Northeast of Eden

Getalong little Doggies

2012-02-12T14:39:00.000-08:00

If our house could hold 8 dogs, I think my children would find a way to smuggle them in. Until then...

What you're seeing on your screen is pretty much actual size. To make, cut two side pieces into a decent doggish silhouette. then cut a gusset (the belly piece).

Stitch it all together. Add ears, spots and tail if you wish. I did my eyes with knots of black embroidery floss. I stuffed these guys with left over felt and stuffing. I stitched with big 'ol stitches so that the pups would look obviously homemade.

Felt Valentines

2012-02-08T15:13:00.000-08:00

I had to post this right away, because the kids are having such a blast playing with today's craft. We made felt cards to mail back and forth to each other on Valentines day.

Each of the kids has a little metal mailbox and they love nothing more than playing mailman with the reusable envelopes.

Here's a picture of the very basic shape you cut out of felt. Embroideryour stamps, addresses and heart embelishments first (as they will be tough to reach once envelope is stitched shut.

Next, fold into shape and stich the envelopes pocket. I also topstitched the envelope flap and stitched velcro as a closure.

I also stitched "cards" with embroidered messages. To hide the backside of my stitches I fused another piece of felt on the back. This also worked to beef up and add a nice stiffness to the cards.

Mwaaa!! Happy Valentine's Day!

DIY Valentine Heart Wreath

2012-02-07T09:02:00.000-08:00

I'll start off showing the After (above)

And then below is how they started out:

We have hated these frou-frou grandma front doors since moving in. And if you know the story of how truly troubled our house was, that we had any energy to despise one of the few things that worked is saying a lot about how ugly they are. This spring we're starting the next phase of the remodel and they're finally budgeted to be replaced. I'm hoping for something arisan-crafted of beefy wood, round-topped and befitting a cottage in Snow White's neighborhood. The thing is, those cost a lot and when it comes right down to it, I always back out when it's time to write the check.

So in an effort to make sure I've tried everything with these doors,sort of my therapy, I grabbed up a can of Tiffany blue paint and let them have it. The kids loved it and wanted to decorate it for Valentine's so we made a wreath together out of stuff I had within arm's reach.

Grab two wire hangers and bend them into heart shapes. Don't make them exactly the same size, I wanted my heart bigger at the bottom so that's where my sizes are the most different-- the fabric will fill in the spaces. I left the hanger-hook part untouched so that I would later be able to hand the wreath from it.

Cut Scraps of fabric into lengths. Tie around heart shape, the messier, the better.

Just keep tying and before you know it, your carpet will be covered in fabric sheddings and your kids will be squealing about how beautiful their creation is.

The cottage-by-the-sea blue isn't my favorite now that it's up there, but it will be fine for the month of Feb. In March, I'm painting the doors black.

china hutch into armoire

2012-02-06T12:29:00.000-08:00

This is something I did last year but am just posting now. It's one of my favorite things. If there was a fire I'd grab up a bunch of kids, a blind pug and then strap this to my back.

It used to be a tired old china hutch with a $5 price tag languishing at a garage sale.

BEFORE:

I added a quart of red Rustoleum high-gloss paint and switched out the knobs...AND most importantly, I painted the glass so it reads as wood.

chair recovered

2012-01-28T18:08:00.000-08:00

Real quick I wanted to post this picture of the chair I recovered. It's been done in the same fabric that I "wallpapered" a wall of the nursery in. Any day now the baby could fingerpaint on it with kool-aid or markers and it just won't look the same.
But that's one of the best things about recovering your own furniture. This didn't take long and the fabric was wildly cheap, and chair from Room and Board was free, so when that technicolor stain happens, C'est la vie.

And did I say that this was not difficult to recover. Minimal sewing skill needed-- drape fabric inside out and pin in place. Sew. Recheck to make sure it fits and pin together some more pieces. finish it off by stapling undersides. I do a very basic tutorial on chair recovering here.

Turning 9

2012-01-27T13:54:00.000-08:00

Birthday Party time at our house. K is wearing the traditional garb of a 21st century Shepard celebrating the festivities that accompany aging.

She had a cookie-themed party with a few of her closest pals, yep, that crazy brother was included.

the above picture is just to show K's favorite part of the party-- the paper cookie attached to the straws. I could have saved myslef a lot of work and just had those and she would've been utterly pleased.

One of the take home favors was this little basket (made from a paper plate-- tutorial here) which held an ENORMOUS oreo stuffed chocolate chip cookie.

happy birthday!

cookie party

2012-01-26T06:50:00.000-08:00

K decided to have a cookie themed birthday party this year-- now that she's 9 she decided she'd had enough cakes. Here are the invites she helped design:

Beyond cookies, she also wanted to give her little friends some of the mini monsters I wrote about last week.

Super fun!

Valentine's is coming up...

2012-01-22T12:52:00.000-08:00

linked from here.

Could my baby be this cool?

2012-01-21T14:09:00.000-08:00

Or maybe she already is this cool, but I'm holding her back with ho-hum nursery decor.

I've got to step it up.

Can't commit to wallpaper

2012-01-19T12:19:00.000-08:00

Scarlett's room needed some updating.

The two of us girlies went shopping at the fabric store and bought a bunch of graphic patterned- stuff. (Scarlett was really pushing for some Disney print mondo huge and even more mondo-ly ugly Elmo themed canvas, but Mommy had the credit card today.)

Instead of wallpaper, I stapled a few panels up nice and taut. I love the look.

Home Depot Apron No More

2012-01-19T07:13:00.000-08:00

Have you been to the building classes for kids that Home Depot offers on the first Saturday of every month? If you're like me, you don't exactly plan on going, BUT you somehow end up there every day of the week and one out of 30 of those is the building day.

Anyway, it's great-- the kids get to use hammers and nails and build something really cool like a birdhouse or a race car or a really splintery jewelry box. Every kid gets a bright orange apron to wear while they're building and since I never plan ahead and bring our old one, we've gotten quite a few.

Katherine has a birthday party this week and we'll be baking, so I repurposed seven construction aprons to look like this:

Nothing Earth-shatteringly cute, but I get a little lazy when I'm making mass quantities. You can do it, too. Together we can save the planet one ugly apron at a time.

Little Monsters

2012-01-16T15:03:00.000-08:00

Many days off from school makes a house full of three kids a CRAZY place. Making little monsters seemed to top off the theme.

This little guy is one of Charlie's creations.

The litte creatures have been showing up all over our house.

I've scented them with essential oils and stuck them in the kids shoes (alas, even a scary monster is no competition for scary foot stink).

Our latest use for the monsters was to turn them into bookmarks. Attach some ribbon, and voila!

Just a little detail-- the above charm. It says, "Believe". (they sell packages of these things at Michaels and no one usually wants them so everytime I've seen them they're on sale.) I thought they tied the whole idea together-- monsters... books... story lines that push the imagination.

Scary, yet pretty cute.

Miniature of My Father

2012-01-08T19:11:00.000-08:00

Charlie loves his grandpa. He's even starting to really resemble in him. Not just in the, they're both big-boned and have the exact same hands, but in a freakish, I-can-see-my-father-in-the-way-my-son-spits-out-his-toothpaste kind of way. When grandpa comes to visit, Charlie does his best to be at his side every minute and to be doing whatever he can to earn a back pat or a hair ruffle or even better, the toss-over-the-shoulder-tummy-tickle. Body type and huge forehead alone makes them look like decade-separated twins, but it's never until I get home and review the photos of a trip that I see more subtle ways my little boy is literally becoming my father right before my eyes.

Here they are dressed alike. I know, that's tame. Hardly proof of mini-me/freakish cloning-- but hold on, there's more. I'll spare you all the proof, but let's just establish right here that they dressed alike every day.

Here's another: same sunglasses. OR ARE THEY?? SEE? You think they're the same. You think the two boys planned this; went out on some little covert shopping trip and got the matching set, but NO. They're pretty wildly different sunglass styles but they look like carbon copies because of the wierd bond.

And check that out-- they're walking IN-STEP! photo after photo, same thing. And under the top shirts, they match, I just foiled the boys plans because it got chilly.

The clone police tried to confiscate this one, but I managed to get it on here as further proof that the sunglasses are distinct-- it's just the mugs they're on that makes them look identical. Shh!

In step, again. Hand in pocket. 7 yr old looking bored at "The Happiest Place On Earth"--not easy to do.

...that is, unless you're clones.

Now this is where my photo file of proof falls apart. I have no proof of this, but I swear to you that my father gets out of the pool, the EXACT same way. How can that possibly be genetically passed on through generations?

This is my little Charlie enjoying cotton candy and happy to be following after his idol. And here I conclude this post stating for all the world to read that I couldn't be happier that he's growing up to be a carbon-copy of such a great man.

2011-12-27T07:20:00.000-08:00

Scarlett meets Santa

Visiting Grandman and Grandpa in Orange County, CA

2011-11-27T12:02:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving 2011 in Mission Viejo, CA with ma and pa Jones. And it was FABULOUS!

First of all, their place is gorgeous, on the edge of this cliff where the sun always shines and the hummingbirds always chirp and the pool is always welcoming. Well, the pool being welcoming had a lot to do with the fact that grandma and grandma were extremely kind in heating it up to toasty-toes temperatures night and day.

And yeah, I'm not kidding about the night part. the kids sometimes woke up before those chirping hummingbirds I mentioned and then they swam until way past bedtime.

They only came out of the water a handful of times in the seven days we were there. I won't include any photos here, but Charlie actually swam until his feet bled. Bet you didn't know that could happen. I am here to tell you that it can. We think it was a caused by a combination of the newly grouted pool edges and REALLY water-logged little boy feet.

Scarlett was there, too.

Her big brother and sister were good lifeguards for her.

Summer Pictures

2011-11-27T11:48:00.001-08:00

The summer has flown by, here's pictures of a few of the pretty moments. The next shots were all snapped on on a glorious October day-- swim-worthy October days in Minnesota are worth documenting. So now here, they are, posted for all the world to see. Verifiable proof that Minnesota can be quite hospitable, even in the Fall.

October

Law-breaking baby. I'm sure they had a sign somewhere saying that suits were required, too.

Circle Turkeys

2011-11-15T18:38:00.001-08:00

Inspiration for Katie's house

2011-11-04T08:45:00.000-07:00

Love this, white and that goldy-beige color. I think it would look with more dark wood accents (like the bench legs). Also has the silver we love AND punches of color.

