Holiday Happenings

In my opinion this is one of the most exciting times of the year. Yes, I get a little bit stressed, but I try very hard not to because at the center of all the commotion is something much deeper and much more important than what color or fabric of sweater I should purchase for my family member. Especially with Jacob being in the military, I feel I have a new appreciation for time with family, eating meals together, and enjoying conversation. I say all of this, knowing that it is cliche and admitting that I am only human. So, I got stressed. I got really really stressed last weekend.

It all started with a budget. I am very proud of my budget making abilities, but sometimes do not have the foresight or the discipline to include things like tax and just that one extra little thing I want to buy for somebody. Anyway, I have been doing really well this year. I think better than last year. So, I have been traveling around to the local stores here with a modest Christmas envelope, set aside just for gifts for our loved ones. I had allotted one last portion of the money for a couple gift. I even planned the day with a friend to go to the specific store and buy the specific thing (the store is magical and so you usually want to ask someone else if they need to go too). Anyway, what I wanted to buy was a beautiful glass casserole dish that rests in a silver holding piece with a Fleur de lis design. The collection is beautiful, and I have loved the one that I have so very much.

When you pick a display piece at the store, the associates usually go to the back and find one in a box for you. This was the case that Saturday, and the associate asked me if I would like it gift wrapped. Well, I had planned to demonstrate how to gift wrap a package on this blog, so I said, "No thank you", and moved on my merry way. Two hours later, I removed the dish from the bag to show Jacob, and to my horror, it was in a million pieces on the tile in seconds. The bag was narrow, the package was in the narrow bag sideways and un-taped. Whoops. In total shock, I began cleaning up the pieces, thinking about saving up in the weeks to come for a new casserole. As we continued cleaning, I thought I should at least try to take it back. The way it was laying in the bag didn't really make sense, and I thought I might be able to get a discount on another or buy the display at a markdown.

I entered the store with a dented silver holder, a miraculously in tact lid, and a thousand tiny shards of glass that used to be a casserole dish. I explained the situation. Of course the woman who put the dish in the bag was the first to say, "If the product left here in good condition, there is really nothing we can do about it". I picked up my box and said, "Thank you, I understand". And I did. I had some blame in this situation for not being more careful when I removed it. Almost to the door, I heard someone say, "No, no come on back in here". I turned, probably with the blood drained out of my face as the manager asked, "Is the silver piece alright? I could probably get another casserole sent to me no problem". "No," I said, "It has a pretty big dent in it". He took it back anyway.

The lady at the counter chimed in, "All we have left is the display". The manager took that display dish and delicately wrapped it in tissue paper. Another associate said, "Let him gift wrap that for you. He does the most beautiful bows". I could not believe what was happening. As my eyes filled up to the brim with tears I told them that it was really not necessary. After gentle prodding, I accepted the gift wrap, and watched, overwhelmed by kindness, as he took his time making that box look beautiful and treating me like I was the most important customer of the day. By the time it was all said and done, I couldn't even speak. Tears just streamed down my face as I attempted to get out a "Thank you".

I cried the entire way home. I cried a good 30 minutes after I got there. Something about the contrast in behavior and attitudes struck me. Being met with someone with such little empathy to someone displaying such a selfless and overwhelming act of kindness was exhausting. The shock of it was like ice bath to sauna in an instant. One experience definitely out shined the other, and I left the store with an indescribable feeling. I loved it before for the products it sold, but now I have respect and amazement for the service and the compassion. If you live in Enterprise, AL, you have probably been to "Pure Imagination". It is a great store. It is the store I am talking about in this blog. I just felt like I should write about it, saying "Thank you" in the best way I know how. That day felt like such a blessing, and it could not have come at a better time of the year.

Ramblings

We have 5 pounds of clementines in our kitchen. Thank you manager's special. I am a sucker for those signs, and when I saw the wooden crate they came in, I was taken. Not to mention, clementines are one of those things you can't get all season long (or at least I think not). New fruits, seasonal fruits, I am totally into it. Let's mix up the produce please.

Anyway, I got home and emptied out the wooden crate. My bookends have broken in a couple different places because they aren't really heavy enough to hold up my cookbooks. It is a very delicate balancing act, and if you grab something too swiftly or don't have the arrangement just right, the bookend hits the tile and the monkey glue comes out of the junk drawer. So, the crate. The crate has managed to become my new cookbook holder. It works much better, and my usual delight at free things is fulfilled.

Also, there are three creamers in my fridge. I realized I had a problem with this when I was at lunch yesterday. The lady I was eating with was telling me about how she couldn't find her normal creamer. I asked several descriptive questions and when she told me that she had given up and bought the Italian Sweet Cream, I said, "Oh yes, the pink and red bottle". Oh dear. I have such an affinity for a variety in coffee creamer. What really has me right now are all the holiday creamers. We are sort of in between seasons so the Pumpkin Spice is still out on the shelves, but the Peppermint Mocha has come in for Christmas.

A list of projects hangs up in my kitchen. They are all tasks that I feel I should accomplish before we move. Two of them have been on my mind for weeks and weeks. Do you ever have that feeling? You stare at that thing that needs to get done, but it seems so unappealing that you will do anything else to avoid it? Number one, remove mold from shower liner. I stare at it every day (please don't judge me). They are just little specks, but they stare me in the face each morning. Number two, sweep out the garage. Ever since my husband so lovingly bug bombed the area there has been a corner filled with crunchy looking insects, on their backs, legs pointed straight for the sky. Ew. Ew, but I still don't want to do it. Ew, even though I have time.

The Perfect Belt

There are exceptional moments when thriftiness has to fall by the wayside. You can ask Jacob, it's true, I make up my own rules as I go. I am referring to what I purchased on the internet yesterday and cannot deny the humor and hypocrisy of it. For his (my husband's) flight school graduation I went to Dillard's and found a beautiful dress on the clearance rack. I even managed to haggle an extra 10% off because the waisted belt that came with it was the wrong size (not to mention it was patent leather and hideous and I didn't want it anyway). In total, I spent a little over $30.00 for this black Gianni Binni dress with a pencil skirt and sophisticated sweetheart neckline.

In my mind I had images, as I think most women do, of what the complete outfit should entail. Animal print just will not leave my fashion thoughts alone these days, so I was fixated on finding a skinny waist belt with such a print. I have looked for weeks now, (the graduation is not until February, mind you) on the hunt for just the right thing. It was as if I could not rest until the matter was settled and the outfit was complete and before my very own eyes. Yesterday, I perused online, immediately finding what I was looking for on the Ann Taylor website. The belt was $38. The belt was more expensive than the dress. I didn't care. I paid for that expensive belt and that ludicrous $12.95 shipping with only a very slight hesitation. Altogether, that belt cost me $60. Is that ridiculous? I think it is. I think it is ridiculous that I pride myself on such frugality and then display that sort of behavior.

However, every once in awhile breaking up the monotony of the routine is a good thing. As I have come to find this past year, practicality can lead to low and dull places. The insensible is sometimes the most sensible choice there is.

Public shopping areas have me feeling the Christmas spirit. I feel ready to dig out the tree and the ornaments and get to it. There is nothing better than snuggling up and reading a book or watching TV by Christmas tree light. Usually I would say I would start decorating after Thanksgiving, but we won't be here. Also, we leave to visit family for two weeks out of the Christmas season. A radio station I was listening to last night asked the question, "How early is too early for Christmas decorations?" I only heard one answer and the man said, "When the trick-or-treaters start singing Christmas carols". I am assuming this is a clever little expression he made up on his own to convey his point. Trick-or-treaters don't sing Christmas songs to me. Although, the last two years we haven't had any trick-or-treaters. So maybe I don't even really know what's going on out there.

