No pain, no gain.
What neanderthalic masochistic cretin thought that up? And why am I so bloody determined to prove him right?!?
Okay, so I'm in a bit of pain that may or may not be my own fault and I may or may not be the most gracious about handling said discomfort. In my defense, I've almost won the latest battle in this summer's war against weeds. I decided that since I was going to spend an extended period of time inadvertantly doing crunches and working my obliques while sweating in the 90° weather that FINALLY got here, I might as well go ahead and work my quads too. So each time I bent down to get a good grip on a weed attached to an economy sized root system, I alternated between squats and lunges. How was I supposed to know the diabolical plants had seen me coming and wrapped themselves around the foundations of my house?!?!
Now I feel like I'm dragging battleship anchors around. Lots of pain. Lots and lots of pain.
So what did I gain?
An intense desire to ambush and devour an entire pantry of dark chocolate.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Family traits.....
One thing about families that no one seems to be able to escape is genetics. There's always some trait that gets passed down whether you want it to or not. Sometimes it's blue eyes, or red hair, or bad tempers, or unibrows. My family seems to have this crafty, way too much creativity to be healthy thing going on. ... well that, and a penchant for ill-timed sarcasm.
My cousin is an amazing artist. My sister sings. My dad is a walking encyclopedia. My aunt is an interior decorator. My mom could paint, draw, scrapbook, and essentially create beautiful stuff out of thin air. Sarah was bound to get something from the family gene pool. She got some gorgeous blue eyes, a love of cats and chocolate, a big mouth... (hey, I had to contribute something.)
Oh yeah.. and she also got the ability to do stuff like this:
and this...
Yeah... she produced both of these in about 30 minutes. Her granddad bought her a set of watercolor crayons and she was playing around with those today. Not terrible considering she was fending off Heather and Hunter the entire time.
Of course, she hates both of these because she's still learning how to use the crayons and make them look like watercolor paints after the drawing is done, but I thought they were cute so I'm showing them off.
Oh, and she drew this one for her Granny Karen. She doesn't really like it either... go figure. She's worried that people will notice things that she thinks are wrong. Perfectionist. Sheesh.
So yeah... creativity and artistry seem to run in the family. Everyone got something they can brag about.
What did I get? Umm... well, I can sorta sing. I can sorta cross stitch. I can sorta draw. Oh, and I can make a person's eyes bleed with the fashion choices I make on a regular basis.
Then there's this amazing ability to babble incessantly when someone puts a keyboard in front of me....
My cousin is an amazing artist. My sister sings. My dad is a walking encyclopedia. My aunt is an interior decorator. My mom could paint, draw, scrapbook, and essentially create beautiful stuff out of thin air. Sarah was bound to get something from the family gene pool. She got some gorgeous blue eyes, a love of cats and chocolate, a big mouth... (hey, I had to contribute something.)
Oh yeah.. and she also got the ability to do stuff like this:
Yeah... she produced both of these in about 30 minutes. Her granddad bought her a set of watercolor crayons and she was playing around with those today. Not terrible considering she was fending off Heather and Hunter the entire time.
Of course, she hates both of these because she's still learning how to use the crayons and make them look like watercolor paints after the drawing is done, but I thought they were cute so I'm showing them off.
So yeah... creativity and artistry seem to run in the family. Everyone got something they can brag about.
What did I get? Umm... well, I can sorta sing. I can sorta cross stitch. I can sorta draw. Oh, and I can make a person's eyes bleed with the fashion choices I make on a regular basis.
Then there's this amazing ability to babble incessantly when someone puts a keyboard in front of me....
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Gardening. ....yeah....
Pleasant Valley Sunday.
That's kind of the image I was going for today when we got home from a really fun lunch after our second church service today. The kids were upstairs playing in the air conditioning and Steve was dutifully mowing our lawn, then our neighbor's lawn, in the hot temperatures I love so much. So I figured I could spend the same time in the shaded flower bed that has been my first excursion into the world of gardening.
Anyone who knows me is well aware of the fact that I'm about as domestic as a bulldozer. (And I have the tendency to leave a comparable swath of destruction in my path, too.) But hey, how hard could it really be to dig some holes in dirt, drop a few store bought flowers into the holes, and soak them down with water every four or five days?
.... Once the real gardeners laugh themselves out and catch their collective breath, we'll continue.
Believe it or not, the flowers are actually doing rather well. Granted, I started easy and bought a half dozen petunias, three flox plants, and two vine looking things I can't actually identify but the fact that they're ALL still alive is pretty darned impressive!
