que sara sara

The Queen Of King Cake

2012-02-22T09:58:00.000-05:00

Over the last several years when I've wanted King cake to celebrate Fat Tuesday, I've just bought one at my local grocery store. But this year, thanks to Pinterest--and no small level of Pinsanity--I decided to attempt to make my own.

I won't tell you it was simple, because it was a bit of a time consuming process. Making a yeast bread always involves time. But I will tell you it was delicious. I think it turned out pretty good--even if the kids did use up all the purple sprinkles on the Christmas cookies. (Really, children? Really? Purple as a Christmas color? Why back in my day we only had red and green. Only the rich people had other colors. And the really rich people had the silver dragees that would break your teeth if you bit them wrong. What did the really rich people care? They could afford to have their teeth replaced! Also, we had to eat them barefoot. Up hill. In the snow. Or something.)

Anyway! It was tasty. And I would really declare myself the Queen of the King Cake, but I guess by rights that title should go to Maggie, who found the baby.

She's really excited about it. Can't you tell? She made me take about 25 pictures and they are all various forms of her mugging it up for the camera. I just don't get her. We are sooo different. That apple fell so far away from the tree it's just a dot!

Ahem.

So. Let's recap.

King Cake = easy but time consuming
Eating King Cake = delicious
Finding the baby in the King Cake = yippee!
My daughter + me = so similar that sometimes it's scary.

Of Paint, Cake, Horseshoes, Sleepovers, And Musical Geekery

2012-02-20T11:49:00.000-05:00

I've been busy y'all. First, I spent a few days last week changing our dining-room-that-isn't-a-dining-room from this

to this. It's not done, by any stretch, but this is a little sneak peek. And I am so much happier walking by that room now than when it was the depressing yellowy beige/dark brown.

We also had a celebration. It was touching to watch my daughter who most of the time regards her dad as an obstacle to fun and a walking, talking lump of embarrassment decorate a cake for him to celebrate his belated birthday. She worked and giggled and he complimented her work. I told her perhaps she would be the next Ace of Cakes and she promptly rolled her eyes and told me to stuff it. Ahhh, love.

In addition to cake, we celebrated with these:

If you are from central Illinois, you will know this on sight. If not, let me introduce you to the artery-clogging deliciousness that is a Horseshoe Sandwich--toast, meat/shrimp (we usually do chicken), a super fab cheese sauce, and fries (the nails on the horseshoe). We don't have them often, maybe once or twice a year. They are usually the special dinner request of someone who is celebrating a birthday.

And then there was this:

The aftermath of my boys and two neighbor boys watching a pay-per-view wrestling match and allegedly sleeping over. I speculate that there was very little sleeping. Although when I came downstairs this morning, I found one boy asleep in the recliner, one on the floor, one on the air mattress, and James face down on the hardwood floor of the ~~dining room~~ whatever room, covered by his Steelers blanket laying down some z's, two televisions on, and every light ablaze. I confess, it was a little like walking into a junior version of The Hangover minus the tiger in the bathroom.

I woke them with the call of these:

Later today, I will attempt to make King cake for tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes. In the meantime, because it has made me happy in a music/science geek way, you should watch this.

Say What?

2012-02-14T00:01:00.002-05:00

So I am, as my Granny used to say, knee deep to a tall Indian around here these days. I am in the midst of painting my dining-room-that's-no-longer-a-dining-room. It required me to move out the furniture, tape off all the trim, and prime the spots we patched and the very dark brown paint under the chair rail. Seriously, if there is a color sucking palette, the dark brown/yellowy beige that's going on in that room is it. Blergh. (Why yes, I am spending my Valentine's day painting. It's how I show my beloved, who is out of town for the week, that I love him. "Look dear! I did all this painting while you were gone because I love you" {said in my best Dug from "Up" voice} What? Don't you celebrate the international day of love with paint and primer? Well you should. It's way better than chocolate. Or something.)

Anyway! (Digression. It's what's for dinner.) (Or something.) (Parentheticals are my bestest friend.)

I wound up at the paint counter at Lowe's last night to get the paint I needed. After I told the gentleman behind the counter what I needed, I headed off to get the other supplies required for the job and then looked in vain for the ever elusive "looking glass" spray paint. (I swear this paint is my Bigfoot. Other people have found it and used it, so it must exist, but I sure can't find it. Someone point me in the right direction, please.) Then I headed back to the counter to see if my paint was done.

As I strolled up to the counter, the paint man muttered something and dropped a paint can lid.

"I'll be right with you," he said. "The nozzles on this machine got clogged and sprayed yellow paint everywhere and then I dropped this lid. Let me just clean this up right quick."

"No problem," I chirped. (Yes. I was chirping. It was my first time out of the house without a kid all day as Mary had been home sick. Pity me. I was at a home improvement store, and God help me, I was ecstatic!)

I waited, watching him clean up the mess. He did a quick clean up of the big splotches and then stepped up to the counter.

"How may I help you?" he asked.

"Um. You already did. I just need my paint,"

"Right. That paint spill got me flustered. Your paint is ready. Let me just clean off my hands. I want to have clean hands when I touch your can."

He stopped, winced, and apologized. "That didn't come out right. Sorry about that."

I was too busy laughing to answer.

And that? That little exchange is one of the reasons I blog.

Now excuse me, but I've got a gallon of Pebble Gray calling my name.

What's On My ______?

