who work there said she was "gone." 

Dorothy never smiled.  She couldn't feed herself.  She had no affect whatsoever. And one day she was sitting next to my mom and my mom tried communicating with her in that very uncommunicative way she has; a mixture of recognizable words and syllables that make no sense mixed with forgetful pauses.  Then my mom reached out her hand toward Dorothy.  And Dorothy took her hand.  And they sat there.  Holding hands.  That part of my mom who consoled and took care of others emerged in this setting.  After that the two of them often sat and held hands.

I set my camera on the table and worked up different ideas of how to take my mom's picture.  I reached for it once or twice.  Took the lens cap off even.  And then I couldn't do it.  I couldn't take her picture.  I don't quite know why.  Perhaps it's because it wouldn't show the woman who takes care of others, who held Dorothy's hand.  

I don't know where Dorothy went.  

I was afraid to ask.

 

 

Sheesh!

This is a post that just is here to get the ball rolling, to get over that invisible cliff of not writing.  At least not writing anything other than jewelry descriptions for my Etsy shop. They're tougher than you might think.  Let me tell you. Example:

Black Hills ... Lampwork and Brass Bracelet

Description

Two years ago we embarked on a trip out to Big Sky, Montana. In April. Because we just hadn't had enough winter in Northern Michigan and we needed to get us some more. I pity those fools who spent their spring breaks basking in the Caribbean sun while we trudged through snow on horseback or took our lives in our hands while being whipped around ice covered lakes by wild dogs attached to a flimsy sled.

I'm not at all bitter.

On our drive back home we stopped at a restaurant in Rapid City, South Dakota. For the life of me I can't remember the name, but the colors were spectacular and the inspiration for this bracelet of corals, olive, black, and mustard yellow, wound together with antiqued brass findings and bronze wire. 

All made by me in my little studio overlooking Lake Michigan, surrounded by dogs and classical music. Ha! Who am I kidding. I like me some Jack Johnson and maybe a little NPR when the timing is right. Which has nothing to do with this bracelet. 

This will comfortably fit a 6 to 7-1/2 inch wrist, I do believe. Accented with Swarovski crystals and coral.

C'mon!  That's the work of a literary genius, I'm telling you.  A post in and of itself!  I'm nothing if not long-winded.

This post is to get over the hump of "Sheesh, it's been so long!  How do I start?  What do I say?  Do I tell everyone that my mom has been admitted to Hospice, a comment that makes most people breathe in then out slowly and say they're sorry?"  Actually, that's been a good development but hard transition for my father.  He's the one I worry about.

Why, oh why, won't he get a cat?  A warm little bundle of life that would be there when he got home.

He's taken such wonderful care of our mother for the past 8 years especially, that the house must seem empty and his life needs reassigning and at 82 years old I can't imagine how you go about doing that.

So, do I mention any of that?  

Do I mention my part-time job walking dogs?  The job that everyone says, "Must be so much fun!  Do you just walk dogs all day?"

Yes, yes, I do walk dogs for a great majority of the day.  My first week there I walked for 4 hours.  Straight.  I've never been so physically tired in my life.  Or hungry.  For cookies.  I also pick up a whole lot of dog poop.  

Kate has never stopped writing.  I hope you've been keeping up with her here:

http://www.theblankiechronicles.com

for posts that make you think and then rethink how you might be thinking.  And for writing that makes you celebrate little things like homemade aprons and sparkly shoes.

I guess I write about all of that because I was starting to feel like I do when my thank you notes keep being pushed to the back burner.  Is it too late?  It's too late, isn't it?

I don't think so, because I've got so much more to say.  

I'll be back.

My Name is Kate. And I am addicted to Freezer Paper

Or freezer paper stenciling, anyway.  

I've been wanting to try this craft project ever since reading about it in Amanda Soule's book, The Creative Family.  I started hitting up the thrift stores and collected a few plain t-shirts, found freezer paper at the grocery store, and bought some decent fabric pant.  And then, it sat and sat, because for some reason, I actually thought this would be hard. Boy, was I wrong.  

The boys and I sat at the computer and picked out some images-- a jet plane for Max, a really cool owl in flight for Noah.  I saved them to my computer and then, using photo-editing software (I used Picnik-- free-- online), I blew the image up by 300-percent and printed it out. 

We taped the printed image onto our glass sliding door and then taped the freezer paper on top.  We traced the silhouette of the image onto the freezer paper (if you want to draw your own image, you can skip all the above and just draw directly onto the freezer paper).

I helped the boys by cutting out the traced image using an exact-o knife, and then ironed it onto the shirt (I also put another blank piece of freezer paper inside the shirts to avoid the paint seeping through).  

Once the freezer paper was ironed on-- I moved the iron across it for about half a minute-- you can tell when it is secure-- I turned the project back over to the boys. Using basic paint brushes and some fabric paint, they painted in the area that was cut out until it was well covered (beware-- after a first coat, specks of unpainted fabric appeared, especially along the freezer paper's edge).  We then let it dry overnight, and the next morning, simply peeled the freezer paper off...and it was done!  So cool. So easy. So just in time for the holiday season (because let's face it:: my knitting is not going to be gift worthy until, um, 2020)...

knitting nonsense

I have no good excuse for being a bad blogger. Except that I'm learning to knit.  And I am ob-sessed with it, even though I might possibly be the worst knitter in the history of the craft.  This is me, learning from my very patient teacher (who has to be patient because she is my Godmother). 

Notice the tongue-out style? Yup, that's how hard I have to concentrate so as to not mess up. And by the way, even then, I drop-- or add and add and add-- stitches.  Sigh.

But there is something so pioneer or Little House about knitting. It makes me want to take a deep breath and get cozy and rock by the fire.  I have that image of myself, glasses falling down my nose, warm fire crackling beside my wooden rocking chair, just knitting the winter away in the evening hours.  Yes, I am aware this sounds very grandmotherish for a 30 year old (especially a 30 year old with three small children). But still. Every girl has their happy place dreams, and for whatever reason, this happens to be mine. This week anyway.

It might be because of all the time I'm spending on Etsy-- because I have to check out other stuff after frequenting my favorite shop

-- that makes me so dedicated to learning this new thing to do. I mean, who wouldn't want to knit with yarn like this available?

And really, wouldn't you love to put on of these on your child's head?

  
Or tuck them in with this at night?

Plus selfishly, I have grad visions of making myself something like this

or this.

Even if I've only made a sweatband for a wrist (because what else could it be?) and only gotten this far on any project.

Ahem.

In addition to my patient teacher, I'm spending a lot of time looking on youtube for good reminder videos.  Alex toys

has a great video on casting on here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9qAhTwAAP0

never mind that it is for the eight and under set. It works.

I also like Threadbangers. Cause they kinda rock.

Youtube has its share of funny knitting too: like, um how Tampax and Knitting can go hand in hand.

okay, you're right. I'm losing it.

Things I Love...Rings

My father gave me a ring when I was in the 5th grade.  It wasn't a purity ring or anything symbolic like that, it simply was an item that he picked out at the local jewelry store and gave to me for Christmas.

I wore that ring for years.  

I still have that ring.  With all its nicks and scratches and gouges.

When I was a kid digging around in my mother's jewelry box I'd often come across this monstrosity of a ring.

I thought it was hideous.  It's about the size of one digit on my finger.  And get this:  my mother made it in college.  I had never known my mother to make anything but dinner and decoupage and bad ceramics. But she was in a pottery class, as I remember the story going, at Florida Southern and wasn't doing so well so she switched to jewelry making.  The stone was one she filched from her father who had picked it up out west on a trip my grandparents had taken.  The ring was even entered in the Florida State Fair. I don't know how it did since these parts of the story were related to me as my mother started losing her ability to communicate.  But not-so-very-long-ago I was again perusing my mother's jewelry box. Probably in an effort to organize it since she has become almost crow-like in her ability to hide jewelry and then forget where she put it.  I came across this ring again.  And fell in love.