I thought the relaxed feel of this room would work with your style. Over do the drapes, make like your windows are enormous. beigey, silver, white, cream. Check out the layout of this room-- sofa pulled away from wall, lounge chair has oversized foot print and DOESN't have a match. Dresser in a living room. humongous mirror, of course

this one's main purpose is to show that it's okay to be a bit over decorated/over crowded. We both lean so far toward the barren/sparse end of the spectrum. Also check out how wrong this room would be without that chandelier. it would look totally bottom heavy and jumbled.

I included this one to show color on walls. and also, we can slipcover your chairs to make them cohesive. I have loads of white canvas. Big mirror, check. Roughed up table, check. unexpected rug? could make the downstairs space feel more living room?

Halloween

2011-11-04T06:57:00.000-07:00

Betsy gets dressed up every year. It's a shame she's blind and misses out on seeing how GOOD she looks. This year that whole pesky not being able to see thing made it tough for her to decide what to dress up as, so here's option two:

Scarlett was a lion and learned to say, "RawHHRR" for her candy.

Brother and sister were two Jedi's (I know apostrophe is wrong, but I don't think in the history of the English language anyone had to write the plural of Jedi.) They were different things for different parties, but for the actual evening, costume decisions were guided by the fact that both wanted to hold one of those monster light-up light sabers with the sound effects.

K is wearing an AWFUL wig, it's actually a mullet wig I got for chuck for last halloween. We just twisted up the longish part into the princess Leia ear buns. By the by, I'll share that my absolute favorite part of being a wife during Halloween is having a husband who's too busy to plan out his costume so year after year says, "I'll just put on whatever you get." Anyway, it's like this little personal challenge to see how far I can push it. Last year my straight laced Dr. was a greasy, mullet-sporting trucker- it was choice.

This year....

Jose Cuervo

We're a dry house so it gave me the giggles. You can tell the little lion wasn't a fan. You're missing the poncho and the case of rum in this picture-- it was frigid and he tried to get away with a normal man's jacket. In the end he went out with a Dracula cape and did this whole Mexican/ Transylvanian, "Hey leetle kid, You whaaan some Caaaaneee?"

Happy Halloween and onto Fall!

Scary how easy it is to make a fun ENTRY WAY

2011-10-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

Our entry is ready for Fall---

Below is the BEFORE picture................

Entry BEFORE. Our entry was SCARY. And not the good Halloween kind. Cobwebs, misplaced furniture and DULL.

In order to ring in Fall a bit better, I revamped and it was scary how easy it was to do.
P.S. See that tile? I laid that.

Entry AFTER:

Here's what was done: I picked things that seemed spooky to me, but not mummy/skeleton in the face scary.

Pumpkins added to the Fall feel and brought color. Other than that I stuck with black and white to make the pumpkins pop.

Mirror I installed myself. I'll give a tutorial on that in a later post. To halloween-it-up, I stuck on a dead tree + raven cling which I got during the mark downs last season. I stuck one to the green box (I chose box because it looked like something someone's ashes could be stored in).

One of my favorite touches was to drape an old chair in a sheet to give a Miss Havisham feel.

Collection of old birdcages was spray painted a unifying black. I've been collecting these for awhile and none cost more than $3 and most looked to have been painted by the Easter Bunny. Black makes them look burnt and gives the "shell of life" vibe.

Coral was chosen because of it's white like an old bone and because its DEAD. Spooky.

Even Elvis made the grouping. Any black and white image would do, but I like dead, famous and how everybody and their cat has claimed to have seen him. Spooky. And also unexpected.

Old Pot Update

2011-10-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

I have a hard time throwing out ceramics. Maybe it's from all my years of taking it in high school and seeing how much knuckle-drying work goes into creating form from clay, whatever the reason, I have a huge load of mismatched vases and urns and pots and pitchers.

I decided to turn that load into a collection.

Here's the inspiraton from a fantastic day shopping with the girls at Crate and Barrel:

I painted my ceramics one unifying color-- white.

I'll spare you the tutorial, but the quick version is get out a paint brush and some paint.

xxx Jen

Day of Firsts

2011-10-23T11:43:00.000-07:00

Here's Charlie's first picture he ever took:

A bit fuzzy, but it takes him mammoth amounts of effort for him to stand still so we're lucky to be more than smudges.

He made us go stand outside. The light was a little better here, but still didn't highlight the kodak moment he was trying to cultivate. The purpose for Charlie's FIRST photoshoot was to capture Scarlett's first mohawk for her first day of nursery.

What a big girl!

I Fixed my Own Bumper!

2011-10-21T15:43:00.000-07:00

Bumper, before---

Ugh, it's a tad unsightly, that hole which I'd like to claim was a bullet- you know, to up my street cred, but which was actually caused by an ill-placed sign.

Who fastens signs with 8" screws anyway?
I can't be too upset, because the rest of the bumper looks just as bad.

Part of thinking that you can do anything, frequentlyresults in me thinking these def skills extend to my car. The trees at the end of the driveway and any bushes near thetrailer and that cinder block pile that I plan to turn into an outdoor firepit—they’ve all got a shellacking of carpaint. Most of the time I’ll be pulling out of the garage and notcrank the wheel enough. My thoughts along the line of, “I’m in a car, it’smade of metal, Really, should I have make this a two point turnto avoid a sapling? Most of the time the mental answer is, "No. Barrel through."

My husband wants to trade in the SUV and to make it fetch the highest price he’s planning on getting a new bumper. It will cost $200 if we put iton ourselves. He thought the putting it on ourselves would appeal to his DIYwife. He underestimates me.

In this post I will show you how to papermache a bumper and save yourself $200. Just don't let her get wet. Or near a kid with a bat and a blindfold.

Just kidding. I'm going to dabble in bodyshop/ MAACO work.

STep 1) Buy tube of bondo bumper repair.

I've actually had this thing sitting around for about a year. But I never trusted myself to do an adequate job, so I've put it off. Now I've got nothing to lose. If the bumper does end up looking worse, then I will let the hubby buy a new one. Having nothing to lose has givne me the freedom to try all kinds of crazy projects. Did I tell you I put in marble countertops. I did.

Step 2) sand down the area needing the bondo. This was the entire bumper for me.

3) mix up the bondo and work fast. smooth flat and wait until dry. Then sand smooth.

4) Next paint match. On the inside panel of your door is all sorts of helpful information including paint and trim color codes. Armed with these I headed to auto repair shop and my buddy, Ed, called in an order for the exact color I needed. It came in a spray can and included a clear coat. It cost $24.

5)Mask off areas you don't want to paint and spray.

Car bumper after---

Hooray! nothing but dirty, now.

Circus Stripe Bonnet

2011-10-17T17:47:00.000-07:00

Here's the inspiration + Nelly Olsen's hat

Equals:

Here's a bonnet, my little girl needed to protect her pretty complexion. I jazzed it up a bit because I truly believe that frumpy, dull hats lead to snotty little girls. Case in point: the above mentioned Nelly Olsen.

Here's how you do it.

1) Cut out patterns like below. Two brim pieces, one in your accent color (stripes in my case). 1 back piece. 1 piece of accent edging for brim. 1 piece of chin strap.

2) stitch brim edging to one side of brim. Pucker it as you stitch.

3) Sew top side of brim onto already edged brim piece. Rights sides together. I also added the chin strap in here.

4) Flip right side out and topstitch.If you don't know what that is, best to just skip this part. It's a detail. Next. sew to back piece. Again, right sides together. Gather back piece as you go.

Cut 4 inch piece of elastic and stitch to base of back piece. Add embelishments, like flowers.

Ugly Oven Mit Fix

2011-10-10T11:14:00.000-07:00

I'm about to admit something I've been ashamed of for awhile......

I have ugly potholders!

If there are any small children in the room with you, distract them before you scroll down to the next picture. These are my potholders. Here is their story.

This is the best-looking of the bunch. When I began rooting around in my hot-pad drawer asking for volunteers for a fabulous make-over, all the truly cringeworthy, sweet-spirit-types shoved this doozy to the front. This is the belle of the ball, this is what comes out when family is over for dinner.

When company is over, I hate to admit it, but I lie. I lie and lie and I think it come across pretty convincing. Lady visitor will say something like, "I just put brownies in while you were in the other room... All I need is an oven mit to grab the searing hot pan with."

"Well," I say, "We're not really a potholder kind of family. I think it's good form to just grab the pots real quick-like." This is the point in the story where I am forced to either admit I do indeed own ugly potholders or... and I am the stubborn type... I open up that oven door and I GRAB.   This method of hiding your ugly potholders from guests serves the dual purpose of keeping your pride intact, while also killing every germ your fingertips could be harboring and also irradicating those pesky fingertips.

This week we have quite a few dinner parties planned and I am out of finger flesh, SOOOO, I'm going to recover my potholders.

I'm not making brand new ones, because what are these contraptions even made out of? Some kind of stuffed, flame retardant stuff that they sell in the fireman section of the fabric store....?  We will simply make a pillow case cover for these embarassers.

       Short aside here, you may skip on ahead if you'd like. My grandma once made my mom a homemade oven mit. Save this kind of gift for people you hate. We had that oven mit for years and it was the one you wanted to avoid, but it is also the one that probably trained me for my "grab and curse" method of pan removal. Grandma had used quilt batting or something not designed for scorch prevention-- 350 degrees would go right through this puppy before you could scream, "Cheese and Rice!" But, the kicker was that there was no stuffing in the thumb. Grandma had said that all that pesky stuffing (the stuff that keeps you from getting blisters) made it difficult to turn the potholder right side out, so she just removed it.

step one: trace generous pattern of your oven mit.

Step two: stitch right sides together. Flip.

Looking better already, hunh? Slip new cover over old eye-sore. Fold over rough bottom edge and sew down.

You can add a ruffle.

I'm not so embarrased anymore.

I'm linking up to Round 2 of Crafting from The Sidelines

Living in a Camper

2011-10-06T19:51:00.000-07:00

A few months back I was thisclose to living in a camper. Didn't I mention that? Hmm, that would be because living in a camper in a walmart parking lot isn't usually the fodder for casual blog convos. Chuck (husband) was living in Boston doing some extra training and was gonna be there for 6 months. BOSTON! How cool!? I decided I'd yank the kids out of school and we'd go live there with him for a few months. But, pay attention if you're thinking of moving to downtown Boston for a few months. They don't do "few month" leases. They don't do cheap leases either.