2012-02-09T09:16:00.000-05:00

Just thought I'd take a few moments to share with you some good things that I'm enjoying. Some you may know, some you may not, but as I've stated many times in the past, I'm a giver. Maybe you'll enjoy them, too.

What's on my bedside table:

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp--a book of gratitude that I am taking my time reading. Her writing is dreamy, her beliefs solid.

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green--this is a book designated for Young Adults, but I enjoyed it. Really well written. The premise is agonizing, and you might cry a little, but you will laugh, too.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close--I haven't seen the movie and I know it has had some mixed reviews, but I can say that the book is very good. It's different and I'm really enjoying it. I've laughed out loud several times and I've also had my heart good and wrenched.

What's on my ipod and Spotify:

The Head and The Heart--folksy and delicious.

Scars on 45--I want them to follow me around everywhere I go and sing.

Gotye--intriguing and cool.

Trombone Shorty--I dare you not to dance. Or at the very least tap your feet. And there is no way you can be in a bad mood after listening.

The Temper Trap--I love them in a way that borders on stalkerish.

Fitz and the Tantrums--retro, cool, funky, fun.

Rachael Yamagata--I want her to sing to me in my kitchen while I'm fixing dinner.

Sara Gazarek--ditto.

What's on my DVR:

Downton Abbey--I watched the full first season late last summer and couldn't wait for it to start again in January. Yes, British soap opera, but boy howdy! It's good!

The Middle--Wednesday nights are my Kids Take Care Of Yourself Mama's Busy Night. And this show is one of the reasons why. The writers have a spy camera in my house. I'm sure of it.

Modern Family--Again. I make it known to my offspring not to need me for anything unless their hair is on fire. And even then I might tell them that that they are smart and they can problem solve this one on their own.

Late Night with Jimmy Fallon--Really, what's not to love?

What's at the top of my internet favorites:

Chookooloonks--if you've never visited Karen Walrond's site (and why wouldn't you? It's right over there on my blogroll!) you are missing out on some beautiful photography and much more. Karen has a wonderful take on life. She's 'wildly convinced you are uncommonly beautiful.' And she's right! In addition to her vision of life, and her fabulous skills with a camera, she's got a great sense of humor.

Bedtimes are for Suckers--this might not be for everyone, as there is some "salty" language now and again, but if you want a take on life from a cranky 5 year old and the opportunity to have some snorting laughter, this blog can't be beat. (Thanks to my Supah Genius brother, Jon for leading me here. You da bomb, bro.) (Let's pretend I didn't just add that last part.)

Pronunciation Manual--you can find this on YouTube. Not to be confused with Pronunciation Book, which gives actual pronunciation for learners of English, Pronunciation Manual packs comedy gold into 8 seconds. I particularly enjoy the pronunciations of "escargot," "Aeropostale," and "Kanye West."

Design-seeds.com--a blog devoted to color. Searching for a color palette? You can find it here.

louisvsrick.com--what happens when a man teaches his cat to instant message. I don't have a cat. I wouldn't call myself a cat person. But I love this blog and crack up--like big, snorting guffaws--when reading it.

So there you have it. The things that have been keeping me occupied lately. What about you? Have you come across anything good? Well, you should really do like your kindergarten teacher taught you and share. (Like right here. In the comments section.) It's always more fun than keeping the good stuff to yourself.

Before And After: Side Table

2012-02-08T08:42:00.000-05:00

It's been a bit since I've had any before and afters to show. It's not that I haven't been on the hunt for stuff, it's just that the stuff hasn't been there for me to find. However, I did recently come across this table. I wasn't in love with the rattan, but I did like the lines. And I knew the rattan was something that a few coats of spray paint could fix.

Here it is before, sitting in our forlorn--but not for long--basement. (Okay, our basement will still be forlorn for a bit longer. But it's less forlorn than it was and it is the project that has my beloved's focus now, so you know. Hope, and all that.) That white stuff on it is primer. Because I had started in on it, having sanded and started to prime it before I remembered to take a "before" picture.

And here it is in our baby poop brown living room. Can you tell that I am tired of living with other people's decorating choices? Because actually, even though the room photographs baby poop brown, it's not. The brown is an okay color. In fact, it's very close to the brown we painted in the master bedroom of our old house. But that's the problem. I am OVER. IT. Done with the brown! In fact, if I were to show you the whole wall there, you would see white patches where my beloved (finally) filled and sanded holes from the previous owners' decorating decisions. Soon--perhaps as soon as next week!--I will be painting our dining room--can you call it a dining room when it no longer contains dining room furniture and instead has a couch, desk, t.v. and gaming system?

Hmm...I seem to have digressed. Have you gathered that I have my mind on several things? That other things are afoot in the decorating department? Yes. The table is nice. It fits the spot and was just what I needed.

For now. It may end up painted bright yellow and be an accent table in the dining-room-that's-not-a-dining-room somewhere down the road. Or not. I am nothing if not indecisive.

Through My Lens

2012-02-07T09:24:00.000-05:00

I went out the other day and took a walk. And then I took a drive. And then I almost ran out of gas. But I didn't, so the world was saved. Or not.

But I did go out, and I took my camera with me. That was something I hadn't done for awhile. On Facebook, I've been posting a photo a day of things for which I'm grateful. That has been a good exercise both for my photo skills and for my heart. But it's been a long time since I've just gone out with my camera for the sheer pleasure of shooting. I ended up with lots of images, but these are the ones I'm happiest with.