Now for the fun part. *grumble* While I'd been warned about the dangers of weeds, I don't think it really sank in just how troublesome the little beasts are. There is quite literally a battle line drawn in my flower bed/weed bed. The left side is most definitely under the control of Mother Nature. The right side is currently my domain and I'm determined it's going to stay that way.
So, back to my personal rendition of the Monkees song. I decided to do a bit of weeding to redefine the boundary between my flowers and the encroaching wilderness by my sidewalk. In my "garden" there's one rule of thumb that is pretty safe to follow: if it's green, healthy, and thriving.... yank it out of the ground.
Two hours later and I believe I know EXACTLY how the creator of The Day of the Triffids came up with his story.
Exhibit A: (image taken from another Blogspot blog "Black Hole")
This scene depicts a triffid closing in on its next meal.
Exhibit B:
This image depicts a dandelion expanding across the ground and daring someone to try to yank it up.
Coincidence? Not a chance. No way. No how. I firmly believe that the person who came up with the story of The Day of the Triffids did so shortly after spending the afternoon losing a war with weeds, or after spending the evening listening to the ranting and raving of someone who did.
...anyone got a flamethrower and rock garden I can invest in?
That's kind of the image I was going for today when we got home from a really fun lunch after our second church service today. The kids were upstairs playing in the air conditioning and Steve was dutifully mowing our lawn, then our neighbor's lawn, in the hot temperatures I love so much. So I figured I could spend the same time in the shaded flower bed that has been my first excursion into the world of gardening.
Anyone who knows me is well aware of the fact that I'm about as domestic as a bulldozer. (And I have the tendency to leave a comparable swath of destruction in my path, too.) But hey, how hard could it really be to dig some holes in dirt, drop a few store bought flowers into the holes, and soak them down with water every four or five days?
.... Once the real gardeners laugh themselves out and catch their collective breath, we'll continue.
Believe it or not, the flowers are actually doing rather well. Granted, I started easy and bought a half dozen petunias, three flox plants, and two vine looking things I can't actually identify but the fact that they're ALL still alive is pretty darned impressive!
Now for the fun part. *grumble* While I'd been warned about the dangers of weeds, I don't think it really sank in just how troublesome the little beasts are. There is quite literally a battle line drawn in my flower bed/weed bed. The left side is most definitely under the control of Mother Nature. The right side is currently my domain and I'm determined it's going to stay that way.
So, back to my personal rendition of the Monkees song. I decided to do a bit of weeding to redefine the boundary between my flowers and the encroaching wilderness by my sidewalk. In my "garden" there's one rule of thumb that is pretty safe to follow: if it's green, healthy, and thriving.... yank it out of the ground.
Two hours later and I believe I know EXACTLY how the creator of The Day of the Triffids came up with his story.
Exhibit A: (image taken from another Blogspot blog "Black Hole")
Exhibit B:
Coincidence? Not a chance. No way. No how. I firmly believe that the person who came up with the story of The Day of the Triffids did so shortly after spending the afternoon losing a war with weeds, or after spending the evening listening to the ranting and raving of someone who did.
...anyone got a flamethrower and rock garden I can invest in?
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Yes, I'm scatter-brained. You'll get used to it.
Spent the day stitching again. I'm working on a chart depicting a scene from "It's a Wonderful Life" and despite it being all shades of black and grey, it's actually a pretty fun stitch. While I didn't get a huge amount stitched, I made more progress than I'm used to.
Sarah spends all her free time on the computer or drawing. At her age, I'm used to that. But it's downright wierd that the kids are able to entertain themselves in their playroom for hours at a time now.
I'm so accustomed to having to get up every few minutes to get them this, that, or the other that it feels like I'm neglecting them now that they don't need me every five minutes. There's nothing quite like having a 4 year old look up from her playing to say in exasperation "What now?" echoed by her 3 year old little brother.
Of course, the instant I announce that it is naptime for little Hunter, he suddenly becomes very needy again. On a good note, since my stitching is downstairs and his room is upstairs, I get alot more exercise than I probably normally would.
Now if I could just stop eating three times the chocolate I'm burning on those steps.
... speaking of which.... what'd I do with that pack of M&Ms?
Sarah spends all her free time on the computer or drawing. At her age, I'm used to that. But it's downright wierd that the kids are able to entertain themselves in their playroom for hours at a time now.
I'm so accustomed to having to get up every few minutes to get them this, that, or the other that it feels like I'm neglecting them now that they don't need me every five minutes. There's nothing quite like having a 4 year old look up from her playing to say in exasperation "What now?" echoed by her 3 year old little brother.