It's still huge.  The stone has so many matrices and colors that you could get lost in it.  And my mother made it.  

It's now, honestly, my favorite ring.

This, on the other hand, is not:

But, boy, did I think I was fancy when I got this ring.  

I was probably all of 17 when the Jostens class ring information came out.  Remember?

Now, I have nothing against class rings as a whole.  I'm sure many of you still wear yours.  And they have come a long way since 1983, but my parents convinced me to forego the class ring and take the money instead and buy the gold, sapphire, and diamond ring you see above.

That's right.  I said diamond.  

I thought I was so fancy.  So sophisticated.

I'm sure I was so obnoxious.  Plus, those diamonds are about the size of the diamond the high school boy gives his high school girlfriend as an engagement ring.

I do think I wore it longer than I would have a class ring.  

This is my wedding/engagement ring which I actually didn't get until months after the wedding.  We had it custom made by an ethereal woman who had no concept of time.  It's eminently wearable with nothing sticking up or out.  I love that about it.  It's also dirty.  

This ring is Sam's.  It was given to him by a man to whom he showed property, a man he later found out went to Asheville School for Boys with his Uncle Dave, a man who valued Sam's friendship and took him under his wing.  

Myers Cooper has since passed away, but he and his wife were very, very special people who liked Sam for some reason.  Myers' father was Myers Y. Cooper, a former governor of Ohio.  He had a ring exactly like the one shown except he lost it in a manure pile one winter.  So he did what any governor of Ohio would do and had another one made.  In the spring, when the snow melted and the manure was spread, the ring resurfaced.  He gave one of the rings to his son.  Myers Cooper, the son, had three rings made to give to the three men to whom he felt the closest.

One of them was Sam.  Inscribed inside the ring are the initials SD-MC and the date it was given, Christmas, 1999.  

Such a sweet gesture from this outwardly gruff and no-nonsense man.  

Fortunately for me, Sam doesn't wear pinkie rings.  And it fits my middle finger beautifully.

There was a time in my history that I couldn't wear jewelry.  It wasn't because of allergies or moral misgivings or anything remotely like that.  I was going through a major depression and for some reason it felt anathema to me to wear anything decorative.  

Yes, I used the word "anathema."  Because I'm just like that.  I did look it up to make sure I was using it correctly.  

My vocabulary might be fancy, but I'm not.  And even though I harbor secret fantasies of being given a ring like this:

I'm sure I wouldn't love it any more than the ring my father gave me when I was in 5th grade.

...alison...

Where Was This Video When I Was 13 And Wanted To Look Like Farrah?

Busy? Yes. Productive? Jury's Still Out.

School has begun and as soon as children were shooed into brick-lined buildings we've been blessed with a September of perfect summer weather (warm days, cool nights, the sun shining brightly but in that tired autumnal way that signals a change is in the air, and no tourists to wrestle for parking spots in front of the Post Office.  Perfection!).  Both kids are adjusting beautifully and have absolutely no complaints (okay, except for homework) and I have started a new job.

Yes.  That's what I said. 

Here's where you must know that I am certified to teach language arts and Spanish at the middle school and high school levels.  I crammed 4 years of college into 6 for that degree.  And I used it for 8 years. Then I had kids and was so, so lucky to be able to stay at home.  

I love being home.  I'm envious of Kate and her homeschooling rhythms.  Just check out The Blankie Chronicles and you will want her to adopt you.  I love not having to be somewhere at a certain time.  I love animals sleeping at my feet, tea and a cookie (okay, several cookies), Norah Jones wafting through the house (or if she's busy, her music on the stereo will do), a fire in the fireplace, a good book...you know, all of those things that signal peace and quiet and more of an exhale than an inhale.

I love that.  But it's so not productive.  

So it's time to start a new job.  There are very few teaching jobs in Michigan.  Okay, let's rephrase that. There are very few jobs in Michigan.  But I think I found a pretty good one.

Here's my office:

This is Paws and Claws Boarding and Bath where I sometimes walk dogs for 4 hours and clean up a lot of poop. And I look at a different version of this all day:

I can honestly say I have never seen Kooda roll his eyes at me.  And I have yet to ask him to spit out his gum.

When I'm not at Paws and Claws I've been filling up my waking hours tending to my Etsy shop.  If you've never had an Etsy shop, you might not believe the time and effort that goes in to making it successful. My Etsy shop isn't even successful and I put a ton of time into it.  The jewelry market is so saturated that you must find a niche.  So I've been working on these guys:

with the hope that they're unique enough to get my shop noticed.  But even with this, Etsy success means constant vigilance, exceptional photography, time in forums and on blogs and teams and virtual labs, cute boxes, great customer service, people who order things but don't pay, and terrifically supportive people who love handmade items (that's a shout out to you, KathiD!).

I also have two children.  I don't know how your children work, but my two require attention.  So, often I'm dropping off one here:

And another one here:

And hopefully they both don't have to be somewhere at the same time.  And hopefully I don't drop off the wrong child at the wrong place.  Anna would look funny trying to play soccer in riding boots.

And I have a pretty constant underlying sense of concern for parents who are getting older and one who has major health concerns. I don't have a picture of that.  I don't think there is a picture of that.

So, I've been busy.  I'm inhaling a lot more.  Sucking it up, moving forward.  Less Norah Jones, more caffeinated Kid Rock.  I'm getting things done.  Me, who could sit and read a book all day.  Because what else is there to do?  

And the blessing in all of this is that nothing is taken for granted.  The tea, the cookies, reading...I appreciate it more because it's no longer the usual, normal routine.  

And that's a good thing.  

Now if I could just get Norah Jones to stop wandering around my house...

...alison...

Pesto-Chango!

I know i posted a recipe for Edamame Pesto not all that long ago, and posting this leaves me running the risk of making you all think I can't actually cook anything else, but in my freezer-packing furry, pesto has become a major staple around here. Whew. That was such a poorly written run-on sentence. Sorry 'bout that.

In any case, my favorite pesto recipe of all time is so very simple::

1 cup of loosely packed basil leaves

1/4 cup lightly toasted pine nut/sunflower seed combo (or all sunflower seeds if you have folks with nut allergies) The picture is from a doubled or tripled recipe-- I really do know how to measure.

1/2 cup good olive oil

1/4 cup parm cheese.

1 or 2 cloves of garlic, minced.

Mash all together the old fashioned way or through in a food processor and blend.

I leave the cheese out when doing this:

Freezing pesto in individual cubes makes for easy storage (you can fill a glass jar for the freezer and just pluck one or two out as needed or just leave them right in the trays.  I use the BPA free Fresh Baby ones, that I still had from making Lizzie's baby food.  They are really easy to get out-- I've found the cheap plastic trays crack with stuff like pesto frozen in them.

If you want to mix it up try adding some fresh tomatoes to the mix-- a BIG hit around here.  

You could also roast some of the last bits of summer squash and blend those in (sound yummy)....

Or maybe even scoop some butternut squash that has been cooked in...With pesto, the possibilities are endless. And did I mention, pesto takes about 6 minutes, start to finish, to make??? 

Ninja-nuity!

I haven't been posting lately, but I have SUCH a good reason:: I got kidnapped by a ninja.

Okay, obviously this little ninja is just about as cute as they come and not very good at tying shoes, let alone people, up for long periods of time. So the truth is, I've been bogged down in the reality of homeschooling (um, why did I not think I'd be busy??) and freelance work and that other blog (ahem. two timer.) Or, I've been glued to netflix watching Meerkat Manor like all the other people without tv do. You pick.