And yes, I know there are lots of images of trees, but for some reason that day they made me really happy. Especially the sycamores. There's just something about a sycamore tree that I love--I'm not sure if it's their height or their variations in bark color or their gnarled branches, but I'm drawn to them.

In the end, I came home with a full tank of gas for my van and a full tank for my spirit. Looking through a lens helps me see the world in different way and appreciate it all the more.

I hope your day is especially bright and that you can look at things in a way that you never have.

Super

2012-02-01T08:39:00.008-05:00

So, we went downtown for this little party last night. I have to say it was super in every way: Super Sized, Super Crowded, Super Friendly, Super Exciting, Super Fun.

And alas, Super Disappointing in that I did not get to tell Jimmy Fallon how wicked ahhsome he is. Apparently I was a couple hours late to see him on the zipline. Bummer. But we did get to see some other great stuff.

See?

And look, here's where the zipline ends.

And here is where it starts--several stories above the ground.

And here's someone ziplining!

Shoot. That's a tame one. We saw people upside down! And several taking videos of their trip. And I became a big "woo girl" once again because every time someone flew by overhead I gave a big "WOOOOOOOOOO!" I'm happy to say I caused many others around me to "woooo" as well. If someone decided to put one of these somewhere in Indy permanently, I think they could make a million billion dollars. Lots of people--including me--would have loved to ride, but didn't get the chance.

Inside the NFL experience, there was a lot of standing in line. See?

We felt rather like cattle being herded and I found myself mooing out loud rather than just in my head. Hey. It helped pass the time.

Once we got out of all the various lines, we found a good spot for a commemorative photo.

I love the look on my beloved's face. It says gee-these-are-mighty-good-times-I'm-having-can-we-please-find-another-line-to-stand-in-because-that-would-make-my-night. I'm not sure what James is doing. Trying to look cool like a SuperBowl champ? The world may never know.

Then we found other places for photo ops. Like the photos spots for each team. We have a friendly Giant

and a terrifying Steeler.

I'm not sure why we didn't take some of the rest of us behind the Colts dummy.

And we hit the mock locker room and found the gear of some favorite players. #10 with #10.

My Steelers fan with Mike Wallace's gear.

I was all "Hey, isn't Mike Wallace a little old to be playing football? He should stick with 60 Minutes." And James was all "60 Minutes? Whatchu talkin' 'bout Willis?" Whatever. You kids get off my lawn.

Then we hit the Play60 field and watched Curtis Painter (Colts QB and former Boilermaker) have some fun with bunches of lucky kids.

We also saw the NFC,

AFC,

and Lombardi trophies.

And some more jerseys.

Now there's a jersey!

Oh! Watch out girls! Don't get trampled!

Then we headed outside and heard some music and watched people and made our way to the Circle to see the giant XLVI letters. At this point, I had to carry Mary piggyback because she told me that she had walked enough and had enough exercise for the entire week.

We encountered some officers and their mounts.

Thanks, horses, for providing awesome entertainment for Mary just by being horses, and for pooping, so that my 10 year old would be delighted, too.

And finally made it to the Circle.

It was a party there like I've never seen. Maggie said that she thought it must be a little like Times Square on New Year's Eve. She's probably right. But it was much warmer. (Crazy weather for January, but this girl's not complaining!)

I've never seen our downtown so crowded. Or so wonderful. Indy, you shone like a jewel last night. Thanks for the great time!

The Plan

2012-01-31T10:56:00.005-05:00

Hey, didja hear? Indianapolis is hosting the SuperBowl this year. If you've been living under a rock, you haven't heard. If you've been living anywhere in the United States, you are probably aware. If you are living in the Indianapolis area, you have heard about this nonstop for the last 60 days. (Not even kidding. Since before Christmas!) And this evening, my family is heading downtown to see what all the hoopla is about.

I'm looking forward to it. I know that the city has worked hard and planned for years to make everything slick and smooth. My youngest son--our resident Giants fan--is just about out of his tiny, little mind with excitement. Guess how many times I've had to wash his #10 jersey since the Giants clinched the title? He's pretty much wearing it every other day. When we mentioned that we were heading down to the SuperBowl Village, it was like his birthday and Christmas all rolled up into one shiny ~~expensive~~ package.

The plan is to see the Village. The plan is to head to the NFL Experience. The plan is to gaze at the big XLVI on The Circle. The plan is to watch the lucky ducks on the zipline and wish that we had tickets. Oh, yes. All of that.

But my plan is to find Jimmy Fallon. Because I love him in a totally sane, non-weird, unstalkerish sort of way. And when I do, I will yell:

Jimmy! I think you ah wicked Ahhhsome!

And then, because my plan is also part fantasy, he will have never heard that before in his life, he will find it incredibly droll and amusing, and he will yell back:

No, YOU ah!

And then I can die happy. The end.

Two Tips For Your Thursday

2012-01-26T08:42:00.005-05:00

I don't claim to be an organizing guru. Shoot. I don't really claim to be organized. But I thought I'd share a couple of ideas that have worked for me. One is something I've done for a couple of years and one is something I found on Pinterest and had one of those slap-my-forehead-why-didn't-I-think-of-that moments.

