Sugar High

Gotta have it to get by!

It's a yearly tradition for me and Sister. If we don't, we fear a lynching mob... baseball bats and pitch forks. Ok, maybe not really but there would definitely be a protest.

This  years' labor of love lasted almost 14.5 hrs. Why do we do it? We believe that yummy delicious home made goodies hit the invisible special spot in the stomach that triggers an abundance of love, and maybe it's just that we are fat kids who love our sugar high.

Here's the final tally:
4lbs of spiced pecans
2lbs of chocolate covered potato chips
1lb chocolate covered pretzels
1 batch of divinity that unfortunately turned out more like taffy
9 dozen Santa Surprises
9 dozen reindeer feet
8 dozen snicker doodles
6 dozen chocolate dipped peppermint sticks
5 dozen biscochitos
and
2 pumpkin pies

I almost want to sing the list to the 12 Days of Christmas!

 

 

 

In all actuality, our "baking day" is a family fun filled day. We blast the cheesy Christmas music, we let the kids help, and of course I drink a pot of coffee. It's fabulous.

 

 

Here's a few reminders for your Holiday Season:

 

Love your family

Perform a random act of kindness for a stranger... family and friends don't count

Hug your dog

and finally,

DON'T EAT THE YELLOW SNOW!!!

Catching Up

Life is full of surprises. Especially when it comes to fun family dysfunctions.
No, we're not completely dysfunctional. The Parental Unit came down to my neck of the woods before we all hitched up the wagon train for the yearly Thanksgiving get together in Elvis Town. My Sister, Momma and I went to indulge at the Chocolate Therapy Café. Woooow.... that place was AMAZING!
Momma rode with me to Elvis Town and the Little People rode with their Pappy. Pappy somehow became lost along the way... it was great... what's a road trip without a little misdirection?
The week in Elvis Town was not with out it's ups and downs. The ups... my painting is being refurbished... yay!... I was able to wear my ring... only when I'm with G.... It was explained to me that being half tanked is the only way to get through Holidays with family... yes... I was pointed to the wine cabinet... it was great! The downs were pretty down... Momma came to the realization of how serious G's health situation really is. We're still awaiting to see if her treatments are working. If so, we may have more than 2yrs with her... if not... well, let's just say an sort of incident may be the last.
Momma and I had some decompression time in the form of retail therapy... maybe that would be considered a high. I had to ask Momma's forgiveness more than once for saying something off the wall and horrifying the random stranger. No colorful verbiage was not used. I'll give you a for instance: Mom and I went in a package store for a bottle of wine, a gentleman asked if he could help me, I responded with "I don't normally support my Mother's alcoholic delinquency but I am in dire need of getting her drunk, show me to the biggest bottle of whiskey you have, no, I don't want tequila... my mom will start taking her clothes off"... to which I knew I was in trouble because my Mother called out all 4 of my names. I cross my heart... my Mother really is not an alcoholic, the bottle of wine was for 4 adults... that's counting me... I was pretending to be an adult that evening. I know, it was hard to tell.
Another high/low... my service engine light came on. Momma bought the O2 sensor for me. We took my car back to Gunk's and my Li'l Cousin climbed under my car to help me fix it. He had to take it apart because I wasn't strong enough, but I put it back together. Not too shabby.
On the way home, I hit the exit ramp to grab the kids a sandwich from Subway... the Boy had a hankering for his "delicious delicacy", lol. Anyways, there was a traveler and his puppy asking for help at the top of the ramp. I don't help people unless I get the goose bumps, which at first I didn't. My Boy said "Mom, he needs to eat too." Hence the goose bumps. We grabbed him a sandwich and a Gatorade, drove back and he was gone. I had to drive down a ways to turn around and get back on the highway. Lo and behold, when I turned around he had re-appeared! So, I had to cross over the bridge and turn around yet again to pull up next to him on the bridge. I looked my Boy directly in the eye and told him to listen good to my directives: He was instructed to make sure his door was locked, he was remain with his seatbelt securely fastened and he was required to keep his window rolled up some and not all the way down. I received a firm "Yes, mam." What can I say... I'm a single Mom traveling with two children.... safety is paramount, even when helping people. Needless to say, the drop went off  without a hitch, I apologized to the man in case he didn't like ham and cheese and wished him Happy Holidays, to which he said the same with an added "God bless you and your children." The Boy of mine was just happy that the man and his puppy would eat. The Girl was happy they man and his puppy would eat, but happier that the man didn't try to snatch her brother through the car window, LOL. I know, it's really not a laughing matter, but honestly, had he done that I'd have feared for his safety and not my Boy's once I had gotten ahold of him. No one messes with this Mother Bear's cubs.
I think all of my students missed me. This week has been crazy playing catch up and seeing the students who don't think I should be allowed to leave my office for more than a lunch hour. HAHA.
I also came back to find out that I'm going to be a Grand-Plant-Yeti!!!!! My Calypso, an orchid, is sprouting meristem twins!!!!! Don't laugh at me, but I did the happy dance after researching to see what the heck was going on with Calypso. Let me insert the reason why I say Yeti... my nickname growing up was Big Foot. Well, I wanted my future Grandchildren to call me something different that Grams, Grandmother, Granny... those names just aren't me, and I thought that I didn't want them to call me Big Foot either... so Yeti popped in my mind and my Hamster thought "YES!!!!" So, it's stuck. Anyways... look at Calypso:

