tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25725234489436235912024-03-13T14:15:51.575-04:00Finding The Funny<b>When you are a parent you have two choices; either laugh at the situation, or hide.<br> (Just don't let the kids see you laugh.)</b>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.comBlogger724125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-52370266011225547002012-10-13T14:52:00.000-04:002012-10-13T14:52:00.261-04:00Surprise!Every now and then (and probably more than I would like) I worry that my children are not growing into independent beings.<br />
<br />
Every now and then they will surprise me, and I realize we might be doing something right. <br />
<br />
The other evening I was running out the door to pick up child #1 from practice. Dinner was cooking, and the table was littered with the typical post school clutter. It was one of those chaotic evenings, what evening isn't chaotic, and dinner would be served soon after child #1 and I arrive home. <br />
<br />
In a haste, as I ran out the door, I asked the other two to clear the table. Note, I just said "clear". These instructions usually mean not much will happen. Usually, these instructions then require an adult to drag them by the ear, to the table, and point out the items, like everything, that need to be removed from the table. "No, the Polly Pockets cannot stay on the table during dinner" or "I don't think your brother wants the pencil sharpener sitting next too his water."<br />
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Imagine my surprise when I came home to this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPKuhUXTNzhZl3ueSURi_clmd7IhrtH7gBXzHI_P6-AW3iCS7E_6dqkGCMVrV2sAPAs_g6N3joRxQP1j_MQ0OlrYeiSJZtV9Eb-4QZqJjNAQ1MWtlejtEBaDt1VFTD4KSYbLAlCrDvPwlA/s1600/IMG_0166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPKuhUXTNzhZl3ueSURi_clmd7IhrtH7gBXzHI_P6-AW3iCS7E_6dqkGCMVrV2sAPAs_g6N3joRxQP1j_MQ0OlrYeiSJZtV9Eb-4QZqJjNAQ1MWtlejtEBaDt1VFTD4KSYbLAlCrDvPwlA/s320/IMG_0166.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
A completely cleared and set table. No ear pulling, pointing, and raised voices were involved in this act of independence. <br />
<br />
It is moments like these that I am heartened to think my children may, upon the appropriate age of independence, move out of our house, and only return for holidays and family gatherings. <br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-27375900756110254542012-10-11T14:42:00.000-04:002012-10-11T14:42:00.270-04:00Once upon a time my living room was cluttered with baby toys and toddlers:<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xVfvYXL6LcFF0XqgUrckMsci5fS9MV_ChsW-OLDA9zSnwpChBAlvPGGSmWUF7DtbYwVvmpxbUyrpd70UfPiXJ_OCIUjOPVW8tLhxYeFaxUDiT7FP8UKrmESO7sJmxo3dlykKZD8wtP6q/s1600/DCP_1847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0xVfvYXL6LcFF0XqgUrckMsci5fS9MV_ChsW-OLDA9zSnwpChBAlvPGGSmWUF7DtbYwVvmpxbUyrpd70UfPiXJ_OCIUjOPVW8tLhxYeFaxUDiT7FP8UKrmESO7sJmxo3dlykKZD8wtP6q/s320/DCP_1847.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I spy a baby swing, bouncer, toys galore, baby blanket, and a toddler</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My children were asking for Tubby Toast for lunch, and I was clicking through Barny fast enough so the kids would not hear that it was on.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Today my living room is cluttered with:<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP8aLgNMj9g1K6VdimjPz3Bi9559Zr0Cr2m9hG-jttl06IhWszec-AjQ9musABnuOhLpxJanU1NWZjjz9CMKGMUZ553nc-xsVb9lEMgerGT2kmUFMRAXrK7ws-JDmlgDpmjeSmQ58Jt6G/s1600/IMG_0169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP8aLgNMj9g1K6VdimjPz3Bi9559Zr0Cr2m9hG-jttl06IhWszec-AjQ9musABnuOhLpxJanU1NWZjjz9CMKGMUZ553nc-xsVb9lEMgerGT2kmUFMRAXrK7ws-JDmlgDpmjeSmQ58Jt6G/s320/IMG_0169.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">electronics and tools</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And, my children are singing something that goes like this: "ABCDEFG, Barney is my enemy ..." and then there is something about Telly Tubbies. I am officially out of small childhood. And, despite that those tiny screws will probably kill my sweeper, I'm loving this new stage. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-80799604327897478322012-10-09T14:17:00.004-04:002012-10-09T14:18:05.031-04:00The One Where I Apologize I am one of those annoying people who rarely get sick. My illness schedule is such, I tend to contract a cold in the winter and one in the summer. (And yes, I am so Type A that even my illnesses are scheduled.) Which I combat with the usual medications, suffer for a few days, and then go on my merry way when it passes. Every few years my number is called up for a stomach bug, or strep, or bronchitis, or something else that keeps me down for a day or two, maybe requiring a medication or two, but nothing series.<br />
<br />
My kids seem to have inherited these same great genes of mine. Colds are not "stay home from school" worthy. That is why drugs were created, and don't forget your pack of tissues. Granted, we contract the occasional serious bug. At least once a year someone is in the doctors office for a sick visit. <br />
<br />
All this means I have very little sympathy for those who deal with chronic problems. Allergies that seem to hit 9 months out of the year, really. Oh, you have A.nother cold. That's nice. Your kids are sick again! Wow. All said with an empathetic smile, and little sympathy in my tone. <br />
<br />
Four weeks ago that scratchy feeling, in the back of my through arrived, ugh I hate that feeling. Once I finally diagnosed it as allergies (something that is considered "adult onset" and may or may not arrive every year) I popped one of those amazing 24 hour allergy pills, and continued along my merry way. After feeling better, though not 100% I stopped the pills, and now I'm paying for it.<br />
<br />
Though, at this point it has turned into a full blown cold. I am a preschool teacher after all. I do know that I've been dragging, and hacking, for over a week. Last Friday I went to bed before my children. And, though I've discontinued the use of that wonderful, knock you out so you can sleep medicine, I'm still hacking. Maybe only half of my lung, but the cough and congestion are still there. <br />
<br />
Needless to say, after 4 weeks of some sort of congestion related uckiness, I am tired of it. Just as I have little sympathy for the chronically sick, I have little sympathy for my body. Little sympathy, and little patience. I do not understand this thing of "take it easy". It will pass, because I tell it to, and I have things to do. <br />
<br />
Yeah, that saying works as well on my body as it does on my kids. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-36971078649487332712012-09-18T14:48:00.002-04:002012-09-18T14:48:34.799-04:00HibernationSince school has begun, and I can now grocery shop without children, I am realizing that I cannot be trusted in the store. I have this urge to stock up on food, and not the "the world is about to end" urge, but more like a "winter is coming, stock up the food" urge. <br />
<br />
And, I am not saying that stocking up on food is a bad thing. In fact, when done with planning and budgeting, it is a good domestic act.<br />
<br />
When I do it, it becomes something that resembles Hoarders. <br />
<br />
The last time I felt this way I was pregnant with #2, and purchased enough cereal to last us till #3 came along. (Of course, that may not have been a lot of cereal, since our family planning resembled the stair step method.)<br />
<br />
NO, I am not pregnant.<br />
<br />
However, as I walk down the grocery store aisles I am resisting, and resisting to resist, the urge to stock up on food. <br />
<br />
I get it. We are moving into fall. This is the season for lazy weekends, spent at home, inviting friends over for a game night, potlucks, and doing absolutely nothing, including cooking. It is also the season for back to work, soccer games, back to school activities, followed by fall festival activities, followed by holiday festival activities, committee meetings and busy weekends. <br />
<br />
What I am stocking up on are easy, already prepared, shelf stable or freezable, foods. Items that are easy to prepare, when I have not. Or, as some may say, preserved foods. Po-tay-toe/Po-tah-toe.<br />
<br />