A few years ago, my very talented Daddy made me an absolutely stunning jewelry box. The problem is, my very talented Daddy had no idea how much jewelry his ~~hoarding~~ jewelry-loving daughter owns. Hint: It's a lot. Because rings and necklaces and earrings don't care if my booty gets bigger or smaller. So while many of my treasures would fit in the beautiful box he made, many would not. Enter Target. Oh, Target! Have I told you lately how much I love you? I love you more than every grain of sand on every beach on every ocean in the universe. (Have you seen that video? If so, are you cringing with me? If not, sorry to do that to you. Poor kid. If someone had made a video like that for me when I was a teenager, when I was through vomiting, I would have been a very single girl the next day. Teenagers with their raging hormones and poor decision making skills should never be let alone with video making capabilities.) I digress. Ahem. Enter Target and it's Dollar Spot. I found these belt hangers there several years ago and had a light bulb moment. I thought that they would solve my jewelry box dilemma and they did!

Now I hang my more costume-y and less precious necklaces and bracelets on them and they are right next to my clothes where I can see them. My precious and sentimental jewelry goes in the beautiful box my daddy made. Problem solved.

The second idea I found on Pinterest. I found a couple of cardboard magazine holders in the Target Dollar Spot (oh how I heart you, Dollar Spot!) and used them to corral the wraps and baggies under my sink.

No more digging through the pile for the wrap I want, and it leaves me space I never had. Genius!

So, there you go. Two tips for you because you are looking especially pretty on this rainy, cold Thursday.

The Ride Home

2012-01-24T08:26:00.004-05:00

"I WANTS TO GO HOME. I DOES NOT WANTS TO DO IT IN THIS BIG WHITE THING."

"I DOES NOT WANTS TO LOOK. I WILL JUST LOOKS THIS WAY. I DOES NOT WANTS TO BARF."

"I WILL JUST SITS THIS WAY. THEN I WILL PRETENDS TO SLEEP AND I WILL NOTS BARF."

"OKAY. MAYBE I WILL JUST LOOKS A LITTLE. BECAUSE I AM BRAVES"

"I WILL SITS AND LEANS. BECAUSE I AM BRAVES"

"I WILL SITS AND LEANS AND SLEEPS. I AMS A BRAVE DOG."

"I AM BRAVES. ALSO, I AMS SLEEPY. AND SLIDE-Y."

"OH NOES! I CANNOTS LOOK! I AMS SCARED! I MUSTS HIDES MY HEAD!"

"PERHAPS I WILL SITS DOWN AGAIN. I WILL NOTS BARF...I WILL NOTS BARF...I WILL NOTS BARF..."

"OH BOYS! THAT IS MY HOMES! I SMELL IT! I SEE IT! I AMS STILL SCARED! BUT IN A MINUTE I WILL WAGS MY TAIL AND MY BODY AND I WILL BE HAPPYHAPPYHAPPY! HOMES!!!"

The Weekend

2012-01-23T08:26:00.006-05:00

If you are looking for me today you will find me in the laundry room. It is my penance for being gone this weekend. It is the price I must pay for having too much fun and laughing until tears streamed down my face and my cheeks ached.

I spent the weekend with some of my dearest girlfriends at a lake house, you see, and now I shall pay. I shall pay in dirty underwear and stinky socks. I shall pay in ketchup stained tee shirts and inside out jeans. Oh yes! Payment shall be dear.

But worth every last sock.

One of my sweet friends has a lake house not too far away, but just far enough to feel as if you have left your real life behind. And she is sweet and generous with her lakeside retreat. So it was that five of us gathered there--the original four plus another dear one. There were more invited, but because of various reasons, they couldn't come. They were missed. That's a certainty. Because all of our laughing and joy would have increased with each that wasn't there. But for the ones who were, time went by much too quickly--even after a half day's delay from being iced in. What a place to be iced in! I would have stayed much longer.

My own family spent a whirlwind Friday night and Saturday in Illinois, celebrating my sweet mother-in-law's 88th birthday. They stayed with my folks on Friday and feted my mother-in-law on Saturday and were home late Saturday night. I missed out on that. Truly, I did.

But the reunion I had with them all as I came in looking like a pack mule with all the stuff I carried with me to the lake was a sweet one. It was good to be away. It was good to laugh and cry and eat and pray and rejoice and praise and snort and giggle and scrape ice and see eagles and scream about seeing eagles and play games and watch movies and drink wine and miss our friends. But gosh, it sure is good to come home to sweet faces and sweeter embraces.

I leave you with pictures I took of three of The Original Four. They will all be angry with me for posting these, because they are too harsh on themselves. But they are truly some of the most inwardly and outwardly beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure of calling friend. (Julie, I want to take your picture. I just figured that you wanted to be showered and not looking like you had just spent a morning scraping ice. Next time, dear friend. Next time!)

Kimlarie--the sweetest, gentlest spirit I've ever known. She is the wonderful mother to two handsome boys and wife of a very lucky man. Her voice is like spun sugar.

Margie--her eyes and heart are always focused on Jesus. It's humbling. She is the mother of 5, grandmother of 4, and heart mother of so many more. She is a model of hospitality. Her husband is a lucky man as well. (He is also my match for sarcasm. Love it.)

Linda--the owner of the lake house. My three youngest are the same ages and genders as hers and have been forced friends since birth. Her young pup of a husband must know how blessed he is to have her. She makes me laugh harder and louder than anyone else I know. She also is my best reminder to get on my knees and take myself before the Lord. She is a gracious and generous host and an even more gracious and generous friend.

This girl?