In any case, there is something to be said for the ninja get up.  Want some free fun and a way to get your preschooler involved in housework?  Join us for a rousing round of Max Kwon Doe!  Out of sheer boredom one sunny afternoon, Max decided he wanted me to help him complete some ninja training. We got right down to work, turning our backyard into an obstacle course of ninja-riffic skill builders.

About an hour later (seriously! this game is great!) we were tiring of the far-reaching ninja work, like "teach sister how to kick a ball in a very kind way, because ninja's are good leaders"

so I took a chance. Making a big production out of moving "to the next level" of his training, I took Max to the front yard, where I handed him a broom (ever so ceremoniously) and told him that ninjas need an eye for detail...which he could hone by sweeping the front porch.  And guess what? He did it! Gladly!

Justin came home in time to get in on the action, and before the training was done, all the recycling had been loaded into my car to go to the drop-off center, the outside toys were all put away-- where they belong--, and the dogs got a good game of catch in with our little ninja.

I'm thinking tomorrow, storm trooper training will include toilet bowls and dust bunnies.

Survivor?

We're Survivor fans here in the Alison side of this blog. Kate will tell you she doesn't have television. It's true. But like all people who don't have television, they do have computers and DVDs. And they watch them probably as much as I watch TV. Kate would admit to that, too. Anna pointed out this video to me. Preview it before showing it to anyone and everyone. There are racial stereotypes and a bleeped out word. I'm not sure what it says about me, but I found it funny.

I've Turned Into THAT Kind of Mother

Our son has the tightest back our chiropractor has ever seen on a child.

But what child at 10 years of age really wants to stretch out his back? 

For that matter, what adult really wants to stretch out his back?

But on Sunday afternoon, during an insanely great game of U-11 soccer, Jimmie hurt his back.

(This is not a picture of this game.  Just an inaccurate representation.)

We held our "We told you so"s to a minimum and talked about how he really needed to stretch.  How maybe running on off days would help his game.  Along with more stretching.  And I would run with him. And the Rocky theme song would play in the background.  And we would get stronger.  We would beat the Yankees just as the Bad News Bears did, except without all the smoking and swearing.  And we would be victorious!  

The word "scholarship" may have reverberated just a little through my brain.  The initials "MVP" may have entered my bloodstream.  This image may have inappropriately flashed through the space between my ears:

Not in light of my son, of course, just because...well, because it's David Beckham.  

Nuff said.

Anyway, after school today, even though I had walked dogs for 3-1/2 hours for my new job (which pays me to exercise, apparently), I was bound and determined that Jimmie and I would run, run, run like the wind.  On the sand so that we would improve our form.  Backwards uphill to strengthen our hamstrings. We would time ourselves in order to meet goals that we've set.  I'd buy him a special "Goals" notebook! Yes, that's what I said, a whole, special notebook devoted to our goals.  Now who wouldn't be motivated by that?  

Jimmie, that's who.  Jimmie who decided that he needed time to do his homework rather than go running with his mother.  So, do you know what I did?  

I told him not to make excuses.

If he didn't want to run and get better at soccer, that's fine, but call it what it is.  

I was going running and he was welcome to come, but if he didn't he would have to live with that decision and explain it to his father.

Other kids don't have his talent but work harder, and they will become better than he is.  

And then, as he was sitting at the counter and wiped away a tear on the sleeve of his U of M jersey, I left to go for a run (which turned into a fast walk, but who's really paying attention anyway).

Not my proudest mothering moment.

I thought that W.H. Auden once said, "Walking is the cadence of thought," but I can't find that quote anywhere.  So I said it.  

Walking is the cadence of thought.

Because it's a really good quote.  And it's so true.

I walked for 1/2 an hour, realized I never want to be THAT mom, the mom who doesn't totally appreciate her child as he is, because really I do.  I love that kid.  The one who reads more than he eats. The one who comes up with silly sayings like, "Never eat your socks."  The one who loves U of M even though I went to Michigan State.  The one who looks at me through the dashboard lights and belts out "Signed, Sealed, Delivered" like we're on stage singing a duet.  

I love that kid.

So I apologized.  And explained why I was sorry.  I that I don't want to be THAT mom.  

And he accepted my apology.

Consider this a friendly warning...

see more dog and puppy pictures

Crabby

I'm not in the best mood I've ever been in.  Just to warn you.  Sam keeps having to pull me out of the dark place I find myself, the place I go when what I want to happen isn't happening, and rather than embracing the new, exciting challenges facing us I just want to lie on the floor and kick and scream and cry.  And use a sharp tone of voice that makes me cringe when I hear it come out of my mouth.

I don't do change well.  And "challenge" doesn't quite go with "exciting" in my book. But even I have to admit that fighting it is not the most effective way of meeting life head-on. 

I'm not proud of my behavior.

One of Sam's pep talks consisted of a "grab life by the horns" kind of philosophy, a "take control of your future" type of talk.  Although he was much more eloquent.  And it was effective.  

On our trip in Alaska I grabbed life by the horns and caught a 35 pound halibut, a fish that would provide our family with some great, cheap protein.  

 

Just don't look in the bucket behind me at the fish that is twice the size than the little halibut I caught.  It was caught by a young woman half my size.  Just forget I told you that, too.

This little fishing expedition lit a fire under Sam to supply more food for our table.  He's thinking of going deer hunting this fall and there are probably some grubs we can unearth out in the yard.  For now, however, apparently Rusty Crayfish is a local, but not native, species that tastes like lobster.  So last weekend, in an effort to score some inexpensive, tasty food, and get me out of my funk on a day that was beautiful enough to lure Darth Vader from the dark side, we took some bacon, tied it to some lines that Sam put together,

 and set out to catch us some crayfish.  Because really... who can resist raw bacon?

Then we waded out to find dinner.  Or at least an hor d'oeurve.

The lake, often mercurial and temperamental, was unusually warm, almost inviting, as we dropped out bacon-laden lines.

I immediately pulled up one

and then another.  

And then we tried for another hour and were teased but didn't get any more.

Sam, being just a wee bit competitive, would probably be still down at the beach fishing.  The kids might, too, even though they had long given up on the crayfish and were busily scooping up minnows.

We walked back up the hill to our house.  Jimmie wanted to hold one up like I did with the halibut in Alaska.  

Anna followed:

By the time Sam cooked them up we each scored a piece of meat about the size of half of my pinkie fingernail.

It actually did taste just like lobster, but we would have had more of a meal if we'd just eaten the bacon.

Just not nearly as much fun.  

Back to School cool

We started school today. In our pajamas. At the kitchen table.  

Following a wonderful one-year stint back in public school, we've returned to the realm of homschooling, a rhythm that works well for our family.  While I won't miss the early mornings (we start at 9 now) what I do get a little longer for this time of year is the *excuse* to go school shopping. Here's a rundown of some of the coolest school supplies I've seen...please go buy them for me:)

Lunchboxes...Lunchboxes.com has some seriously sweet lunch boxes.

From the eco-friendly and cool two-tier tiffin

to the rocking retro tin boxes

 

I was wishing I had 10 kids-- all in school-- just so I could purchase 10 lunchboxes.  My boys, I think would have yelled for this one:

And if you have some earth-friendly, yet well-verse in manners eaters, etsy has a whole selection of colorful, funky, unique napkins-- reusable of course.

Etsy also boasts some pretty cute lunch notes...though I suppose you can make your own...

When it comes to backpacks, there are the classic staples, like LLBean

and the stylish (yet I'm not sure practical) like this one from Keen

or the very in and eco-friendly ones, like the 80-percent recycled Osprey

and the pricey yet urban-chic Simple

Off course, there is  a wide array of pretty notebooks to be purchased

Back on Etsy, if mom needs a new read while the kids are away, you can find some real treasures in the vintage section.

