capperoo

My First Tutorial Coming Soon - Headbands

2009-08-24T11:11:00.004-04:00

I'm working on a tutorial. My lovely husband helped to convince me that this is a very good area for me. I love making things. I love teaching people. Put those skills together and you get a tutorial! My first one will be for my headbands from my Etsy shop. The thing that sets mine apart is the fabric covered elastic. I've just got to figure out the best way to put it all together and include pattern pieces. It's fun work and I feel so satisfied doing it!

Pining for BlogHer

2009-07-24T18:03:00.003-04:00

As I do every year, I'm reading the posts from other bloggers attending the fabulousity known as BlogHer '09. This year it's close to me, in Chicago. If only I had the self-discipline to blog regularly and, you know, stick to at least a semi-coherent theme, I could be a BlogHer lady too. It looks like so much fun and, of course, the women in attendance all seem like they'd be the best to hang with. As I say every year, there's always next year, right?

At our house, it's going to be an interesting night, as we've agreed to let the rug rats have a sleepover together in the basement, in the tent they've crafted from an afghan. Joe made up a list of rules, including 'one potty break allowed' and 'if you get scared, you have to come back upstairs'. He doesn't expect them to make the night, but I, being the optimist I am, hope they can do it!

Our Planet is the Best Planet in the Whole World!

2009-06-23T19:21:00.009-04:00

The words declared by my lovely 6 year old while standing in the middle of our garden. She goes on and on about how much she loves helping the earth and how important it is to take care of the earth.

All the while, Joe and I are busting our asses weeding the garden of the 2000 weeds that have taken hold after all the torrential downpours we've had in the past week. And noticing that our lovely child has no interest in really working in the garden, but REALLY loves talking about it. At least she provides entertainment. That's helpful, right?

A Michigan Miracle!

2009-04-13T10:48:00.004-04:00

After the hardest job search I've ever witnessed and 'only' 5 months, he found a job! As I type this, he's at his first day of work, while I resume my job as Stay at Home Mom. And, as with his last job, the lunch he packed last night sits in the refrigerator...

The flu is going around the house as well. My 4 year old is recovering right now, but she's the easy one to care for. I'm just waiting for is to hit my 6 year old, who tends to lay around and cry when sick, refusing all food, liquids and medicine. Shudder... A year ago, she landed herself in the ER with severe dehydration, so we always resort to the threat of the hospital in order to get her to drink something. Luckily, we've also learned to stock the house with popsicles at all times in anticipation of sickness.

All in all, life is back to normal. I actually have somewhat mixed feelings about him going back to work, as I'd managed to find something I enjoyed doing for the first time that I can remember - substitute teaching. I'd landed a long-term position as a substitute parapro at a preschool. I was sad to tell them they'd have to find someone else. The pay was not enough to merit me staying on and changing the girls' routines at the end of the school year. I've got C signed up for half-day care at school after Kindergarten next school year, so I'll get going again in the fall. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get information about teaching certification. So far, the news isn't promising, but I've only inquired at one local college. Later this week I'm going to my alma mater, EMU, to find out if it'll take me less than 4 years, as another school informed me last week. Stay tuned...

What do you do when your life is thrown upside down?

2009-02-22T22:00:00.008-05:00

Where to start? Last year, on the day before Halloween, my husband called me from the road. He said, 'Well, the good news is that I don't have to work late tonight. They let me go...' I'm not sure what my response was. whatthefuckdidyoujustsay?!?!?! I fell on the floor sobbing. It was dramatic. But this was the worst, and most unexpected news. We pay a mortgage, I'm a stay at home mom, we have two little girls, we have a ton of credit card debt. whatthefuckdowedo?!?!?! He’d worked for this company for 6 ½ years. They let him go on the 30th and shut off our health insurance the next day. I managed to stave off hyperventilating until I called my mom, got her crying, and lost my nut again. All the while, being followed by my 4-year-old, who was trying to figure out what was going on.

I'd bought a fine case of beer that day, as well as Daisy Scout supplies for my older daughter and myself, as I'd volunteered to lead a Daisy Scout troop at her school. I’d taken my 4 year old to the fabric store to pick out fabric for curtains for her room. I felt like an idiot, with my car full of things. Things we could no longer afford, and really couldn't afford in the first place, given the debt we were already in. It suddenly became clear how little we had, in terms of money, and how little I wanted those things. As soon as I regained my composure, I started reloading the car. I couldn't return those things fast enough. I started throwing out junk. I cleaned the fridge. I figured we'd move, very soon. I was paring down, getting ready for it.