 I think it's fabulous because I have never had an orchid produce babies before. Don't the babies look a little like Shrek ears? LOL
Anyways... I have now completed 15 ornaments for my Christmas Calendar project! It may not be completely put together this Christmas, but it will be operational!!!

I hope everyone's Holiday Season has started off with a bang.
Be thankful for what you have.
Do a random act of kindness for a random person... someone you don't know... but be safe about it... I'm not the only crazy person out there... and 99% of the others are crazier than me.

Cheerio!

Sag and Bag

It's depressing really.

I haven't even made it across the threshold from young adulthood into middle adulthood.
My Girl says my tush is falling to the back of my knees. My hands hurt when I stitch or paint too much. I can pop my hips, ankles and wrists just by moving. And let's not forget the eyesight, crows feet and grey sparklies. My one consolation is that part of me will forever remain 24... woot woot!
Why can't we be 94 and look 24?

Really, I guess there is nothing wrong with aging "gracefully". I'm just hating because I can't afford to be high maintenance. Don't judge.
Or... maybe it's the whole ingrained idea that I'm not a spring chicken anymore and who in their right mind would want me when there are lot's of reeces pieces hard body little gals running around.

It makes me wonder and worry. Am I going to end up the "Old Plant Lady" ... drinking my spiked lemonade alone on the front porch? All you would have to do is look in my office to see that I am well on my way. My mother was already remarried by this age... what about me?

I don't know. Maybe I am just losing my joy. We can blame the current section in my psychology book for this completely bizarre rant. My professor is the one who titled this stage the "Sag and Bag" stage. Blah.

I know... the reality of it all is this:

Life is gravy. My wisdom grows in leaps and bounds while my tush falls to the floor. (And really it's not.) I may not have my teenage hard body, but I have 2 beautiful babies and I have lost almost 50 pounds. I have the beginnings of crows feet because I smile... a lot! The grey hair that I have is so minimal most people don't see it unless it shines in the sunlight; hence why I call it sparklies.
And really... I may get lonely sometimes, but I would rather be alone than settle to be with the wrong person.... from my experience... it's totally not worth it.

On another note... 8.5 ornaments down... almost there.

Give a random hug to someone today.

It only took 4 years!

Score one for the home team!
My Christmas Calendar is complete! Along with 3 of the ornaments. Only 22 ornaments to go. I think I can, I think I can! Hahahaha. Whatcha think?