She's the lucky and blessed fourth of the Original Four. She will spend much of this week with a big, dopey grin on her face thanks to the girls she spent the weekend with. Even if she is spending most of this week in the laundry room.

Quirks

2012-01-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

If you have spent any time at all with me--or reading my rantings on this here blog--then you know that I have my share of quirks. "Quirks" sounds much nicer than "BatPoo Crazy," don't you think?

Well, today I thought I would share a few with you. Because, um, well, frankly I have nothing better to write about. But let's just call it "creativity," shall we? Because that sounds much better than "laziness."

Quirk the first: When I go grocery shopping, I don't just toss my groceries into the cart willy nilly. (I am totally bringing back that word. And shenanigans, too. Oh! And monkeyshines! There aren't nearly enough monkeyshines these days!) I place them in the cart in an orderly fashion, like with like. And then I place them on the checkout counter the same way. In the misguided hope that the bagger will bag them the way I have arranged them. But if the bagger doesn't--and they usually don't--I never say anything. Because that would be confrontational and I am a wussy. That's right. I am an anal retentive control freak about how I put my groceries in the cart and on the counter, but a scaredy cat when it come to making sure they are bagged the way I want. Perhaps it's because I have a million billion things that cost a million billion dollars and I'm just grateful that someone is actually going to bag them for me that I don't want to make waves.

2. If there is a song on the radio that I love and I turn it up to listen and people (read: usually my children) talk through it, it makes me crazy. "Really? I want to screech? This story about who walked with who during passing period/dubstepping/video games/what your friend did during bathroom break can't wait 2 minutes? Three at the most? REALLY? Sweet Mother of Pearl? Did you not get the hint when I turned the radio up again that you could stick yourself on pause and give me 2-3 minutes of silence whereby I might derive the merest hint of pleasure from something besides your voice?" But I don't say that. In fact, I rarely ask the offender to quit talking. And I suffer in martyred silence because I am a non-confrontational wussy. Okay. There might actually be some heavy sighing on my part.

3. I cannot sleep in pajama pants. If you ever get me pajamas (But really, unless you're my mother, why would you? That would be weird. And slightly creepy.) you should know I will not use the pants. Well, I might use them when I'm not actually in bed, but I will not sleep in them. They make me claustrophobic. And do not get me started on nightgowns/nightshirts. Whoever invented them is the spawn of Satan. All nightgowns do is creep their way up your body until you are essentially clothed in a tee shirt, so you may as well wear a tee shirt--which is what I wear--an oversized tee shirt. (Me so sexy.) And they get all twisty around your legs so that if you ever need to leap like a Ninja from your bed because an assassin has crept into your room in the dark of night, you will lose. You will be dead before you leave the sheets, my friend. Nightgowns are an assassin's best friend.

4. Using the wrong word like "weary" for "leery" or, God forbid, "volumptuous" for "voluptuous". It's like fingernails on a chalkboard. But I will never correct you. I will just suffer in silence. Unless you are in my family. Then I will make fun of you mercilessly.

5. I am a top-sheet-tucker-inner. I like to have my top sheet tucked in nice and snug when I go to bed. This is only really a problem if you are sharing a bed with a top-sheet-un-tucker. Guess which kind I am married to? We leave his half untucked and my half tucked. The problem here is that my side invariably comes untucked because of my beloved's need to make sure his toes don't curl over. Sheesh. Some people! Anyway. When he is out of town, one of the first things I do is go and tuck in the sheet all the way around. And then I throw my head back and laugh the laugh of the maniacally evil. BWAHAHAHAHAHA! It's awesome knowing that I'll have 2 or 3 nights of fully tucked bliss.

6. Jello is the worst food ever created. I can't stand the smell or God help me, the creepy jiggly-ness of it. I am shuddering just thinking about it. If you love Jello, that's fine. But keep it to yourself or we can't be friends.

7. I can't abide stepping on a wet bath rug. I will just about knock people over to get to the shower first so that I don't have to step on their cold, soggy footprints on the bath rug. I don't understand why my family doesn't understand that it is possible to dry off--and I mean completely dry off--before stepping onto the bath rug, but they just don't get it. And worse than that is stepping on a sopping bath rug in sock feet! Urgh! It both squicks me out and enrages me at the same time.

8. I have a near pathological fear of driving into a body of water. I'm sure I have mentioned this before. But whenever I drive I go through the scenarios in my head and imagine what I would do should such a situation arise. It doesn't make me change my route or anything--I mean, I don't avoid driving near water--but it does enter my head every single time I get into the car.

Okay. So now that you have a crush on me because yo, I am so normal, it's your turn. What quirks do you have? Hate wooden spoons? Love to bite through popsicle sticks? Wear the underwear of the opposite sex? Do share! (Okay, maybe not that last one. I mean, we're friends and all, but that might be over sharing.) Please make me feel normal and share. I promise, I won't tell.

The Picture I Didn't Take

2012-01-09T00:01:00.001-05:00

He was standing in line in front of me and was going to offer to let me go ahead of him, but we both had only a few items. We laughed together. He was dressed for chillier weather, his white hair under a cap and his weathered face breaking into a smile for each pair of eyes he met. He spoke to me of white things--snow and coconut milk and snowy owls. He talked to me through his transaction and my own and then walked with me out into the parking lot. His enthusiasm was contagious.

'Have a wonderful day!' he said.

It wasn't a trite ending to a conversation. He meant it.

So I did as I was bid. I had a wonderful day.