Anyway, I think I am going to put the decorations up soon. We have Xbox live radio and I am going to look for a station that plays Christmas music. It may not exist, but I will look anyway, and if it does exist, it will be playing as I happily hang wreaths and piece together our artificial and prelit Douglas-fir.

As I went to make the coffee this morning, I thought to myself, "I wonder if I will still be using these coffee filters when we live in Kansas". Oh the feelings, emotions, and events I will encounter just going through that one package of filters. I will reach into that plastic wrapping and grab a brown natural brew paper lining each day, slightly altered by the experiences of the day before. I will be the same person with ever changing circumstances. All of us are moving forward at a pace we cannot detect from moment to moment, but it is a constant movement that cannot be stopped, reversed, or slowed. That is what I think when I see the coffee filters.

More on bits of this and that

No one for class today. Hence, the opportunity to write a blog at 5:45 in the morning. I came home feeling a little bit defeated, even after belting out the lyrics to "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes. You know, "...I said hey, hey, hey, hey, what's going on?" That one. So, I came home and created my own little nook filled with pillows and my laptop, blogging by lamplight. The coffee pot, an ever giving source of comfort, is hissing and burping its way through the creation of my favorite morning beverage.

Just went and put my coffee in a Life Net Medical Services mug. Something my brother received at a training conference during his time as a Critical Care Nurse. Sometimes I search for this mug, digging it out from a place in the back of the cabinet; it reminds me of all the other little funny things he would bring me from work like an obnoxious amount of ballpoint pens or pen lights, one produced from his pocket each time I saw him. These things meant something to me because in a weird way it meant that he was thinking about me. I still remember when I started nursing school and he came to my work with a bag for me. I opened it and it had essentials like a clip board with a calculator, pens, sticky notes, etc. I looked at him with tears in my eyes, and he stared back at me like, "please this is a far cry from a situation that requires such emotional behavior". I could just tell that he was excited for me and had taken the time to specifically pick some things out that he thought would be helpful and useful. So, that is why I dig for the mug. I dig for the mug because it is comforting and it reminds me of that quirky relationship we have with layers and layers of humor, beneath it lying a strong and unspoken bond.

I don't think I ever had the opportunity to blog about the roasted heads of garlic that I made for a recipe. The recipe itself was not that spectacular, but the garlic turned out to be amazing. It is really much more simple than I imagined it would be (so are many of the great mysteries in cooking). If you visit this website http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/roasted_garlic you can get the recipe for yourself and enjoy. If you love garlic, you will love the way this whole process makes your house smell. It is glorious. The website also recommends some great ways to use the garlic such as spreading it over warm french bread or mixing with sour cream for a topping on baked potatoes. Yum.

Blogging has been secondary to a lot of other things I have been doing lately. I learned from briefly reading "The Pioneer Woman's" blog that you should nurture and water your blog daily just like you would a house plant. My house plant would be crispy and brown by now. Let me tell you the kinds of things I have been experiencing that have kept me away. I was at a clinic last week, sitting by myself, when a prospective customer came into view. He walked over to my table and asked, "Is this where I can get my rabies shot?" Wow, did it take self control to respond to that one. It just smacked me upside the head with unexpectedness. Then, bam, without time to recuperate, this woman wheels her cart up, parks it in front of my table, and begins trying on sweatshirts, asking my opinion. She lays her hangers down on the table top. Guess I wasn't really using it anyway. She also insists that I examine the two shirts she has tried on that say they are the same size, but could not possibly be. Labels are folded out so that I can verify, shirts are held up together at the same time so I can experience a baffling visual of the difference in size. During that week I also served as translator on a cell phone, dressing room director, and got asked several times where the Halloween items were located.

One thing I did enjoy about being so still and observant was looking at what people were buying. I particularly liked the baby doll in the older gentleman's cart. He looked so sweet and so patient. It reminded me of the things that my grandfather would buy for me. He volunteered at the hospital for years and would often bring me things from the gift shop. I still have this Ty brand bear, dressed in a clown suit that he gave me. I was probably too old for it at the time, but I loved it and have kept it all these years. It wasn't what he bought me, it was that he thought of me. I could just imagine him standing in there wondering what in the world a young girl would think was a neat gift. I have noticed that older people have a tendency to pick gifts reminiscent of their generation. This fresh perspective has the potential to introduce us to part of their past as well as giving us something new to try or experience. Yesterday, my dad and step mom and I were discussing some of the stories my grandfather used to tell. One of my personal favorites was about when he quit smoking. During this time he took the cash he usually spent on cigarettes, and stashed it in the top of the hall closet. He said week after week and month after month it collected, until eventually he opened the door and money just cascaded out around him, hundreds and hundreds of bills. He was a bit of an exaggerator.

One last thing about Walmart. Sitting there, I had the opportunity to see several female college students and observe how they were dressed. I remember those times, hair in a large knot on top of the head, Ugg boots went with anything, lot of sweat pants and sweat shirts. Looking at it now, though, it is pretty ridiculous. Running shorts must be like the new cotton Soffes, which is fine. What is not fine is that they are being paired with everything from boat shoes, to uggs, to rainboots, to these sporty and masculine looking strappy sandals that I had not seen before. I am by no means the guru on fashion, but these odd pairings are just that...odd.

Take a Little Trip

Next to me on the nightstand is a collection of sorts. A half eaten Milky Way, a partial cup of old coffee from breakfast, a plastic water bottle with a quarter remainder of water, an apple, and a pile of books with one of my favorite magazines. It is 11 AM and I have not showered. I rolled out of bed at 8:15 to throw on some clothes and get a bite to eat before they started putting away the continental breakfast. This is not really a typical representation of the way I conduct myself.

I am computer-less and therefore journaling in a traditional way, pen to paper. Thinking it might be nice to peel myself away from the cable TV, I turned to the back pages of my planner and here I am. This feels like a total day of indulgence without an agenda, and a television full of programs that we no longer have at home. I am even considering going back to sleep after I write this.

My location is Marietta, GA, and I came here for a variety of reasons, all which involve an element of fun. Wednesday I woke up, taught my 5:10 AM yoga class, showered, packed, went to work, purchased a house warming gift, and drove to Acworth, GA for a brief stay with my good friend Anna, from nursing school, and her husband. I had not visited her house before this and it was surreal. Last time we hung out we were both in Missouri with very different lives. We spent weekends in her college apartment with our friend and her roommate Nikki. We were unmarried and overstressed with the burden of a nursing school schedule. But here I was now, in the south, in her house, with her husband, and all of the time has passed so quickly.

Thursday morning I woke up again to see what I refer to as "ridiculous hours of the day", to battle five lanes of congested Atlanta city highway traffic. I could envision the ends of my nerves unfraying as I was mushed between semis and trapped at a standstill with cars with blinker signals cutting in front of me, just barely enough room to avoid rubbing metal to metal. I was trying to make it on time to a place I had never been for a yoga conference. Knowing that a time or two the GPS had led me astray, I was praying for accuracy that morning.