I know, I know... lot's of photos. I was way too excited. And I know that 4 years is a long time to complete something. Please keep in mind that I work full time plus some, take classes as I can and have kids... oh and Cricket. Cricket is really codependent. Oh, and let's not forget that I had other projects going on at the same time... like painting with the kids. The Boy does an excellent job mimicking Monet... even for his age.
I'm not sure how long it will be before I start another big project. Really, I should buckle down and tackle Van Gogh, but not sure there is enough absinthe in the world for that kind of gumption at this point. Maybe not even the Green Fairy can give me a good shove.
Maybe I should just stick to some little projects until I'm fully inspired again.

On another note... things have been interesting. Rescued a friend after they broke down today... I'm like a Fairy Godmother. It's free coffee week... who doesn't like coffee? And free at that? I was told that it is completely unacceptable for me to be single. Really? And, I managed to get two shots in the tush once the Dr. determined I was negative for mono and strep. Just pump me full of drugs and send me on my way. Fabulous, right?!

So... on that note, I'm off. I have small fries to pick up. I think we will play marco polo while in WalMart. You know... my day is not complete until I have utterly horrified some random stranger.
Blame it on the pixie sticks.
Sugar high!

It's a horse and Girl thing.

Horses... one of God's greatest creatures. Unless you have them, or have had them, you may not understand.
I spent some time growing up in New Mexico. We had horses... 7 of them. I still dream of them.
Horses have a calming effect on a person. There something about riding that makes you feel free and that the world holds endless possibilities.
Needless to say, I was most happy when my Girl started racing. The bond she had with her horse, Sephirah, was amazing to see. They were like magnets. My girl would walk and Sephirah just followed, no harness necessary. 
Sephirah was just weened when we introduced her to my Girl, who was 8. I think that's why they were so close. My Girl would treat her with fruit roll ups, gummy worms and cherry popsicles. She'd sit under her and rub her belly, just like with her previous pony, Bunky. 
Tragically, we lost Sephirah in a traumatic accident. My girl called me screaming. I rushed from work, not understanding anything over the phone other than hurry. I was not prepared for the amount of physical trauma our poor Sephirah had suffered. I'm talking ripped flesh to the bone on her  hind legs from her hips down and buckets of blood. Thankfully, my Girl's Step-Mother was a Vet Tech and had sedated Sephirah. None of the vets could come put her down. I had to physically remove my girl from the premises in order for her Father to do what he had to do. Her desperation was more than I could bear. My poor girl wouldn't even go in her bedroom at my house until I removed all of her racing ribbons, photos and horse decor. We spent the next day in bed. So sad, Sephirah was about 7 yrs old. We lost her all too soon.

 I keep Sephirah's photos where I can pull them out every now and then.

She was an amazing creature.
After Sephirah, my Girl didn't ride for months. I couldn't blame her. She'd lost her shadow. 
Finally, she met Skeeter. He was beautiful, 4 yrs old and already broke. I think he came along to ease her fears of never riding again. Skeeter was shy of her at first. The next picture was taken as she was gently getting him to come to her. He finally kissed her on the nose and they were bonded. 
Unfortunately, I received another phone call in the middle of the night a couple of months later. Skeeter had collic. (sp?) The vet did all she could, but his stomach ended up rupturing. He had to be put down. I arrived just after Skeeter breathed his last breath. My Girl was just sitting, rubbing his face, and crying. As with Sephirah, we kept a lock of his hair.

My Girl hasn't raced in so long now. I miss seeing her glide around the barrels or bending the poles. Even better were her 16 second arena races... they make your pulse speed. I'm glad she still rides her Father's and Step-Mother's horses. It's a beautiful thing... to see your daughter carefree. She just hasn't felt the need for her own again. Maybe she never will. 