The next day was Halloween. The girls were so excited. I'd made them matching cowgirl costumes and they played the part with gusto. They both had parties at their schools. I'd volunteered to photograph all the Kindergarten parties that day, which meant going in for the morning classes and coming back later in the afternoon to catch the PM kids. It was so hard. I wanted to tell everyone I saw what was going on, but it really wasn't the time or place. I was so sad, so angry, constantly on the verge of tears. We all get annoyed by people's thoughtlessness when it affects us, but that day, I was so angry. I was so hurt and angry. What does a polite person do with all that anger? I don't know. I do know that I have yet to go off on anyone, and for that, I am very proud.

So, we go back to the question, what do you do when your life is thrown upside down? First, you freak out. Next, you organize. I told everyone I knew of our situation. I updated my Facebook status. My husband did the same. It's time to network people! I was looking for leads anywhere for him, and myself, if that should happen. People rallied around us, offering their help in anything we needed. Someone said, come to Texas - there are plenty of jobs here! A great friend in North Carolina sent a bunch of links to jobs near her. One even turned into an interview and an informal offer that would be official if he wanted it. Unfortunately, it was for a non-profit with a tight budget. We didn't think it would be possible to live on that money, mostly due to the daunting task of selling a house in Michigan in front of us. Reluctantly, he turned it down. Little did we know... As far as job offers, that would be it. Oh, there’ve been interviews and second interviews. But never any more offers.

So now, we both study, trying to pad our resumes. He for technical certifications and I for teaching certification. My education will take a couple of years. He should pick up a cert next week.

I feel hopeless right now. The economy is crap for the whole country. I don't see this turning around. Is this the collapse of capitalism? Is this the end of the life we've all known? All I know is, I am tired of listening to people talk about it. These talking heads who aren't affected by this crisis. Oh, yeah, your retirement fund is slashed. Boo hoo. Our health coverage was taken away, our income is gone. We have children to support with nothing. Now, he gets unemployment, which covers our mortgage payment and leaves about $100 to cover an additional $1000 of bills. Thanks to the support of my parents, we are still in our house and paying our bills. But, I'm just not about the idea of helping us until we get back on our feet again. Ideally, that would be what they’re doing, but I don't see us getting back on our feet. Michigan has the highest unemployment rate in the country. It seems like a losing battle to try to find a job here. So, we could leave. My husband doesn't want to do it. Trying to sell a house in a dead area is a losing battle. How do we get out of here? Does anyone know? How does this story end?

Stirring up Sh*t for Obama

2008-10-13T00:18:00.002-04:00

I've been busy causing trouble.
I've gone and been a liberal in public (maybe not a big deal to many, but I live in a very conservative area).
I'll write more later, but it's so lovely to speak my mind and find out who my real friends are.
Go Obama!

I Love School!

2008-09-18T16:24:00.004-04:00

This is what my beloved almost 6-year-old exclaimed today. My heart nearly burst with pride and joy. Seriously. I worry about her regularly (of course, that's part of the motherhood contract). But, she's had trouble getting into the whole school thing. That's why we put her in Young 5's last year instead of Kindergarten. She has an October birthday, so in most states she wouldn't be old enough for Kindergarten anyway. But in Michigan, the cut-off date for turning 5 is December 1. A just wasn't ready. She refused to write anything but an 'A' for her name and had a grownup fill in the rest, couldn't stand coloring, and was essentially ready to move on before she started. Then she went to Young 5's. She had to write her entire name many times every day. By week 2, she had it down. She was coloring, even staying in the lines, by the end of the school year.

Now, she's in Kindergarten and she LOVES it!!!

I'm so glad we sent her to Young 5's last year. It would've been a shame to send her before she was ready and have her education experience start on a bad note. Now she's ahead of the class in many ways and confident.

What a great lesson for me in not rushing things and letting my child find her wings.