Just add a blind pug and a few more kids to the picture and you get the idea of what, under my guidance, our family was headed for.

     There had to be a way to make it work, right? My genius solution was to buy a camper. We would pick up a junky hunk out there and we'd live in it a few months. Park it somewhere beautiful (walmart was not part of this picture). I imagined Eastern Ocean vistas greeting us with every rising sun. Dolphins jumping as I took my 6-year old out to pee in the bushes each morning. I pictured Boston accents saying things like, "Nice, wahhhgon you got there, Missy." Yeah, I was going to look younger in Boston, too.
    It ended up that just in the nick of time before I purchased a really choice, green hunk of trailer park antistructure, that we learned that Boston doesn't have parking. At all. Anywhere. Especially for ugly, green winnebagos.
    Instead, we found an apartment, right off Newbury Street in Fenway and it was amazing. I wouldn't have traded that experience for anything.
   BUT....
Maybe the whole camper life wouldn't have been so bad if we could have made it look like this...

credit to http://www.houseofturquoise.com/search?updated-max=2011-09-19T08%3A20%3A00-05%3A00&max-results=7

WE HAVE A WINNER!

2011-10-05T10:19:00.000-07:00

Congratulations Traci over at AllThingsLuciRae !
She had the highest combined total of "likes" and comments-- not to mention that her project was Knock-your-socks-off-cool for the Knock-Off round.

For my round of applause, I am going to make it sound like the clicking of a mouse and go click on her entry for this competition a dozen times. Now get your voting finger over to sewdangcute and help one of us sideline's crafters become the belle of the ball-- and this ball has prizes!!

Your Round 2 theme is:

Be sure to enter yours, remember, everyone's invited. Projects will be posted for voting on Monday, October 10th.

The next contest will be hosted at a new locale-- amid the beautiful artistic stylings of Bernadette at b3 Home Designs. I'll keep posting here but will have links over to her place.

And now, cue the "Here she comes... Miss America" pageant theme music while we present a montage of Traci's crafting feat for a fete.

Amazing! Go check out more of the things she creates here. and PS, she is the NICEST, COOLEST chic- drop her a line and see if you can be as amazed with her as I am-- REAdy... Go! Yes, it's another contest, I'm still feeling competive.. Go!

Vote For Your Favorite (or submit your awesome work)

2011-10-03T09:04:00.000-07:00

Entries have been submitted in the post below, just scroll on down and Vote for your favorite "sidelines" crafter by clicking on the 'Like' button below your fav creation or by leaving a comment (either here or on her blog which you should visit and you get there for a behind the scenes' tour of how the craft was created by clicking on the picture.)

Vote lots, Vote often, Tell your friends!
Polls will close Tuesday evening at 11:59 pm.

We'd also love some more healthy competition, so please submit your knock-off themed craft for voting also. Join in the fun anytime.

Craft it up, ladies.

Knock-off Challenge for Crafting from the Sidelines

2011-09-27T08:20:00.001-07:00

Welcome to the official first contest of ***Crafting from the Sidelines!*** this contest is really little more than crafting along with those rockstars over at Crafting with the Stars. Come along, join in on the fun! no commitment, not many rules, join in anytime (if you miss a competition, no big deal- try to beat our butts on the next one ) and meet some other crafty bloggers. No prizes other than a virutal pat-on the back and the awesome title of "WINNER".This weeks theme is Knock-off. Find something you really like in a magazine or on a blog and you do it better or cheaper or with more pazazz. You have until Monday, Oct 3. Then polls will open for 24 hours and you can put down your glue gun and rally some votes.On Oct. 4th, sewdangcute.com will have a place to post your entries on their site and they have a REAL prize. FANCY and loads of viewers.

Follow-if-you-can-rules: 1)Post an awesome self-made craft 2) vote at sewdangcute.com 3)vote here and encourage your friends to do the same (this will be so much more fun if we all meet some new followers to brag over our haute crafteur) 3) Post the winner on your own blog so that sidelines crafter can get a little extra bloglove.

Paper Mache with Leaves Deer Head

2011-09-26T07:16:00.000-07:00

My submission for Crafting from the Sidelines:

What is it, you ask? Well, it's a faux deer head papermached with leaves and with branches for antlers.

This week's theme was "knock-off", I thought it would be fun to incorporate knock-down, drag out fight.

so my inspiration was this fab white deer head from Z gallerie and it is pitted against the pile of leaves in my back yard. Z gallerie vs. Mother Nature.

Inspirations:

Start with cardboard and tape-- Lots of it. add a plastic bottle for a neck and two packs of rigid wrap or make your own paper mache

Hint on ears-- deer ears are bigger than you think.

The next step was not captured in a kodak moment, but if it was then the image of my spray-painted deer head would have been cloaked in blue smoke. (that's what my grandma always said happened to the air when people swore too much.) Disclaimer here: I am a mother of three, and as there is no proof, I will claim till the end that I don't swear.

There was a lot of frustration when I spray painted this thing. Spray paint is not the miracle cure I sometime wish it to be. Honestly, when I set out on the project, I wanted a white deer. I sprayed this papermache nightmare white and it ended up looking like a creepy mummy deer-- all these bandages and lumps. It was not good, even for halloween time.

So, I went and got some green spraypaint and really doused the head and I went inside to wait. It was a windy day and when I got back outside to survey my project, it was covered in fallen leaves.

And the leaves were stuck fast. The kids came home from school about then and were like, "Cool Mom! You're making a pinata with leaves!" Oh, and they also said, "YOu are the coolest, nicest, best looking mom on the block and we love all your cooking."

K wanted to glue on some more leaves so we went for it. I highly recommend it for an afternoon project. The kids collected and surveyed and delicately placed leaves all around the deer head until it got dark.

Check out the crafting entries on the previous post trying to kick this deer's trash. Vote for your favorite!

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next post

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Here's what I want to be inspired by today...

They're little shoes made by Bess. I really like them.

First Challenge! Knock-off

2011-09-23T09:27:00.000-07:00

First Challenge for Crafting From the Sidelines

The theme for Round 1 is…

hee-heee. knock-off, sort of like this whole "crafting from sidelines" contest-- see we're so ahead of our time!
Projects will be up on Monday, October 3rd at which time polls will open for 48 hours and YOU get to vote.

Vote for your THREE favorites either by poll on this site or by commenting at any of our sites.

SPECIAL BULLETIN####SewDangCute is adding a contest where wallflowers can play along and enter to win prizes there, too. they mention it here.

Wahoo!! I know I'm in the presence of a future winner! PS let me know if you'd like to host a round at your blog.

Crafting from the Sidelines

2011-09-23T06:21:00.000-07:00

Here’s the plan for “Crafting From the Sidelines”, First offwe’re going to pretend we're playing along with the big dogs at Crafting with the stars (CWTS)-- we'll be doing the same challenges that they do. The onlydifference will be that when those lights dim, and that challenge music starts,we don’t have a dance partner.

But that doesn’t stop us from dancing, cut a crazy rug,ladies!

I’ll repost the challenges the real contestants face, we’llhave the same amount of time to complete them, but we’ll be doing it at thejunior varsity level. On vote day, headon over to sewdangcute.com, vote there AND very subtly comment about our littlecompetition- hopefully we’ll draw over some craft-minded people to your greatblogs. Word of caution- We don't want to step on their toes and their contest is GREAT, I don't think they'll like us trying to directly draw away their audience. But by commenting, "Great projects, you just inspired me to do one of my own..." maybe you'll catch an eye and you might be the wallflower who'll be asked to the next big dance.

Then Vote here for your three favorite sidelines crafters. I’llpost the winner the following day. As for their prize…

we're working on that.

No eliminations, no tryouts. Whenever and whoever wants to participate, just link up and submit. Good luck, dance it up.

For those of you who are really into this and want some traffic, We are lucky enough to have a lovely crafter, Bernadette from b3 Homedesigns is working on making a button for us. (I feel like a big girl with her first corsage!) We want to get as much traffic as possible to your blogs, so we're going to come up with a bloghop roster that we can all post, listing all the other participants. Let me know if you have some ideas. You can join up anytime, just let me know your blog address and we'll add it. If you don't want to be on the roster, you can still enter your projects.

You can get votes for your project through 1) votes on the poll or 2) comments on your blog.

Good Luck, wallflowers!

crafting from the sidelines

2011-09-21T07:44:00.000-07:00

Bummer! I didn't make the cut for crafting with the stars. Mega BUMMER! So instead of crying in my circut (yeah, right, I do not have one of those, if I DID I'd probably sipping bubbly with other crafting hoofers right now). So instead of crying about it, how about a contest of our own. For all the crafting wallflowers out there, or maybe just the crafters who are' ahead of their time', I'm hosting a contest that will run parallel to the crafting with the stars one.

Want to Join? Just message me or comment. We'll do the exact same challenges that the other crafters do, just without the stars. (or the prizes or near the glory) We'll comment on the other stars and see if we can direct some of the voters over to your blogs to give the wallflowers some love, too.
FUN!

A day in the glamorous life...

2011-09-20T19:31:00.000-07:00

The pond fountain clogged up last week. In the morning itwas a nice fountainous spray and by lunch it was anemic and by dishes it was adribble.

Hmmm, I thought over a sudsy pan. Could besome leaves, could be algae, could even be chunks of the alfalfa hay that’ssupposed to control algae problems. Then again, it could be a more costlyproblem of the fountain motor burning out. By the time I finished a mountain ofglassware I’d decided (like I do with most electrical things) that all the fountain neededwas a rest.

Seriously, a rest has cured all kinds of plug-in devices atmy place. Electronics are just like the rest of us slaving for the Man and abit of downtime works magic.

Today, I awakenedto the sunshine and the cicadas singing in the birches. I walk the kids toschool and it’s not until the trek back up the hill that I notice the odd hushthat’s fallen over the yard. Instead of being greeted by the cheerful applauseof water, I walk up the long driveway and am reminded that I haven’t yet repluggedthe fountain which means my pretty little water feature is now five days intobecoming a stagnant swamp. Yes, the roadto Hell and stagnant swamps is paved with forgetful women and the belief thatappliances deserve vacations.

Needless to say, I hustle to plug that puppy in. I wait for splashing water. Andwait. And wait some more.