A guaranteed epic failure of massive proprotions:

Here I sit.
Two of the many hats I wear are teacher and student. Before I left last week for South GA, I concluded the class I was teaching. I took up all the final exams and hit the road with screeching tires. It was quite an accomplishment!
Here's where the failure comes in to play. I missed two of my psychology classes while I was on vacation. Well, it is human development, we're on the chapters about teenagers, and I figured that I have one so it can't be too hard. Am I wrong? I already know that they suffer from adolescent egocentricism, what else is there to know?! 
Anyhoo... I returned to class this past Tuesday night, just in time to find out that exam 3 for this semester is tonight! Holy cow batman! (Only that was not what I was saying... insert the buckets full of vocal diarrhea... f-bomb included.)

I had not read the chapters. I didn't take my text book with me on vacation. I had not even started on the extra credit.
I had intended to start on my assignment yesterday while in my office. Did I? No. I piddled around.
At home, I did complete all but two of the questions in my assignment. I know, I left two... hey! It took me 3 hours just to get the first 6 complete!
So... here I am, day of the exam, scrambling. I have a photo shoot at 2, a dentist appointment at 3 and the exam at 6. So.... for you lucky people in other parts of the world that are behind my EST... raise your glasses and drink one up to me for my epic failure.... at at the very least, lift a prayer up on my behalf because though I suffer from OCD tendencies, I can be a complete slacker!  Fingers crossed I can pull a rabbit out of one of my many hats and at least bull shit my way through this one!

Don't forget to breathe!

For the LOVE of Spanish Moss and Halloween stitching...

It's been a crazy few weeks full of house/pet sitting and a trip to south GA. The road trip proved to be exciting and frustrating all wrapped in one. I whole heatedly believe that colorful verbiage has it's uses during specific times and at certain places. With that being said, I am not ashamed to admit that during rush hour traffic I suffered from severe diarrhea of the mouth; buckets full. No worries, though, I am happy to report that there were no minors riding in the vehicular unit. Other than that, I am way too excited for the familial wagon train road trip to Elvis Town for Thanksgiving. Beale Street.... here I come!


Random thought for the day.... Am I completely bonkers to think that saying "I LOVE Spanish Moss" is a complete understatement? It's completely fabulous! This photo was taken down on the banks of the Chattahoochee River. (Please do not start singing to Alan Jackson.)

I have completed some stitches for Halloween this year. (Pat myself on the back.) I just haven't figured out how to finish them as of yet. I guess since this Halloween is now in the past, I can put them off for a while in order to channel my creativity.

Speaking of creativity, or lack there of... I have yet to finish my Christmas calendar. Miss Sherry keeps reminding me to "get 'er done", and with all good intentions I plan on working on the stinking project, but then get home just in time to ignore it. HAHA. Ok, not so funny. I have to finish it this year. IT WILL NOT TAKE ME 5 YEARS TO COMPLETE!!!! (I just keep repeating that in my head. Unfortunately it hasn't created a permanent neural pathway as of yet.)

Before I go... my Boy came into the room the other night while I was stitching and asked me what I was doing. Once I replied, I asked him if he would like to. After all, I was younger than him when I started. He proceeds to answer with, "Heck no! That is completely boring and I don't understand why you would do it!"  So, I told him to go on with his bad self. I kid you not... not even 10 minutes went by before he was back in my room and digging through my stash to find some material and thread. I asked him what he was doing. He said, "Well, I'm already bored so maybe it won't be so bad to stitch." That's my Boy!!! So, he stitched his own little stitch. Then he proceeded to snip all my snips into a ball of... well... mush. I think it's his new amusement.

 *** Yes, I do love my Boy. He chooses to dress like I don't love him on the weekends. I cross my heart and hope to die that he has non-holey jeans and collared shirts for school.

Keep it real.

It's a French Toast issue... say what?!?

I have a tendency to read foreign newspapers over our very own American media news outlets. I'm skimming through looking at the various goings on of the world when I come upon an article about french toast in the UK sense. It would seem that most British individuals consider the idea of "sweet" french toast to be an American thing. They gag at the idea of putting cinnamon and sugar on French Toast.  Evidently, ketchup and Worcestershire sauce is the way they indulge.
Here are some anonymous comments to peruse:

Growing up in the UK I only knew eggy bread as a savoury thing - bread dipped in egg and fried. 'French toast' as a sweet dish seems (for the last century or so at least) to be an American thing.