And etsy has some great deals on fall hats....It's nice to show up at school wearing something you know no one else will have on!

   

Speaking of wearing...there are the back-to-school clothes that I covet, like everything from mini boden

(sigh).

And one last thing...You cannot send your little girl off to school without the **perfect** accessory for her AND you....and for that, look no further than the GlassAli on Etsy.  I mean, what can be more perfect for a return to the classroom than one of these???

          

(Almost) Speechless Sunday

This is the blessing of shorter days.  Being fully aware of the detonation of color that appears whether someone is looking or not.

Thank God I was looking.

I swear, I'm not a bear

I just stockpile food like one.  

Fall is almost here, which means winter isn't all that far off (sorry, folks, don't shoot the messenger).  I go into this crazy mode of cooking and freezing frenzy this time of year, wanting to  make sure I have a freezer (okay, two) full of local goodness before the fields are covered in snow. This week alone, I've been blasting out batches of pesto (recipe next week!), blanching the heck out of beans, kale, corn, and more, and whipping up marina sauces (recipe soon!) and soups galore.  Here's a recipe for my favorite late summer veggie, the carrot (sorely overlooked, in my opinion).  You can eat it right away or, if you can keep your soup ladle out of the pot, freeze it.  I like to have at least 10 of these ready for a chilly night with a warm loaf of bread....and knowing I dug half the carrots out of the ground myself makes it that much better. 

Herbed Carrot Soup, ala Moosewood style

Can you just read the ingredients from there? No? Darn it.

You will need::

--four cups h2o

--2 lbs of carrots, chopped (I used about four bunches of garden carrots about this size...probably more than two pounds, but that's okay).

--three or four redskin or yukon gold potatoes from the garden, or one medium size regular ol' potato. Either way, skin it up and chop.

-- two cloves of garlic, chopped

-- 1 small onion, chopped fine

-- Some thyme, oregano, basil, etc. Whatever's in the herb pots or, if you are using dried herbs, go for the herbs de provence and a little extra basil.

Now, take the carrots and the potatoes and stick them in a pot of cold water. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes or until cooked through.  

Meanwhile, toss some olive oil in a pan, heat it up and add the onion. Cook on medium-low until it's soft but not too brown.  Add the garlic, and cook a minute more, then add the herbs and cook another minute or two.

If you have a food processor, stick the carrots and potatoes in and pulse once, add in the water slowly and keep pulsing. Add the herbed onion mix, and blend up until smooth.  If you don't have a food processor, you can use an immersion blender. And if you don't have that, I guess you could using a potato masher and do the mixing by hand. But if that's the case, I suggest you put one of the above two modern conveniences on your holiday wish-list. Just sayin'.

Dinner? Again? I've got the answer!

Every day of my life, it seems, I have to make dinner.  I don't necessarily despise the making of the dinner, although it sometimes gets in the way of my doing something else equally as important as feeding my family...things that include Facebook and checking my Etsy shop stats or making beads or watching Ellen...but I do despise the planning of the dinner.  What to have.  Who will eat what.  What ingredients are already in my cupboard.  

Here's an easy solution.  Little Pizzas!  All you need are some English muffins (we prefer Bays, which you can order online through Amazon very affordably.  Who knew?)

Top with pizza sauce and mozzarella cheese:

sprinkle with some parmesan cheese and bake at 350 degrees:

until nice and crispy and melty and brown on top:

 I've made these since I was a kid.  For one of my birthday parties my mom had all the fixings set out...olives, pepperoni, different cheeses...and everyone got to make her own pizza.  It was simple yet really fun.  I've never forgotten it.

It's a River! It's a Forest! It's a Fairy town! Or, it's paint.

I've been in a bit of a crafting funk lately.  Maybe it's the preparations for homeschooling or the fact that I've been picking up too much freelance work, or that it is sunny outside and my brain has been checked at the beach.  Regardless of the reasoning, I can't quite seem to make myself get artsy with the kids.  So when Max asked if we could "spray paint" last week, my mind kicked into overdrive, and came up with a project that totally did NOT turn out as planned, but was so very fun anyway.

 We ran to the dollar store and grabbed some spray bottles (any sort of spritz bottle will do).  Then we headed to the woods and fields behind our house, gathering bits of natural treasures to spray around (the idea being the leaves, sticks, etc. would be the "white space" on the paper). We didn't get far before the spray bottles (which had to be filled with water for *testing*) became weapons of war. Go figure.

But still. We headed down the trail, stopping briefly when Max found an entire colony of beetles and exclaimed "Look! Bugs do piggy back rides!" 

Ahem.

In any case, we eventually got going on our collecting...

stopping to nosh on some wild raspberries....

and twirl stuff...

Eventually, we made it back home, where we promptly put out some brown and white paper on the drive, and filled our bottles with paint and way too much water (if you plan to try this at home, I think an 8:2 ratio of paint:water is best).  The spraying commenced-- completely forgetting about the sticks and stones and grasses we'd collected.

Instead, we made a huge, colorful, watery mess...

And the boys immediately began to make up fantastic stories to accompany said mess, and I let go of the original craft plan to sit back and enjoy their creativity at work.  Sometimes, the best art *and by best, I don't necessarily mean finished products;)* is the stuff that just happens.

In what ways is art just happening in your world??

Back to Reality

Honestly, I just happened to glance out my window today and this is the scene that filled my world; the world that is filled with trying to get an Etsy shop up and running , with taxiing kids who-knows-where (by the way, does anyone know where my kids are?), with thoughts of beginning a new part-time job and school starting and dinner, always dinner, and how I'm not paying enough attention to my family or calling my dad enough or spending too much time on my computer.  

And then sometimes something so beautiful, like a lone sailboat on a gasp of blue, makes you stop and remember.  

In this case, however, it makes me remember breaths of mist and whales:

Yeah, I'm still in Alaska. I'm still looking at the facets of Lake Michigan and waiting, wishing for a whale to appear.  Because that would make things perfect.  Weird, but perfect.

We have friends who lived in Alaska, moved back to Harbor Springs for a year, and then moved back to Dutch Harbor, Alaska.  Mandy said she missed it.  Missed a part of Alaska where the average temperature in July is around 60 degrees.  60 degrees, people.  In July.  She said she missed all you could see in the ocean.  She looked in the Lake once and said, "Oh, look!  A sea anemone!"  and then realized the bright spot in the lake was a piece of plastic.

I oh-so-get that.  Because I'm missing that part of Alaska, too.  And I know that it's temporary.  And I know that it's totally unrealistic to think that our 10 day trip was at all how I could perpetually live.  And I know that where I live is really where I want to live.  That the scenery here is scandalously flamboyant. That I should seriously appreciate all of it. 

But this part of the year is almost over, and actually, this year, it barely even showed up for us to take attendance.  And it's back to reality.  And I'm a big baby.

But can you really blame me for missing this?

(the wildlife was amazing!)

I'm going to stop my whining.  right.  now.

Except to say that someone made me dinner every night.  While I was on vacation.  In Alaska.

Now I'm stopping.  

What I was going to do, but didn't. And what I did do. Thank goodness.

I was going to write about some to-die-for pesto and some fabulous-to-freeze carrot soup (I'm in fully freaking out it's almost fall stock up the icebox mode).  Or, I was going to write about Alison's great houseful of art-- ps, she and Sam used to give each other the gift of said art for anniversaries-- and how we have a few pieces of great art, but I've got an ever growing list I thought I could share of the "someday" works we hope to own.  Or, I was going to write about Max throwing the longest temper tantrum in the history of four year olds last week (but not really, because there wouldn't be much to say besides headache. scream. headache. scream. fast forward until past bedtime, and big. glass. of. wine).