As if the early morning hours were not a large enough source of irritation, I arrived at the conference location to discover that the parking for the day would be $15. I begrudgingly pressed the button for my ticket, imagining my true rebel wish where I just ram through the mechanical arm with my car, coming into fruition. With a very conservative exterior, I instead took my ticket and politely drove through, maintaining the safe and courteous speed limit.

I love yoga, learning about it, sharing it, meeting others who love it, so the fact that I enjoyed the conference really is unnecessary to say. It was in a beautiful Hilton Hotel with spacious conference rooms for the different workshops. The master trainer was a true inspiration with her smorgasbord of a resume including hula dancer, Licensed Massage Therapist, ballroom dancer, and degree in kinesiology (it makes my own multi-interest life seem less irrational). Anyway, I learned many new ways of using props and modifications to be able to bring yoga to a greater range of age groups.

My favorite part really came at the end of the day when I left the parking lot. A line of cars began accumulating at the toll booth. After a few moments it became evident that one thing or another was malfunctioning. The woman at the front of the line stepped out of her car and started pressing buttons. With one hand on her hip and the other on her forehead, she scanned the lot looking for solutions. The arm was not moving, it would not let her car pass. In a few minutes, an employee arrived to provide assistance. After pushing and prodding the system, he could find no other solution to, wait for it...REMOVE THE METAL ARM FROM ITS BASE! In shock I smiled, eternally grateful that my $20 remained in my lap as I passed him, smiling and waving like a fool in a parade. Ha, I said to that rail. Ha, I thought to that hotel and their crazy expensive parking rates.

Driving to my hotel that night, I encountered more traffic. Exhausted and hungry, I had little reserve left for kindness. The person at the check in desk refused to let me have the room we had reserved under my friend's name, as she and two other friends would join me the next night. After arranging that bunch of junk, she handed me a key, room 120, and gave me verbal directions. Following these directions, I pulled around to the breezeway and parked, all odd numbers on the doorways. Ick. I looped around the building, cursing my own inability to solve the mystery of the missing even numbered rooms. Back up to the counter, I tell her I can't figure it out. She shows me a map. Ah, yes, the bit about how the even rooms are on the interior side of the building would have been nice, thanks.

The saving grace of the night was a Cracker Barrel, right next door to the hotel. Eating at a home style chain away from home always does something good for me. I had never eaten at a restaurant by myself, but at this point had almost lost sight of caring. They sat me at a corner table, next to a window, with my own kerosene lamp lit, shedding a soft glow of light onto the nighttime view. The gift shop entrance had been warm and welcoming, decorated with fall and Christmas items. I ordered the usual, hot chocolate and eggs-in-the-basket, over hard with turkey sausage (always a treat with a pork allergy) and that oh-so-comforting cheesy hash brown casserole. Feeling full and more composed, I shopped around the Cracker Barrel store, smelling the candles, playing with the toys, enjoying the company and presence of strangers.

Inspired

The first time I put ads on my blog I found they were advertising things like products for refinishing furniture, cooking websites, and local furniture stores. Today, I log on, and the first advertisement I see is for ADHD medication. Seeing as though the other ads were topic related to my blogs, has the blog decided to acknowledge the fact that I am so all over the place, I might have ADHD? I don't know. I do know that when my grandmother came to stay with me this summer she labeled me as hyperactive. I think all around we might be on to something here. My mother told me that as a small child I was "busy". Busy, of course meaning bad. Also meaning hyperactive. I like to refer to it as well-rounded and productive.

Watching the news this morning I heard the local newscaster announce that she had been keeping her windows and sliding glass doors open at night because of the cooler weather. This just didn't seem like the best thing to me to announce on public television. I often feel at home here watching the news because they are about on the same page as KQ2.

I am feeling alive and awake here this morning due to the caffeine and beginning the day with a yoga class. When I wake up at 4:30 A.M. I think to myself, "What is going on here? I really hate seeing this time of day". When I get to the gym and my students show up, I am not only feeling optimistic but also enthusiastic. I cannot believe that other people would willingly join me at that time of morning. It is so refreshing and inspiring. I truly love to teach and adore the thought of helping other people relax and appreciate themselves and their abilities, right where they are. The concept of letting go of competition and feeling challenged yet successful is revitalizing. I am continually blessed to be able to teach.

One of the things I love most about coming home at that time in the morning is the coffee pot. I try to set it the night before so that when I walk through the door I can smell it and feel like someone just did something really thoughtful for me. I am, however, drinking my coffee through a straw this morning in response to a comment from my dear, sweet husband. He doesn't really like the idea of coffee anyway, so I think he finds little moments to put negative thoughts about it in my head. We went to the beach this weekend and in the car he turns to a smiling me and pauses, fixes his gaze on my teeth. Maybe being somewhat self-centered I think to myself, "Okay, prepare for the compliment, you have beautiful teeth". Instead Jacob asks me if I brushed them this morning. I said, that was a gross question, of course I did. He followed it up with a, "Well, they just look kind of yellow today, maybe it's from all of the coffee". We of course exchanged several phrases after these comments, and today I am drinking my coffee through a straw.

The last thing I really wanted to comment on was a book I just read called "Angela's Ashes" by Frank McCourt. It was full of beautiful detail, a gripping memoir that won the Pulitzer Prize. His living conditions at various points in his life in Ireland are less than optimal, usually bordering on dismal. His father is an alcoholic that drinks away what little assistance they receive from the government. At one point, they are even ripping up floor boards for firewood for warmth in their tiny apartment. The lavatory for the entire street is right outside their kitchen windows. Again and again, he is rejected for respected positions in his town such as altar boy because of his economic status. Close family members even ridicule him, never forgetting to remind him that he is no better than his drunken father. He does not lose sight of his goal. He is resourceful, he supports his family the moment he is allowed to go to work.

There are so many other wonderful things to say about this book. It is just remarkable the circumstances he is exposed to and the level of responsibility that is placed on him, even as a small child. What touched me the most was the reminder that having a full belly and decent bed to sleep on is a luxury. So far removed from true poverty, many of us are in pursuit of items that are far beyond the title of basic necessity. I know that personally at times I have felt sorry for myself not being able to afford a certain brand or buy an extra TV or piece of furniture for the house. The reminder that this reality is so different from the reality that many many others in the world are facing was necessary for me. This book presents the concept of resilience from a circumstance that is probably unimaginable or unthought of from most American's perspectives. It was a struggle and a joy to read.

Let's go out into the world today and live and appreciate.

Hello Fall

These pumpkin cupcukes can help you experience fall wherever you may be. It is still 90 degrees here most days. I made the pumpkin cupcakes and what happened? Boom, instant fall, right there in my kitchen. Honestly, though, they are very simple, and they taste delicious. The recipe comes from a Real Simple Magazine that came out in Fall 2009.

1 18.5 oz box yellow cake mix
1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice
15 oz can pumpkin puree
2 8 oz bars cream cheese, softened at room temperature
2 cups confectioners' sugar
24 pieces of candy corn

Heat the oven to 350. Prepare the cake mix as instructed on the box, substituting the amount of water required for the can of pumpkin puree. Line the muffin tins with paper cups, filling each 3/4 full.

Bake for 18-22 minutes, when a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

For the frosting, use an electric mixer to beat the cream cheese and powdered sugar together until creamy. Top each cooled cupcake with the frosting and piece of candy corn. Voila!