Have to agree: savoury as a duck's arse. And fried in lard. That's the way.

My mum always served it with Worcestershire sauce, scrummy and quick.

Disgusting sweet muck!!! Make it savoury and I'm in.

Sweet? We always had ours with ketchup on...

dessert!? get out.

We used to make this on Guide camp for breakfast, sprinkling crunchy granulated sugar on top and dunking in ketchup! 

Then there were the other versions:

My version is curtsy of a hellish hangover and a nearly empty fridge:
Scramble 2 eggs adding salt and black pepper.
Soak 2 slices of store bought, generic white bread.
pop in the pan and fry in butter until golden.
Plate up and then add a layer on top of last nights leftover chilli (reheated obviously and so very, very spicy).
Grated cheese on top.
This is, without doubt my dirtiest food craving.

Aarggh! I never realised it was supposed to be sweet!
My recipe:
Beat the eggs, add plenty of salt and pepper, a hefty dash of tabasco and a half teaspoon of good soy sauce (eg Kikkoman). Any decent white bread works to soak in it. Fry in olive oil (just a spoonful, and should be piping hot).

Sacrilege!
No sugar.. no spices and no bloody vanilla. A little salt and pepper in the mix which should be a drop or two of milk per egg used. Thirty second soak and fry in a smidge of olive oil in my house.
Serve with lashings of butter.. and if you must, you can have some maple syrup.
 
And then the Canadians piped in...

Hmmm.
The Canadian way is for the bread not to be stale but maybe 2 days old. Just old enough that it isn't soft to the touch.
You beat eggs in a bowl. Maybe add a little cinnamon, but make sure it's wet and doesn't sit on top of the eggs.
You dip the bread just long enough to coat it. DO NOT soak it.
Fry it in a little butter, preferably salted.
Serve with streaky bacon and maple syrup. And Brits look away now....
The syrup goes over both the French toast and the bacon.

I have officially learned something new today... Breakfast food can be the topic of heated discussion.

Just imagining ketchup on my French Toast makes my gag reflex kick in. I think I can appreciate the European savory selections as long as they are "out of sight, out of mind".

I promise....

I'm still here!
I think I have finally found my way out of the funk that seemed to surround me for a few months.
It just seems like I have this massive rain cloud over my noggin and it always rains on my parade.
Enough of the self loathing...

I started stitching again this past weekend! It's kind of crazy... what put me in the mood, that is.
The kids and I had just dropped a package in the mail...

Ok, it was 7.2 lbs, so it wasn't literally dropped. Let me digress for a sec to explain the package. My Li'l Brother is on a deployment and he cannot get oreos and skittles... hence the package. 2 packs of mega stuffed oreos, 2 boxes of graham crackers with peanut butter, a 2 lb bag of jolly ranchers and a 5 lb bag of skittles. Moving on...

After leaving the Post Office, we passed by one of the local cemeteries. I noticed that one of the grave's had a cross that was laying down. It took me a split sec to park the car. The kids were freaked at this time because mom has gone nuts around the dead people. After a little bit of cajoling, I managed to get them out of the car. It turned in to quite an excursion. For at least an hour, we straightened the flowers and flags on graves. My girl also helped me right a grave stone that had fallen on it's face. No easy task, I tell you. We probably didn't even cover 1/4 of the cemetery, so we have plans to return. I'm proud to say my kids had a good time and I told them to consider it an act of kindness. It was a good afternoon.

And thus... an excursion with the kids, a little fresh air with acts of kindness and I'm back to stitching.

Flip Flopping...