But I can't write about any of that, because really, my week was just too busy.  I mean, who has time to create a post when the fair is in town?  

I HATE THE FAIR, by the way, and never, ever would have taken them if my mom wouldn't have said that four letter word in front to two very elephant-like in memory grandsons.  

But I went. And my kids truly had a lovely time, getting on rides run by men who were definitely possibly stoned,

 and learning how it feels to have a rifle in their hands. 

Good times, people. Good times.

And when I wasn't running around the midway this week? I was clamoring through a slide far too small for adults.

 And loving every minute of it, because it meant I had a solo date with my girl. 

No errands. No big plans. Just sharing a scone, playing at the park, and eating lunch-- just the two of us, although it was unexpected (the boys clearly needed a break in routine that involved putt putt golf and an adult that was not their mother) and required me to totally juggles my schedule.

And this weekend? Well, this weekend we traveled to Traverse City, to watch this hot guy 

(I mean, come on-- look at those legs!) rip it up with his buddies on a crazy in-town race course one day, and a monster climbing hill course the next.  It rained like crazy the first day, and was windy and cold the next-- and those are some tough conditions to do the "hurry up and wait" game with three littles beside you. 

 It didn't matter one bit though, because I forgot how fun it is to be on the sidelines cheering for someone you love doing something they love-- 

and doing it well, I might add.

So that's it, folks.  My last week of August, wrapped up in the joy of being open to whatever opportunities came our way-- even if they seemed less-than-ideal upon first glance.  It's a good reminder for me as we head into September, and a good opportunity for you to practice some free family fun of your own this week (unless the awful fair is in your town now. Then you're going to have to shell out the dough).  Otherwise, just do this:: clear an afternoon or morning...or a day or a week... from your schedule and just see what pops up. Or plan a solo date with one of the kids. Or do something with your partner that is all about their passion, just to watch 'em light up.  What a way to welcome in the month that brings us closer to warm fires and lots of tucked in family nights...

Rain + Cold + More Rain + Vacation = The Best Trip Ever

It all began with this woman:

Well, it didn't all begin with her.  But this trip, and all the memories created, are because of her.  "Her" is my mother-in-law, Rosemary, who looks cute, but is not.  She's distinguished.  She's gracious and kind and doesn't like being called cute.  (Secretly, and very warmly, I still think she's cute.  But don't tell her I said that.)

Seven years ago Rosie brought her oldest daughter's family on a trip with The Boat Company and for seven years we had to endure the photos and stories about this wonderful trip.  I truly thought it sounded nice, but come on... I saw the pictures.  It was rainy and gray and they were dressed for winter.   In the summer. 

I love to travel.  Even more, I love the thought of travel.  When Rosie came to visit us in the spring and said she'd like to take our family and her daughter's family to Alaska I was a bit giddy at the prospects. We didn't initially plan on a Boat Company trip because it's not cheap, but anything we looked at didn't compare in Rosemary's eyes.  It always came back to The Boat Company.  I looked at charters: "Well, it's just not quite like The Boat Company."  I read on-line reviews:  "Doesn't sound like the same experience as The Boat Company."  The Boat Company.  The Boat Company.  So I called Kathy.  At The Boat Company.

Don't ever call Kathy at the Boat Company unless you are prepared to sign up for this trip.  Because there is no fence sitting once Kathy gets ahold of you.  She's enthusiastic and friendly and once crewed the boat herself.  I got off the phone with her once and Anna, who had overheard the conversation said, "Did you make a new friend?"   As if it were the first day of preschool and she was proud of me. 

This was one of our first glimpses of the boat, the Mist Cove, sandwiched between two enormously large cruise ships.  I know there's a large contingency of people who love their cruise ships, but I'm not one of them.  I was so glad not to be on one of those ships.  We had an ongoing discussion amongst ourselves whether it's better to go on a large, less expensive cruise on one of these ships or to not go on a trip at all.  

I don't think there was a consensus one way or another, but my 15-year-old niece, Ginny, who is not a nature girl (I still have hope for her, however, because that girl was game for anything!), thought the twisty slide on top of the Carnival Spirit looked like a lot of fun.

We flew into Juneau and spent two nights here:

 

The Westmark Baranof.  It doesn't look nearly this fancy in person.  If you were to stay here, hypothetically speaking, of course, I would highly recommend requesting a room on the backside of the building unless you want to hear all the street noise and someone yelling for Jimmy at 3 in the morning which is highly disconcerting when your son is named Jimmie and you wonder why people are yelling for him.  And then I would highly, HIGHLY recommend that you do NOT get a room next to Eric and Lisa for two nights because they are she is quite loud and even louder after you complain to the front desk and they call to ask them to be quieter.  Let's just say I was really glad Anna slept through it all and that my ears needed a solid bleaching after that night.

Juneau is an interesting mix of outdoorsy tourist town and cruise line destination.  I liked the outdoorsy part of it and there were some great little shops hidden amongst the traps, but I learned that many of the shops closer to where the cruise ships dock are actually owned by the cruise ship companies.  Which would explain all the sales on Tanzanite and Tourmaline and Gold that look exactly like the sales of jewelry that you see in the Caymans, for example.   

We rented a wreck in Juneau for 24 hours at $135 for a van that fit all 9 of us very comfortably.  It didn't come with a driver, but we had our own who constantly referred to himself in the third person so he didn't receive a tip.

There's nowhere far to go around Juneau since it's landlocked, but we wanted to see Mendenhall Glacier, our first for the trip:

At the time we thought the ice floes were amazing.  Then we saw this:

Not knowing that in a couple days we would be doing this:

and watching this:

You poor people.  Are you still here?  Because this is just the beginning.  

I Haven't Been Drinking...

So, I have just returned from the balmy shores of Alaska where we spent a week on this boat:

with some of these creatures for company:

I'm still swaying a little from being on a boat for that long.  So if you see me weaving from side-to-side it's not because I'm drunk.  Really.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime trip that will take me several posts to fully convey, so bear with me.  No pun intended.  (Although any time someone says that, the pun is fully intended, isn't it?)

Simple Notecards

I don't know about all of you, but I detest going into a greeting card store.  I end up spending so much time looking for the perfect sentiments-- which I rarely find-- and yet, I also walk out with a much lighter wallet (how does that happen??)

In any case, we've started making cards around here. Simple, fun, and far more economical.  I buys stock blank card and envelope sets (I go to a craft store, but I know in an overwhelming google search there are even cheaper resources online).  

The biggest cost comes up front, with both the cards and an alphabet stamp set.  I like the wooden ones-- I think they last longer than foam, plus, well, I just like the look much better.  Get a couple of stamp pads-- choose colors with thoughts of what type of cards you'll likely be making, what seasons you'll send them, etc.

And then? The sky is the limit!  I use some  favorite quotes, and often (and more fun) quotes from the mouths of my babes.  To date my favorites include Maxism's like "Holy Guacamole, you gotta be kidding!" and "You are so lucky because you know the world's best toilet clogger!" (obviously that one can only darken the mailboxes of a select few).

Sometimes, the kids personalize the cards with artwork.  I'm collecting other cool stamps for this pirpose too.  The greatest thing about making cards, however, really is the ability to make a card with a specific person in mind-- you can really say what you want, without too much (or little!) greeting card fluff behind it.

Meet my husband, the worm.