Maybe it would be helpful if I ventured into canning foods, instead of stocking up on store bought food, oh well. Until this urge passes, I am not to be trusted in the grocery store. Then again, looking at all I have bought, this isn't a bad thing since our freezer and cupboards are stocked. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-28209179975796956362012-09-13T14:44:00.001-04:002012-09-13T14:47:56.153-04:00Glory DaysWe live in the same town Hubby and I attended college. In fact, we live about 5 minutes from campus. Our college was, and still is, a small campus, which is beautiful to just walk around. There is no big campus, asphalt feel, like you may experience on larger campuses. There is no need for a map, your GPS, and the planets all properly aligned to find your way to a parking lot that will not tow you.<br />
<br />
One Friday, the school posted on Facebook was performing an outdoor production of <b>A Midsummer's Night Dream</b>. Cool, let's go. However I paused, at what point do I become too old to attend college functions? They posted it on Facebook, so it must be open to the public, right? When do I become the middle age old lady who is trying to relive the glory days. Let's face it, I just said "Cool, let's go." Do kids these days even say "cool" in reference to anything other than fall mornings?<br />
<br />
Then there is the question of family friendliness. Can I take my kids, because nothing says embarrassment than taking your kids to see something that was written for a college, and older crowd. <br />
<br />
I went, along with 2 of my kids. Apparently, the Magic Tree House book, <b>Stage Fright on a Summer Night</b>, which my kids have listened too multiple times, revolves around Jack and Annie meeting William Shakespeare and them performing in a <b>A Midsummer's Night Dream</b>.<br />
<br />
This evenings production was actually titled <b>A Midsummer's Night Dream ReDreamed</b>, and was retooled, a little, using journal entries from participants in a summer theater camp, placing many of the play's themes in modern day situations. I know a few of those local high school students who participated in the camp, and I am now wondering which of their writings were added to this production.<br />
<br />
We went, I forgot to take a blanket, and forgot that my almost 40-year-old derrier no longer likes sitting on the concrete, grass terrace where the production was held. I also saw that I was not the only older person, and my kids were not the only younger people. That is the nice thing of a small college, set in the middle of a residential area, it retains its family friendliness.<br />
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While at the play I was reminded of a time when I was a student, attending a concert on campus. A music group from Florida performed on our campus. They were a group of boys who grew up Mennonite, their group was even called 606. (<a href="http://www.themennonite.org/issues/11-6/articles/606_When_why_and_how_do_Mennonites_use_the_anthem">606</a> was the hymnal number for what has been called the Mennonite anthem, if Mennonites had anthems, <b>From Whom all Blessings Flow</b>. The hymnal has since been updated, and is no longer located at 606, but it is still called "606".)<br />
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Those attending the concert that night ranged in all ages, from college age to conservatively dressed grandparents, who probably could play the Mennonite Game (Wikipedia does NOT have a definition for the Mennonite Game) with the band members, and find no more than 2 degrees of separation between themselves and these nice Mennonite boys with a band named 606. <br />
<br />
They were a hard rock band, who did not perform one. single. hymn. Oh, the shock some of those poor, conservatively dressed concert attenders received. <br />
<br />
The foyer of the chapel was filling up fast as people, including me, escaping the noise.<br />
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<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jp_cBS031PQ" width="420"></iframe><br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-54530238531430774552012-08-21T13:35:00.002-04:002012-08-21T13:35:47.793-04:00DEFCON 1My baby entered middle school this year. <br />
<br />
I am not dealing well with it. <br />
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It has nothing to do with the age of my child, which reflects my age. And, it has nothing to do with the the fact that just yesterday he was crawling around on the floor, getting into anything on the floor. He still does that, even at 11 years old. <br />
<br />
So far, I've blamed my anxiety on:<br />
<br />
<b>Lack of information:</b><br />
Or, what feels like a lack of information. As you may have heard, I have Type A tendencies (putting it mildly) and I need details. Precise details, and I didn't want to wait for the Back to School Night, when they hand out all those details. That was the night before school began, I had no more than 12 hours to process all this information. Plenty of time, I agree, but my Type A personality wanted it yesterday. <br />
<br />
So I did what any, freaked out, self respecting parent does, I emailed EVERYONE. Well, not everyone, but I had specific questions, and so I emailed those specific people. (Thankfully, two of those people are friends. Meaning, they already know me, and are familiar with my neuroses.) <br />
<br />
Fully understanding that I was in full freak out mode, I kindly shared my self realization with all of these wonderful staff members and teachers. At least I am not alone. One friend posted on Facebook, " <span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"> I've just accepted that I'm probably some people's dinner conversation that they {would} rather forget." I am joining the conversation!</span><br />
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<b>New everything: </b><br />
Though this is not a new school for us, it is a new campus campus; this means new procedures, expectations, and a lot more autonomy for my baby, my ADHD, Aspergers, baby. I'm not handling that well. I need details, so I can helicopter from a distance. <br />
<br />
<b>Morning schedule:</b><br />
Then there is the driving. Being a private school, I am responsible for transporting him to school. Then, I have to drop my other two off at school, basically doing a big circle, before turning around and going to work myself. OK, I admit, to date we have been spoiled by our school transportation experience. We live behind the public elementary school; this means, I either with them, or drop them off on my way out of the neighborhood. I also have the option of sending them on the bus if I'm not leaving the house that day, and the weather is too nasty for a walk. Last year, when JT started this private school, I partnered with another family to car pool, they took the morning route. <br />
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Did I mention that I am not a morning person. Trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I need to have everyone, including myself, up, fed, dressed, and ready to head out the door by 7:30 is causing me a little bit of anxiety. Yes, I know, we have been spoiled. As my friend DB would say, "pull up your big girl panties and deal." <br />
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<b>Typical middle school crap.</b><br />
Everything that goes with middle school and developing children, emotions, hormones, and all that other <strike>crap</strike><br />
So, now we are into the school year my anxieties are still hanging around. Maybe I'll chill out after the other two return to school, and we have a couple mornings under our belt. Maybe it will happen after I return to work, and can focus my attentions on something else. I could probably go on, and psychoanalyze this to a whole new level, but I think we will leave it at this. No need to add more crazy to what already exists. <br />
<br />
Needless to say, I feel as if I've been on DEFCON 1 for a couple days. If your reading this, and thinking I need a grip, you are correct, I do. That, or a strong prescription of something. Thankfully, the high school is a part of the middle school, so not much will change when we reach that stage. However, if I am still like this when we reach college, I may need to be committed. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-38481110166051388702012-08-15T14:00:00.000-04:002012-08-15T14:00:01.913-04:00Mean Is as Mean Does<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/19013174@N02/4802740507/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="miss hannigan by Miss Hannigan, on Flickr"><img alt="miss hannigan" height="200" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4095/4802740507_332b10fca6.jpg" width="165" /></a><br />
I really have no idea what that means.<br />
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What I do know is that my children think I am mean, and feel free to tell me numerous times.<br />
<br />