At Least I'll Be Noticed

2012-01-03T09:18:00.002-05:00

A while back my beloved came down from his office with the news that our family is going to have an adventure over spring break. We are going to Lake Tahoe and, if all goes well, we are going to ski. This news was met with several different responses: James was excited, Sean thought it was cool, Mary thought it would be fun, if scary, I was elated, although I haven't skied in well over 20 years, and Maggie thought it was ridiculously stoopid because, God, didn't we know that you are supposed to go someplace warm over spring break?!! Oh, the torture!

My first response was to want to smack her upside the head, because, um...spoiled brat, much? My next response was to remind her that there would be plenty of dudes on snowboards and skis to make her trip down the mountain more scenic. Her response: *eyeroll* They're going to be covered with ski gear! How will I even know what they look like? DUH! My response to her response: It is wrong to eat your offspring....it is wrong to eat your offspring...it is wrong to eat your offspring.

So. We will be heading west in late March and I am right this minute praying for fierce snowstorms out there because I understand that they are having the sort of winter that we in Indy are--mild temperatures and very little snow. I will not complain about that type of winter when I have to live through it, but when you are hoping to ski, well, skiing without snow is a bit extreme.

Now, the children have snow gear because they go out and build snowmen and snow forts and have snowball fights and just basically roll around in the white stuff as if they are polar bear cubs. I, on the other hand, am sorely lacking in the winter gear department. I haven't owned a lot of snow stuff since living in Minneapolis some 13 years ago. And so my beloved and I found ourselves at the mall shopping for snow gear for me. I was willing to wait a bit for prices to come down, but my beloved insisted that I have something now because the early bird gets the snowsuit and all that.

The first coat I looked at was a lovely turquoise. It fit well and had all the necessary bells and whistles. I modeled it and I am sure that people in the store mistook me for Heidi Klum. My beloved thought that perhaps the hot pink coat in the same style would be better. I shook my head, raised my hand to stop him in mid-sentence and put the kibosh on that. I am not really a hot pink kind of girl. I was satisfied and told him I could find some snow pants online. He, however, is a member of The Church of Our Lady of the North Face and would not be denied the chance convert me. (I am a member of The Church of I Don't Want To Pay A King's Ransom For A Coat.) I threw my head back and groaned and then I sighed in resignation (Hey look! I can act like a martyr and a teenager at the same time! I am so talented!) and reluctantly followed behind him to the North Face section.

After looking through the ladies coats for a few minutes, I quickly came to realize that they were pretty well picked over and the only styles they had in my size were a wild lime green on neon green plaid and a white coat with red and blue accents. The green one was about 20 years too young for me to even contemplate, so I tried on the white, red, and blue number. It fit me fine. Which then meant that instead of black snow pants, which might have the oddest chance of slimming my backside, I had to find white ones, which have no chance in hell of slimming my backside and every chance of making me look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. I found some pants in quick order and schlepped everything to the fitting room to try it all on. Meanwhile, I left my beloved with my purse as punishment. Why should I be the only one humiliated?

After trying the gear on and deeming the fit acceptable, I donned my own clothes and brought the snow gear out. I shook my head at my beloved.

"Doesn't it fit?" he asked.

"Oh, no. It fits," I replied. "It's just that I have the feeling that people out on the slopes are going to be expecting a lot from me."

"Really? Why?" queried my beloved.

"Because I have a feeling that in this get-up I am either going to be mistaken for a retired and possibly disgraced former member of a U.S. Olympic ski team or Evel Kneivel's daughter. Yep. You can just call me She-vel Kneivel."

It has a nice ring to it. I think the name might stick. I'm hoping to find a ski helmet with red and blue stars or flames on it. And possibly a stars and stripes cape.

I don't know if I'll be any good on the slopes, but at least I'll be noticed.

Hi There.

2012-01-02T09:54:00.003-05:00

Well helloooo there! I hope you all had wonderful holidays. We had a great time here at Chez Ganey. It was full of family and friends and feasting. And guess what I did yesterday for the New Year? If you guessed absolutely nothing, then you are the winner! I sat on my well-padded backside and read and played games with my kids and watched movies, only getting up to fix some grub for the family. It was wondrous.

Here it is, January 2nd and real life is back and staring me in the face. There's laundry to be done (well, isn't there always?) and groceries to be bought (and hopefully the list doesn't include cream cheese. I've eaten more than my share of cream cheese laden goodies this season.) and blogs to write. My mom asked me last week if I was going to get back to it. It's just, well, I don't really have anything to share (actually, I have one story and you'll get it tomorrow) because other than eat and open gifts and drink wine and run to the grocery for food that I only eat during the holiday season, I haven't been out of the house. It's been delightful. But for blogging purposes, that's not so great. And I've grown comfortable not sitting at the keyboard. I had to make myself get here today. And look at what you get to read because of it! Wow, are you ever lucky!

And now, because that laundry has proven time and time again that it just will not do itself, I shall stop. But, because you have stuck with me this far through this horrible post, I will share something with you: We took the kids bowling on Friday. It was fun, but I am the worst bowler on the planet. I scored a 46. There. Now you can go about your day feeling successful in some small way; if you and I bowled together, you would, without a doubt, beat me. Next time I'm getting gutter guards and I'm not ashamed to say it.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-23T00:01:00.000-05:00

...But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people...

Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord."

Merry Christmas!

Oh Bokeh Tree, Oh Bokeh Tree...