What an honor to be a guest Clucker. While I don’t regularly follow this wonderful blog, I do manage to check in every once in a while when time allows. Following the creation of cluck and Tweet, I was an avid reader until learning from Max that Mr. Wonderful and I were actually represented on the unique banner the girls had created.  While the kids all have a unique character, I found that the worm was the Dads. Correct,  folks: Sam and I are together one worm. Wonderful to know that we mean so much to Kate and Allison that they could not even create two worms….but only one. Anyhow, I don’t follow as often as I used to, but I’m not bitter about the worm at all….

 

So when I heard that Allison and family were heading to Alaska for the Wii-fit family challenge, and Kate was left to cluck and tweet alone, I offered to help. Albeit in a small way.  Since I am not as witty as Allison nor as creative or as well spoken as my wife, I offered to fill in and take 10 photos from one spot. I figured how hard could it be? And besides, Allison has not really set the bar that high in her 10 shots one spot. These shots were taken from the roof of my office in downtown Harbor Springs (shameless plug coming up here) where I sell boats of all sizes to people from all over the world. (www.walstrom.com) in case you need or want one. without further ado, 10 shots one spot….

 

 

J (aka part of the worm)

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of These Things Is Not Like the Others

Part One:  Giddy with Anticipation

Part Two:  I Hope We Can Figure Out Which Boat Is Ours

We'll be getting on one of these boats today (my niece hopes that it's the one with the twirly slide on top!  It's not.  Don't tell her.) and will be off the grid for a week.  Probably.  By the time we get back we'll all be full of sunshine and smiles.  All of us.

Sponge Bob

Kate and I have named the craft section of this blog "Bob" for reasons that should seem obvious, but, if you insist on an explanation, here's the short version:

1. We could not think of a single bird reference related to crafts (however, we are still open to suggestions)

2. Back when I was in college, oh, about a year ago, each floor of the dorm gave itself a name. Some made absolutely no sense.  For example, my first year of college I was on the third floor of Shaw Hall and we were called "Cloud Nine."   Yeah, I know.  But one of the years I was in a dorm one of the brother floors called themselves "Bob,"  which I found quite funny.  

As in, "Hey, I'm from Cloud Nine! What floor are you on?"  

"Oh, I'm on Bob."

3. The end.

Thus the title of this post. 

Today I am revealing what I alluded to in this post and this one.  How to make awesome dollhouse furniture from sponges.  Yes, SPONGES!  I know!

Anna and I found a book in the library

where we found the instructions to make furniture for my Anna's dollhouse.  Now, we will share our amazing knowledge and talent with you.  

First, you need sponges.  We got the kind with the wavy edges, but any kind will do.  Except maybe those real sponges that are round and, well, spongy.  Those won't work.  Sorry.  

While they are still damp (why are sponges damp when you buy them?) measure and cut:

about 1" off the length of the sponge.  This is the back of your couch or chairs.  If you choose to make a couch, this is the only measuring and cutting you'll need to do.  

If you would like to make chairs, first cut the sponge in half width-wise

and then 1" off the end (we chose the wavy side) to use as a back

Now the hard part.  You must let the sponges dry.  Dry, sponges, dry!  I find the wait excruciating.  But your sponges will change:

Now simply take beads that you may have lying around:

and choose some that you would like to use for legs.  Anna chose the following:

and placed them on 3/4" long nails:

2 beads per nail would work well, too. 

Now use this marvel of the modern age:

Words can't quite express my feelings for my glue gun.

Have someone who doesn't mind getting burned once in awhile man the glue gun.  Or use Elmer's, you chicken.

And there you have it:

a cute dollhouse chair. 

Let the fun begin!  Because in this household, if there are beads involved, all bets are off:

We can add them to the back (this is the Ladybug Series, I'm told by the designer).  But where a little is good, well then, by golly, a lot is better!

 (full-size sponges make good beds)

Hey, Sigfried and Roy...need a decorator?

The best part of giving kids the space to be creative is seeing what they will come up with:

 

These are my favorite product of this project and Anna came up with it all on her own...a vase of flowers and the beginnings of a lamp.  

Remind me to do these things more often.

Sometimes, it is just gross.

I was all set to share a recipe for z-muffins today. But then, i decided I'd do bread instead. Except I didn't check the pantry before starting and had sleeping children that made running to the store impossible. Now on occasion, this opens up my creative cooking skills in wonderful, magical ways and I end up creating a recipe that is fantastic (not to toot my own horn...okay, maybe just a quick beep, but still).

This was not one of those times.

So here's the lesson folks...

When a recipe that wants to turn this

into this

calls for this,

but you only have a half-a-cup, not three...

don't-- I repeat-- DON'T use this

 for a substitute.

Y-U-C-K.

And since the bread tasted horrific (but at least made the kitchen smell nice), I have nothing left to share...except I hope it is sunny and warm wherever you are:)

Procrastination as an Art Form, Part One: Packing for a Trip

Did I tell you that I'm leaving tomorrow for here?

It's a boat trip through part of Alaska's Inside Passage with The Boat Company.  Our whole family (minus the dogs and cat) is excited beyond belief to be spending a week on a small boat with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law and brother-in-law and niece and nephew and some other people who have no idea what they're in for and don't have -in-law attached to their names.

Say a little prayer for them, wouldja?

So I have been preparing for this trip over the last couple of days by doing what anyone else would be doing if she were in my shoes.  No, not packing!  This:

Yes, that would be yarn.  Because two days before any long trip through airports like ORD or JUN or even SEA, a person should try to teach herself to knit.

It's just what needs to be done.

I have become quite good at CO-ing, which, in the lingo of my fellow peeps in the knitting world, means "Cast on."  And it's all because of this link right here that explains how to do long-tail cast on.

The impetus for this seemingly impulsive move was when I was surfing Etsy and came across this:

Hello!  It's Penelope, the Empathetic Monster!  Or, actually, it's a pattern for Penelope, the Empathetic Monster.  And it looks really simple.  And I'm sure the kids and I can make these from Harbor Springs to Juneau to Sitka and back.  Maybe like 15 or 20.  

Have you seen how far I've gotten?  Maybe you have:

But it sure beats packing.

(My next post, if we're at all lucky, will be from Juneau!  This technology sure is somthin'!)  

A gift for summer hostesses-with-the-mostesses (I know, not a word)

There is a ridiculous amount of photos to go with this post.  Sorry 'bout that up front.

Summertime brings lots of bbq's and get togethers with family and friends.  I've never been very good at bringing something other than a bottle of wine (which I end up drinking) to most of these events, but I always think once I'm there "this is so nice. I should have done something as a little thank you."  Not too long ago, my folks had some friends over for dinner that brought an entire (homemade) spread of baked goodies for their breakfast.  I loved this idea, and wanted to tailor it to my still-little-children-at-my-ankles-waist-and chest hectic schedule.  So this is what I can up with: a jar of concentrated sun tea, some fresh flowers (or at the moment, sprigs of lavender from my yard...) and a basket of muffins (when time allows).

To make:

Start with a pitcher of water and add a whole bunch-- I use eight to 10 teabags of a perfect summer sun tea blend (my current fav is a local blueberry variety).  

Set out in the sun (and try to keep out of curious toddler reach, or it will take three pitchers and thirty teabags. Ahem).

Let it sit until it is good and dark.  

And then, simply pour into a clean glass canning jar.  

I like to add a little fabric scrap to the lid, and a little note explaining that this is concentrated tea...Just a couple tablespoons full (to taste) over ice does the trick.  

Tie up some fresh flowers (from your yard if you can-- nice and inexpensive, but even better, more personal!)

and ta-da! A homemade thank you that is so very warm and cozy (despite being iced tea).  This also would be a great "just because" gift for a friend or relative that needs a little smile.  

And while I do like to add blueberry muffins to a basket these days (in season and all), I have a whole bunch of these from my CSA share

So the next round of thank you tea will be getting zucchini muffins instead.  By the way, I'll be sharing that recipe soon....so stay tuned!