They call me mean when they have chores (I've been called Miss Hannigan), are given school work during the summer, when I won't allow them to play electronics, nor watch TV, when I make them go to bed, make them change their clothes (because 24 hours in one t-shirt is enough), or won't purchase what they want (sugar cereal, soda and candy) and the grocery store.<br />
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How do I respond? <br />
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I laugh. Tell them to bring it on. Then, I post it on Facebook, and all of us parents have a good laugh. <br />
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EM will call me mean when I make her do an activity she has only talked about non-stop, then suddenly, for no reason, <a href="http://www.shenandoahvalleyparent.blogspot.com/">decides not to participate</a>.<br />
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On vacation, we reached the pinnacle of parental meanness. EM's friend told her mom she was glad we were not her parents, because we made them go to bed before 9:00. There was also something else, but I forget because I was too busy laughing.<br />
<br />
I will take mean. I will wear mean with pride, if that is the worst my kids think of us. Of all the "mean" things we could do to our children, expecting them to behave, have manners, learn that life does not revolve around them, and that to be a part of society means they need to also be productive, I'm thinking we are excelling at this mean thing. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-73471874407809020922012-08-13T10:45:00.000-04:002012-08-13T10:45:00.482-04:00Crafting a Closet<span id="goog_82103323"></span><span id="goog_82103324"></span>Oh Golly Gee, Golly My!<br />
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When Hubby (finally) equipped his man cave my scrapbooking area (a fold up table set up alongside one wall) was relocated. <br />
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To this:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00OQ2lGNCHHIYpSe3TJ2CSuZwuGRqCHFuBQ01YScFXu1H13B9D4EtIjjkqFh4J9OZ9UGtsPM_wgRfv-GmL4qphjKQ1tWORvwA6-HfuIkAPHh2SYiVgZFtKmVeTYpBOf5Ft3Uny3ktk3s1/s1600/IMG_5853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00OQ2lGNCHHIYpSe3TJ2CSuZwuGRqCHFuBQ01YScFXu1H13B9D4EtIjjkqFh4J9OZ9UGtsPM_wgRfv-GmL4qphjKQ1tWORvwA6-HfuIkAPHh2SYiVgZFtKmVeTYpBOf5Ft3Uny3ktk3s1/s320/IMG_5853.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Yes, it is a closet. And, now it is a highly organized, creative space, for ME. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjAIWsgoiM36UJA1XZfH1OXWcYgiowmg6wVQJNNsUaN6oTxlozOmr-JMTy7-tDEaoSeWUOIzwM9Si7luTqoRPIKsz0YlY-6EsiFlLL3TcAKMy5skzSK2FGqri2tZNJMUJhmgQ2FVPPaWOV/s1600/IMG_5833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjAIWsgoiM36UJA1XZfH1OXWcYgiowmg6wVQJNNsUaN6oTxlozOmr-JMTy7-tDEaoSeWUOIzwM9Si7luTqoRPIKsz0YlY-6EsiFlLL3TcAKMy5skzSK2FGqri2tZNJMUJhmgQ2FVPPaWOV/s320/IMG_5833.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Several years ago in a home improvement store magazine, there was a picture of the crafting space of my dreams! In a closet.<br />
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I held on to it, in the closet that would one day become my own. Yes, I know, this is the point where I should post a picture of my muse. However, when the project was done I threw it away. Sorry, but after holding on to it for so many years the project did not feel complete until I threw it away.<br />
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The storage accessories are all a mixture of items found around the house, bins, tins and baskets, and new items I bought to help finish it out. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtyt4i5WsKG7vROFwci3wdIplUuPfjhOvIIEvfDx_nMCYyU5uj7fP2xtETMOqA_asPaYZRSE53_hQFZMGTRUbiqPrH2GkGKuDlKVivoHIOy0dd9EoPNIY7HvAkvEtHgsKK3L3w2IJ3HHQ/s1600/IMG_5401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwtyt4i5WsKG7vROFwci3wdIplUuPfjhOvIIEvfDx_nMCYyU5uj7fP2xtETMOqA_asPaYZRSE53_hQFZMGTRUbiqPrH2GkGKuDlKVivoHIOy0dd9EoPNIY7HvAkvEtHgsKK3L3w2IJ3HHQ/s320/IMG_5401.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can spread out, and leave it out without fear of meddling children</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />The laminate counter, custom cut at a big box home improvement store,
and the adjustable shelves were the large cost items for this project.
The counter cost a little extra because of the arch cut out in the
center, so the chair could roll into the closet when the doors are
closed. (see the above picture for the cut out.)<br />
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<br />
<br />
The shelves are adjustable, and a combination of two brands.
Originally, I had wanted to install floating shelves, but they were a
little more expensive, and finding the correct size at the right price was becoming a nuisance. I am
glad we went with these.<br />
<br />
Aesthetically, they are not as nice as the
floating shelves, however I would have had more holes than drywall by the
time we finished installing them. Flexibility beat out aesthetics
this time around. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I love peg board! Paint it your favorite color, and
hang. Easy, functional, cheap, and cute. The pegs and baskets came from the garage organization section of a big box home improvement store. So simple, and cheap.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5vl-trevQb6DexEybLjFLFNPDCQgkPEi0c24c_KjQnXwkMsy0Zgj9lPhbPvtQ6pYdrW738qR4l7UrxJDfLpGDh04axwK9tgIfTcpnGe2sfQ6sIRKUInzNJIeGWHYxLbX36HMcJCT_m8I5/s1600/IMG_5837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5vl-trevQb6DexEybLjFLFNPDCQgkPEi0c24c_KjQnXwkMsy0Zgj9lPhbPvtQ6pYdrW738qR4l7UrxJDfLpGDh04axwK9tgIfTcpnGe2sfQ6sIRKUInzNJIeGWHYxLbX36HMcJCT_m8I5/s320/IMG_5837.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The color painted onto the peg board is one
of my favorite colors, Benjamin Moore HC-146 Wedgewood Gray. I love this color. You will find it in several rooms around my house. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Every last square foot of this closet is crammed full. Paper storage is underneath the counter, as well as my travel bag (if you scrap, you understand the importance of these bags), and my mom's old sewing machine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJT_R8ywIU6PznXu-j7tPfZJ2gZYSTIcaNj16PJAks-qMUngBjxMVNC3tsVkaFuZAaKDMKtbg7Yy6kDQBohHwnzmFuZpYI4Sfuejp_JnYO6xgPYX4OeTVlNYtuFo-29laYUmiIOAoNHvy/s1600/IMG_5850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJT_R8ywIU6PznXu-j7tPfZJ2gZYSTIcaNj16PJAks-qMUngBjxMVNC3tsVkaFuZAaKDMKtbg7Yy6kDQBohHwnzmFuZpYI4Sfuejp_JnYO6xgPYX4OeTVlNYtuFo-29laYUmiIOAoNHvy/s200/IMG_5850.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And, a trash can, a very important tool for scrapers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LP2MyoWU-Idmi5EyNgRps8o8eBSdY8a3VjtL17erRZlr2xLl71j7gEY048Wvsu5bEASexxUvUkwQbIR-FmK7vtPUs9aid6TvnsXMNmQXF8p4xndWdqudlCBvF78jjYYn7V4Se4_FgKqQ/s1600/IMG_5848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LP2MyoWU-Idmi5EyNgRps8o8eBSdY8a3VjtL17erRZlr2xLl71j7gEY048Wvsu5bEASexxUvUkwQbIR-FmK7vtPUs9aid6TvnsXMNmQXF8p4xndWdqudlCBvF78jjYYn7V4Se4_FgKqQ/s200/IMG_5848.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, there is my step stool. I keep forgetting where I moved it too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0n4ktZAu-Hq_cXOvlHP2KWmEjpwOSuMfPn-pt-7vavgzG1lzrOhfOCV9sBiTTPDhictL_WdZPv6Fm_zttfDTaBD8US7TtHEydqNYlTPKbynhwIzrLnQOkJmXeCNOrWgUWvMr5KvswP5G5/s1600/IMG_5851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0n4ktZAu-Hq_cXOvlHP2KWmEjpwOSuMfPn-pt-7vavgzG1lzrOhfOCV9sBiTTPDhictL_WdZPv6Fm_zttfDTaBD8US7TtHEydqNYlTPKbynhwIzrLnQOkJmXeCNOrWgUWvMr5KvswP5G5/s320/IMG_5851.JPG" width="240" /></a> This storage cubby was a left over from the kid's playroom, before we
went with a new organizational system. It turned out to be a great
spot to store idea books, paper, and an a sundry of other craft items, that are also used by the kids.<br />
<br />
I am thinking we need another storage cubby, maybe a tower, placed where the towel bar is now. The closet is packed so full the storage is not functional. Plus, there is a large tub, sitting somewhere in our basement, filled with more craft supplies needing a home. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, let me show you my most favorite part of my new scrapping space:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cBtDachmX3C4D5UgVoR2oyh0Gxedw2eXj-a9A5fuaVHo1G3gHmhMAiCyA2k2UBK9N0hqLP-NlOFgrgsX2wxqzOsYsiFmBwGulWP1eRoZicQkLEptPaNrhstSA2y7bjR7XTg_oDkD8dpx/s1600/IMG_5321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cBtDachmX3C4D5UgVoR2oyh0Gxedw2eXj-a9A5fuaVHo1G3gHmhMAiCyA2k2UBK9N0hqLP-NlOFgrgsX2wxqzOsYsiFmBwGulWP1eRoZicQkLEptPaNrhstSA2y7bjR7XTg_oDkD8dpx/s320/IMG_5321.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