Introducing our new Chocolate Lab

2008-09-15T16:21:00.004-04:00

This is Murphy.He is a blast to have in our family. He's 3 1/2 years old and a purebred Chocolate Lab. What a lucky bunch we are to have him join our family. He came from Dunk N Dogs Rescue in Livonia. They inform me that they get all their dogs from the Oakland County Animal Shelter in Auburn Hills, MI, which happens to be a spot to which we drove 1 1/2 hours to try and find a dog the prior Friday. We visited dogs for four days in a row and met Murphy (then known as Harley) the very last day. We knew he was the one when we saw how smart he was and how willing to work. His good looks didn't hurt either. C and I picked him up the very next day and brought him home. He's been impressing us ever since with his vast knowledge of commands. I figure he is a victim of the terrible Michigan economy or he ran away from someone, because he is very well trained. (As I type this, he is barking madly out our back door. He cannot let another barking dog in the neighborhood go unanswered. He's a social kind of guy. So he's not perfect, but we all have our faults. A little mouthiness, I can deal with.)
We love him, the girls included. He will sit for both of them, which is fantastic. He will lay down while we eat and doesn't beg, as much as he wants to.
Once again, we are very lucky to have him. He gets me off my tush and forces me to walk, which is exactly what I want.
We still miss Captain and I've called Murphy Captain a couple of times in conversation, but a new dog does heal a bit of the hurt, for all of us.

School, Sailing and Dogs

2008-09-02T09:57:00.007-04:00

Things have been hard since Captain died. Parenting my girls, in addition to dealing with my own depression, has been all-consuming.

I'm ready to come back and write again.

School starts in Wednesday. My sweetie will be starting Kindergarten. I'm not worried about her adjusting because she was in Young 5's last year, so the hours are essentially the same. She will be in a new school for the first time, have a new teacher and new classmates. No one from Young 5's will be at our school and our Kindergarten-age neighbors are going in the morning. But, I know my girl, and if there's one thing she's really good at, it's making friends. She's amazing. Plus, she'll be one of the older kids and she's very smart.

Labor Day weekend was wonderful. We went to my parents' house. The girls enjoyed the beach while Joe, my dad and I took a drive to check out a new crop of windmills. It was amazing to see and so inspiring. The Thumb of Michigan is filled with farmland. I'm glad to see so many farmers making great use of some of their land and making themselves some really good money, from what I understand.

Later that day, we had a perfect sail. We got speeds over 6 knots and everyone had a good time, even often-crotchety C. Here's proof:

Yes, there's even photographic evidence that I was there.

And, now that we're home, it's back to getting ready for school and the dog search. We have a 3-year-old Boxer to meet this weekend as well as 4-month-old Black Lab puppies we've just been notified of. We're going through rescues this time around. It's certainly more difficult than going to a breeder, which is more like walking into a store and picking what you like. With rescues, it takes more time and effort to find the right dog. Plus, it's so much more important since these dogs need to settle in and learn to feel comfortable after they've been rejected by at least one owner already. Wish us luck!

My Beautiful Dog

2008-08-06T16:37:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, I kissed the best dog in the world goodbye. He was a faithful and loving companion for 3 1/2 years. As I told my husband, we were lucky we got to know him and have him in our lives. We miss you Captain.

Yum!

2008-08-05T11:44:00.002-04:00

We have, literally, a cucumber patch behind our main garden. I bought the cucumber plants as seedlings and never bothered to thin them. We enjoy several large, juicy cucumbers daily. I really can't get enough of them, and good thing. They are my favorite from the garden this year.

A new shirt for me!

2008-07-30T17:33:00.003-04:00

I've been suffering sewing withdrawals, so today, I tackled a simple project, just to get the creative juices flowing again. I'd found some cute knit fabric a while back at Joann's. I used BurdaStyle Sadie 6019. Free is always good! I think it turned out pretty well, considering my lack of knit experience/confidence. I decided to omit the double needle topstitch instructions and instead topstitched the neckline using a stretch stitch two times (very carefully). The last (and only) time I used the double needle, it made some strange jumps every few stitches and I didn't care for that.
Sorry for the extremely goofy faces. I am not photogenic at all. I'm also hoping a new camera is somewhere in the near future.

Scratch that Itch!

2008-07-29T15:12:00.003-04:00

My beloved fat cat, Merlin, has fleas. (Please, go ahead and scratch the inevitable itch the word 'fleas' caused.)