The longer I sit here, the more I am thinking about that ridiculous topic on the news about "Toasted Leg Syndrome". Did anyone else here about that? There was a woman that said she spent 5 hours a day or something crazy like that on her laptop. She ended up with this condition. I guess it is similar to a sunburn. It is caused by the heat that the computer generates and blows out the bottom to try to remain cool. I just keep thinking to myself, "Why don't you just find a flat surface besides your legs? If your legs feel hot, move the computer". I think that, and then I realize that my own legs feel a little warm. If end up with Toasted Leg Syndrome I will have to admit that my common sense has expired.

There has been a little bit of mold behind the faucet of my kitchen sink for weeks. I kept saying I was going to take care of it, but it took me awhile to get around to it. By the time I finished with all the day to day cleaning, I would stare at it, and go sit on the couch. I should have received avoidance points. Avoidance points for that, cleaning the oven, and wiping down the top of the refrigerator. Once those things get done, you realize it wasn't so bad, but for me, they are always the chores I stare down, think about, and turn away from. Anyway, the mold problem was so pleasingly simple. I soaked four or five cottom balls in bleach and lined them along the back of the sink. I let the bleach soak in the area for a good 20 minutes. I removed the cottom balls and wiped the surface to reveal a clean and polished looking sink. So very easy.

We are making our way to the beach today for the "Music, Seafood and Wine Festival" at Panama City Beach. R.E.O. Speedwagon is performing as musical guest. I could not be more excited. This time last year Jacob was at SERE for three weeks, so, I am treating all of these events like precious gold. I bought pumpkins at the Commissary for us to carve. Ours sat out on the porch last year, sad and lonely little pumpkins. This fall is a beautiful new season.

Carry on Regardless...

This past weekend I went to a yoga training session in Pensacola, FL. I got up at 4 A.M. or something ridiculous like that to make it there on time. Usually when I travel around this area, the GPS tends to take me on some one lane country highways. During the day, I love these scenic routes, I find them relaxing. When it's still dark outside, it's another story. There are so many deer just standing up at the side of the road looking at you. On the way there, I flipped through some radio stations, settling on something that I felt was upbeat and helpful for keeping me awake. As I start to sing the words, "ah, ha, ha, ha stayin' alive" looking out at the several sets of glowing eyes along the highway, I laugh at the irony. As if that wasn't bad enough, I drove home from Pensacola in the dark as well. I kid you not, the song "Stayin' Alive" came on again and there were just as many if not more deer.

In a reminiscent moment, Michael Bolton's "Said I Loved You but I Lied" was played. I was transported back to childhood in my mother's Ford Topaz when nothing could have separated her from her Michael Bolton cassette tape.

I am feeling a little less than inspired this morning.

1. We have no coffee creamer. There is 1% milk in my coffee and it is nothing short of awful. I sprinkled some cinnamon on top. Now I have cinnamon on top of awful.

2. I am worried about the success of this class I am teaching at 5 in the morning.

The class is early, intended to be a PT option. I have been lucky enough to have two people show up the first day and three show up today. The two mornings I have arrived, I have been a nervous wreck until I've seen some faces. I have been practicing and praying for this opportunity to come along. I just want to make it something good. We don't get a full hour, but I do feel blessed to have the time in there at all. It's just one of those things that I built up in my mind and looked so forward to, and now that it's here, it's not what I thought it would be. It's probably another exercise in patience, another lesson in humility.

Haven't you ever felt like that? I am sure you have. You have all this energy and excitement behind an idea, and it just falls a little bit short of the grand scenario in your head. I guess the most important part is how you carry yourself moving forward. Maybe it's a morning for some Van Morrison "Carry on Regardless".

One of my flu shot clinics got off to a beautiful start this morning. I arrived at the retail store to discover that, oh, thank goodness, the self-assembly required signs were delivered today. I took my supplies and stack of bound signs to the clinic location and began to set up. Stumbling around to get started, because of course there were people waiting before I even made it to the table, I hear an employee of the store say, "You are wastin' somethin' outta there". I look around, wondering to myself what on earth that phrase could possibly mean. Finally, I gaze upon my water bottle, tipped over in the shopping cart with the supplies, leaking out all over the floor. At this point I am irritated but still amazed at that awkward phrase, "You are wastin' somethin'". Never in my life have I heard such wording to describe a spill.

Once every ounce of water was soaked up off the floor, I focused my attention on the giant blue signs, ready for assembly. The employees watched me as I struggled to pull them out one by one from the grips of a zip tie. Somehow, no one managed to produce a pair of scissors. I asked, but it was probably much more entertaining without them. I began to sweat as I assembled an approximately 7 foot trifolded sign. Just as I would accomplish tucking in a tab, another would pop loose and I would have to begin all over again. I am sure after this display of inadequacy no one was trusting me with a needle in his/her arm.

Perseverance prevailed and I made it through the beginning of a day which seemed more like a complex obstacle course than a clinic set up.

At the end of the shift, I went to the grocery aisle looking for ingredients in a risotto recipe. Really the only ingredient I needed was arborio rice. I didn't see it and was all out of ideas in my calorie deprived brain. I knew I wouldn't be able to think straight until I purchased a Milky Way and ate at least half. This proved to be true, and on the way home I felt as pleased as I ever do when I discover I don't need to purchase a thing. We had chicken, a can of baked beans, a large potato, and some bbq sauce in the fridge. So, our dinner consisted of bbq grilled chicken, home fries, and baked beans. I made the home fries by cutting the potato length-wise into several thin strips. I made a mixture of mayonnaise, seasonings, hot sauce, and bread crumbs, coating the potato wedges. The sliced potato went on a greased baking sheet and into the oven for about 40 minutes. Delicious.

The night ended with a yoga class on post. I usually feel like I need to soak in some epsom salt after yoga with Flora...in a good way. She challenges me to a level that causes me to feel growth and humility all at the same time. Each week I think I improve, and I am always learning a new way of doing things from her. As an aspiring teacher, I could not ask for a better guide. The verbal cues she gives for positioning and body alignment are great. It feels like a very intense but safe workout. I picked up a schedule before class and smiled with excitement to see my very own name on next month's schedule. To be able to teach and be able to learn simultaneously represents a principle I want to apply to all aspects of life. I want to learn, to grow, and to share forever and ever.

Finished

Woo hoo! Project complete, and I could not be happier. My friend Emily did a great job helping me distress each of the nighstands. I know I was testing her patience a bit as I worked in big chunks and slathered on too much brown paint. I asked her to go back after I was finished and fix a few places. She did, and now they match and are not overly done. She said, "You just want a sort of shadow" and you do, really. We did the technique using craft brushes and watering down the paint. You apply the diluted paint in areas that you have sanded (like the corners that would naturally wear) and then wipe the area with a lint free cloth.

Once Emily was finished, I told her she should put the hardware on so we could get the full picture (I, of course, was still slathering on excessive amounts of the brown paint). She put the knobs on and remarked, "Oh, how cute". She got to the handle on the bottom drawer and said, "Erica, oh no". Well, not being the type to measure, or the type to really think about this sort of thing, I purchased a handle with a width that did not fit the drill holes. All that matters is the look you are going for, right? Measurements come later. So, my husband had a little extra work with the drill. It turned out alright, I might go back later with some wood filler and smooth over those old holes.

I wanted to be so precise with time and money spent. I worked in good faith, but cannot deliver. Instead of keeping a log, I allowed the time portion to blur together, and I currently do not feel up to looking at past blogs for a budget analysis. I believe it is approximately $80.00 a nightstand. I think they look great and will serve as furniture that will last us through the years. Many times I have a very specific picture in my mind of what I want for the house. Being able to refinish something gives me that opportunity and can potentially save money. Do not, however, plan on saving any time. If it is a hobby, then the time spent is like a bonus. If you need a quick fix, you might not find this sort of thing so satisfying. I would say I probably put 4 hours worth of work into the project...maybe a little more.