I can close the doors. No one can see my mess. No one is getting into my supplies, and creating a mess. <br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-84511565806620372372012-08-10T10:01:00.000-04:002012-08-10T10:01:18.684-04:00I Think I Can ... Until I Have ToArchery. That is all EM could talk about. She couldn't wait to try it. We had been listening to the Chronicles of Narnia, plus had watched the movies. She wanted to be like Susan.<br />
<br />
Leading up to our vacation, at a camp in Canada, EM talked about trying archery. She had seen a picture, from the same camp, of her brother shooting a bow and arrow, and knew she would also have a chance.<br />
<br />
One afternoon, at the beginning of our vacation, EM asked, again, if they would be offering archery as an activity. "Do they still have the archery stuff?" "Where do they have the archery?" "I can't wait to try archery, just like Susan."<br />
<br />
Lo, and behold, the next day they announced that archery would be offered at 2:00, that afternoon.<br />
<br />
EM said, "No". She didn't want to try archery. She would skip it. Maybe next time.<br />
<br />
All I've heard from this child is her talk about archery.<br />
<br />
Now, all I'm hearing is, "No, no and no."<br />
<br />
And, as I dragged her up the hill, to the archery field, all I heard was, "Mom, you are mean. You love mean. you are mean." Because I was making her do something she had talked non-stop about, up until the time they announced the actual activity.<br />
<br />
So now, this story can take two different paths. How being a mean parent does pay off, if you can stand the whining. Or, how did my daughter become so afraid of trying new activities?<br />
<br />
We shall save the former for another time. For now, please, those who have dealt with Cautious Carla's, how do I inject a little (or a whole lot of) confidence into my daughter. Granted, I want her to weigh the pros and cons of a situation, analyze it so she can learn the most from it, but not to the point that she is too paralyzed to try a new activity. This appears to be the issue.<br />
<br />
So, I drag her up the hill to archery, twice. The first session ended early, and not everyone had a turn; so, they offered a second session that evening. It was during that second trip up the hill that I was told of the extend of my meanness. <br />
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Once arriving to the field she held back, as long as possible. Her chances of participating were fairly strong this time around, since her mother :::ahem::: practically ripped a bow out of some poor child's hand after the first round of kids took their turn. <br />
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<br />
After that first shot, it was hard for her to put down the bow. She enjoyed it so much, she closed down the activity. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-51071860847823253932012-07-31T17:24:00.003-04:002012-07-31T17:24:46.387-04:00Post Vacation BreakdownWe arrived home Sunday, after enjoying cooler weather and lake swimming for a little over a week. <br />
<br />
Here is what we came home to:<br />
<br />
<b>10</b> messages on our answering machine:<br />
<ul>
<li>1 was an actual message, from a person we know</li>
<li>1 just recorded background noise (ala Call Center)</li>
<li>8 were completely silent (I love election years, along with people who once had our phone number, and no longer do, because it now belongs to us, yet the debit collectors still call us, asking for her. That person, I love, along with the person(s) who share Hubby's name, and also owes money. I also love them.)</li>
</ul>
<b>1</b> USPS mail box (the plastic type they use in mail centers, not the metal ones we place in our front yard.)<br />
<br />
<b>And</b>, in that mail, was 1 mailing from VMRC (a local retirement community) and 1 letter announcing we won a cemetery plot. (I am not sure which is more disconcerting, these recent mailings, or the coupons for baby formula and diapers.) <br />
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<b>Loads </b>of laundry. (No, I am not counting the total loads of laundry, because I am not, yet, done, and it will make me cry.)<br />
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<b>Grocery</b> shopping, oh my the bill of replenishing the supplies. And, it doesn't help that we are hosting two teenage boys for two weeks, and hosting a party this weekend. (I need school to start so our lives can slow down.) <br />
<br />
<b>A</b> cat that has not stopped screaming at us, for leaving her alone for a week. (Or, maybe she is upset we returned. All we know is she is psycho, and loved the girl who took care of her while we were gone.)<br />
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<b>Jump</b> in feet first. Yes, yes we did. After being away for 10 days, and driving for over 1000 miles, we jumped into our Monday feet first. Hubby to work, JT to a camp, school activities, laundry, prep work for a party we are hosting on Saturday and for 2 exchange students who arrive on Friday. Jumping in, yes we are. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-19181059463030360682012-07-28T22:43:00.000-04:002012-07-28T22:43:00.144-04:00PackingTypically, the week before we leave for vacation, I am running errands all over town. I am picking up this, stocking up on that, and realizing that I waited too long to find a good deal on bathing suites. Winter coats in July? <br />
<br />
Then there is the car issue, getting it ready for a long trip. Oil change, check. Tires rotated, check. One year we were trying to fix a Check Engine light issue, and our car was still at the garage a day before our planned trip. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up from remembering that stressful week. <br />
<br />
To combat this undue stress I am trying to be more organized, a month or two leading up to a vacation, thinking through what we need. Purchasing new games/DVDS for the car ride, stocking up on toiletries and supplies, and purchasing clothes regardless of the deal.<br />
<br />
It may be because the kids are now older, and I can plan past a day. What ever the reason, the crazy errand running has been nil this time around. <br />
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The kids have had a camp all week long. I've been able to make a trip to the gym. Run to the store, once. Fit in some doctor's appointments, and reorganize our basement closet.<br />
<br />
Why did I decide to reorganize the closet? Granted, when we return from our vacation we will have guests, but they won't be using the closet in our office. Since it is a tight turn around, between arriving home and their arrival, I am trying to complete some preliminary cleaning before we leave. However, it did not require me to re-box and reorganize the entire closet. However, here I am, when I could be packing.<br />
<br />
That is OK. My trusty to do list is stuck to the refrigerator. Piles of vacation odds and ends are slowly making their way to my bedroom. It is funny, I am feeling stressed because I am not stressed out enough about packing (i.e. I haven't started to officially pack yet.)<br />
<br />
Yes, I know there is medication for these problems. <br />
<br />
My saving grace, I know there is a Walmart just down the road from our vacation spot. And, between here and there we travel around, at least, 2 major cities. Plus, an Ikea. Oh yeah, we have made an Ikea run, while on our vacation. We can save that story for another time. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-32767100081861720922012-07-25T23:05:00.000-04:002012-07-25T23:05:00.406-04:00To My Dear Son,I understand that when I speak, to your ears my voice sounds like an adult from the Peanuts cartoon. <br />
<br />
So, when I say, "check under your bed", what you hear is "wa, wa, wa,..." <br />
<br />
I also understand, that, to you, looking under your bed is extra work. Why clean up under your bed when no one will look under it, except your mother. :::ahem:::<br />
<br />
However, I am wondering, at what point do you realize that your mother knows what she is talking about? <br />
<br />
Obviously, it wasn't when we found that book under your bed, that belonged to JT's 4th grade teacher. The problem was JT was now in 5th grade, at a different school, and his 4th grade teacher had moved across the country. <br />
<br />