Upon this unfortunate discovery, I began my online search for a remedy. I remembered a cure a vet had prescribed years ago - a pill that kills the fleas on the cat or dog. It’s actually really amazing stuff. I soon discovered it could be purchased at a local pet store.

I took my daughters to not one, but two pet stores yesterday. These are the same daughters about whom I declared not long ago that I would not be taking them to any shopping establishments again. EVER. Of course, I broke this declaration within days of making it. I’m home with them all day, every day. Sometimes we need something from the store.

Pet stores are a special kind of torture. The first one we went to actually sells dogs. The children are in a frenzy! I’m gritting my teeth thinking of puppy mills. The employees are actually trained to try and encourage shoppers to buy a dog if they so much as turn toward the dog area. And they don’t have what we need.

So, what is the appropriate manner to treat one’s daughters in a pet store? Like pets, of course. At least, that’s where my instinct took me. As they strayed from my side, I responded with a curt whistle and clap to get them back. And you know what? They listened. They responded. I felt like a responsible, and also slightly weird, mom. As most moms are shouting their childrens’ names across stores, I’ll be the nutjob whistling and clapping my children back to safety. That’s fine. I’m cool with that.

How I broke my hip

2008-07-27T23:00:00.001-04:00

Almost 11 years ago, my life changed forever. I married the love of my life in a beautiful October wedding. The day went perfectly, without a hitch. I was more than a little surprised, just based on other wedding horror stories I'd heard, but it really worked out. If something wedding planning-related started being a pain in the butt, I nixed it. Simple and elegant was the theme.

The next day, my new husband and I flew to Jamaica for a week of pampering at an all-inclusive. We were beyond excited. This was to have been the biggest trip we'd taken together and we were married. I don't think either of us could believe it was real.

I'll be honest. I had a hard time decompressing. I was prone to depression and I think I took a slight spin down once the wedding was over. I don't know if other women go through this after their weddings, but things felt a little flat.

I was reluctant to try many things. I knew I didn't want to go scuba diving. I'd heard that was a bad idea if you're not certified. The classes they offer in the pool don't cut it. We went snorkeling and that was really fun, although the sea-life around Montego Bay looked a little dead to me. The ocean was beautiful, but it was clear that this wasn't the friendliest ocean habitat. But, it was the most relaxing and fun thing we'd done and we signed up to go again the next afternoon.

We got a couples massage. Nice. We enjoyed dinner that night. I ordered a seafood melange, or something ridiculous like that, because we were in Jamaica and seafood is good there. Right? We were scheduled to go on a horseback-riding trip the next morning. I was not really into the idea, but we'd signed up for a couple of little excursions. I picked a tour of some kind of plantation followed by a pig roast and Joe picked the horse trip up into the mountains and down into the ocean (so romantic).

The next morning, I had food poisoning, not the worst, but food poisoning nonetheless. That's what you get for eating a mixed platter of seafood in Jamaica, where we were a little nervous about DRINKING THE WATER. I was feeling like shit and shitting. I tried to be a sport though and pull it together for the horse thing. I agreed that if they opened the little shop so I could get a bottled water before we had to go, that's be cool. I'd go. Well, they opened the shop and I got my water, so we went. Yippee! This is the type of stupid thing that could drive me insane if I let it. Seriously, lock me up insane. I just have to let that one slide off my shoulders.

My horse, Joker, and I did not hit it off. He was a big, old horse. Way too big for me, I felt. But I know nothing about riding. I was just there for a little tour. Right away, I could see there was a problem. There was no horn-thingy on the saddle. Eh?? This was English style riding.. Ohhh. That explains the helmet we were wearing. Only reins to hold onto. Yuck. This I didn’t like. So I started the trip uncomfortable. Of course horses aren’t stupid – Joker knew he had a dork on his back. The guide had to hold my reins for me – I remember going up the mountain thinking ‘this is not fun. I can’t wait to get back to the resort, have a drink, and relax’.