The other images are from a baby shower I had for a friend. These are a few simple yet elegant solutions for decorations. They also cost next to nothing. I borrowed the vases from a friend. She bought a collection of them from a thrift store and split the cost with someone. The different shapes and shades of blue look beautiful grouped together. The tulle at the bases had already been purchased for gift wrapping purposes. The shower was for a boy, and I felt this elegant look still took on the title of decoration without being "cheesy baby". The frames were from around the house. I removed the pictures, cut scrap sewing fabric down to size as matting, and printed the words out on the computer. Simple, chic, affordable.

Well, I happen to have several thoughts today. None of them really go together, so just keep reading and maybe at least one thing will peak your interest.

I saw a sticker on an Escalade that passed in front of me at the Commissary. It said "Escalady". The woman's car was tattoed with a few other over-sized messages. These sorts of things give me the silent, inside laughter.

Once I was inside the store I started to notice that I wasn't having to squeeze down aisles past other people and desert my cart to walk to a section that was overcrowded to get something. "This is really nice," I thought to myself. The other thing I began to realize was that because I wasn't so rushed and squashed I had time to do a little price comparing. I usually try to do this with each shopping trip anyway, but sometimes it is easier to accomplish than others. So, this is my recommendation: if you have the flexibility and leisure in your schedule to grocery shop at different times during the weekday, take advantage of it. The more time you have, the more money you will save. Also, if the agitation of an overcrowded aisle is not biting away at your patience, you are more likely to remember what you came for, find the best deal, and get the item into your cart instead of giving up and saying, "Oh, forget about it. I'll just come back later".

When you get home with your groceries, it is the perfect time to do dual duty and clean out the fridge as well. Pull your trashcan over and rid yourself of those week-old leftovers while making space for the new things at the same time. Today I found three old bananas in the fruit basket that I just could not bare to throw away. They were in the perfect condition for banana bread, and I have such a simple and delicious recipe for it. The recipe is from Paula Deen, and I want to share it with you here in hopes of giving a second life to old bananas everywhere. You don't even need an electric mixer!

The recipe yields 1 loaf

1/2 cup butter, at room temperature
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour, sifted
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
3 ripe bananas, mashed

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9x5 inch loaf pan. In a mixing bowl, combine the butter and sugar; mix well. Add the remaining ingredients and mix well. Pour the batter in the pan and bake for 50 minutes.

This is from "The Lady and Sons, Too" cookbook which has many other simple and delightful recipes.

Unrelated to baking, and maybe will make you not want to eat anything at all, is a thought about a smell. I was getting wafts of it from a man the other day while giving flu shots. After thinking about it for a moment, I almost opened up my mouth to ask him, "Do you have cats at home?" but then thought better of it because how could I explain why I asked that question? Short of saying, "Well I just thought I could smell it," what would I do? So, I kept myself quiet and decided that you probably shouldn't ask a person that question...ever.

Another Visit to Lowe's

I am sad to say that I had to spend a little bit more money. The stain just wasn't going to work for the furniture, so I had to get some paint. Hopefully someone else can eventually use the stain. Or maybe I will find something else for which it would be appropriate. The total cost was $47.30. I ended up purchasing a gallon of Valspar paint, another can of primer spray, a Valspar sample size of paint, a paint can opener (tired of using the flathead screwdriver), another drop cloth (probably unnecessary, but the least of my expenses), a set of hobby brushes, and a mini paint roller.

I have to say, though, that those should be the last of the purchased items. I remain very pleased with a price of approximately $85.00 a nightstand. I have still seen much more expensive and substantially less quality pieces for double the price. Plus, it gives me something to look forward to and something to do with my time. The hobby brushes and sample size of paint are for the finishing details. My friend Emily is going to help me use the brown paint, "bark" to be exact, around the trim with a dry brush. In fact, she was over today and said she has several brushes she could bring. She has a vision for these things, and her excitement was contagious and now I am excited.

It was officially baby shower weekend this past weekend. Went to one on Friday and had one myself here on Sunday. I love events like these. Friday night we played several fun games. One was a "guess that tune" sort of thing. Every song that was played had baby or a version of that word in the title. We had to guess the song and the artist. I won't go through all the games, but they were fun and different. The woman who had the shower had her mother in town for the event. It's strange how even just having someone else's family member visit makes me feel at home and at ease. I have especially noticed this to be true with moms. A mom just seems to set the tempo for comfort and relaxation. The other thing I find almost equally comforting is a good fall candle. The scent of cinnamon pumpkin reminds me of moms and clean houses and Sunday naps.

Tonight I was in the garage, finishing up the last little bit of painting. I turned my head sidways to get a better view of the underside of the drawer I was working on (yes, inconveniently enough, the drawers don't come all the way out). When I was upright again, I felt something drip down. Illogical thought #1 "It is raining". Illogical thought #2 "I am bleeding". Third time was the charm...ding, ding, ding, it is paint. My hair was pulled back, however, it is so layered that a large chunk from the top landed itself right in the paint can that I had setting oh so close to me. The worst part really is that my favorite gas station t-shirt from Florida has paint on it now. Maybe it will come out in the wash. Really I just liked it that I thought it was raining. I even stopped what I was doing to listen for it.

Just thought I would also let you know that I continue to prove sewing is not my forte. I wanted so desparately to make a beautiful baby blanket for my friend's shower today. I planned to work on it Saturday because I expected that sewing two pieces of material together would probably only take about 30 minutes maximum. From the time I woke up that morning until about 8 o'clock at night I attempted just to make something presentable. How could a person make this sort of task so difficult? I still have no idea. My only excuse I will allow myself is that one of the materials was thicker and a little bit slick. There were many choice words, moments of just stretching out on the floor and closing my eyes, a time where I told Jacob he needed to leave the house, and many fuzzy red pieces stuck in the carpet after four times of cutting off the parts I had sewn. There were also tears. A couple of times. There is no greater frustration than not being able to master a skill.

Humbled, humbled, humbled, until the day was done. I was exhausted, but I was not going to give up. And I finally told myself, this is something you wanted to do, something you wanted the baby to have and love. Quit putting all your pity and anger vibes into this blanket (my friend Anne Marie, whom the blanket was for, knows a lot about vibes). So, I finished it up with a little bit of patience and the most loving attitude I could muster at that point in the day. Today I was proud to give it to her, but I wish I had known it wasn't going to turn out closer to perfect. I would have definitely gone the store route and saved the craftiness for a rainy day and a project that wasn't a gift.

Just takes awhile

This morning I went out to the garage to work on the nightstands. The challenges for me have been 1. The weather and 2. My patience. My patience should probably actually be number one. I love projects, I really do. It's just that I have this picture in my mind when I buy a piece, and I wish it could instantly become that imagined image. The work usually only becomes gratifying for me when it is all finished up and I can begin using the furniture. So, I guess I write this to encourage and not discourage. Just wanted people to know that even those who love projects grow impatient with them at times. And also, anyone can do this. I would not call myself John handy man or anything extreme like that.