And, apparently it is not sinking in every time you yell from the second floor, that you lack clean socks by the end of the week. Granted, I have plenty of your socks, sitting in a laundry basket, all without their significant other. May I point out that, just maybe, it would be helpful if you
look under your bed, behind your bed, next too your desk, and under
that pile of ... whatever that pile is because I'm not touching it, to
find all those missing socks.<br />
<br />
To my other son, the same thing goes for
your underwear.<br />
<br />
Love, Mom.<br />
XOXOErinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-81237291242313077842012-07-23T22:35:00.000-04:002012-07-23T22:35:00.550-04:00A Different Kind of SurpriseTis the season for summer camp, which means I am brushing off twigs, bark, and who knows what from our duvet. (Because that is where I unpack their bags, and as I type, I am realizing it may be time to rethink this routine.)<br />
<br />
When the boys return home, I brace myself for what I will find, or not find, in their bags.<br />
<br />
Without fail, one boy's bag will contain wet clothes. Everything is wet?<br />
<br />
Another boy's bag will consist of one layer of muddled clothing and supplies, while the remaining layers are perfectly folded, like they had never been touched. Hmmmmmm.<br />
<br />
Then again, as long as nothing comes crawling or flying out at me, the state of everything else is no big deal.<br />
<br />
Next comes the taking of inventory. We have lost socks, inadvertently swapped rain ponchos, and left behind swim trunks. (Which we realized after arriving at the grandparent's for the 4th of July weekend, where I finally unpacked the bag. Making a run to Wally World, on a Friday night, and having to travel on Route 30, on a Friday night, the day before July 4th is real fun.) My most frustrating lost was an L.L. Bean toiletry bag. Despite making a phone call to the camp, we never saw it again. Lesson learned, if they are taking it to camp, cheap, cheap, cheap.<br />
<br />
This year, I am proud to say, they seem to have returned home with all their belongings, and then some.<br />
<br />
Dear son #1 came home with 2 camp shirts. He should only have one, the other belonged to a cabin mate. Son #2 came home with random socks. No pairs in the extra sock pile, just singles. It is an interesting collection. From what I understand, their cabin was in a state of boy mayhem at the end of the week. By the time I picked him up, though they had cleaned, organized, and packed everything, and his belongings were scattered among 2 picnic tables. I guess he didn't want to put them in his bag, since everything was wet. <br />
<br />
So, to sum up this year. No lost items (all of their socks returned home in pairs.) No live items hitched a ride. Clothes were wet, however, the majority of clothes were worn. And, if anyone wants to make some sock puppets, we have socks to spare. <br />
<br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-26682537975192928962012-07-18T22:36:00.001-04:002012-07-18T22:36:11.985-04:00SURPRISE!?!Later this year I turn a significant age, one with a 0 after it. Just one 0<br />
<br />
Hubby wanted to throw me a surprise birthday party. And, to help make it a surprise he organized a party 4 months before my actual birthday. <br />
<br />
The problem is, Hubby can't keep secrets, and I ask too many questions. <br />
<br />
Hubby has, since we have been married, tried to throw me a surprise birthday party 3 times. The first time was about as close to being surprised as I will ever come. The second time, well, let us just not talk about the second time. And, this was the third time, it was a no go. <br />
<br />
Which, in the end, worked out in our favor. See Hubby and I like to plan parties together, it is more fun. Also, having two of us plan helps with the organization. I do the planning and shopping, he helps with the set up and mans the grill. <br />
<br />
Then there was the Griswold factor. An hour or so before the outdoor party, where we were grilling the hamburgers and hot dogs, a thunder storm rolled through, and remained. 20 minutes before guests were to arrive Hubby received a work call, and the lightening was right above us. <br />
<br />
Thankfully family had arrived early, and early arriving guests pitched in. Also, the thunder storm moved on around the start of the party, allowing my brother to take over the grill with out fear of collecting on his life insurance policy. <br />
<br />
Who's idea was it to serve a hamburger bar? Oh yeah, me. Next time keep me out of the loop, it may remain simple. Better yet, I will be hiring caterers for the next significant 0 birthday. <br />
<br />
We rallied, and the Griswolds were sent packing. The party was enjoyed by all, even Hubby after resolving the work issue. (Though his managers owe me some wine and chocolate, ahem.....) The kids enjoyed an ultimate capture the flag game. The guys even managed to light the inaugural fire in the fire pit, after all the rain. And, after all our rushing around, I was able to sit and enjoy being with friends. Because that is what a party, for whatever reason, is all about. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-22848392104662967262012-07-11T08:00:00.000-04:002012-07-11T08:00:12.568-04:00Green, Verde, Vert,... After several weeks of hot temperatures, and no rain, it is nice to see my yard begin to rebound, after one rain fall. <br />
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Then again, the green I see could just be weeds. <br />
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When it is the middle of summer, one takes what one can get. Green is green, regardless of how you say it, or in what form it comes. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-707845339726432292012-07-09T22:34:00.002-04:002012-07-09T22:35:40.074-04:00Jewelry Organizer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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How did I turn my dresser from this?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFMU4GTL9c4vpP_tlvlnstf6xSLKfVH20ufU5wIEjdf8Jr1duY9l05XWn1r-n2zrxA8Uo79Mro2DhkQYB5iz_n9t6j18yahNwitAE3mKi-HuF3sdj6UpA28SHO-YB5B3ckSsq3o7yuwzm/s1600/IMG_2748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgFMU4GTL9c4vpP_tlvlnstf6xSLKfVH20ufU5wIEjdf8Jr1duY9l05XWn1r-n2zrxA8Uo79Mro2DhkQYB5iz_n9t6j18yahNwitAE3mKi-HuF3sdj6UpA28SHO-YB5B3ckSsq3o7yuwzm/s320/IMG_2748.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you hear my Type A just exploding?</td></tr>
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To this?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp78wMPCAIdxBtJzL5pwmwNXx4VfNMo2bGfbVQs7tUFPGgR_YIMpj73vxQiDPRUTYMatyIbxPytvOvmHMKNzL_sUWV7yGdOpo2WguH5DP1nlc3GWRdSiKiCquvj7D-7bqSd4ttNyUydzo4/s1600/IMG_2755.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp78wMPCAIdxBtJzL5pwmwNXx4VfNMo2bGfbVQs7tUFPGgR_YIMpj73vxQiDPRUTYMatyIbxPytvOvmHMKNzL_sUWV7yGdOpo2WguH5DP1nlc3GWRdSiKiCquvj7D-7bqSd4ttNyUydzo4/s320/IMG_2755.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very empty, very dusty, dresser top</td></tr>
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Well, first I got an idea (from somewhere). Then I perused Pinterest for ideas (inspiration overload). Then I hit the thrift stores for inspiration, (but no luck). Then I hit a local store, <a href="http://theladyjaneshop.com/">The Lady Jane</a>, specializing in vintage inspired decor. <br />
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Bingo:<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86qtUd7a3r1WoKhroGcNpLSnBZObrfN3w8T1af_GEIt4P156mNTQMD9w1CyZtIxR1gBySFDjD3lpbxsV5dZ4a9KMZ7HE2VSyDi0PA6veJIqQo9LpxEPdqLLjSLqozlbc23zVlwsY-SEDI/s1600/IMG_2637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg86qtUd7a3r1WoKhroGcNpLSnBZObrfN3w8T1af_GEIt4P156mNTQMD9w1CyZtIxR1gBySFDjD3lpbxsV5dZ4a9KMZ7HE2VSyDi0PA6veJIqQo9LpxEPdqLLjSLqozlbc23zVlwsY-SEDI/s320/IMG_2637.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, be still, my beating heart</td></tr>
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My jewelry collection has steadily been growing over the years. (Shhh, don't tell Hubby.) The chaos on my dresser (see above) was out of control. (Hence, the term "chaos". Never underestimate the power of stating the obvious.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFKaNdzcupQ2dUeC8kwW-_VtbBqyFqlxvcKcRM8VZNonQqYhNBHaIGSwDBTQ4i4emAkmRMMLmNfaTmzqdDEZtNyayeWOUHbVEzXlpGJG3-kDngJBWR8j6oCpOwG76-bt8rG0Cp8W5hktw/s1600/IMG_2699.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFKaNdzcupQ2dUeC8kwW-_VtbBqyFqlxvcKcRM8VZNonQqYhNBHaIGSwDBTQ4i4emAkmRMMLmNfaTmzqdDEZtNyayeWOUHbVEzXlpGJG3-kDngJBWR8j6oCpOwG76-bt8rG0Cp8W5hktw/s320/IMG_2699.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just hanging out</td></tr>