We have pictures that a guide took of us on our horses. He had to tell me to look happy, like we love each other. I was not really happy. Uncomfortable. So we went up the mountain, down the mountain. On our way to the shore, my horse spooked at one point. He and the horse in front got into some kind of horse argument and the one in front kicked my horse. I guess Joker earned his name – maybe from the other horses. Anyway, that freaked me out. If I could have, I would have gotten off the horse and walked all the way back to the resort at that point. Seriously, I was about done with that shit. But, I didn’t have the backbone I have today and I just went along with it.

We got to the beach and the guides started taking the saddles off the horses. What the fuck? Pardon my grammar, but I wasn’t not going into no ocean without no saddle – English or Western. I was the only one in the group to sit that one out. I think there were 10 other people. Joe reluctantly went in. He didn’t want to leave me there, but I assured him it was fine. It just wasn’t for me. After that, I was seriously not happy to get back on that horse. I won’t say that I had premonitions or a ‘feeling,’ because I didn’t. I was just annoyed. I just wanted this shit to be done.

So, we’re all riding on the side of the road, heading back to the ranch, or whatever they call it in Jamaica. The next thing I remember, that horse spooked and started. You know, ran a little, jumped a little. He started up a tiny hill, like up a ditch. I wasn’t ready for that. I guess my foot got caught in the stupid, tiny, English-style stirrup. I always say, ‘the horse went up and I went down.’ I went over the left side of that horse and broke my right leg. My leg shattered just from the shear force of the horse. I landed on my left side. I do remember screaming as I went down. Probably when my leg smashed apart. I lay on my left side. Joe was there immediately, I think. It gets very fuzzy at this point. Just bits and pieces remain with me. My brain would probably have me forget the whole thing if I let it. I remember saying that it had to be dislocated. Nothing else made sense. The lady who owned the horses showed up in her car. She wanted to drive us to the hospital. She knew how long the ambulance would take. They tried, ever so gently, to roll me onto my back. One of those screams I hope to God I never make again came out of me. No, they wouldn’t try to move me. She was pretty sure it was broken. I think? I remember hearing her say that to Joe. He didn’t think it was possible either.

I remember this angel. A woman from Pennsylvania. I remember that because she told me as I lay there. She was there with her husband and her parents. She put a towel over my head so I wouldn’t keep frying in the hot noontime sun. I still have that towel and I will never throw it away. Her presence is my most vivid memory of that time. She asked me questions about myself to keep me alert. Then she told me about herself. She was amazing. To this day, I regret not finding out who she was. But, I’m glad I have a memory. Her spirit stays with me. It’s something that reminds me of how simple things can make so much of a difference. One person can.

Anyway, back to the horror story. After over an hour (so I’m told), the ambulance/old van showed up. The paramedics(?) went ahead and turned me in spite of my screams (I know it’s their job). They loaded me up and we hit the road. Literally, it felt like we hit the road. Jamaica is a third-world country, I believe. The roads were probably good as third-world country roads go. This was Montego Bay, one of the two major cities there. They drove me to the hospital. There was no fanfare. No one greeted us at the door of the ER. I don’t remember getting from the van to the ER. I remember laying in the ER and being told there were no painkillers. They were out of stock. OK, this is reality. I deal.

Then, they want to examine my leg. In the US, if you are severely injured, they cut your clothes off. In a third world country, the thing was, I was wearing some perfectly nice jeans. They took them off. Shimmied them down my shattered leg.

I remember being wheeled for xrays. So many elevators and hallways. Around and around. I remember they propped my legs here and there with foam blocks. They put a lead smock on Joe and had him hold my leg for some while the nurses went behind the wall. It was agony for me and terror for him.

At some point, the head of orthopedics came and spoke to us. He confirmed that, yes, my leg was broken, badly. At the head of the femur. He trained in the US and knew that they didn’t have the capability to handle my case there if I wanted to walk again.

They wheeled me to a ward with maybe 11 other women. I was settled in, all cozy and comfy in my bed. I think they moved me to a new bed when we got there. I’m sure I was noisy for that. They put me in traction. Strapped a sand bag to my leg, using a board and rope, and hung the sandbag over the side of the bed. They gave me pain medicine. I have no idea what they gave me. The doctor told me they weren’t legal in the US. Awesome. Well, pot isn’t legal in the US and that’s cool. I didn’t care. I was not in control here. I just took what they gave me. And it was a different color pill every time. They brought me food that I didn’t eat. At some point, the nurse from our resort showed up with this disgustingly big fruit and flower basket. Just what I needed as the only white, American in a ward full of very sick, poor Jamaicans. I'm pretty sure one woman was dying. I'm sure she felt like it because of the sounds that came out of her.