Ungrateful fountain doesn't so much as sputter a thank you. No tan, no t-shirt, noteven a tropical hangover and a mildly funny story to tell. A va-kay has onlymade the fountain worse. The works are definitely clogged.

I built this fountain, you can read about it here.

There are three parts to the fountain: 1)filter, 2)the hose and 3) the fountain motor (actually a ridiculously powerful motor, like I’mtalking a city snowplow wouldn’t want to meet this thing in a dark alley) witha four foot pipe off the top and a cap that forces the jetted water out tiny holes to sprayout prettily.

I clean the filter. It’s in good shape- not the problem. Can’t be the hose, so my last option is thefountain device located in the center of the lake. Standing on the side of my water, planning to climbin, it no longer resembles a pond, it is now a lake of soon-to-be fetid water ifI don’t hustle and get the water circulating.

I roll up my pants and sleeves and dip in a toe and notice, as anyone swimming in MN in September has, that it’s FREEZING. I also notice that there’s a funky smell coming fromthe pond today. But it’s Fall, leavesare beginning to drop, and leaves+ water= funk. So I push aside mysqueemishness and jumpy tummy and wade into the pond’s center.

Anything that gets past the filter is next sucked down tenfeet of skinny hose where it meets the spinning blade of the motor before it isrocketed up a four foot pipe at 2G’s. Finally said object is blasted out thetiny holes of the fountain head at a blistering 10 G’s.

If there’s a clog, it’s mostly likely in the fountain head.

I work to unscrew the fountain head. I really work.

I tug. I pull. I pry. I full-body pole dance and finally getthe head of the fountain off. Sureenough it’s clogged with something… something that smells awful. Like five days decaying rot awful. I hold my breath and look closer… I’ve got tosolve the mystery… it’s gooey, slimey, beige-colored.. oh, and it has a frog leg.

Yeah, that would be a frog.

Nasty. Nasty, nasty. EverytimeI shut my eyes I can still see it. Blenderedbeige guts and one untouched green leg.

Now most girls, nay... most people with eyes, at this point would fling the fountain headand run screaming for a kerosene bath-- I’vejust waded through this guys blender spray AND groped the plastic tube hisfrappe'ed entrails would have dripped down.

But hey, I’m not most moms. I get a stick and uncerimoniously stab out my fountain head, hose her off, dry heavemore times than I’d like to admit and then plug in that fountain to make sure it coughs out the final frog toes or spleen or whatever.

THEN, I took a kerosene bath.

I won’t blame you if you don’t hug me next time we meet. Butplease, admire the fountain.

Best Analogies compiled by English Teachers

2011-09-16T15:09:00.001-07:00

Annual English Teachers' awards for best student metaphors/analogies found in actual student papers:

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like
underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy
who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those
boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at
high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one
of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just
before it throws up.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling
ball wouldn't.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie,
surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and
Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry
them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at
4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had
also never met.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East
River.

Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one
that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law George. But unlike George,
this plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating
for a while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a
real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or
something.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with
power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
she were a garbage truck backing up

Failed methods of acquiring endorsments

2011-09-14T12:09:00.000-07:00

This week begins the hunt for author endorsements, written reviews, pre-publication praise and other ways to prove to you, the book-purchasing public(whom I love), that my book is worth a gander. Well, let me tell ya, it’s not easy garnering gander-inducing, pause-promoting and grab-this-tome-and-dash-to-the-cash-register compelling blurbs. I’m actually going to settle for stick-this-under-your-coat-and-head-for-exit. In fact a sentence like that-- maybe even that exact one, with the addendum “*and tweet about it” may appear on the front cover. You don’t want to miss this, put Balancer on your Christmas list NOW.

Royalties, smhmoyalties. Give me a, “I dig this book. LOL”. And I won’t press charges. Add an emoticon and we’re good.

The following are a few samples of letters I’m on the fence about sending. Please peruse and let me know which ones deserve some postage love. And by the way, if any of you own one of those planes that drag the behemoth banner things behind, PLEASE, stop reading and email me now. Right now.

Other than just waiting for that email, here are a few of my other ideas to drum up publicity:

1) Dear Willow and Jaden Smith,

Man you guys are cute. Could you hop on over to the money room and just mail a few bills, whichever ones happen to stick to your popsicle-juice-dripping covered hands will do just fine, I’m not picky—to my home address? What, you’re not tall enough to reach the doorknob of the front door and the golden floors are too slippery? That is a problem. Jaden, please use those freakishly over-developed karate biceps and hoist your sister up. Also, could you get a picture of you doing this, because, as I said before—you two are just so cute!

2) Dear Ellen,

Aaaah, Ellen is actually reading something I wrote! Aaaaah! Since you’ve already read this far, how about another 200 pages? I’ll attach them and cross my fingers! Aaah! I’ll await your glowing written review and start practicing my surprised face for when you jump out at me in the grocery store and together we whisk off into the Los Angelesoian sunset for a live taping. Oprah had her Gail and they interviewed Stephenie Meyer; obviously that worked out well for all involved. Ellen, I will be your Gail and your Stephenie. This will leave us more time for guitar hero and at the same time avoid those pesky gay rumors.

3) Dear JKRowling.

My name is Jennifer Shepard. I’m a muggle...

it goes on, but really who are we kidding? Unless I can have an owl hand-deliver it, it’s not going to have the power to distract her from skipping round and round her enormous English castle's kitchen. (inserted from Wikipedia-- most common symptom of money-induced sugar high: skipping)

Chrysanthemum Chandelier out of PingPong Netting

2011-09-07T15:41:00.000-07:00

It LIGHTS up!

Speedy tutorial on how it was made:

Scarlett's room needed a lamp, something with a soft glow and something visually dramatic.

Inspirations: Chysanthemum +

The MOON

And I need something to enter into the sewdangcute crafting with the stars contest.

This is the story of how a quirky chandelier came to be.

It was a dark and stormy night and the fabric store powers that be realized that---now this is shocking-- but no one, really, NO ONE was buying ping pong netting. So they marked it down to $2/yd.

And then I suspect that they waited for me. Because in crime drama stories like these, someone always waits. Behind a newpaper. Peaking over the top. For the pretty lady to enter.

Well, the pretty lady did indeed enter and snapped up 2 yards of ridiculous fabric that the store really should just give away. (REAlly, how many people are out there playing destructive enough games of ping pong to neccecitate the making of new nets. AND REALLY if there was a hefty populace of aggressive pongers out there, REALLY how many of them are the kind of chaps that would make their own nets? how big's a ping pong net anyway? I'm serious about this question because when I asked for two yards, the saleslady gave me quite a look., like she suspected that I might be one of those people and I need to get my story straight for next time.)
1) I cut out squares and sewed them into tubes

2) I folded the tubes into themselves and cut the folded edge.

see that fold on top and how I cut down about 4 inches but DID NOT cut all the way!! You've been warned!

2) make a bunch of cuts all along folded edge. your tube will start to resembe a flower

3) I repeated this 20 times. to get 20 flowers

4) find a light. this was in the ikea AS-IS section for $1

5) Instead of sewing these 'flowers' together (that would have taken wild amount of thread and I'm not a patient woman), I used floral wire. End is like a needle and you just wire together the bases.

That was about it. I toyed with the idea of spraypainting it a brilliant yellow, but wasn't sure what kind of toxins it could release when under a heat source. So here is au natural chandelier crafted from ping pong netting.

ACE!!

Fundraisers, Funerals and Post-its

2011-09-06T13:21:00.000-07:00

Can I tell you what is on my desk right now? A little stack of candy-colored, heart-shaped post-its, unopened.

The other day, I went to a funeral and it was beautiful. The thoughts that were shared and the stories that were told made me want to live a better life. I haven’t been to many funerals, but it was striking to me that during the short service, more than one speaker believed that the purpose of life was to love. Love. What a fabulous (and you’d think, relatively easy to accomplish) task. Our highest goal, the Big Kahuna of what we should strive for while on this earth, is being loving.

Hand in hand with that is that nothing feels as good as being loved by another.

My best friend’s father growing up was in sales—very quickly he climbed up that corporate ladder until he became like a lot of the middle class dads of our peers, which meant that we didn’t really know what they did other than wear a tie; but he started in sales. And on top of that, he was terrifying. We could have set up a haunted house, charged admission and just opened the door to her dad sitting there nodding a hello and it would have been a raging success.

He didn’t mean to be scary; he was never outright harsh-- he was merely more burly ‘dad’ than most of us kids were used to. I tell you this only to better illustrate some of what made him a very successful salesman. Once for a school fundraiser, his daughter, Cara and I, had to go door-to-door in an attempt to sell various over-priced items and this man gave us a crash course in how to make a sale. I did my best not to wet my pants. Rule Numero Uno was never get embarrassed. If a buyer says no, you just ask again. Numero Two was don’t care what others think. This brings you back to rule one— buyer may continue to say ‘no’, but if you’re oblivious to the eye-brow raises and nonverbal cues, you’ll feel fine about directing them to the page offering the 5 gallon tubs of popcorn.

In the end, Cara and I managed to sell a cheesecake to my mom. We met a lot of the neighbors, but we just couldn’t do the salesman routine. We just couldn’t. We wanted to be liked.

This is one of my first memories of being aware that I cared what people thought about me. I really cared. And it wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, I believe caring what people think about you, being embarrassed, being shy, even backing down when people give you strange looks are all extensions of that deep, soul-rooted desire to be loved.

Today I made my kids their first-day-of-school lunches and right now I’m feeling awful because I forgot to include little notes written on the heart-shaped stickies that I bought just for this occasion. I totally forgot. Juice was packed, dairy, starch, veggie and fruit were all represented in their sacks—I remembered their physical well-being, but…

I don’t even know how to put it into words, this admitted confession that I spaced on the part of their well-being that matters most-- I forgot to do something to make them feel loved.

Since when did I get so busy and put-out-the-fires oriented that I don’t occasionally remember the note but forget the food? That would never happen. And I’m sad that this is the case.

I think about what we’re supposed to take away from funerals and failing and forgetting to put in sticky notes and I think it’s that Love really is the answer.

--A short life isn’t so terrible if it was full life.
----The desire to be loved is strong enough within each of us that elementary-aged children will never be good salesmen.
---And I can feel like dung right now while looking at these post-its, because I love my kids and I missed an opportunity to do something that I know would make them smile.

With all the excitement the first day of school holds, I know my kids won’t even notice the absence of a note from mom. But I also know, that it’s because I love them that I’m saddened when I miss an opportunity to show them Love.