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The baskets are great for jewelry bags, while necklaces can hang from the wires. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLO9Ckf-hnv7w6w83Q6IO1_TFVr2RzRWfA8IPYS5K-c-6oZGcetEvweXt-E_281HmIS9WdYMbSpUI5iccwhvmxOT2LZwgYoP6Rbqju4CHo6hy34awE7oZ1jW0MpecCw86BS5HRk9jlZeUA/s1600/IMG_2689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLO9Ckf-hnv7w6w83Q6IO1_TFVr2RzRWfA8IPYS5K-c-6oZGcetEvweXt-E_281HmIS9WdYMbSpUI5iccwhvmxOT2LZwgYoP6Rbqju4CHo6hy34awE7oZ1jW0MpecCw86BS5HRk9jlZeUA/s320/IMG_2689.JPG" width="320" /></a>Bangles and (not so heavy) cuff bracelets balance nicely, while heaver cuff bracelets stay in the basket. <br />
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I'm thinking of individual, small baskets, to sit in the wire baskets for smaller items. Maybe some hooks, to hang below, for more necklaces and bracelets. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvQMEFEWPWt7hSIaoqT_BwdBmZ-UX8Am3Zg0536BmOJxrs-5zG6AtPPxQTToaKztgrnpXx8wwJFauizPf2s_MSw1oFT08GgY4y9C2rHzMYxHLEa0ALnmVBKU40WzUPv7Odm9wbR_zKSMA/s1600/IMG_2701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvQMEFEWPWt7hSIaoqT_BwdBmZ-UX8Am3Zg0536BmOJxrs-5zG6AtPPxQTToaKztgrnpXx8wwJFauizPf2s_MSw1oFT08GgY4y9C2rHzMYxHLEa0ALnmVBKU40WzUPv7Odm9wbR_zKSMA/s320/IMG_2701.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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Earrings with a looped backing just dangle. <br />
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Post earrings are pinned into a piece of foam. (Rethinking that, but for now, we shall see how it works.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkx5WZaLkpCHjxgBS1W6WN0F5RrXgcMmbxUkpXgInVZ921OjA3PD5LsWaMj76ZTv1cOuTTiOcFGP_AXD4HoQzfOM88qnDO3HPJ4Sa_I9ankURJmR6iGfZ7aGznXahLWy9zYpvT4Jz65Vp/s1600/IMG_2711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkx5WZaLkpCHjxgBS1W6WN0F5RrXgcMmbxUkpXgInVZ921OjA3PD5LsWaMj76ZTv1cOuTTiOcFGP_AXD4HoQzfOM88qnDO3HPJ4Sa_I9ankURJmR6iGfZ7aGznXahLWy9zYpvT4Jz65Vp/s320/IMG_2711.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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And, it fits in our closet, right behind the door. This new arrangement
works beautifully. Sunday, we were <strike>running
late</strike> getting ready for church, and it was so nice to walk
into the closet and look at my options, instead of opening (and not
closing) boxes.<br />
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Better yet, I feel like we are one step closer to organizing our closet. The grand plan, is to install closet organizers, shelves, drawers and all, and remove the dusty, plain, and creaky dressers.<br />
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That is the plan, however, we know how quickly <a href="http://shenandoahvalleyparent.blogspot.com/2012/06/projects-in-our-house-fall-under-three.html">projects are completed</a> in our house. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-82579335663530415512012-07-08T23:09:00.001-04:002012-07-08T23:09:30.556-04:00DerechoHere is the thing. The majority of my life has been on the East Coast. This section of the East Coast, where weather is about as mild is comes. We experience all 4 seasons. We have thunder storms, snow storms, receive the far reaching winds of a hurricane, and the occasional down pour. However, on the scale of crazy weather, we rate in the middle. <br />
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For the time when I didn't live on the East Coast, I lived in England, where their weather is as mild as the people, tally ho. <br />
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So, when crazy weather blows through our little area of mild, we find ourselves rather unprepared. This was proven last weekend, when a severe wind storm, otherwise known as a derecho, blew through and tipped over our wrought iron patio tables (that seats 8, umbrella, and umbrella stand). Took our toy box/bench from around the back of the house, tipped out all the toys, blew it to the front of the house, across the street, and through our neighbor's wooded fence. <br />
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And, that does not compare with the damages houses, trees, and power lines received. <br />
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Um, weren't they calling for severe thunder storms, with strong winds? Thunder storms, yes, no problem. Strong winds, well, we always have wind. Sometimes, it is strong enough to blow our patio chairs over to the edge of our property, and our grill is tied down for a reason. But, our neighbor's shutter in our back yard, and roof shingles from other houses, no not so much. <br />
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We were lucky, we never lost power for an extended period of time, and any damage we suffered was quickly fixed the next day. (However, Hubby may never climb back onto our roof.)<br />
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Talking with a fellow mom the next morning, she described the wind storms they experienced in Colorado. Friday night, when the winds began to pick up, she new what was happening, and had the foresight of pulling in her flower pots, and turning over the patio furniture. <br />
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Turning over our patio furniture? Why don't we ever think of these things? Suddenly, I am feeling rather dorky about watching the winds come up, and not think of the simple act of turning over our tables? <br />
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Because I have never experienced anything like this before. Yes, we have wind, but again, I live in a mild weather bubble, with few exceptions. <br />
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Dear weather people, next time, instead of issuing a warning of strong winds (because we have those all the time) how about using the term Derecho. Then I know how to act. <br />
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Now, I just need to take the tornado warnings more seriously. Growing up among mountains, it was always said we are safe from tornadoes. Apparently, not so much. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-28563887354572676662012-06-26T15:51:00.002-04:002012-06-26T15:51:45.838-04:00No Fashion SenseWhere did I go wrong? <br />
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I am failing my children, if they don't know simple fashion no no's.<br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-34189720337877441552012-06-21T16:07:00.001-04:002012-06-21T16:09:23.185-04:00Spring Reading Thing ... Recap<a href="http://callapidderdays.com/2012/06/spring-reading-thing-2012-wrap-it-up.html">The Spring Reading Thing </a>has come to an end, here is a recap of my progress. <br />
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Here we are, nearing the end of June. Our summer vacation began with a lot of fun, and a lot of tired. Once school was out, for all of us, we enjoyed a long weekend away, with my family, along the Chesapeake.<br />
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It was a fun way to kick off the summer, and exhausting. Let us just say I missed my king size bed. Hubby and I can't find comfort, nor sleep, on a full size mattress.<br />
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Anywho, we are talking about books. And, I am excited to say that not only did I complete my list, but I added more books to the list. A first for me. Usually I keep my lists short, and my expectations low. This time I kept my list short, but made reading a priority.<br />
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So, here is the original list:<br />
<b>The Time Baroness</b>, by Georgina Young-Ellis<br />
<b>Georgiana Darcy's Diary: Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Continued</b>, by Anna Elliott <br />
<b>Charlotte Collins: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride</b> a<b>nd Prejudice</b>, by Jennifer Becton<br />
<b>The Saturday Big Ten Wedding</b>, by Alexander McCall Smith<br />
<b>The Lost Hero, </b>by Rick Riordan<br />
<b>The Son of Neptune, </b>by Rick Riordan<b></b><br />
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Added to the list:<br />
<b>Choosing to SEE, A Journey of Struggle and Hope</b>, by Mary Beth Chapman and Ellen Vaughn<br />
<b>The Hunger Games</b>, by Suzanne Collins<br />
<b>Caroline Bingley: A Continuation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice</b>, by Jennifer Becton<br />
<b>The Pioneer Woman: Black Heels to Tractor Wheels</b>, by Ree Drummond <br />
<b>Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime</b>, by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin<br />
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Now, short reviews on some of the books.<br />