Working on them this morning probably only took about 40 minutes. God bless the spray cans of primer. I find them to be so much less hassle than a brush and a can. The only thing I can't decide is if they prime the piece as well. After it dried, I had to go back over the wood with a sanding block a little bit because it appeared that there was still some peeling. Primer is always an exciting part, I think, because it's the first time the object looks fresh, clean and ready for a new start. The shape, which is the reason I usually choose a piece, becomes pronounced because you are no longer distracted by the ugly color, the old peeling finish, or the damaged areas. You can just have a glance at the potential and really see it taking on a new life. It is a fresh breath of air every time.

Reusing feels good to me. It feels economical, it feels creative, it makes me feel connected. I like using something that someone else had. One of my favorite things is guessing where it came from and what it was used for. I especially love very old things, things from family members, and stuff that smells just a little bit like grandma's house. Looking for this stuff is like a continual treasure hunt. What I find in thrift stores has a 100 times more character than what I can pick off the shelf at a superstore. Not to totally discount superstores, because a lot can be found there as well. I just have a passion for reinventing and recycling. I love taking the bare bones of a project and creating it into something that merges the old look with my own style.

Things with a distressed finish are also very military friendly. We could move a million times, most of our furniture could be dropped or bumped each time, and it would only come out looking better and more authentic.

I thought I won something

Dear Real Simple Magazine,

Probably shouldn't e-mail those who have entered your essay contest with a message entitled "You have been selected" only to inform them that they may receive two free issues of People Stylewatch. Just saying. It felt like the time that Jacob and I thought we won thousands of dollars from the McDonald's monopoly game.

I worked another 45 minutes on the nightstands. Night time is the right time; it is so much more enjoyable with the decreased heat. With my best judgment I have decided to paint them rather than attempt to stain. The sides of the tables are not real wood, therefore, the chemical stripper removed their finish as well as their wood grain. I just don't think stain would end up looking right. So, instead, I am going to paint them a buttercream color and use a dry brush with brown paint to distress them a bit. I just need to get on it and finish them! Can't wait to actually have matching pieces on either side of the bed and for each of us to have our own drawers to put our books and magazines in. It's the little things.

Little bit of this, Little bit of that

Well, I finally did it. Cleaned the car out of the last remaining little bits and crumbs that my nephew left in the backseat. It's funny how it hurts to do strange things like that. As neat of a person as I enjoy being, I think cleaning up the mess meant admitting the visit was over. It's funny how a leftover juice box in the fridge or a certain smell or a travel bottle of shampoo in the shower can make your heart twinge a bit. The remnants of visitors, if left unattended for only awhile, puts my mind at ease. These things will still be waiting here because they are not gone. It always takes a few days for these irrational attachments to crumbs or inantimate objects to subside. The last sparkly horse bracelet was recovered from under the TV stand. The trip is officially over.

On a humorous note, the bowling alley in town proved to be a real gem of a find on a Friday night. Between the over aged bra-less woman in a white spaghetti strap tank and the young gentleman in the over-sized jersey with a miniature ghetto follower, I was set for the night. The older lady flew the double bird at the lane once shouting to her little grandson, "The damn nine pin. I'm tired of it. Tired of it." And boy could she get a little dance move going.

Actually, a lot of people here thought they had the gift of dance. I suppose alcohol factors in to this a bit, but boy were some booties bumpin'. The bowling alley is the new club. With great hits like "Fancy", "Don't Mess With My Man", "Lollipop", and "Air Force Ones" how could one not bring their A-game grinding skills? The room was full of free entertainment and plenty of people who should not have been providing it. The man and little gangster follower were reclined back, one in front of the other in chairs at a table, representin' with the one hand back and forth gyration.

I bowled a 108. Just thought I would throw at least one neutral statement in here.

Started It

I reserve the right to recant the following statement at any point and time; a Walmart nightstand is looking pretty good right now. It probably didn't help that I decided to begin the nightstand project in my Alabama garage at high noon. I really wanted to try to follow the directions with this one, as I rarely do. I removed the hardware on both nighstands, spread out my plastic drop cloth, and wiped the furniture down. In order to apply the chemical stripper it says to wear heavy duty gloves (this stuff burns). After about 30 minutes of scraping and sanding I cried uncle and had to take a break inside. As I removed the gloves, sweat dripped out from the inside. That's when I knew I was done for the time being. It will be much more productive to work in the evenings. Maybe the gnats and the mating flies will not swarm me at night time. Let's log about 1 hour of work for today.

Dinner last night had the potential to make me puke in my mouth. It was a crab bisque from Paula Deen. Paula obviously did not make the error. This girl here misread some measurements and ended up with 42 ounces of crab meat in a small amount of broth. Very fishy. Very thick. Very unappetizing. I felt a little bit uneasy as I kept manually opening and draining so many cans of crab. This couldn't be right I thought, but pressed on anyway. The whole thing went down the disposal. I asked Jacob, "Could we have this again? I think it could be really good if it was made correctly". He said, "It will have to be awhile. We need time to forget about this". Haha.

A More Personal Note

I had a dream two nights ago that all my sister-in-law, Audrey, needed were two bags fulls of socks. The specific request was, "any color, any texture, and they don't have to match". That's all I remember about it.

My waking life has lately become as random as this dream. I have learned to knit, sew, play golf (very poorly, I probably shouldn't even count this one), instruct yoga, fish, cook, and refinish furniture. Every minute of it has been an adventure. Will I ever rediscover a practical side to myself? I suppose I still clean and clip coupons. Those things seem to be practical.

One dream that I specifically want to accomplish is to have a published piece of writing before I die. Whether it be a research article, something submitted to a magazine, or a book, I don't care. I even have a concept for a children's book that I should probably just draft for the fun of it. So many ideas, so much nonsense.

I've spent a lot of my life thinking that new ideas and creativity were for other people. What's the hang up?

Supplies

Went to Lowe's yesterday. Had a male non-employee approach me and tell me he was "pretty much like an employee" because he was in the store so often. Hence, his offer to help me find whatever I needed for my project. He didn't completely creep me out, but it was a little strange. Luckily a female, who was actually an employee, came to the rescue and accompanied the two of us as we searched for the supplies. Yes, I said the two of us because the man continued to follow us around the store. The following items ended up in my "buggy" (the southern term for shopping cart):

1 quart of wood stain
4 knobs
2 handles
1 quart of chemical stripper
2 sanding blocks
1 package of lint free wiping cloths
2 foam brushes
2 plastic drop cloths
1 11.5 ounce can of satin polyurethane finish
1 biodegradable paint tray
1 pair of heavy duty gloves (so as not to burn my skin)

Grand Total: $67.39

I have to admit I was a little disappointed at how much I spent. However, if I need no additional supplies for the project, I will have managed to only spend approximately $64 on each night stand. Not bad. I will also take into account the time it takes to complete the project. As we all know, time is sacred and, therefore, must be documented to give an honest representation of how much this is all worth.

Cleaning and Saving

This is for you penny pincher wise-spenders out there. I was pricing nightstands for our bedroom and was quite disheartened to discover what I discovered. What I found was that even the flimsy, self-assembly nightstands at, say a Target or Walmart, were over $100 a piece. Not being able to bare the thought of spending such a pretty penny on pieces that probably will not stand the test of time, I began thrifting for them. I came up with a pair of sturdy Broyhill matching nightstands in a less than desirable oak with outdated hardware. But they are substantial. And the appearance is easily altered. And they will be custom to my taste. And they were each marked 34.50!!! My equally thrifty friend Jen said, "Now don't pay that price. Tell him you'll give him 60 for the pair". And I did! And he said okay!