Of course, the instant I announce that it is naptime for little Hunter, he suddenly becomes very needy again. On a good note, since my stitching is downstairs and his room is upstairs, I get alot more exercise than I probably normally would.
Now if I could just stop eating three times the chocolate I'm burning on those steps.
... speaking of which.... what'd I do with that pack of M&Ms?
Friday, June 3, 2011
It's Friday! That means WIP reports.
Welp, this marks the first time I've tried to include images into this blog thing and there's no telling what will happen. This could be fun. Or dangerous. Whichever.
Awesome, right? Eventually that's going to be Mirabilia's "Cinderella" and will look just amazing. *cough* In theory, anyway. Lauren from Sassy's Fabbys custom dyed some 32 ct jobelan for me and I'm just thrilled with how it turned out.
I'd like to offer up some lofty promises of finishing this later this month and being able to show it off in all its glory before Independence Day, but anyone who knows me would tear something internally from laughing so hard. Let's just play it safe and aim for a little before Christmas... 2017.
I do keep a stitching journal of sorts on my website, along with some of the art my daughter churns out. It's in pretty desperate need of updating on most of the pages, but once again it's been proven that me swearing to get caught up is akin to Donald Duck swearing to see a speech therapist.
Someday. Honest.
*sidesteps a lightning bolt*
Ya gotta admit. I'm getting better at dodging those!
Awesome, right? Eventually that's going to be Mirabilia's "Cinderella" and will look just amazing. *cough* In theory, anyway. Lauren from Sassy's Fabbys custom dyed some 32 ct jobelan for me and I'm just thrilled with how it turned out.
I'd like to offer up some lofty promises of finishing this later this month and being able to show it off in all its glory before Independence Day, but anyone who knows me would tear something internally from laughing so hard. Let's just play it safe and aim for a little before Christmas... 2017.
I do keep a stitching journal of sorts on my website, along with some of the art my daughter churns out. It's in pretty desperate need of updating on most of the pages, but once again it's been proven that me swearing to get caught up is akin to Donald Duck swearing to see a speech therapist.
Someday. Honest.
*sidesteps a lightning bolt*
Ya gotta admit. I'm getting better at dodging those!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Oh no! It's CHOCOLATE!!
Bet you'd never think you'd ever hear ME say that, right? Yeah, me either.
Picture this:
A very happy 3 year old charging down the hallway into my room.
A custom dyed piece of linen and alot of floss scattered across the bed.
A large amount of chocolate that never actually made it into the 3 yr old's mouth and instead liquified all over his face, hands, and fingers.
A small distance, rapidly getting smaller and smaller, between my current project and the cutest case of chocolate armageddon in recent history.
"Oh no! It's CHOCOLATE!!"
Yep. Those are the words I yelped as several things happened at once:
I grabbed my project and leapt up onto the bed and against the wall out of reach of my child.
The two cats who had been sleeping awoke, panicked, tried to run off the bed to safety and instead collided before running in opposite directions.
Two clouds of fur appeared that apparently were also too startled to remember gravity was supposed to make them fall out of the air.
Hunter squealed in earsplitting delight at the chaos he'd obviously caused and what must have been a look of abject terror on my face.
Once I was satisfied that the disaster had been averted and cautiously allowed Hunter within reach so I could clean him up, it was revealed that all he really wanted to do in the first place was to show me that he'd finished eating his chocolate and beg me for more.
Really. More chocolate. After that?!?!
I get dibs on the dark chocolate.
Picture this:
A very happy 3 year old charging down the hallway into my room.
A custom dyed piece of linen and alot of floss scattered across the bed.
A large amount of chocolate that never actually made it into the 3 yr old's mouth and instead liquified all over his face, hands, and fingers.
A small distance, rapidly getting smaller and smaller, between my current project and the cutest case of chocolate armageddon in recent history.
"Oh no! It's CHOCOLATE!!"
Yep. Those are the words I yelped as several things happened at once:
I grabbed my project and leapt up onto the bed and against the wall out of reach of my child.
The two cats who had been sleeping awoke, panicked, tried to run off the bed to safety and instead collided before running in opposite directions.
Two clouds of fur appeared that apparently were also too startled to remember gravity was supposed to make them fall out of the air.
Hunter squealed in earsplitting delight at the chaos he'd obviously caused and what must have been a look of abject terror on my face.
Once I was satisfied that the disaster had been averted and cautiously allowed Hunter within reach so I could clean him up, it was revealed that all he really wanted to do in the first place was to show me that he'd finished eating his chocolate and beg me for more.
Really. More chocolate. After that?!?!