So, sticky situation: Joe needed to contact someone in the US to see how I could survive this. I’m not clear on what happened. I do know that he had to leave the hospital, where he felt I was not entirely safe, and go all the way back to the resort to make phone calls. He'd brought no money for the horse trip or there were no pay phones in the hospital, or something. I felt completely alone, in a foreign country with no one to protect me and he felt as if we was abandoning me. I think he left a message somewhere for one of my parents, either at one of their workplaces or at their home. I’m not sure if they’d gone to the dark side yet and purchased an answering machine. When we finally got home to Michigan, I checked our messages and there was a really weird one, on our home phone, from my dad. He pretty much said he’d heard I was in an accident, blah blah blah. It was so weird I just erased it immediately.

Somehow, Joe got through to someone. I’m trying to remember who he spoke to first. Someone got the ball rolling. I guess negotiations ensued. Someone from my department at work, HR from work, the insurance company and the head of orthopedics at the hospital in Jamaica. I think my dad represented me as well. At some point, the nurses in my ward were told to move me to a private room. They heard that I was some kind of VIP or something and needed privacy. By that time, which was day 2 at the hospital, the family of another patient in the ward had taken me under their wing. They were checking up on my, praying for me, etc. The move to the private room came when they weren’t there and they searched until they found me. Another set of angels.

Private rooms in Jamaican hospitals are usually reserved for those who are dying. It was palpable as they rolled me through the hall to my room. If I thought the ward was bad, this was worse. Great, now they’ve isolated me. It’s not like they had a Call button there for me. It was just a room with no one else in it. At the end of a hall. Away from pretty much everyone. Shit.

I was not given a catheter to pee. There was a bedpan for that. This thing was, I swear, 3 inches tall and metal. I had my right leg in really painful traction and pretty much it felt like it was hanging off me and I was supposed to get on this thing??? Joe managed to help me, along with a reluctant nurse, get onto it at some point. I could not pee though. Nope, not functioning. Because of that I lost my bathing suit bottom. I loved that bathing suit. I think it was the last one that actually looked good on me. Ah the little things. I gave Joe a ton of grief for that one. What a bitch.

I decided at that point that I wouldn’t drink anymore because it wasn’t worth it. I think I took a bite of some kind of fruit the entire almost 2 days I was there. It’s amazing I wasn’t puking all over the place considering that they were giving me pain meds at fairly regular intervals.

Joe arrived late the second day with our luggage. I was going home. An air ambulance was coming and I’d be flown to Florida for care. I expected a helicopter and kept listening for one.

I was shocked when two amazing men walked into my room like they owned the place. They had equipment with them. Equipment! Like, new stuff! They came in assessing the situation, with nothing but take-charge and caring in their eyes. They were firemen who volunteered as air ambulance paramedics in their free time(!). They wanted to use the sheet I laid on as a means to get me on their beautiful gurney. The Jamaicans were not so cool about that. They didn’t want to lose a sheet. I think someone’s job could have been on the line. I don’t remember how that worked out.

The paramedics took out the huge IV that was in my hand (doing nothing – the Jamaican doctor put it in and never hooked it up to anything). If I look, I can probably find the scar that left. You could see where the needle ended under my skin. (Excuse me while I puke.) The paramedic gently told me that I would, unfortunately, have to get another new one when we arrived at the hospital. I didn’t care. They determined that I was severely dehydrated and started pumping fluids. They gave me pain relief through an IV(!). It was amazing. American medicine. Safety.

I don’t remember the ride to the airport. I was on some good shit at that point. We boarded a Lear jet. I remember them telling me that it would look like my head was going to hit the top of the door when they wheeled me in. They told me it was fine, I wouldn’t hit. I think I closed my eyes. Wow – a Lear jet goes up in the stars. It is pretty much like a rocket – straight up. That’s the closest I’ll ever get to space travel. We had to land in Miami to go through customs. Then back up and on to Ft. Lauderdale to the hospital where I was to have surgery the next morning, to an ER where they had pain medicine and a catheter.