2011-12-20T11:33:00.003-05:00

...how lovely is thy bokeh.

Downtown

2011-12-12T07:06:00.004-05:00

Indianapolis, like most cities and towns, glitters and glams it up for Christmas time. The big attraction is the Tree of Lights--thousands of lights strung from the top of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument to form the shape of the tree. They hold a big lighting celebration every year right after Thanksgiving. We have never been to the lighting because we are always out of town. I'm pretty sure we would never go because it attracts thousands of people and I'm not much for people. Well, I guess individually and in small groups some of them are okay, but en masse? Nope. I don't like people that much. Why yes, I am the Grinch! Why do you ask?

Anyway! We used to try to go downtown to see the tree every year--not that it changes from year to year, but it's festive and fun and we don't go downtown much. But as the kids got older we got busier and just couldn't weave it into our schedules. This year, however, I discovered that the last time we were down there, Mary was a toddler. That's just wrong! She didn't even remember it--couldn't even fathom a tree made of lights! She kept asking me things like "So is it a giant Christmas tree? Where did they find such a big tree?" and after further explanation, "What do you mean there aren't any branches? How can it be a tree without any branches?"

We made the decision that it was time to head downtown to see the tree and take a carriage ride around the Circle. Unfortunately, because of a perfect storm of forgetfulness, seat placement, and cold, of all the pictures I took only two of them are any good. The other I'm posting is the one the carriage people took with my camera. I forgot to change the settings so it's dark. I lightened it up, but it's still dark and quite grainy, but it's what we have.

I predicted to my mother that Mary's reaction would be something along the lines of "that doesn't look like a tree at all!" but that she would still like it. I was dead on. Even down to the wording. But she did like it-- and our carriage ride. And our Clydesdale horse named Chase that was gracious enough to pull us. And the hot chocolate she drank afterwards.

It was a good night. We made some memories and that's one of the best gifts ever.

Instagramming

2011-12-07T07:14:00.003-05:00

If you are friends with me on Facebook, then you've already seen these pictures. (Sorry. Suffer!) If you aren't, then these will be new to you.

I took this picture out the window as we were traveling home from Thanksgiving in my hometown. I had posted another picture, and then my brother--who has lived in TX for over 20 years--replied with a snarky (What? Snarky? One of my relatives? Unbelievable!) comment about my picture having no silos. So while this was meant to be a "There! Are you happy now?" sort of picture, it wound up making me really happy. When I was younger, I hated living in the Midwest; couldn't wait to live somewhere else. But now that I'm older, I appreciate it for what it is. There is beauty in those farm fields.

Mary drew this for me at school. When I first read it, I thought it said "...my happiness lives inside of meth..." It both startled and amused me. Because I am twisted. But the drawing and the sentiment have made me happy each time I see it.

Apparently these folks don't realize they are supposed to be living in our cul-de-sac. They live about a mile down the road. I call them the Griswolds. I kid you not, every bit of the house that you can't see in the photo looks like the part that you can see. It's awesome in a Griswold sort of way. Their neighbors, by the way, have greenery and a string of lights over their door and that's it. They are the us of their neighborhood.

This house is from our old neighborhood. We used to call it the "Devil House." Everything is in red lights--even the bulbs in the chandelier in the foyer. I think that red glow would throw me into a seizure. Or drive me crazy like Kramer on Seinfeld in the Kenny Rogers chicken episode. This homeowner really likes red. Or Satan.

I spent all of yesterday cleaning the dung heaps that ~~are~~ were my children's bedrooms. We got news that we will be having some company on Thursday and we are delighted. But this meant that the cleaning I was planning on doing next week had to be moved up. I picked up, straightened, sorted, purged, organized, dusted, vacuumed, bent, stooped, knelt, stretched, cursed, shook my head, and muttered. Their rooms were disgusting. Slobs--all of them! Their closets were the despairing depths of hell. But they are finished. I left all of them notes when I was done. They are all variations of this one, which I left on James' chalkboard wall. (Mary's had good old fashioned threats of Santa watching.) My methods may be twisted, but nobody left their dirty clothes on the floor last night.

Plain Jane

2011-12-05T08:29:00.004-05:00

Here is our "Peoria Showgirl."

She may be the Plain Jane of our street, but I like her just the same.

Photo taken during "the blue hour." Canon Rebel xti ISO 100, f/3.5, shutter 1.6

It Has Begun

2011-11-29T06:42:00.005-05:00

I know I said I was done showing you glittery things. I lied. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Electric Bethlehem!!!

Friends, that isn't even the half of it because I am standing in my cul-de-sac taking the picture so you are missing the five houses there. My house with its candle lights in the windows and the two bushes by the front door with white lights looks like a showgirl from Peoria. You get the analogy, right? Peoria doesn't have showgirls. I had to explain this to my children. I don't know. Maybe it's not such a great example. Whatever. You get the idea. When you drive through our cul-de-sac--which by the way is the only one in our neighborhood that looks like this--we look like non-participants by comparison.

Anyway. If you want to stop by and visit, you'll recognize my house right away. Just put on your sunglasses before you turn into the neighborhood.

I'm Thankful

2011-11-22T08:24:00.006-05:00

I'm thankful for many things. But these faces are right at the top of the list.

Happy Thanksgiving! Count your blessings. What are you thankful for?

I'll Drink To That!