Life in Miniature

Back in the day I had a doll house.  I'd like to say I was maybe 8 years old at the time.  Or that I loved dolls.  Or that it was a large Victorian handed down from my grandparents and that my mother used to play with it while her nanny looked on.  

I'd like to say that, but it wouldn't be true.

I was probably 12 or 14, didn't care for dolls one bit, and my dad helped me put it together.  I have handed it down to my daughter and now it looks like this:

or, if you remove the horse blanket covering it, it looks like this:

a decrepit haunted house.  Which is exactly the look Anna says she was going for.  I have to say, I was a much better house owner.  

And I never, ever parked a Polly Pocket car in the kitchen.

I loved all of the miniature items.  I cut a hole under the stairs for a mouse:

and in my Dollhouse World magazine it showed how to make food so I also made a little mouse to live under the stairs using the same recipe of flour and whatever else.  He has since disintegrated.   

I made a "welcome" sign from a flat toothpick.  X-Acto knives were a Christmas present that year.  I was terribly excited.  And I still use them.   

I got a paper flower kit and used the directions to make miniature paper flowers to put in the miniature glass vases Aunt Helen gave me.  I used the wire from twisty ties.  My dad made a corner fireplace from plaster of Paris and I found the pebbles.  I made the fireplace screen from some extra screen we had lying around (everyone must have extra screen lying around) and painted it black:

The years have not been kind to my little fireplace, but it's nothing a little more plaster of Paris can't fix.

Anna and I are in the process of making a new dollhouse from a kit given to her by her aunt.  It's a long process of sanding and papering and sanding and painting and gluing.  I'm not as good at it as my dad. But I still love all of the tiny aspects to it.  I think it completely ties into my fascination with this:

or this:

Just how much can be crammed into 1" of glass?

Later this week Anna and I will have a dollhouse furniture tutorial that consists of this:

This tutorial will have danger!  intrigue!  sponges!  

You won't want to miss it.

I'm baaaaaack!

Again, a post with very few pictures.  Why? Because I am still in bed, listening to the rain pour down, and thinking that it is perfectly lovely to be doing just that.  We got home from a week on a boat last night-- you remember my have-awake fit in Wisconsin, right?-- and the mountain (perhaps now just a hill) of laundry seems less enticing than a king size bed with no one else (at the moment) in it.  

I don't know exactly how much I can share of the tail end of our trip with you (because, um, Traverse Magazine has the rights to it, and ya'll will just have to watch for the july issue of 2010 (yeah, they book out pretty far in advance) for the stories. But I can say, it was great, and beautiful, and also very, very buggy.

In any case, I didn't end up despising the cheesehead state all that much. Fish Creek, a sweet little town in Green Bay, was a blast.  And my kids sat through a very fancy, white linen tablecloth gourmet meal (we sort of ended up there by accident) like champs. Which made me love them even more, if that's possible.

The few shots that have made it from the camera onto a computer from our boat trip are all thanks to my husband.  

This is what we all did (except him, because he had to drive) all day as we crossed back over the lake, on a smooth and sunny morning.

And this is a few shots hiking around certain islands in Lake Michigan, that boast both big blood-sucking bugs and an old Native American burial ground.  This part of the trip was away from the docks, away from just about everything really, and was so, so nice.

Anyway, I'm slowly returning to the real world, and I'll be back Monday with Nature Walking and I can also promise some sweet, simple summer gift ideas and a recipe or two.  

Oh, one more thing: Alison really is an angel. And a saint. But I'm betting you all already knew that.

Use Your Imagination

Today I have no pictures for you except for the ones in your head, because I am not at home.  I am at my parents' house, taking care of my mother who is 78 and has dementia.  So I'm just going to help you imagine what that's like. 

First, a disclaimer:  I know it could be a lot worse. 

Imagine:  blue skies, white clouds, boat horns, whisper winds, bobbing daisies....and Clorox cleaner.  My proud father, bless his heart, will not take more help or ever complain about anything.  But he's one man.  And he's 81.  And a half.  So I look to this as a great opportunity to reach some cobwebs that are out of his reach or take some rugs to the laundromat or wash some floors.  And, honestly people, I really am happy to do it.  It's productive, I'm here and able, and my mom needs constant vigilance, but she doesn't need me hovering over her all day.  But it just so happens that after a summer of rainy-cold days, this week has had beautiful weather.  Of course.

Imagine:  orange barrels, flashes of traffic, whooshes of cars, McDonald's Mocha Frappe, someone in the passenger seat who is 78 and has dementia telling you, in no uncertain terms, how to drive.  As she spills her coffee (which is half cream and a little ice, so don't worry about a burn, I've got that covered at least) all down the front of her white shirt.  Which is kept immaculately clean by my father.  And which I cover with a jacket for the rest of the day because I can't get her shirt off of her.  

Imagine:  shiny floors, fresh rugs, Wii whees, shuffling feet, abandoned walkers, "Hot, hot, hot!"  Jimmie is here with me.  And he really has been great.  Of course he has gotten to play the Wii three-times-more-per-day than he would at home with no chore to earn it.  He had McDonald's for lunch.  With a strawberry shake.  He had ice cream for dessert after dinner.  Did I mention that it's been sunny?  Because I have a bit of guilt that my son will turn into one of "those" kids.  While I was cleaning my mother was hanging tightly to the counter in the kitchen.  She doesn't have a lick of balance and the walker is not always remembered so she hangs on like a it's her parachute line, the deck rail of a keeling boat, the edge of a bridge where she's decided the bungee jump is not such a great idea.  Yesterday she was hanging around the stove as I cleaned the kitchen.  All of a sudden I hear, "Hot! Hot! Hot!"  and I look over to see the front burner on, coils red, heat exploding.  I shuffle her away, again.  Again.  Until it cools.  Because this adds a whole new element (no pun intended) to this story. 

Kate had the great idea of taking off the burner knobs.  She has a toddler.  There are similarities.

Imagine:  Granny from Madagascar2 showing up at 8 pm and staying until 8 am.  Except add a halo above her head.  And call her Marie.

Imagine:  sitting with family you haven't seen in a year, not worrying about laundry, sleeping more than 3 hours at a time, laughing, clearing your head, letting someone take care of you, putting your feet up, allowing someone else to drive, seeing every day worries flit through your head, briefly, occasionally, an not running after them because there's nothing you can do about them.  Except let them go.  And enjoy where you are. 

That's what I hope my dad is doing. 

right now i really, really don't like the internet service in Wisconsin. Actually, I'm not that big of a fan of the big cheese state in general at the moment. Personally, I like our side of the lake a bit better.  But maybe that's because I'm way tired and my entire long-winded and actually kinda good post just got deleted. ARGH!

So you get this:

a teaser of a post on nature walks and being calm and all that jazz.  Sounds peaceful, right?

Anyway, I'll be back in a few days, if Lake Michigan decides to play nice and let us come home.  Crossing that lake, I have to say, is a lesson in humility. Mother Nature does not mess around when she decides to get crabby-- and combined with the soul of that beautiful fresh water-- watch out.

Presently...

Presently, I am getting ready to go here:

To spend some time with this lovely lady:

While this guy

heads here for a few days

for a well-deserved break.

Sorry, Zoe, but you're not invited.

....if you don't hear anything from me in a few days, send out the troops....

alison

She Eats Noodle Shells by the Lake Shore

What a mess.  This doesn't even look remotely appetizing.  I'm sorry.  I want to apologize to Linda in Wagoner, especially.  You can check out the comments on this post to find out why.  And then we will all hug and we'll all feel better.