I get dibs on the dark chocolate.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Hey Mother Nature. Bite me.
*grumble*
Yeah. It's that time again. And before anyone gasps and has vapors about me daring to admit such a thing on a public forum let me just say that when you are caught standing in the kitchen with the freezer door hanging open, a carton of dark chocolate velvet ice cream clutched to your chest, a large spoon hanging out of your foaming mouth, and have an expression closely resembling Gollum just before he reclaims the Ring off Frodo's hand..... well, let's just assume they've already figured it out.
Aside from the typical random bursts of homicidal rage usually directed at my own shadow for daring to get in my way, and the normal pounding headache that manages to resist all types of pain reliever, and the agonizing sensation of everything below my chest and above my knees feeling like it's slowly collapsing in on itself, and the manic craving for anything and everything dark chocolate....
... okay, so the chocolate thing is actually pretty normal for me ...
Aside from all that, the day wasn't too bad. The kids spent the day torturing each other incessantly the way that only loving siblings can manage and that left me pretty much to my own devices. I got a decent amount of stitching done on Mirabilia's Cinderella while the TV droned on in the background. Since it's Wednesday we went to church tonight and I was scheduled in the nursery with the 2 yr olds. I had been dreading the idea since I really didn't feel like doing anything other than repeatedly ramming my skull into a brick wall to take my mind off my monthly suffering, but once I got there and the kids starting filing into the room it wasn't so bad.
One of the little guys looked like he felt about the same way I did and once we connected on that "I hate the whole world and I'm gonna take you down with me" level he attached himself to my leg and we spent the evening quietly watching the other children play. Just when I thought I'd made a life long friend, his older siblings showed up to claim him and he suddenly acted like I'd spent the last 90 minutes trying to rip limbs off of him. My kind of kid. And that little smirk he shot my way as they left the nursery about melted my heart. I'm gonna have a ball watching him grow up.
Now we're home and the kids are all in bed and I'm having trouble deciding if I should drug myself into a sedated stupor until this nonsense goes away tomorrow or sack out with my stitching and get a few hours of something reasonably constructive done. Although why I'm having this internal debate, I don't know. What's actually going to happen is I'm going to sit at the computer and play Bejeweled until Steve wanders up here wondering what in the world I could possibly still be doing up here......
Nah, not tonight. I'll just play one game and go to bed.
I promise.
Yeah. It's that time again. And before anyone gasps and has vapors about me daring to admit such a thing on a public forum let me just say that when you are caught standing in the kitchen with the freezer door hanging open, a carton of dark chocolate velvet ice cream clutched to your chest, a large spoon hanging out of your foaming mouth, and have an expression closely resembling Gollum just before he reclaims the Ring off Frodo's hand..... well, let's just assume they've already figured it out.
Aside from the typical random bursts of homicidal rage usually directed at my own shadow for daring to get in my way, and the normal pounding headache that manages to resist all types of pain reliever, and the agonizing sensation of everything below my chest and above my knees feeling like it's slowly collapsing in on itself, and the manic craving for anything and everything dark chocolate....
... okay, so the chocolate thing is actually pretty normal for me ...
Aside from all that, the day wasn't too bad. The kids spent the day torturing each other incessantly the way that only loving siblings can manage and that left me pretty much to my own devices. I got a decent amount of stitching done on Mirabilia's Cinderella while the TV droned on in the background. Since it's Wednesday we went to church tonight and I was scheduled in the nursery with the 2 yr olds. I had been dreading the idea since I really didn't feel like doing anything other than repeatedly ramming my skull into a brick wall to take my mind off my monthly suffering, but once I got there and the kids starting filing into the room it wasn't so bad.
One of the little guys looked like he felt about the same way I did and once we connected on that "I hate the whole world and I'm gonna take you down with me" level he attached himself to my leg and we spent the evening quietly watching the other children play. Just when I thought I'd made a life long friend, his older siblings showed up to claim him and he suddenly acted like I'd spent the last 90 minutes trying to rip limbs off of him. My kind of kid. And that little smirk he shot my way as they left the nursery about melted my heart. I'm gonna have a ball watching him grow up.
Now we're home and the kids are all in bed and I'm having trouble deciding if I should drug myself into a sedated stupor until this nonsense goes away tomorrow or sack out with my stitching and get a few hours of something reasonably constructive done. Although why I'm having this internal debate, I don't know. What's actually going to happen is I'm going to sit at the computer and play Bejeweled until Steve wanders up here wondering what in the world I could possibly still be doing up here......
Nah, not tonight. I'll just play one game and go to bed.
I promise.
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