Then comes chapter 2 of the story. It gets darker from there, but obviously, I survive. Maybe I’ll get to it eventually. Here’s a teaser: Lot’s of pain and pain meds. Many tears. Some flipped tables. Antidepressants. Therapy. Still married!! More surgeries. Two babies carried on a jacked-up hip. Life.

Flowers from the garden

2008-07-26T14:07:00.004-04:00

All but the last one grown from seed.

Tortilla chips can be bad

2008-07-24T13:02:00.003-04:00

It occurs to me that the reason I'm having stomach 'issues' and a headache today may be that I consumed half a bag of lime-flavored tortilla chips last night. That may not necessarily stop me from eating the other half of the bag tonight.

Our Garden Grows

2008-07-23T18:00:00.004-04:00

And grows, and grows. I have never seen tomato plants this tall. In case you can't tell from the photo, one of the tomato plants is taller than Joe and he's 5'11". We have many many green tomatoes and I can't wait for them to ripen. My dad built the trellis for them, based on a design I saw on Cultivating Life. We've trained them up the trellis as they've grown. What a great way to grow tomatoes!

We grew that broccoli and the green beans are abundant and on the table daily.

Our garden has been much more successful than I ever expected. We just converted the area from lawn this year, so I figured we'd 'break it in' this year. We've been all organic. No chemical pesticides or fertilizers for us! There was a bunny family living in the back yard for many years, so we installed the rabbit-proof fence, which has been completely effective.

Pretty Braids for the Girls

2008-07-22T09:44:00.005-04:00

I almost never style my little girls' hair. I didn't know to start with A when she was a baby and now that she's 5, she cries any time the brush pulls too much. Her hair is thick and beautiful - completely foreign to me since mine is as fine as it comes. At the beginning of the summer, we got her a short bob and she looks fantastic with it, I think. C is way better. I put her hair in little ponytails when she was little and she is very tolerant now. Her hair is also much more managable - a little finer and much longer.
Well, I found this wonderful blog, and it inspired me to give one of her adorable styles a try. Once I did C's hair, A had to have hers done too.
Here are the results. Aren't they cute?

My First Mosaic Meme

2008-07-21T15:26:00.002-04:00

Meme
Originally uploaded by capperoo

This was really fun. Thanks to Wendy for posting one and inspiring me to do the same.
1. Stacey time!, 2. Sushi, 3. Greenhills Church, 4. Blue Morpho, 5. Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, Steve Carrell, 6. Heineken Premium Light, 7. Botanical Gardens - Hilo, Hawaii HDR, 8. Tiramisu and Namesake, 9. A Kiss For Teacher, 10. Quannah Parker's Daughters, 11. "Creative Hands" - Mindy, 12. DCP_1274_2

The questions were:
Questions:
What is your first name?
What is your favorite food?
What high school did you go to?
What is your favorite color?
Who is your celebrity crush?
Favorite drink?
Dream vacation?
Favorite dessert?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
What do you love most in life?
One word to describe you.
Your Flickr name.

And here's how you make one:

Type your answers to each of the questions below into Flickr Search .
Using only the first page, pick an image.
Copy and paste each of the URLs into the mosaic maker.

April Fools

2008-07-19T21:57:00.001-04:00

I love this song more than I can explain in words. Rufus Wainwright is amazing.

I'm not 100% on this,

2008-07-19T21:36:00.006-04:00

but the Pixies may be the greatest band ever. I mean, "Wave of Mutilation"? Are you kidding me? It's incredible.

I'm still beautiful!

2008-07-18T12:34:00.004-04:00

Joe: Go play in your room. You're a little trouble-maker!

C: OK. (Pause) But I'm still beautiful!

Us: (Uncontrollable laughter)

Joe: Maybe we've told her she's pretty once too often.

Me: You think?

More Cheeks

2008-07-17T17:39:00.010-04:00

Number 2 had some great cheeks as well.

Cheeks for weeks

2008-07-17T17:30:00.005-04:00

This is A at about 8 months old. As her daddy used to say, she had cheeks for weeks. Oh. My. Goodness. Can I go back in time and pinch them again? Then again, she still has some pretty great cheeks now:

Things my 5-year-old and 4-year old say:

2008-07-16T16:25:00.003-04:00

Oh cramp.
Pammage.