Little heart-shaped post-it’s will be waiting on the door when my children get home because I know they’ll think it’s cute. But more important than that, their mom will be waiting with hugs to hear about their day because I know that dopey notes are just that.

Radio Flyer is looking Frumpy

2011-09-03T07:07:00.000-07:00

It's Friday and the kids are asking to do some, "man-work". I know, I know!! horrible, sexist, chauvinist, how could I let my kids set back the woman-kind, fifty years? nay, SIXTY! Here are my thoughts on that: I have a six-year old boy adrift in a sea of females and already, he has learned how enjoyable it is to build and make a noisy mess and work with dangerous tools. He's named this sort of fun 'man-work' because he sees himself as a man. And if he want's to categorize something he sees mommy doing almost daily as 'man-work', it is fine with me.

Since we finished ripping and tearing at the house, the kids (and I) sometimes get a Jonesin' to fix something.

Step right on up, Miss Frumpy Radio Flyer--- you're the next ~~victim~~ contestant!

She's just seen better days. Would you like to hear a bit about her story? This wagon came into our family about five years ago and , now this is the sad part-- if there are other wagons of a sensitive age out there-- cover your ears. I... *gasp*... used this wagon as a wheelbarrow for all of those five years.

Me and Red have moved a LOT of boulders and dirt and even a few dressers together and it's time to take this little lady back to the ball. Little aside here-- most wheelbarrows are built for men--- i know, "sexist, BOO-hiss! how can you say that?" I mean literally, they are built for wider shoulders, upper body strength and a lower center of gravity than women have. When moving large, unwieldy loads of rock, a wagon served the purpose perfectly for me. So ladies out there, don't you dare put off digging that garden because you need to wait for your husband to move the dirt-- grab a wagon and get to work with your kids!

Step one: take off the extras. We removed the side rails, just the teamwork needed to manage the wrenches and pliers and screwdrivers neccesary to remove each bolt is worth doing this project.

Step two: sand. it will help new stain last longer and kids love it.

step three: took a field trip to home depot and the kids picked out a new color. They played it safe. I DO recommend rust-oleum.

They carefully painted for twenty minutes, then a neighbor came over with, "a REALLY fat toad," and we lost Charlie.

We stained the wood rails to, "look like chocolate", we pumped up the tires with air, we put on new bolts. We had a great Friday. Hope you did, too!

REvamp Vendnesday

2011-08-31T05:37:00.000-07:00

Nod to Dracula's cool accent.

Exhibit A: Lame brass chandelier that I am sure you see everywhere, but hardly notice because of aforementioned lameness.

The really great redeeming quality of this chandelier is that it has a LOT of arms. It's dramatic, but in it's current state, it's dramatic dulled down by 90's era oversaturation. This lamp is going to go on a covered outdoor deck. The location allows for some more playful use of spraypaint than my indoor projects do.

I chose a vibrant green. I hung the chandelier from a tree and sprayed.

Here she is revamped. The other great perk to this project was that this bug-green chandelier hung outside my office window for two days and made me uber happy everytime I saw it. Usually there's a neighbor kid hanging from that tree and this was a great palette cleanser.

I'll post later when I get it hung and decorate the outdoor space.

Ta-ta for now!

Family Room Redo

2011-08-26T11:23:00.000-07:00

This is the family room before. Not bad, but it was time for a change. Scarlett is really into a-toddlin' around and when you're one it's always better to walk with jelly sandwiches in your hand. Keeping the sofa white was taking more time than I like to admit.

The other big change is......NO TV. vamoose, it's gone. summer is too nice to spend sitting indoors.

You can't see it in this shot, but the carpet was dull, safe-- beige.

Here's the old beige witha bit of sage green oriental rug. Sometimes I'd swap it out for a rattan rug. They look great in magazines, but they aren't fun for walking on in bare feet. Chuck's been begging for something kinder.

so.... What's on the chopping block? Couch, rug, TV.

Here's a peak entering from the laundry room. (That's orange zebra stripe. What do you think the conservative doctor will think when he gets home to this?)

It's to-die-for cushy on the feet.

My latest decorating fascination is boats, the true to life scale models. They remind me of travel and I love the architectural bones they lend to a space. The TV will be replaced with a model of a boat I wrote about in The Balancer, which will be published this fall.

Now, don't get too excited for the AFTER PICTURE--- Life's pretty hectic around here and this was just a weekend project, so a lot remains the same. The thing I love the most is the couch-- I sold the other one,(acutally for more than I paid-- the thing had tuna cans painted black for legs) It was high- time to upgrade. So I did. I really did. And guess what color it is.

WHITE

As Dill (from To Kill a Mockingbird) says, "It's in my blood." Rooms are so busy that white furniture is always a great palette cleanser.   BUT I made a slip cover for this one to give the room an African feel. Don't laugh. I know it's subtle, but I went for a subtle African theme.   FYI making a slip cover is easy. buy fabric, pin it on your sofa inside out. stitch. wallaaa, done.

                                                                   FAm room AFTER

Slip cover on couch is beige raw silk, but super easy to clean and nubby so it hides dirt (texture is the secret). It also gives the vibe of a safari hat.

Not the most dramatic re-do, but it's gonna cut way down on cleaning time and up the family time we'll have together and the kids won't have to hear, "Not on the white couch!" anymore.

Hitch-hiking Chair

2011-08-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

Look what I found
     On the side of the road
               Just BEGGING to be brought home!

Well it wasn't hitchiking exactly, I found a 'curb alert' craiglsist posting for a chair that had been wrecked by a cat. I had to dash out to the posh end of town to find her languishing at the end of a driveway, but it was worth it!

It's a room and board chair. ROOM AND BOARD!!

I know, I know, it's what's on the inside that counts, but.... SWOON.. I love the insides of their furniture, too. I'm not totally superficial.

Here's another shot. The cat damage is isolated to both sides of the chair. and the arm tops, too. Check out that top corner edge of the arm-- gross and matted down and chewed cat slobber. The white you see is the padding that's left after I tore off the ruined scraggles of fabric on the sides. Also, if you look close, there is nail head trim along the base of the front. I found a store that sells similar nails and think I can continue the look around the edge to tie in my repair.

Now, the repair...

I had planned on recovering the whole thing. The sillhouette is lovely, and I'm normally a fan of lighter upholstery, but after getting the two sides off, this thing is really , REALLY well made (ROOM AND BOARD!!) and it would be a tragedy if I amateurishly redo the thing entirely. So, the plan is to go to a fabric store and get some brown that is similar enough that re-doing the arms won't be noticeable.

That didn't happen. no matching fabric.

The inspiration for a new sort of fix:

Kat Von D's arm tats + this funky chair from restoration hardware

How will they go together? I don't know, but it's fun to think about a chair having a rough Friday night and waking up with some new arm artwork.

here we go...

I bought this chartreuse swirl pattern that has the same heft, weight, fuzziness level and even same brown as the chair. Each side will take 1/2 yard. First step is to sew 90 degree angle for corner of arm. See seam.

Next, pin fabric into place and roll salvage end under (I actually sewed my salvage down, you can barely see the stich, but this will help it stand up to the gymnastic routines kids will put it through). Get ready to hand stitch it. I used doubled up brown upholstery thread AND...

an uphosterer's needle. It's curved. lifesaver, or rather, finger saver.

Where do you handstitch? where your new fabric meets the inside arm of the couch (there is no place to staple here, so stitch away friends, this is the only way unless you can fit your chair under the foot of your sewing machine.

Here are the two arms mostly done. I left the inner arm (inside fabric) the original brown. I thought it went with my tat design inspiration and also, it was in perfect condition. Ahh, that Retrospect label...

Moving along-- next you pull fabric taught and at bottom edge you staple (industrial staplers available at home depot) staple away, because you are going to vover up the ugly gray things with the nail heads. look at below pic, there's a staple and there's the nail going right over top.

Step four or something: Add nail head trim, this will make the new addition blend in more seamlessly. Seamlessly is going to be sort of relative from this point out, because my kids have heard the hammer and come a-runnin'. I now have two or three helpers that don't have the best hammer aim, but are brilliantly happy to be helping.

Don't be a hero here, people-- Use plyers to hold the little nail heads!! Here is K demonstrating. Also this is a good shot of how we continued the nail head trim all the way around the sides. I think Kat Von D would approve of the hardcore yet sophisticated edge this gives the chair.

Finished Project.

Now don't tell my sister, but this is her birthday present! That's one of the reasons the kids were so eager to help. All in all pretty simple project, fun for the whole family and desperately hard for me to give away. I hope she likes it!!

Prologue to The Balancer

2011-08-04T11:32:00.000-07:00

I'm getting closer and closer to having this paper baby out there wandering in the world, so I think it's high-time I let it out. Would you like to read the prologue of my first book? Could you let me know what you think?

Prologue

Ellen…4months ago.

The core of it all was that the girl had to get my heart; that part was certain and I had already set the dominos in motion that would mark her as the only match for the donation. But I had to die for that to happen-- a task easier planned than executed. Reaching my hand toward the dashboard, moonlight washed over my forearm making my skin appear ghostly— the foreboding accuracy of the image sent a chill up my spine and it took a few tries to get my shaking hand to flip on the heat.

I tightened a webbing strap that ran along my narrow waist and sandwiched my chest between the two steel plates that I’d had molded to fit around my torso like a vest. It looked like part of an elaborate Roman costume, but with how much it weighed, it would have been impossible for even a strong man to wear while standing. Good thing I wasn’t a man. The plates were thick enough to take a bullet and allow my heart to keep beating, but this…

Hot air spewed from the vents out over my shivering hands, but did nothing to warm them. I nosed the VW a few inches further. The ancient engine rattled. It was a sound that had become comforting to me over the past month. Like the voice of an old friend. Or more like my only friend.

The perpendicular traffic blazed by a mere 12 inches away now and the VW rattled on oblivious to what I had planned for us. My eyes climbed to the dashboard clock. 11:23.

Inhaling deeply and trying to relax the muscles of my body, I reviewed what I had seen in the vision. The vision. Previously, at any given time, my mind would have been full of numerous ones that I could choose to review. But lately, my sight had narrowed-- focused down to a singular point in time--every dream for months now had just been an exact replica of the one I had first had a year ago.

The vision.