My plan is to keep my receipts and a running tab of my supplies and time spent. I will share that here as well as pictures of the finished product. This way we can compare and see if it was all worth it.

On to the next bit of business. This particular discovery has made my life so much easier already, and I just came up with it yesterday. Family is coming, so I was doing some preparatory cleaning. I reached under the sink in the kitchen for the wet mop attachments to the Swiffer, when I noticed the little box of dry attachments that I never use. I bought them a year ago and haven't touched them since because I am so in love with the scent of the wet attachments. Also, I have discovered I am pretty traditional and mostly enjoy using a broom if I am going to sweep. Like the true thriftster that I am, I wanted to make use of these dry Swiffer sheets. I took the box upstairs and used a sheet on my ceiling fan blades. I took a sheet to the baseboards in our bedroom. I dusted our TV, our dresser, our side table. I am telling you, these are miracle sheets for dusting your house. They trap the dust, not allowing it to fall down on your face, or stir up from the bottom and get in your nose. MIRACLE. Quick, easy, efficient, excellent. Nuff said.

Actually, not enough said because they are odorless and chemical free (I'm pretty sure) and I would imagine that if you had children this would be an additional plus. I guess it's a plus for us all because you aren't breathing in any fumes.

So I tried to Sew

Over a month ago I signed up for this beginner's sewing class. Now when I say beginner, I mean I have little to no experience with a sewing machine. The machine I had I opened the night before class. I was instructed to bring everything that came with my machine. That was exactly what I brought: the machine, the manual and the extra pieces in the storage chamber. I sat down, saw others walking in with their machines, sewing kits, getting things started. Beginning to feel a little uneasy at this point. These people are more prepared than I was, and it is starting to bother me.

Class begins and my cell phone rings. Super. Thought I had turned it off, but okay, whatever, I didn't, let's move on. We are instructed to get out a needle and thread it. Looking around, I see the class following suit. I have no needle. I have no thread. I was instructed to bring my machine and everything that came with it. I have my machine and everything that came with it, and it is obviously not right. The pet peeve rage is beginning to flame its little embers. I asked specifically what to bring, maybe I am the idiot that needs a little more specific than the rest of the class, but I did ask and I did bring what I was told and IT'S NOT RIGHT PEOPLE.

At this point, I begin to sweat, noticing this draws my attention to my armpits, which we have all heard about before. Quickly, I have a flashback to the earlier morning, getting ready in the bathroom. Not wanting to get deodorant all over myself, I got dressed first and wanted to put the deodorant on afterward. But I never did. And now I am flustered and I am getting sweaty and I have no deodorant on and nowhere to go until lunchtime to get some.

A kind soul next to me allows me to borrow supplies which is truly a blessing and a very sweet thing of a stranger to offer. If it were not for this particular individual, I might have cried a few tears at a break or cursed in the car later. Working further into our lesson, I realize we have to stand up and take each other's measurements. This means I have to remove the sweater I have been wearing to keep my armpits to myself and air them out to the poor person with the measuring tape. Think quick. There is a wet nap in my purse that looks like a miracle/million dollars when I find it. Go to the bathroom. Wet nap the armpits. Yes.

Many times I wanted to leave. Many times I felt like an idiot and that this was not the class for me. At one point I was pulled aside for one on one attention because I just really needed the extra help. But, in the end, I made a sort of box-shaped-belly-top nightshirt like the rest of the group. It was by far not the best work or the easiest thing I had ever attempted, but the point was that I finished it. Yay for me for not crying and for being persistent. All too often I have a tendency to shy away from trying/finishing things in which I don't feel validated. It was very liberating to know that I was bad and that it was okay. So what do I recommend? Try something new, fail at it miserably and always keep a wet nap handy.

Discoveries

Things I like/that amuse me:

Facebook misspellings, keep watch for the many versions of the word definitely.

The state of Alabama. By that I mean everything from the overzealous Christian roadsigns (favorite being "the devil will get you"), to the gas stations that still allow smoking inside the buildings.

The excitement of traveling as well as the excitement of coming home.

A pair of thick, soft, fuzzy socks.

Using Jacob's things. Number one favorite is Chapstick.

This Week

There is a particular gas station in town that I probably shouldn't visit anymore. They always seem to be having technical difficulties. One time I went and all the outside credit card machines were down. How irritating. I never want to go inside to pay for gas. They are inevitably out of receipt paper when I'm there. The latest incident occured when the gas attendant yelled at me across the parking lot that the buttons weren't working on my pump's payment screen. Nice. The card swipe, however, worked just fine and you could bet yourself I wasn't moving my vehicle until they cleared it from the pump. So I stood there and they told me to hit cancel. With the buttons that you just informed me don't work? Seriously? So they laughed at me like I was the dumb one and went inside to clear the whole thing from the system. I started over with a credit card because you don't have to push any buttons for that. And this is where I sunk so low I couldn't redeem myself. I pull the nozzle out to fuel up and something happens that has never happened before. The nozzle won't fit in my car. What? After several seconds of trying to make it work, and several seconds of a show for the people inside whose attention I have already captured, I notice the handle is green which is new and odd. Ah-ha, I have chosen the diesel hose and have been vigorously trying to make it fit in my vehicle. With my head down and shaking side to side from embarassment, I pumped my fuel and sped away without looking back.

Very same day, I go to the grocery store. The lady in the check-out line says, "You look warm", rubbing her cheeks as an indication. I just smile because I know what she's referring to. It's my awesome blush. I love blush, I wear a lot of it. If I look flushed, just assume it's blush. Then she takes it to another level. Assuming the redness on my face indicates heat, she asks me if my face is wet. As in, am I sweating? Again, I say nothing but politely smile because I know that my face is not wet. She is referring to my over active sebaceous glands. Thanks lady for commenting on my oily skin. Always appreciated.

Store List

I had a brilliant (or what I thought was brilliant) revelation about my store list the other day. One of the most nauseating moments while grocery shopping occurs when I look down at that list and realize there is an unobtained item in an aisle I have already been down. I really feel pure disgust. The solution, you ask? Well, the solution is simple. It only takes a few minutes, and I have found it saves me a great deal of time and frustration while shopping. I take several different colored highlighters and highlight the items grouped in similar aisles or departments. Everything in the meat section...orange. Everything in the produce department...yellow. And so on. My hope is that other people can use this tip to make shopping a quicker and smoother experience.

Finished Projects

More Projects

Thanks to my excellently patient teacher/friend Anne, I am learning to knit. Here's the first little tidbit.



This is the cabinet I bought from little Grandma Ruben's Thrift Store. It is being primed in my magical workshop (townhouse garage) with the unstable chair that is actually much more stable now. I monkey glued it and tied a rope around it until it dried.

A Trip

Flew from the great state of Alabama to Missouri this past weekend. One of my flights was delayed for an overhead bin repair. The overhead bin was fine until a passenger stuffed it too full and slammed the latch...oops. I giggled to myself a little bit after I heard the disgruntled temper tantrum and moments later heard the captain announcing the need for the repair of an overhead bin and clearance for take off.

I got seated next to "a talker" on one of the flights. I just wonder sometimes if others plan for a good conversation with a stranger like I plan on getting into a good book during a flight. Knowing the airport involves a lot of waiting, I generally plan things for me to do independently to keep myself busy. This man that wanted to talk to me literally acted as if he had planned for a conversation, regardless of who sat next to him. He brought no materials. He sat there for 5 minutes tops, plane hadn't even taken off yet and started talking to me. What you have to understand is that I was not even facing him, avoiding eye contact in fact. I had my nose in a book the moment I sat my things down. My favorite part of all of this was that I got to see a picture of a "real live tornado" on his cell phone. Neat.