I have been debating on changing my name. I kept my married name after the divorce mainly because my babies were still young. My girl may have understood, but not sure about my boy. I divorced when he was going into 1st grade.  I think they will better understand now that it has been a few years. 
I think I also need it for more of a degree of seperation from the hurt and dissapointment. Yes, we get a long much better now, but why should I keep the reminder that I was thrown by the wayside? Or the reminder that I didn't matter?
Geez-o-peet... it sure was convenient. Do I really want to deal with the paperwork hassle? What if I decided to renew my passport? They'll want a copy of my birth certificate, marriage certificate, divorce papers and all that fun stuff. Yikes!
I suppose it will be worth it though.

On another note... I've been too lazy to stitch.
I have begun picking peppers and tomatoes. The watermelons are the size of soft balls and the cucumbers are going crazy!

Gotta love it!!!!

Is there such a thing...

As caring to much?

I'm extremely conflicted.
I'm unsure as to how I need to proceed.
My credibility is in question.

While I have the utmost respect for the individual who has mentioned this, I feel that in turn it makes me look bad. I feel as though in said individual bringing this to my attention that my character and ethical compass are in question as well. I mentioned that this comment made me look bad and it was argued that it did not. Am I making a mountain out of a mole hill?

My inner beast is kept on lock down. She's chained with in a cage with only enough leway to pace. And she paces. She paces everyday. She's only been freed a handful of times in my life and it's scary and exhausting..
She was momentarily allowed to be free a few days ago. I had to go into over drive to keep her reigned in. The best thing I did was walk out.

I have seen the faces of  happiness, excitement and accomplishment.
The faces of pain, sadness and anger.
The faces of war and hidden scars.
I see them everyday.
I help. I lend an ear. I push them to drive forward. I chide them when need be.
I encourage and I diffuse. And yes, occassionally I bend over backwards.

They bring me laughter, new perspective and yes, sometimes irritation.
I find great satisfaction in knowing these faces.

How do I make one understand that just an extra 20 min can make all the difference in the day of one of these faces? Regardless of laughter or a high tension situation?

Why is it that my credibility is in question when these faces come to me time and time again for assistance or just to say hi. I would think it would be quite the opposite.

They come to me because they know I will take the time. Push them in the right direction. Keep them on tract.

Isn't this what they deserve? Not to be a number, but a face and name?

Am I wrong? Do I care entirely too much?

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

The garden is growing. Slowly but surely. Still have some pumpkins and zucchini to get planted.
The corn babies are almost 4 inches tall now!

One of the tomato plants has a couple of small tomatoes trying to make it...

 

And... my New Mexico green chili has a few bud I'm hoping make it...

 

 

Now if I can just keep the dogs from chewing on the squash, cantaloupe and cucumbers we will be good to go. Not sure what the attraction is. I wouldn't think they would be very tasty.

 

 

In other things... still working on that Christmas Calendar of mine. It's getting there. I haven't even wanted to touch Starry Night... it actually gives me nightmares!

 

Thinking I may make some pumpkin bread today... no other mischief to get in to. 

 

 

 





Completely & Utterly...

UNINSPIRED.

Bored. No mischief. Need something to do, but don't feel like doing anything. Tired and restless all wrapped in one.

What to do... what to do...

Ok.... random people who just drop by... give me some ideas!

Don't be scared to drop a line... I don't bite... at least not too hard...

Can it be that simple?

I, like most women, have an issue with concept of self. We can be our own worst enemies at times. Childhood follows us. Mass media is constantly bombarding us. We're scrutinized by individuals. We're not pretty enough. We have too many imperfections.
Do I believe I am beautiful? Absolutely not. I will never believe it. However, I recently came across the commercial Dove put out.
You can see it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XpaOjMXyJGk&noredirect=1

It made sense. We don't see ourselves as others see us.
It made me think...

In fact it reminded me of something someone once said to me. Not long ago I was seeing someone who was 22. I asked him why he didn't want to date a little gal his own age. He said it was because he didn't want to date a little girl. He wanted to date a mature, confident woman. Ok. Makes sense. So, I asked another question. Why would he date someone so much older that had slight smile and laugh lines and no longer carried her teenage hard body. His response.... "you've had children and that's perfectly fine by me. Plus... you don't see what I see."