2011-11-17T00:01:00.001-05:00

You know me. Give me an excuse and I'll drink to something. New job? Cheers! It's a holiday? Bottoms up! Getting married? Here's to you! It's sunny? Slainte! I'm wearing real clothes instead of sweats? Salut!

And what better way to toast to something than in these beauties?

I found these on Pinterest, but they originated here. I would love to say that they were really complicated and involved, but if you have read here for any length of time, you would know that that was a big, fat lie. I don't do complicated and involved because I have the attention span of a hamster with A.D.D. Oh look! Something shiny!

Basically, you just sponge the glitter paint on the glass, wait an hour, do some more, wait another hour, and do some more and so on and so on, until you are satisfied with the end results. Easypeasylemonsqueezy!

The best part is that once these paints cure for 21 days, they are safe for the dishwasher. Nope. I'm not even kidding you! How awesome is that? You get to drink yummy stuff from a pretty, glittery glass and then you can just throw that baby in the dishwasher and ~~sleep it off~~ not worry about it.

I think these would make great wedding or anniversary gifts and even hostess gifts for those people that you know would enjoy a beverage in a glittery glass. And who wouldn't enjoy that? Elliot Ness, maybe. But everyone else would love them!

Now if you will excuse me, I have a few more crafty things to do around here and then I'm going to enjoy a glass of something of which Elliot Ness would disapprove. And I'll probably do it in a sparkly glass.

Here's mud in your eye!

Little Birdies--Take Two

2011-11-16T15:15:00.000-05:00

Remember the glitter birds? As fun as it was to have glitter in unmentionable places, sometimes I just don't feel like rockin' the glitter. So I wondered what might happen if I used a different clay and a different finish.

I had intended to use Crayola Model Magic to make these:

I found them on Pinterest, but they originated here. Model Magic is super lightweight and very easy to work with. So easy that my youngest made her own ornaments using some of my left-overs. I used a Wilton cookie cutter to cut out these snowflakes after I rolled out the Model Magic. After letting them dry (they air dry, so no oven needed) I used some of the glitter paints in Martha Stewart's new line of paints to glam up a few. These paints are really easy to use and come in a wide range of colors and finishes.

I used a stencil sponge to sponge the glitter paint on one side, let it dry, and did the other. Others I didn't do a thing to except hang them with some ribbon. And when I was finished, there wasn't glitter anywhere except on the ornament and the stencil sponge. And God was in His heaven and all was right with the world. Yahoo!

Voila! Easy, inexpensive, and pretty.

Now--back to those birdies.

I used the Model Magic to make the birds the same way I made them last time. But this time, instead of putting them in the oven, I simply sat them aside on some parchment paper to air dry for at least 24 hours. (By the way, I had an ingenious idea to form the hangers on the little birdies' backs--I snipped the curved ends off paper clips and inserted them before leaving them to dry. Much less frustrating than twisting wire.) Then, I used wood stain--I chose walnut stain--and stained the birds, wiping off the excess. I gave them at least two coats of stain. Then after the stain was dry, I brushed on a little polyurethane. Easy. And I think they sort of look like they were carved from wood. I like them and think they go in the complete opposite direction of their glam and glittery cousins.

Back tomorrow with yet another glitter project that involves glassware. Stay tuned!

Because Apparently 5 Straight Days Of Posting Has Rendered Me Boring And Stupid

2011-11-16T00:01:00.000-05:00

I remember way back when when I first started blogging and I wrote every day--and sometimes even on the weekend. That hasn't happened for a very long time. Mostly because I don't have all kinds of stories to tell. Mainly because the dumb dog has seemed to find her equilibrium and doesn't leave me with a whole lot of blog fodder. And even though some of you have been kind enough to say that you would read my grocery list, I'm not brave enough to actually find out if that is true. Trust me, I'm not nearly as entertaining on my grocery list. Mostly because grocery shopping makes me want to punch someone in the throat.

I have some more Christmas related things to show you, but because November is trying to slowly kill me with its gray days, I haven't shown you. And not just because the lack of sunlight makes me want to crawl in a hole, curl up in a fetal position, and hum myself to sleep like some inmate in The Snake Pit. Mostly it's because the lack of sunlight makes taking good pictures really hard. I mean, I suppose I could take some inside, but that would mean an excruciating photo session, because have I mentioned that the previous owners of this house had four fluorescent light boxes installed for the kitchen lighting? No? Well, they did. Instead of opting for can lights or pendants or even some butt-ugly chandelier like they installed in the dining room, they had the genius idea of putting fluorescent boxes all framed out with crown moulding. The are the nicest framed fluorescent lights you ever did see. Too bad they suck. Especially when you are trying to take decent pictures. Oh, and just so you can see the special brand of crazy that happened when they built this house, there are two can lights over the planning desk where I am typing this. What the....? I just don't get it. Don't even get me started on the Circus Tent bathroom.

Ahem. Sorry. Tangent and rant over. Somehow I started writing about Christmas projects and my lack of blog fodder and wound up telling you the tale of our kitchen lighting. Scintillating!

I guess I would have been better off making the post that pops up here the one with the cute but dumb dog. Anyway. Barring more clouds (Please, Lord, part them like the Red Sea! This girl needs some sunlight!) and children coming down with strep (Please, Lord, may that particular scourge pass over us this home!) I should be back tomorrow with a variation on the glitter birds that I posted last week. And maybe some other stuff. Rest assured I will not give you a detailed description of the lighting plan in the rest of the house.

Unless I really can't think of something to write about.