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<b>The Hunger Games</b>: Yes, I know, everyone is reading them. Or, everyone has read them and I am behind the cultural curve ball. Our 11 year-old was asking to read them, and we said no, then Hubby and I decided to read them to see what we said no to. After reading the first book, we still said no; however, I enjoyed it and am looking forward to reading the next two. (Yes, I was one of those readers who read, come out of the bed room in their P.J.'s and robe, eat breakfast, and headed back into their bedroom to continue reading.) The story was not as violent, as I originally thought, but the premise remained the same, children are killing children. This book covers many deep subjects, that younger readers would miss. Bottom line, I would recommend this book, and if youth are reading it, I hope they do so with the guidance of a parent or teacher. Collins has written a commentary on the effect of war, how survivors of conflict deal with their new reality, and our obsession with reality TV. <br />
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Reading what our children are reading, or want to read, is what introduced me to Rick Riordan, and his character Percy Jackson. I am hooked, and thankful my 11 year-old has pre-ordered the third installment of the <b>Heroes of Olympus</b> series. It should be out in the fall, so look for that on my Fall Into Reading list.<br />
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<b>Choosing to SEE</b>, was written by Mary Beth Chapman, the wife of Christian singer Steven Curtis Chapman. The book is an autobiography of their lives, but focuses mainly on the death of their young daughter, several years ago, and the paths their family have taken to heal. If you haven't read this book, be warned, you will cry from the introduction, to the end. This is not a book I typically pick up, being a parent myself, reading about the death of a child touches too many nerves. However, Chapman shows the strength of God during this time, and reminds us that God is alive, and that His promises are true. She also lays out their grief for all to see. There is no sugar coating it, and for that I respect her. She shares the good, the bad, and the very ugly. Despite the depth of our faith, in the face of tragedy we will question God, but he is there to walk us through it. <br />
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<b>Game Change</b> is a close up look at the 2008 presidential election. I must say, it is the most academic book I've read in a long time, and though I need a dictionary near by, I am loving the exercise my brain is receiving. It is interesting to read, and remember back to the primaries; comparing what we heard/read in the media, to what was actually happening behind the scenes, which the authors were able to compile after countless in depth interviews. <br />
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And, there you have it. I am (slowly) wading through <b>Game Change</b>, and hope to pick up the next two in the Hunger Games series; as soon as July rolls around, and if I beat my 11 year-old to the Amazon Prime Lending Library. The pile of books on my night stand has grown, as has the list on my Kindle. I predict lots of reading this summer, and hope your summer is the same. <br />
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-68692988711355819762012-06-18T22:12:00.000-04:002012-06-18T22:12:00.894-04:00Memo MondayTo Whomever Can Answer My Question,<br />
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What road rules apply to scooters/mopeds? <br />
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Can they ride down the middle of the street, even if the speed limit is 35, and the vehicle in question is having a hard time going over 30?<br />
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My thoughts, yes, I can pass them (safely). They are not a registered vehicle (am I correct?) and the driver does not need a license (again, is that correct?).<br />
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In my mind, they are riding a bicycle, with a motor. And, I pass bicycles (safely).<br />
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Most mopeds/scooters seem to have limited speed capabilities. Made even more limited in our area, where you need to drive uphill, both ways, to arrive to your destination. <br />
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While, I understand the draw to these vehicles; cheap, uses little gas, no license or registration required, I also find them to be a nuisance. Or, more specifically, the drivers a nuisance. <br />
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Just because it has a motor doesn't mean you can ride the road like the grown-ups. And no, scooters/mopeds are not motorcycles, don't even go there. <br />
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Is this a case of my lead foot (and a little road rage) getting the better of my judgment, or do I have a point here?<br />
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Feel free to leave a comment, <br />
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Thank you. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-53887867823577119062012-06-15T22:02:00.002-04:002012-06-15T22:37:47.560-04:00Projects, in our house, fall under three categories.<br />
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<b>Forever Talked About, never started</b><br />
A couple years ago the florescent light in our kitchen blew out. Hubby figured it was a $30 fix; however, I wanted to redo the lighting situation in our kitchen. (It was a spec house, built during the housing boom. Structurally, the house is sound; aesthetically, it is cookie cutter and cheap.) I want to redo the lights. Having a broken florescent light box, thingy majigy, seemed to be the motivation needed to rewire, install pot lights, maybe some pendant lights.... We keep talking, and notice the lack of lighting every winter.<br />
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Then there is our laundry room. Don't get me started. <br />
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<b>Talked About, Barley Planned, then BAM, we complete it in a day</b><br />
Last fall we began talking about putting in a garden, in our back yard. This would be a flower garden, and the first part of three elements in this back corner; a shed, garden and fire pit. We talked, discussed, then one Saturday we found ourselves kid-less, and at Lowe's, so we bought all the needed plants. Oh wait, we need to map this out, and maybe a tiller would be a good idea, since we haven't bothered to kill any of the grass we are about to dig up. It was still completed in a day.<br />
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<b>This Looks Doable, and Cheap ... until we start planning it</b> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_m34QncUvQTvQrqU2IYE-KiklTr7L20gKxnCNkiqARrAeaJQBbi5Nl_eDEBKjNcqftek6u4uXe29NBpBKJMNR4mWsJUTVUV1kBbR3T_oP5aL4S4OrbQXpCaFxd0zkyrk_curgbX2RFyA/s1600/IMG_1788.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA_m34QncUvQTvQrqU2IYE-KiklTr7L20gKxnCNkiqARrAeaJQBbi5Nl_eDEBKjNcqftek6u4uXe29NBpBKJMNR4mWsJUTVUV1kBbR3T_oP5aL4S4OrbQXpCaFxd0zkyrk_curgbX2RFyA/s320/IMG_1788.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two circles, because I can't make up my mind. In the background is last fall's project</td></tr>
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Cheap, yeah maybe, until we get a hold of the project. Phase 2 (which was supposed to be the shed, but the budget didn't materialize for that) in our backyard project is the fire pit. Browsing Pinterest (my sister was correct, it is like crack) I found instructions that made building one seem easy, and cheap. Around $100. Well, we had to add extra inches to our stone floor, and our blocks are a little more expensive, and ... well, it is still cheaper than a shed. This one we are planning out, thankfully. So far, we marked out two circles, sorry Hubby, and are attempting to kill the <strike>weeds</strike> grass, within the soon to be fire pit area. I drove around town looking at stone, blocks, and prices. Hubby wants to call a friend who has machines, that will make this project a lot more fun, for the boys. <br />
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Sometime by July, we should have a fire pit. Hopefully, it remains standing. Pictures to follow, when it materializes. <br />