Any hoo, this is a recipe for stuffed shells.  It's tasty.  A lot like lasagna stuffed in a shell, but somehow that makes it seem a bit fancier.

I'm nothing if not fancy.

Step one:  buy some shells

It seems obvious, but you can't believe how many people forget this step and then instead of stuffed shells for dinner, they end up with just the stuff part.  It's not pretty.

And don't just buy any old shells, they must be the JUMBO shells.  Because we don't mess around.

Mix together all of these cheeses.  I like to use the whole package of mozzarella, a whole carton of cottage cheese (or ricotta works well), and quite a bit of parmesan.  We like our cheese.  We live close to Wisconsin, so maybe that's why.

Add an egg.  Or two egg whites, if you're health-conscious.  However, if you are terribly health-conscious, maybe you shouldn't be eating all that cheese.

I'm just sayin'.

Add some salt and parsley and basil.  Mix all together, now.  Then do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around.

Then stuff those cooked shells.  Oh?  I forgot to tell you to cook those shells?  

Ooops.  

Well, it's not too late.  Unless you've already stuffed them, which, in case you haven't noticed, is quite hard to do when they're not already cooked.

Not that anything like that has ever happened to me.

Top with spaghetti sauce, more parmesan cheese, and pop into the oven at, say, 350 degrees for maybe 30 minutes or until the cheese is all melty and bubbly.

Toss a salad, throw it on a plate, which is what I apparently did.  LIterally.  And you're set.  Another dinner for the record books.

  

And then tomorrow comes and you have to do it all over again.

Money, Schmoney

I really, really started to hate the word ECONOMY sometime around mid-March.  It made me feel all first-trimester kind-of sick every time someone even mentioned it.  But recently,I've begun to look at that word-- and what it means to our family-- in a different light. A values re-clarification sort of light.  And you know what? It seems to be helping.  Part of my re-framing this summer has been to make an effort to get back to the basics-- to use the beauty of our surroundings and the plenty of activities to be found nearby as a way to fill our days with richness....all for free (except Noah and sailing. that one's about bank-breaking, but that's okay). 

Anyway, I'm thinking that I'm going to kick off a week of what to do for free with your family kind of stuff, and will choose things that hopefully you can find within a half-hour or hour radius of your own home too.   

1) Visit a local farm.  Check http://www.pickyourown.org for a listing of farms with a U-Pick feature around the country.  We spend at least an hour each week at our local farm of choice, Pond Hill, where we have a CSA share and a community garden plot (which, um, we didn't actually plant this year. But still).

Visiting a farm not only connects you to local growers, it gives you a sense of peace; a deeper understanding of time and nature and how things happen just when they are supposed too, like the birth of these sweet piglets:

 (be warned, however: if you are still nursing, this image 

will register very quickly in your toddler's mind, and will leave her scrambling up your shirt saying "Num! Num!"

You can visit the vegetables, if there is a market-- even better, because this time of year berries and colors are exploding all over the place and might just entice little hands to pop some new good-for-you-foods into little mouths!  

At Pond Hill, there are tons of other things to see, from the livestock

to the tire swing (talk about joy from a day gone-by...)

 

And if you are really lucky, you might catch kids as cute as these two smooching up a storm near the piglets. Or not, but these pictures just kill me, so they are going in anyway.

This Is Where I Tell You I'm Tired. And I Have a New Shop on Etsy.

Today, and only today, will I make you pretend you care about my etsy shop.  I promise.  All the other days I will only make you pretend you care about my children. Let me just say, however, that the darn etsy shop was a lot more work than you might think.  Thus me being tired.  And forgetting to call my brother and tell him happy birthday (Happy Birthday, Phil!).  

Also, all of my beady goings-on can be followed on my other blog:  Glass Ali

In the meantime, here's a glimpse into my shop:

Free earrings with every purchase until I say otherwise (because I'm the boss of this shop). I'd love to hear what you think. About my shop. About etsy. About my wonderful children. Or dog. Or Kate. Yeah, that's it. Tell me what you think about Kate. She'll never know.

Gone to the Birds

We've had so much rain lately that you'd think on the one sunny day we had last week, we would have hit the beach with lightening speed.  You'd think.

But we didn't.  We continued our homebound activities as if the sky was still wringing out wet towels on top of our heads.  We continued our streak of made-up crafting-- most of which did not produce anything worth photographing (shhh-- don't tell them I said that)-- with this one project that I'm actually pretty fond of:

We made a bird bath, using a pot that had been hiding under a net of cobwebs next to our compost bin, and a clay pot tray that was chipped three summers ago and cast aside because I just *knew* we could use it someday.

To make our makeshift birdbath, we spent some time decorating the clay pot and tray with acrylic paints (at least we did this outside in the sunshine).

Once the kids felt satisfied with their designs,

We just let it dry, filled the tray with water, and set it in our garden for the birds to enjoy. Except so far, I've only been able to capture Lizzie enjoying it.  Ah, well.  

This is still an easy project and could make a cute gift. For a taller bath, just add more upside down pots.

Just One Of Those Days...

You know the one.  The day that you get stuck in the laundry basket and can't get out and your mom won't help you until she finds the camera and takes a bad picture.

Yeah, it's one of those days.

My children will so need some good therapy.

...alison...

I Heart The Library... Which Is Just A Really Geeky Thing To Admit.

This is a picture of our library.  

Go through the left-hand door, up some stairs, turn right, up some more stairs, and turn left through the old wooden doors and you've found the Harbor Springs Public Library.  Or is it private?  I'm not sure, but it's small and quaint and crammed full of books and the librarian scares me.  Which is what librarians are supposed to do, right?

In fact I would have some pictures of the inside of the library, but the last time we were there, Jimmie got yelled at for sliding his feet across the carpeting in an effort to build up static electricity to shock his sister.  He handled the admonishment quite well; I was embarrassed beyond belief.  

Also, we have a couple of books overdue.

It has a cozy seating area that kind of looks like this:

but imagine more eclectic seating, windows that look out onto Main Street and books, lots and lots of books. And the smell of fudge, because there's a fudge shop right below the library.

I don't know about you, but fudge and books really might be heaven.

When I go back to my home town, from time-to-time we'll stop at the library.  It's a beautiful facility, not at all the library I remember downtown, next to the fire station.  The one where I knew exactly where to find all the Edgar Eager books.  The one where you wrote your name on the inside cover right next to where the librarian stamped the due date.  When I go to the new library I can still find my name in the old books.  It's a kind of magic all to itself.

I love exploring libraries and realizing all of the information and stories and thoughts that are out there to be explored.  Last visit to the local library we scored this book:

Anna and I are working on one the projects from this book and will be posting it soon, I promise.  It involves sponges.

Checking out books involves giving the librarian your name.  She hand-stamps the books and you're good to go.  I love that.

There's been talk about a new library.  One with computers and lots of books and access to much more than this library has to offer.  I'd like to say that I would prefer the old over the new, but that probably wouldn't be true.  I'll like a new library.  I love technology.  Any place filled with books is my kind of place.  But I won't give up the old, either.  

I think there's always room for both.

...alison...

I'll Be Right Back...

So, in order to write this next post, I have to run downtown to take a picture and then pick up/drop off a girl at the barn (any barn.  We're not particular.  I am particular about the girl, however.  I must pick up and drop off the same girl, preferably this one:

If you see her, she's mine.)

In the meantime, instead of twiddling your thumbs, waiting for my death-defying, fingernail-chewing, tear-jerking post on our local library (that's right...our library, because I'm so not afraid of tackling controversial topics), check out

 Kate's blog, The Blankie Chronicles, because if you haven't been reading it, you're missing out

and my new blog, Glass Ali, which is just like the bowling alley but with better shoes.

I'll be right back.