It always started off the same. At a diner only one mile away sat two men, the harvesting crew from the Lifeflight helicopter. They lounged at a red vinyl booth. Dinner plates had been pushed toward the napkin dispenser against the wall. Though it was nearing midnight, the clanking of forks against plates came from all around. Mabel’s Diner had a reputation for pie among the truckers and was rarely empty. Somewhere in the kitchen a platter clattered to the floor. Back at the booth, the older man, the pilot, turned toward the noise, casually observant. He had never been able to turn away from an accident no matter how inconsequential. If something broke, he wanted to witness it. That gawking tendency was what carried him into the organ retrieval business.

“My first time in Philadelphia,” the heavy-set pilot grunted.

“Hmph. You haven’t missed much,” a young slick-haired surgeon said from across the table as he shoveled another forkful of blueberry cobbler into his mouth. Rob consider ordering one of those, too.

“Well, this place is good.”

The surgeon only chewed. Ominously quiet. Like a volcano that could blow at any moment, Rob thought. Getting conversation out of this guy was like pulling a plant out of a seed. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, the older man pushed himself to keep up some semblance of a conversation. This was only his second flight with Dr. Lars Kale, but it didn’t take long to understand that this was a man who, like any surgeon Rob had ever met, could snap into a carnivore without provocation. Long ago, Rob had realized that working with surgeons was like living with an alcoholic parent. Sweet as sugar one moment and cruel as a snake the next. And this snake was way up there on the corporate ladder with the authority to fire boring helicopter pilots, no questions asked.

The thing about today was that Dr. Kale had been provoked. Only an hour ago the two of them had touched down at Philadelphia Mercy Hospital on an organ retrieval call. Motorcyclist; no helmet, was all that Rob had been told. He and Dr. Kale had made the short flight from North Carolina Regional only to be turned away at the Philadelphia hospital. There had been some kind of mix-up. There was no motorcycle death; no organs, not even a red cooler full of ice. This was a failed mission. And obviously tallied up to wasted time in Dr. Kale’s book.

Another forkful of blue-stained pastry disappeared into the emotionless maw of the surgeon. He could be blaming the dull helicopter pilot right now. Rob balled up another tiny shred of napkin, rolling it about with his fingers, mentally dancing around options of what he could say to remind the doctor that this wasn’t his fault.

Two burly truckers jostled past their booth giving a moment of distraction. Rob’s hold on his fears slipped and a few excuses eeked out.

“I had no way of knowing. I just pick you docs up and fly where they send me. I’ve never in my 23 years had a crank call. Really, how would a person even go about making a fake organ donation call…?”

Kale held up his hand and only glanced up. “Don’t worry about it. It’s obviously not your fault.” He smiled. The action never reaching his grey eyes. “Chalk it up to some quality time spent on your first visit to Phillie.” Another fork of cobbler disappeared into his mouth before his teeth slid noisily along the stainless steel tines.

I jerked into wakefulness as a car horn blared. The Volkswagen shook, as the SUV-- some grocery store assault vehicle-- blew past, mere inches from its front bumper. Headlights from the perpendicular traffic drug their yellow beams across me as I blinked my eyes into seeing what was actually in front of them.

I breathed deeply and the pleasure of the act, that of simple inhalation taunted my resolve. I was going to miss being alive.

I coughed the breath out hastily, steeling myself against soft thoughts. It was time to finish the job. Knowing it was one of my last uses of the powers I had been born with, I closed my eyes and reached mentally for Mabel’s Diner. It was odd how this power worked. Like a part of me could be sent out flying on a reconnaissance mission. A few times in my long life I had imagined that if I ever had children and had to explain it to them, I would say it was like having your own fairy and you could see what she saw and tell her what to do. She could flit off and see other places, granted they weren’t too far away, and do your bidding. All you had to do was think it.

But I would never have children. No fairy either. What I had was control over energy-- all kinds—thermal, emotional, kinetic, molecular bonds, water tension, weather, the list went on and on. Because really, everything had to do with energy. And I was its ringmaster. Well, there were a few of us ringmasters who kept the lions from destroying the circus. Balancers is what we called ourselves.

I was a balancer. I had a job to do; my last job in fact.

Another shiver passed down my spine rattling my bones beneath the metal plates I wore. The VW sympathetically rattled along with me. I hated to think about wrecking her, so I focused on the diner.

It didn’t take long and I was there-- not in a vision this time, but seeing the location as it actually was at this moment.

The method was actually very simple. So simple that it was actually more odd that average humans couldn’t do it also. I sent out a string of energy, not much different than having an emotion, except that I stayed with it. This is what the humans couldn’t do. Those few millejoules of energy would jump along from molecule to molecule, be it air, tree, person, whatever, to the destination I picked. Which was right now, a point three feet above the pilot and surgeon’s booth.

The next part of ‘seeing’ the scene was a bit trickier, but still basic physics. Really no more complicated than the energy transfer from cup to cup along the string of a child’s homemade telephone. Instead of noise transfer, this was light and instead of cups, I had quarks of energy that worked like mirrors sending their information skipping along a string of molecules.

What I could see of the diner was blurry—this was a long distance for the picture to travel. But I could make out enough to tell that the visions were right on. On the table discarded near the napkin dispenser and the finished plates was the pilot’s walkie talkie.

The volume knob at the top was currently in the off position. The organ harvesting team didn’t plan on getting any more calls tonight. But, crucial to my plan was that they hear the next call that would come in. Focusing on the electromagnetic energy of the walkie, it didn’t take much effort to practice a little telekinesis and rotate the circular knob into the on position and then continue the turn until it reached full volume. A low static hum came from the device now, but with the bustle around the diner, neither of the men noticed.

That was it. I pulled my mind’s eye away from the scene at the diner and stared out the windshield before me. Just below the horizon of the dashboard, seeming larger than they were a moment ago, the red digits on the clock radio switched to 11:24. One more minute.

I still had a final domino to nudge into place. The truck driver. Ray Stevens. Father of two, divorced, driver for Calico Foods. He was running late on his delivery and pushing the speed limit. He was now only a few blocks away from me and covering the distance fast.

Was I really strong enough to do this? I knew I had the willingness to die, dying for the betterment of the planet was what I was created for. But I would admit that I was scared, not really of death, but of failure. Would I be able to stay strong long enough to keep a shield up to protect the truck driver and also slow down the semi so it didn’t kill anyone else? Normally, yes. But tonight it would all have to be done in the moments that my soul left this body. On top of that it was still just theory that being T-boned by a speeding semi would be enough to kill me.

I could hear the roar of the 18 wheels approaching, close enough now that even human ears could have discerned it from the rest of the traffic. One minute passed so quickly. I looked left and could pick out the brilliant headlights of the big rig among the sea of smaller ones.

Lead churned in my stomach as I brought my foot to hover over the gas pedal. My palms were sweating on the steering wheel. In my entire life, I had never experienced sweating palms.

Now only three blocks away, Ray shifted his immense truck into cruise control. Just as I had seen that he would. The highway here straightened out giving drivers the feel of a freeway. It was a favorite location for the cops to hang out and catch motorists who got carried away in this feeling and forgot that they were still in town. Ray was now going 15 miles over the speed limit.

70 miles per hour. Being struck by something at that speed would cause certain and instant death. The gruesome crushing injuries aside… I couldn’t count on those alone because drivers were ejected from cars all the time . But it was a fact that the brain impacting its own skull at 56 mph was fatal. I had a 14 mph cushion.

I could see Ray now, staring forward. I could feel his emotions—he was eager to meet someone. He was distracted. I shielded him and prayed it would hold.

Two seconds. A shudder of fear and dread shook the core of my body. Another first for me.

I checked my shields. And stomped the gas pedal.

The VW shot forward four feet. Directly into the path of the oncoming semi. Ray never even touched the brakes. There was no squeal of protesting metal like I had read about. Only silence and those headlights. They were the size of wrecking balls as they impacted my thin driver’s side door with the ferocious speed of a meteorite.

My second to last thought was that I was being killed by light. Killed by energy.

My last thought was of her.

…Claire.

fabio stole my credit card number

2011-07-14T15:21:00.000-07:00

Here's a little play-by-play of today's early morning phonecall.

“Hello Mrs. Shepard, this is your credit card company calling to confirm some unusual activity on you card. First is your card in your possession?”

“Yes.”

“First, a transaction at orderviagra.com…?”

Silence and confusion on my end.

“… $897…? Mrs. Shepard..?”

I was just kind of stunned at this point. I am physically holding my card (let’s pretend it’s black) and in that moment, it’s like it suddenly transformed into a bag of dog poo. It’s like the most Harry Potter experience that I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve got it in this primal pincher-grasp, too repulsed to touch it too much, but also afraid to drop it for fear of what it’s gonna buy next if I take my eyes off of it.

I find my voice and deny the purchase. The MasterCard guy continues to list charges made on various male enhancement sites, all the names of which are increasingly cringe-inducing, and by the time he finishes, I honestly feel like this little rectangle of plastic is in need of a bleaching. I also feel like it's betrayed me.

I deny these charges, too and he proceeds with a string of others as I rub my temples and wonder if my credit report has now been irrevocably smudged with a big perverted smudgey blemish.

“Alright, Ma’am.” (That title never helps when I’m irritated) “We had a little bet around here that you weren’t planning a party.” Great, I got the humorous fraud investigator. “How about $700 for miscellaneous charges at 1-800 flowers.com?”

$700! For flowers!! Now I feel really betrayed. It’s my credit card—why can’t I drop benjamins like that on flowers. Yeah, I just said benjamins. I’m the victim of fraud—a brush with crime like that allots me the use of a few choice bits of slang. I speak into the phone, “No.”

A little laugh on the other side of the phone, “Alright. Moving along. There’s a few more floral places. Have you bought flowers—a lot of flowers-- in the past 36 hours?”

“No.” Bitterness actually has a taste, I can tell you now.

“Okay, another Viagra one…?”

“We already discussed those. Not me.”

“How about Lowe’s for $245? It was for a shipment of wood.”

“Not me. But if it's being shipped, then you have an address. Can you give me that address and I can go there and wait till this guy gets home ?"

"Why would you want the address Ma'am?"

"Because he stole my card. And I would like those flowers. And that wood, too."

"I don't have the address and I don't think that would be a good idea. We'll handle prosecuting the crime and all the charges will be removed from your account. Don't worry about your credit score."