Can it be so simple? "You don't see what I see." I won't believe someone if they tell me I am gorgeous or beautiful. But, I could believe him because he worded it differently? I've taken that comment and written it on my mirror as a reminder. No one sees you as you see yourself.

Anyways....

I finished a quick stitch a couple weekends ago. I've been such a slacker about posting it. This is Let It Snow by Barbara Ana Designs. Now I just need to decide how I'm going to finish it.

I've also been wrking diligently on my Christmas Calendar.... It's coming right along. I've surpassed what is shown. Fingers crossed I get another picture taken of it soon.

Just remember... YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!

Proposition... I think NOT

Went to a conference this past week. The road trip was jacked up to say the least. I don't think the muguls saw my vehicle skinny up when a semi almost put me in a concrete wall during a span of road construction. Whew. Got turned around trying to find my hotel in slum town. Issues with check in. Asked for money 2 times in the grocery store parking lot. Didn't have enough gas when leaving the hotel to make it up the interstate a couple exits, when I left, so took my chances in the rough neighborhood. Was called li'l baby and li'l mamma by the guys working in the gas station. BUT... the best part happened while pumping my gas. I was just texting a friend to say I was getting the heck out of there before I was ganked when a guy aproached me, looking like he hadn't showered in 2 weeks, who know's maybe it was 3. Anyways, he propositioned me and wanted me to go to his crib. My response... sensored for you of course... "Do I look like a beepity beep crack whore to you?! You have 2 seconds to crawl back to the rock you came out from under before you lose your beepity beep!" His response was something like "Oh, my bad shawty." At least my internal kung fu panda was enough to make him back off. Geez-o-peet. I'll refuse to go if the conference is in the same place again next year. Isn't is fabulous?

Moving on... I did work on my Starry Night a little bit, but not enough that you could tell a difference. I also worked on my Christmas Calendar. Completed a little bit of back stitching and some more red border. Every little stitch counts!

Pie?

Decision made. Continuing the opus battle this weekend. I can almost guarantee that I will be 104, place the last stitch, and pass away quietly in my sleep. I have been stitching since I was 9 and in the 4th grade. I will have learned nothing if my skills and patience falter before completing Van Gogh's Starry Night. Wish me the best of luck in this endeavor and be prepared for the colorful language to fly. I'll post pictures of my progress.
In the midst of the weekend challenge, I need to ponder. This will not be a light ponder for life has pelted me with lemons recently. My challenge.... turn those blasted lemons into blueberry pie.

Short End of the Thread

I've said it before but will say it again... I'm probably the most scatter brained OCD person you will ever come across. Definitely a walking contradiction. I tossed a few more stitches into Starry Night. (Look up... it is pitiful.) I think I will be the only person to tell a difference has been made. Of course, unless a person was party to my previous blog no one would be able to even know what kind of difference was made. Sometimes, it's just a grueling process and you reach the end of your thread before you know it. Frogging and ripping = put it down until another day.

On the flip side, just because you toss a project aside doesn't mean you can't pick up another UFO. That being said, today is Christmas Day. I've been working on this calendar for 4 years now. Every year I have said, "This is the year I will complete this project." Then another year passes by. Such is my life. Just think... Starry Night is waaaaaaay bigger. Hence the opus.

Just as an update.. still no enlightenment. We'll blame it on Van Gogh seeing as he's not here to defend himself.

A Little of This and That

Life can be topsy turvy, but I'm back. It's been a few years since I have set foot on the blogging internet soil. I'm ready to get back in the swing of exposing my creativity and snark to the outside world. Keeping in mind, of course, that I am currently sitting here thinking who in their right mind is going to just wander through and read this. I guess a gal has to start somewhere.
So... here's to all the rantings of the messy bits in life, the squeals of glee when pleasantly surprised by random delights, and the moments when you just want to strut your feathers because you have finished a project or started a new one!