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</div>Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-83175658365731590362012-06-09T22:44:00.000-04:002012-06-09T22:44:00.535-04:00Think Outside the BoxWhat do you do, when in the middle of baking a (your third) batch of bread, you realize why this batch, and the two before it, were not baking through? Hence, why your bread is not baking, so tell me why it took me so long to figure it out?<br />
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You bake the bread upside down. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDefpnGnGEoL-xn9zky5tNTdlRskPPJzQhdWjGTh2OOljiyEVXHhQ0Lhqll41XUcM4BR_q-DivSLqVSoNAtPNoE0fxpCruv_EZP0LANG2AP5ciHIIRhrWSkxRdoAzlaFXZLrxfdMWVgEvZ/s1600/IMG_1277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDefpnGnGEoL-xn9zky5tNTdlRskPPJzQhdWjGTh2OOljiyEVXHhQ0Lhqll41XUcM4BR_q-DivSLqVSoNAtPNoE0fxpCruv_EZP0LANG2AP5ciHIIRhrWSkxRdoAzlaFXZLrxfdMWVgEvZ/s320/IMG_1277.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The monkey bread did not fare as well. Oh Well.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Then you check out Lowe's for a new oven. <br />
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I wish. No, this was one appliance we knew (and hoped) would be an easy, and relatively cheap, fix. (As opposed to the other THREE appliances that have broken down in the past 2 years. All brand new when we bought the house, and ranged from 5 to 7 years old. Oh yea, GE is not my friend.) So, Hubby ordered a new bottom element. It arrived today, and the kids enjoyed fresh baked cookies after a cold and wet swim practice. <br />
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And, I am still mooning over the ovens at Lowe's. They are pretty, and expensive, but, they come in convection, with double ovens. :::sigh:::<br />
<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-44255571960800882362012-06-07T22:35:00.002-04:002012-06-07T22:35:38.127-04:00House GuestsThe past few weeks, we have been honored to host a special little family.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8sB7Qv8YA-OKAWONBaGm_Cj2UdQSQkdInivh4onfJWJCdmJ9v2ovggh9mQN9YkAx-x6Ik3T0whFQeXaIEPfdQ2wl9fYqAZIGqIMyQPPDdnDsMMBEwfAAatvJ93SJfpieeeFUrPYJ0KVA/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8sB7Qv8YA-OKAWONBaGm_Cj2UdQSQkdInivh4onfJWJCdmJ9v2ovggh9mQN9YkAx-x6Ik3T0whFQeXaIEPfdQ2wl9fYqAZIGqIMyQPPDdnDsMMBEwfAAatvJ93SJfpieeeFUrPYJ0KVA/s320/IMG_1262.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It has been fun watching the whole process; from the next being built, seeing the eggs, and now watching (from a respectful distance) the birds grow, and their parent's taking care of them. *Taking care of them, at this point, means lots of feedings, along with telling us off every time we venture onto the porch. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFWQ-mppdfqrMDxaHUTI3-KcQybDCiBG9FNJK0rYQyG75UuceC2kPnE-Zyj3N5xxqP-TevuPzvH1mlXZ889HSmIWnJQK_V0fMlQBBIAwUY49dQj4nJh5JKT2lv-8pnxC2lj0sqZeBtylu/s1600/IMG_1348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUFWQ-mppdfqrMDxaHUTI3-KcQybDCiBG9FNJK0rYQyG75UuceC2kPnE-Zyj3N5xxqP-TevuPzvH1mlXZ889HSmIWnJQK_V0fMlQBBIAwUY49dQj4nJh5JKT2lv-8pnxC2lj0sqZeBtylu/s320/IMG_1348.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you mind? We are trying to sleep.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDoMhh9miXt9fJl23kK2BMGjUsJx4juQG1Gc5I3pXwewg2cExiqzv0o8-kRxIbfNh39QFR741RbydC2ZHyGjmpyZEKcF8N2e9D054niXbo8GnF38tsjXlFmpi3GMz3q2X42LDilPhEMr7/s1600/IMG_1483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDoMhh9miXt9fJl23kK2BMGjUsJx4juQG1Gc5I3pXwewg2cExiqzv0o8-kRxIbfNh39QFR741RbydC2ZHyGjmpyZEKcF8N2e9D054niXbo8GnF38tsjXlFmpi3GMz3q2X42LDilPhEMr7/s320/IMG_1483.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plus, we are hungry, and our parents will not return while you are standing here. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI60qXaOrDxUbaW1adrlMOyXZe6O3yhoy7-m5-kIdheBFTGE99bdZQfM4EE2P59GE6_-q-fxfMoyoWjl8xl95pXcPbhFz8fo_jDyO_Fo0YK6uUGmU7ze4IVWb35zFvOL-DQeCpWcMpZXs/s1600/IMG_1367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI60qXaOrDxUbaW1adrlMOyXZe6O3yhoy7-m5-kIdheBFTGE99bdZQfM4EE2P59GE6_-q-fxfMoyoWjl8xl95pXcPbhFz8fo_jDyO_Fo0YK6uUGmU7ze4IVWb35zFvOL-DQeCpWcMpZXs/s320/IMG_1367.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the mom?</td></tr>
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<br />Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-85707548811292530172012-05-27T21:28:00.002-04:002012-05-27T21:28:59.223-04:00The Menu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Add a birthday and a school camp out to the holiday weekend picnics, and my shopping list was long on sweets.<br />
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Right now, my freezer has 72 ice cream sandwiches, along with 10 tubs of whipped topping. Well, 6 now. <br />
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Two boxes of brownie mix<br />
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3 - 18 oz bags of miniature Reese' peanut butter cups<br />
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2 - 6 packs of Reese' peanut butter cups <br />
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1 bag of peanut butter chips<br />
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2 jars of hot fudge sundae sauce<br />
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4 - 5.1 oz of vanilla instant pudding<br />
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2 bags of romaine lettuce (need to balance out the sugar)<br />
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2 boxes of grape tomatoes<br />
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1 gallon of "fruit" punch. (It is 5% real fruit juice, can we call it fruit?)<br />
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5 boxes of pasta<br />
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1 bottle of Dijon honey mustard<br />
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2 bottles of relish<br />
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1 - 32oz bag of cheddar cheese<br />
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9 lbs of kielbasa<br />
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Really, it is the 72 ice cream sandwiches, and 10 tubs of whipped topping in my freezer that is cracking me up. I'm also really glad that we are low on beef, otherwise there would be no way any of this would fit. <br />
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I've gained 5 pounds just sitting here, and typing out my shopping list. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2572523448943623591.post-61685515765846170442012-05-24T23:02:00.004-04:002012-05-24T23:02:49.377-04:00A Chef in the HouseMy kids like to help me in the kitchen. They want to learn to bake and cook, and I need to encourage that while their interest lasts ... as soon as I take a Xanax.<br />
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The nice thing about the kids getting older (even though I tell them to stop growing) is that they can have some more independence in the kitchen. <br />
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So, the other afternoon, when Jacob announced that he wanted to make something with chocolate, I let him at it. <br />
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Right after I directed him to a recipe book. <br />
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Originally, what he wanted to "bake" consisted of chocolate, marshmallows, and jam on top. And, while I am all for baking experimentation, I'm not for the waste of perfectly good ingredients. So, we had a quick discussion on chemistry. When it comes to baking, you have to remember that ingredients react to other ingredients to create something edible. Without the right ingredients, well, even something made out of chocolate can become inedible. <br />
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We quickly found a double chocolate chip cookie recipe. He set to baking. I hovered, to get him started, then I backed off and let him at it. Near the end, when it came to scooping, the actual baking part, and cleaning, I reentered the kitchen area.<br />
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Eventually, we will reach the cleaning lesson. You make it, you clean it. However, I believe in baby steps. <br />
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The kids can make scrambled eggs and box macaroni and cheese, so I know they can survive in the real world. <br />
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Jacob is now making double chocolate cookies, so there is hope that he will find an understanding woman and he won't end up camping out in our front yard. We will reach the dish washing stage of development in due time. Erinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15552896097458144106noreply@blogger.com1