That's all good and well, but not as satisfying as I would have thought. All of the sudden, I don't care about me and my sorry little pile of legit purchases and my shiny credit score. I want to know what happens next in Fabio's story. What's going to happen to Fabio's weekend? Will the flowers and viagra never arrive? Will he be slapping on his cheap cologne-- (actually who am I kidding, he probably stole your number to buy some good stuff.) Anyway, will he be getting all ready for this hot weekend and lady after lady dumps him because the flowers he promised never arrive? And what of the wood?-- how does that fit into the romantic mood he's setting here? It's this cryptic puzzle... my own riddle of the sphinx. What's gonna happen?

But as the fraud investigator wraps up his queries for me, I realize I'm never gonna find out. My credit will remain unbesmirched. I won't have to pay for any of the stolen charges. My credit report will remain a boring string of predictablility.

All in all this Romeo was planning on having quite the weekend on my dime. And do you know what I'm wishing?

Not that he'll get run over by the flower delivery truck.

Not that his mother will see the packages of Viagra and make him feel really embarrassed.

Not even that he gets a wicked splinter from all that wood.

What I'm wishing is that he makes one more purchase on my card. One more purchase that ties the story together for me. What are you doing this weekend criminal man? Why the wood?

So, hat’s off to you, purchaser of an expensive romantic weekend on my card. You made me actually desire to be robbed again.

You also made my $1 purchase at Redbox seem really lame.

The yard needs some work...

2011-07-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

The lawn should really be mowed, I should be writing, and the kids need to be played with, but what is gnawing at me is that the algae has bloomed in the pond and if I ever want to combat these green-tinted microbes, then I need to get a pump in the pond to circulate that water.

This is how it looks right now. Now, most of that green in the water is just reflection from the verdant jungle (that I should be mowing), but some of it is buds of algae. And I can just hear those little baby fuzzies whispering about how they plan to take over in the next few warm days.

Ha!! not today!! Not on a day when Jen has an aversion to doing the work she should and has a desire to build something.

With Chuck's fine collection of plumbing parts, we collected up some odds and ends and I think I can make a pretty good fountain. I bought a pump. but other than that, these are some things we had around the house.

the two cans are pvc cleaner and pvc glue, a plumber's best friend. and that means today they will be my best friends, too.  The black thing is a pretty spout that will make the water come out like a pretty ball of sprayed water.   You can just barely make out that at the bottom of this spout, the base is 3/4" wide.  Here is my first problem.

The opening to my circulating pump is 2" wide. I need to reduce down quite a lot (anyone who's worked with water or who knows a bit about physics might want to stay tuned, because this is a LONG way to reduce down water. Oh, you don't think this is very exciting? Let me now mention that the pump I got pumps 4000 gallons per hour.)   If I'm lucky, this thing is going to be able to wet down passing airplanes.

The white plastic parts are odds and ends left over from bathroom remodels that I will use to reduce down the diameter of the pipe.

Now to glue.   Problem Dos. I can't get the jar open.   Here's Charlie helping.

and helping some more.

Finally, I got out some big wrenches and we got it open.

While the glue is drying, I realize that the pond sits beneath the generous branches of many trees. A weeping willow is my main concern. It drops lots of leaves each day and if these continually get sucked into my pump, then I am going to be writing a new post real quick about how I had to build my own pump.

I need to build a filter. I found a bucket and a coat hanger and some mesh. I sewed up a net type thing around the coat hanger. My hope is that this bucket will sit near the edge and every day, I can dump out the leaves and thus have a clean long-term working pump.

(notice how this bucket looks terrible? Over-eager Jennifer painted it and then submerged it in the pond to check the depth-- all the oil based paint didn't care much for my hastiness.)

I'm going to go plug it in and I'll see if I can tame down the spray.

Here's the finished project. I've edited out the pics of me wading into the water, falling into the water. (and looking AWEsome doing it).

The first couple tries, did indeed, disloged satellites from their orbit, so we apologize for any inconvenience caused to the multi millionaires reading this who happen to own satellites.

I had to add about 10 feet of hose to tame it all down, but now it's pleasant. Take that algae. And take that To Do List. I beat one of you and ignored the other completely.

Pt 2 of What the Homeless Men Taught Me About Mothering

2011-06-21T06:15:00.000-07:00

(what happened the next day)

I had emailed my best friend, confiding in her what had occurred like it was some dirty secret. But she didn’t write back and I guessed she was as abhorred with my actions as I was. I kept picturing the two men needing to buy food and being a dollar short. What had I done? But, try as I might, I couldn’t forget Michael’s words and the sadness that took his face when I attempted to refuse his right to give.

The next morning I rose with a mission. I baked a loaf of bread. We were living out of backpacks, eating with plastic cutlery, definitely sans measuring cups and it was no easy task, but I managed. Back home, bread-making was something I excelled at and I was going to share that skill here.

The kids made a card for Russell and Michael, putting into misspelled words what they guessed Scarlett wanted to say to them. I pulled some money from our grocery stash, stuck it in the card, grabbed my loaf of bread wrapped in a plastic sack and headed out the door. I had no idea how to find them in a city as big as Boston, but we were starting out early and my best inclination was to hit the track again.

“They’re here!” My son yelled, charging towards a far-off group of men with a shopping cart. I was a bit more reticent, we were still a few hundred yards off, and though these men did indeed have a shopping cart, I wasn’t sure they were our friends or how they would feel about a loaf-wielding six-year old thundering toward them. But as we got closer, sure enough, it was Russell and Michael.

Exuberant Charlie reached them twenty feet ahead of the rest of us. By the time I reached him, Michael was clutching the bread and in tears. He held a hand out to me, obviously not recognizing me from the day before and asked who I was. I sat down next to him, reintroduced myself while shifting Scarlett in hopes that he might remember her. He smelled strongly of alcohol and he looked tired, but his eyes were as friendly as the day before.

Russell took over the reins of the conversation today, saying, “Michael forgets things. Give him a second.” He spoke to the kids and remembered Scarlett and the previous day’s exchange. He read the little note and struggled with the crazy misspellings of kid language. A few words in he got weepy and found a hanky. He shoved a corner of it into his nose and left it there, hanging, every once in awhile wiping at a silent tear with the back of his hand.

“They’re crying over your bread, Mom.” My son said at my leg.

Both men laughed hard. The humor seemed to snap Michael back into sobriety. “You remember these times.” He commanded me. “I have two kids. All grown. Good boys. You just keep being a good Ma to them.”

Before even realizing the words were out, I asked the question, “How do I do that?”

It was something I hadn’t even asked my own mother-- my closest friends. Only my husband knew that I was struggling with this heavy burden of terror that I was a horrible mother. I don’t know if it was the sudden flash of lucidity that made Michael appear to me like a spiritual guru that had all the answers, or his yesterday’s breaking of a social absolute, or if it was just that I’d been waiting for so long to have an emotional connection with someone, anyone, who would give me an honest answer.

His answer was immediate, “Love ‘em. You can’t do it perfectly, but you can do it good.”

Russell repeated the words. “Love ‘em.”

I nodded, a bit stunned by the wisdom and the simplicity of their guidance and how it was just what I needed to hear. A lot of things came together for me right then. Yesterday, I had tried to deny a man his right to be generous, purely because I ignorantly thought I had more to give. Also, because taking money from a homeless man wasn’t what a perfect mother would do. I had almost messed up a beautiful moment because I was too afraid of messing it up. I realized I was doing the same thing with my children.

Russell added, “…and get ‘em ice cream every once in awhile!” They both whooped at that.

That night I quit worrying about money and being perfect and doing what was socially acceptable. That night we all had ice cream for dinner and I loved my kids.
Not perfectly, but good.

What the homeless men taught me about mothering Pt.1

2011-06-20T13:41:00.000-07:00

“S’cuse me! Miss! How old’s the little girl?”

I slowed my jogging stroller and yanked an ear bud out of my ear. I had come up alongside two homeless men and their shopping cart where they had settled in the shade along the college jogging track which I had just found earlier in the week. I had sort of asked for this. I was new in town, still so glad to finally be living in the same state as my husband that I smiled at everything—even homeless men.

I pivoted the stroller so they could see my pretty baby industriously blowing raspberries from the bonds of her five-point safety harness. The two of them were seated on the lowest bench on a riser of bleachers. I noticed a few college students glance up from their laptops at our exchange. I was getting pretty used to the glances, having just moved into a college town with my three kids-- the only kids in the entire town as far as we could tell—we were used to stares. I took these current stares as a good sign, I sure had enough witnesses if one of the men tried something.

“She just turned a year.” I said, yanking out my other ear bud to make sure I wasn’t talking too loud.

“Ah! Did she get a chocolate bunny for Easter?”

I laughed, a little surprised at what a friendly question this was. “No. Poor thing doesn’t have any teeth, yet.”

They introduced themselves, not holding out hands to shake, but smiling. The talkative one was Michael. His companion who sat within arm’s reach of a shopping cart laden with coats and glass bottles was Russell. Now that I was at conversation distance to them, they both looked nice. Happy, not dirty, and coherent. I actually wondered if I had made a hasty generalization about them being homeless just because of their proximity to a shopping cart and their advanced age in a town of 18-22 year olds.

Michael continued, “How about ice cream? Did she get any of that?”

I glanced down at the little bald pate of my daughter. “No…” I didn’t want to get into how her pediatrician had warned against milk products until she was a year old, and that she, poor neglected child number three, had yet to try ice cream though she had already blown out her first candle. I covered with, “She had a jelly bean, though.”

I could feel my target heart rate sinking and felt the pull to get back to my workout before my other two charges tired of playing in the long-jump box that I’d directed them to use as a sandbox so that mommy could get in just one mile of uninterrupted sweating. I gave the two men a closed-mouth smile, the one that I used for farewells and lifted a foot toward the padded track.

“Hey, from the heart… from the heart.” Michael, the quieter one, said, as he reached toward me and put his hand to his breast. His companion nodded and did the same. I didn’t know what he was talking about and that confusion paused me.

He had removed his wallet from the depths of the green shopping cart. In a flash it was open and I was momentarily fixated on the fact that though it was unmistakably a wallet, it was drastically different from my own. Dusty, no credit cards and though I could only glimpse the edges of a few green bills within; none of them were crisp. I started to shimmy sideways as to make my imminent escape as fluid as possible. I had come out to jog. I didn’t have any money on me and wanted to save them the embarrassment of what I assumed was coming. The thought flashed through my brain that as ‘do unto others’ as I was, I’d been the wife of a medical student long enough, was so used to barely scraping by, that I generally didn’t feel able to give away money even if I did have a few bucks on me.