Lastly, relating to this experience, I should tell you about the june bug that dive bombed me. June bugs are probably the creepiest bugs of all time. They are crunchy and hard-bodied and they make that terrible sound with their putrid little wings. I made my way to the exit of the airport parking lot on the way home to pay and rolled down my window. The woman behind the counter had a TV show softly sounding off in the background and was sucking on a mint like she hadn't had a full meal in days. She was so inattentive to me that when the june bug came full speed through the open window into my lap, she continued to stare into space. I was looking around like, "Did this really just happen? Is anyone else seeing this?" Nope. Not a soul. I quickly plucked the bug up into my fingers and threw it back out. All this without the woman in the window less than two feet from me witnessing it. How I managed not to scream is beyond me. EW, EW, EW, EW.

Paint and Re-cover

Meet my sad little chair. It is a project that shouldn't take very long to complete. I will post the finished product.

A Few Thoughts

Hey there. Forgot to tell you that I went to the doctor and forgot to wear deodorant. Deodorant is one of those words that I have to look up the spelling every time I write it. There are a handful of others I always seem to be looking up. Anyway, went to the doctor and realized I wasn't wearing any deodorant part way through the exam. I panicked a little, felt uncomfortable, and then stopped caring. Maybe she thought one of two things...I'm a naturalist or I have poor hygiene. Thank goodness for travel size commodities (had a mini stick in my purse). I can't get through the day without a fresh coat of antiperspirant.

On a less personal note, I am working on a project. I take that back...I am working on a couple of projects. I need to get some before and after pictures on here of these furniture pieces that I am refinishing. They are thrift store finds, a chair and a bookshelf. Also, I signed up today for a sewing a class. I will be making a throw pillow, and you bet I will be showing you the finished result.

Other goals for the summer: learn spanish, learn to knit, regularly attend yoga and spinning classes, get involved in my church, create the perfect chilled green tea concoction, master the grill, take some awesome trips with my husband, figure out what to do with the rest of my life. That is all. For now.

Bought a chair at the Christian Mission for five dollars. I would say it's worth all of five dollars, but it isn't. It's worth more like two. When I was trying to decide to buy it or not, an elderly lady watching me commented, "Just don't let any old people sit in that". I probably shouldn't let anyone sit in it. I felt like I could give it stability. I have no idea how to fix things. Guess I thought by the time I got it home I would have it figured it out. Maybe some wood glue. I did manange to take apart the seat cushion because it needs recovering. What I found: moth ball scent and a vinyl Winnie the Pooh something or other for cushioning. It's going to be a first class chair.

I made meatballs, twice baked potatoes and steamed vegetables for dinner. What I know how to cook, I can cook well, but I'm still not to that point where I can just whip something together with some random ingredients and without a recipe. I also cannot seem to come up with meals that go together. See above for reference. Several things are always sounding appetizing. Meatballs are really a side dish. I know that. But if I want meatballs, you can bet I am going to make it into a meal. I try to put other things with it to make it seem more meal-like, but meal-like and meal are not the same. That's as crazy as I get people. Stepping out of the box to make side dishes as main courses.

I go to the lady doctor tomorrow. Awkward. I hope it is someone who listens well. That's a total pet peeve of mine. Someone who stares down at their clipboard, asks several questions without looking up, cuts you off when you are answering, and gives you a prescription for something you don't need. No thank you. I will be sure to record the experience.

Yoga and a Pineapple

Two major events yesterday: yoga with the most difficult instructor on post and a pineapple purchase at the grocery store. You know, I love fresh pineapple but never bothered to purchase one because I had no idea how to cut the thing up. Well, yesterday I got brave because I have a little more time on my hands these days. I am still uncertain of how to choose one that is ripe (I intend to look up this tidbit of information). My plan was just to select one that looked intact and dry. The bottom of the pile had been moisture soaked and looked too mushy for my taste. It takes me a little while to select anything at the grocery store. To me, fruits and vegetables are expensive. I want the best taste for my dollar. I don't know who these fools are that just walk right up, toss some stuff in their plastic bag without looking, and move on. I do know that they are invading my space and distracting me by reaching over my selection pile without even so much as an "Excuse me". Everytime this happens, I wish them a silent hex of a bruise spot or a piece of flavorless produce. You must know what I am talking about, though. Those people that are hell on wheels with a shopping cart. They'll run you over without even knowing what's happened. These people, I imagine, would "throw bows" to get down the aisles in record time. Personal space is no issue because it's like they don't even see the other shoppers. Anyway, I prefer to take my time, select what I think is best, and move on...no matter how many times I am interrupted by one of these grocery shopping heathens.

Once I had the pineapple selected, I strolled away, proud that I had dared to take on the challenge of slicing and dicing that armored exterior. After several more aisles of elbow nudging and budging (I don't practice these acts, I am, of course, referring to others), I was free. Groceries inside, cool stuff unloaded and put away first like mom taught me, I was ready to tackle it. That pineapple stared me down, daring me to take it to the cutting board. Moving closer to it, I noticed an amazing thing that a more observant person may have discovered at the store. All brands may not be alike, but this glorious pineapple had a valuable piece of information zip tied to its crown, if you will. Crown, being the correct terminology, came from the oh-so-infomative tag dangling by the plastic tie. Step by step, there it was. Just like that, I had the key to successful pineapple butchering right there on the pineapple all along!

Now with the later challenge, yoga, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. This woman that teaches is from planet flexible and seems oblivious to the fact that others are not. She contorts herself into a pretzel and then looks out at the class like "Come on guys, let's all do it". If only it were that easy. I go because I want to get better. Oh, and also because once when I commented that her class was difficult she replied, "Yeah, it's not for begginers". To me, she might as well have said, "You need to go somewhere else because you're not as advanced". Well, ha, yeah right, I am of course showing up for your class now, and I will get better to spite you. Even though, logically the only one I am hurting is myself (I mean literally, physically experiencing discomfort). At least I know I am not the only one. Last night I was across from two girls that appeared to have never experienced this instructor before. Maybe never even experienced yoga. I looked over at them from time to time, when they dropped their arms from a pose, sighed a loud defeated sigh, and collapsed into child's pose for the remaining sets of a series. I have come to find that my favorite poses are cat, cow, and child's pose...the poses that cause the least amount of physical pain.

I guess I keep going because the physical demand of it is a distraction. Also, the emphasis placed on breathing gives you little time to think about anything else. A break from my thoughts, from my brain's rapid fire approach to any and all situations, is nice. My favorite part, one of the other main reasons I attend with this instructor, is her relaxation period at the end. She basically guides us through meditation where "all of our worries and stresses of the day are to be let go". Systematically she commands us to relax each part of bodies and sink deeper and deeper into the mat. I like the key phrases like "Feel each breath massage your heart". I am thinking to myself at this point, "I know this is not possible, but I will allow myself to imagine this breath coming in with tiny fingers and working on my heart muscle, how delightfully ridiculous".

At the end of the day, I know I have not moved mountains or done anything miraculous. It is the sheer act of enjoying each moment and finding humor in it that is the accomplishment. Oh, and I am writing again. Feels good to be back.