“It was nice meeting you both. Say goodbye, Scarlett,” I looked down at my baby as a way of dropping eyes with them. I had managed two steps.

“From the heart.” Michael repeated, and looked at me with soft eyes. He then extended his hand to my baby girl and placed a ragged dollar bill in her pudgy fist.

I felt my eyes bug and my stomach tighten. What had just happened? I threw a glance over at the shopping cart, just to make sure that it did, in fact, hold the trappings of what I guessed homeless people to have. Ohmigosh! A homeless man had just given my baby a dollar!

I took the bill from her clutch and held it back to them. “No. No, that is so kind of you, but, no. We couldn’t.” Michael backed away from my offered hand, not looking at me anymore. I’m guessing I must have been some kind of sight, white lady freaking out the moment the world wasn’t just what she expected. I advanced on them, dollar leading the way, pleading for them to take it back. Bits of my own life and the value I personally placed on a dollar flashed before my eyes-- the solitary two times in her life that my 8 year old had ever been to an ice-cream parlor; the times when I actually walked with three small children across town vs. take the two-dollar subway ride. But I always had a roof over our head, insurance, tasty food. My brain quickly extrapolated what a dollar must mean to these men. I shoved it at them more aggressively.

Michael looked up at me, more than a bit sad, and just as quickly looked down. He spoke quietly, “I’ve had a lot taken away from me. But you can’t take away my bein’ generous.”

I swallowed hard and blinked as the arm in which I clutched the bill dropped. Russell was nodding at me. “From the heart. We want the little girl to have ice cream.”

I couldn’t get my eyebrows to fall, but I did my best to rearrange my face to look less like a white woman taking money from two homeless men, and more like a person being given a gift. “Thank you,” I said with a flustered smile as I gave the bill back to my toddler. “It’s very generous of you. Thank you.”

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep for the guilt. I had taken money from a homeless man. What kind of monster was I? What was I thinking? There had to have been a way to get out of that situation.

Read part 2 here: http://redzoegirl.blogspot.com/2011/06/pt.html

Summary of book

2011-06-17T14:36:00.000-07:00

Think Twilight, but instead of vampires, it's people who control the weather. A teenage girl fresh off a heart transplant falls for one of these 'balancers' and is pulled into an ancient society that has a hand in keeping Earth within the tiny windows of climatic variables that life can tolerate. Oh, and the guy is incredibly hot (there's the teenager hook).

Official Summary: After spending most of her life in a hospital on the transplant list, Claire’s extensive experience in awaiting death has in no way prepared her for the perils of high school. She just wants to keep her head down and get through her junior year as uneventfully as possible. That is until she meets James Gray. Well actually, she doesn’t meet him as much as she has a heart attack in front of him and he gives her CPR until paramedics arrive. He’s the mysterious local stunner, with gossip and questions swirling around the disappearance of his older brother. When a mutual friend becomes seriously injured in a fall, Claire witnesses James’ secret power to manipulate the elements. This level of power attracts bad guys who would happily kill a few teenagers to get it. But it ends up that it’s not James they’re after. Because of her heart donor’s secret, Claire becomes a target that only James can save. He’s talented, kind, beautiful and as close to a super-hero as can be-- but it’s tough to let yourself fall in love when you’re more comfortable saying goodbye.

2011-06-13T07:02:00.000-07:00

I sided my house—I can do single parenthood
There’s a lot of the details of rebuilding a house that get blurred over with time—like your body’s own personal defense mechanism— it knows that it only hurts to remember some of those long, torturous hours. I woke up this morning remembering that I had sided this house. I write about this, because if you’ve seen the many angled barn of architectural decadence that I live in, you’d understand why I adore salt-box styles. Siding this house, any house really-- just this house in particular, was no easy task. Let me tell you about it.

First off, there was the getting of bids for siding contractors. Oh, this sounds easy? When you have personal insight into the fact that your bank account cannot accommodate $10-$20K more for the house to get a nice ‘skin’, you’ll realize that this part made me cry more than all that follows. Contractor after contractor was sent off to the sight of me folding up their estimates, swiping a few tears and mumbling something like, maybe I can just do it myself.
Somehow that mumble became the second stage. Next I had to find siding to match what was already on large parts of the house. This proved a bit easier, because I found a few receipts from the designer who once lived in the house. He apparently did ALL of his shopping at Menards, so with one stop, I found matching planks of wood. Cue some cringing—20 ft planks of wood are not cheap.

Third, I had to get 300 planks of wood home. Did I mention they came as 20 foot long pieces? 12 inches tall, 1 inch thick, TWENTY FEET LONG! Get out your tape measures, folks. This does not fit in the average SUV. I owned a beat up truck, a true 1960’s monster, but if you’ve still got hold of that tape measure you’ll realize that even in the back of a truck, I would still have 12 feet hanging out the back. And any failing physics student, like I was, knows that if you have more hanging out the back than what’s in the back, then it’s going to tip out.

So fourth, I removed the windshield of the truck and loaded 50 planks at a time THROUGH the entire length of the truck and out over the hood. Then I wedged myself and two kids beneath these planks and together we drove home, savagely breaking probably a LOT of laws. We wore our seatbelts.

Fifth, I should include something in here about how much 300 twenty foot hunks of wood weigh. And then mention something about how unwieldy they are, too.

Sixth, getting them up on vertical surfaces. Low down, those first horizontal stripes weren’t too bad. I’d walk the siding over and level it and hold it with my foot and the help of my two kids and then I’d nail gun it into weather tightness. But as I finished that first row, the kids, only 4 and 6 at the time, couldn’t help me lift higher than 12 inches. I feared I was stuck. But then came up with a pretty ingenius plan. I screwed in a holding screw. I would hold up one end of the wood, set the other end on this screw and Waa—Laa. The screw held one side while I held and nailed.

Seventh, ladder climbing. This memory is pretty blurred, which I’m sure indicates that it was heinous. Before you think I’m too insane or that my house is going to fall apart, this part came at a point when Chuck had some weekends off and together we managed. That’s right. I do have a husband. He’s wonderful and is working as a great doctor, so I didn’t get to see him lots two years ago. But you need to know that he is my best friend and favorite person to work with and he puts up with a lot. I was the one who wanted this house as my little pet project and he let me get it. He’s also always ready to work with me. Sometimes, many times, I’m just too eager and I want to see how much I can do on my own. Nothing makes me feel sexier than when he’d come home with a look of astonishment and say something like, “You put in a water heater?”

Yeah, baby. Some women like shoes…

The house is done. It’s sided and painted and protects us from all sorts of MN storms. And I did it. Do you want to know why I was thinking about siding today? It’s because right now I’m a single parent. Three kids, a blind dog, messy guinea pig, house, and trying to start a writing career.

Before the thought of siding accomplishments got me out of bed, this morning, the worries that I was not going to be able to do all of this on my own held me down. Terrified. Can I keep this up? Can I be a single mother? Can I do any of this on my own?

I only have to do single-parenthood for two more weeks. Chuck’s just finishing a six month training in Boston and he returns at the end of the month.
I wrote this because as hard as siding a whole house was, it has nothing on motherhood.

So, Cheers to the parents out there. four or five cheers to the single moms. Though I can feel proud of siding my house, I had help when it got too hard to do on my own. As, tough and brave and ballsy as I like to think I am, I need my husband. I was grateful to wake up today and not feel like I could take on the world single-handedly. I was grateful that I am grateful to be married.

Two more weeks and my love comes home.

2011-02-17T13:17:00.000-08:00

Charlie: We need to make a snowman for the animals. We could put things on it, like leftover meat, and the little birds would find it and be so happy.

Extreme Makeover-- extremely ugly love seat

2011-02-11T12:07:00.001-08:00

AFTER

After a few commercials. Some tears. A few days of me leaving it out in the sun hoping that the radiant heat from a billion degree ball of fire will melt out the this-ladies-hair-is-purple vibe I get every time I'm near this piece of furniture.

It is done.

Not the hot pink I was planning on when I initally started the re-upholstering. but this does fit better with the other furniture. I painted the frame with high gloss ebony, covered the whole thing in beige urban suede. (the kids like it because it feel's like the dog's ears) I like it because it holds scotch guard really well and is thus easy to clean.

So as this episode of Extreme Makeover-- the extremely ugly love seat edition, comes to a close, picture this little understated gem hoofing it's way into my living room, becoming the landing place for some cute heinies and maybe even a bowl of really sugary candy.

Extreme Makeover-- extremely ugly love seat

2011-02-11T11:53:00.000-08:00

BEFORE

Ug.

I'm sure it has great lines, and it's an antique, so the fabric being intact should earn it points, but... Ug. ug. I just don't like it. But I can't get rid of it either. So picture this dusty relic grunting it's way down the street and then... "excuse me, Ma'am. You are extremely outdated." A gasp, a dusty doilie covering an aghast mouth. "You need a make-over." Fade out.

Now behind the scenes, you and I, (Yes we are in this together) are considering what to do. Every time we glance at it we get the feeling of being shoved into itchy tights and being drug to tea with the old aunt. The one with the cats, and the bowl of 'candy" (actually menthol) and THAT love seat. Well, Extreme Makeover in progress. Notice the plyers and scissors in the picture. I almost started ripping before the shot was taken.

Article in the Newspaper about our remodel

2010-08-16T12:54:00.000-07:00

Hello! We're finally done with our remodel-- From condemned garbage heap to pretty swanky-- here's the newspaper article that sends Cinderella to the ball.

http://www.startribune.com/homes/100686899.html?elr=KArksUUUoDEy3LGDiO7aiU

HOuse Remodel

2008-10-31T09:20:00.001-07:00

this is the second master bedroom under a big renovation. if you look behind charlie that is the bathroom, it just part of the bedroom. having a sink right there in the bedroom was not great, so this is the wall going up to define the two rooms. nice teal paint in there. and check out the floor-- it was green shag carpet, I put in that maple.

this is how the kitchen looked. yep, no kitchen whatsoever.

the addition that is the master bedroom

the kitchen half way through

2008-10-08T15:21:00.000-07:00

this is the ode to charlie's favorite things, water park, kitties, firetrucks

this is charlie at a waterpark.

2008-10-08T15:16:00.000-07:00