Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Which one!?!

I need help...

Which one is upside down?


2.Or do these fabrics just suck in general? They kinda look old lady to me... sad...

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

I Remember When...

Before I had Miss Z, I was just about the most selfish person on the planet. Seriously. Maybe I'll tell that story another time.

And then... and then... I got to know Jesus a little bit better. He grabbed my eyelids and ripped those suckers opened. Enough was enough, I guess. It seemed that He was ready for me to see the reality of my brothers and sisters around the world. That they are people; people that could have been me. He showed me that He gave me all of this (US citizenship, money, status, etc.) so that I too could give it away.

And my heart for people just keeps right on growing. So much, in fact, that my dad often reminds me (with a fatherly tone) that I can't save the whole world. My response is to just smile at him and nod, all the while thinking to myself, "Whatever. I'm going to freakin' try." And that's why I'm going to keep on bugging you about the Gulu Walk (at least until it's done).

Walk the walk with me in your city! Don't have a walk near you? Then sponsor me while I walk for the children of northern Uganda. Let's show our brothers and sisters that they matter... let's show them that we love them even though they aren't able to give anything back to us in return.

That is, anything other than gratitude.

Monday, September 24, 2007

A gift from Mr. Miyagi

We officially have one and two half cats. Allow me to introduce them. Unfortunately, I only have a picture of our full cat so we'll start with him. This is Kahuna. Yes, like the big wave. We actually paid for, chose, and waited for this cat. I told myself that I would never post about our pets and yet here I am doing it. Whatever.
At night Kahuna follows me from room to room, waiting for when he can snuggle up in bed. This cat ROCKS. Little O sits on him, hoping for a ride, and Kahuna never complains. The kids dress this cat up like a doll, carry him in unfortunate positions, and "hide him" in peculiar places (that would be closets, in boxes, etc) and Kahuna never gripes.

We also have 50 Cent. Yes, as in the rapper. He's one of our half cats. {You may be asking yourself 'What's a half cat?'. Well, they're the ones that just showed up one day. I don't take half cats to the vet nor do I allow them inside. However, half cats do get fed once a day.} 50 Cent is scrappy, missing chunks of hair, very skiddish, and really skinny. The other two cats don't like 50 Cent but this doesn't stop him from stalking the back porch, waiting for the right moment to swoop in and scavenge for food.

Then there's Mr. Miyagi. Yes, as in the Karate Kid. He's our other half cat. He's fluffy and soft but prefers to stay away from anyone under the age of adult. Mr. Miyagi is really pretty grateful for the food that we bestow upon him. He shows his indebtedness by leaving us special gifts on the mat where he sleeps. These special gifts include dead birds, rats, mice, and other portions of random rodents. This morning, he left me yet another gift.
You'll notice my socks next to the mat. Well, that's because I had the fortune of STEPPING on the mouse (notice that its back end is missing). This event was immediately proceeded by me RIPPING off my socks and gagging for a moment or two before rushing off to pick up Mr. P from school.
The truth is that I saw this gift first thing this morning while retrieving some stuff out of the car. I avoided removing the bugger because I figured that Husband is better equipped to get this job done. For this, my socks paid dearly and they will meet the garbage as soon as I get the will up to go near that disgusting bloody half mouse again.

Saturday, September 22, 2007


The program doesn't have orange for the hair, please excuse the error.
And the truth is that I slept in the t-shirt that I wore yesterday (that would be black with white polkadots) and some pastel blue and green flannel pants. I didn't quite capture that in the picture either. Oh, and this isn't our bed. My room is far too messy to take a photo of.

This morning I woke up lying like this, sideways on mine and Husbands' pillows (he was already at work). It reminded me of when I was eight-ish and I had a journal. In this particular journal, I would log what positions that my body was in when I woke up. How weird was I!?!

And, probably that same year, my friend and I "made up" a language in which we switched all R's for L's. Example?: This molning we went fol a swim at the rocar poor. And then we were taking the bus home to her house and practicing our proficiency at the new language when my girlfriend said, "asphart" and we LAUGHED and LAUGHED 'til the tears were running down ... oh man those were good times...

What weird stuff did you guys do when you were kids? Any strange journals? Secret languages?

Thursday, September 20, 2007

OH-MY-GOODNESS-GOOD Zucchini Bread Recipe

This is THE YUMMIEST zucchini bread recipe.
You MUST make this.
I'm not joking.

While I was in Iowa, visiting the hot momma on the left, her son Gabriel (the handsome guy in orange and his equally handsome brother Sebastian in green) made this recipe and I am forever in debt to his mad baking skills. And so, without further ado,
Gabriel's now famous Zucchini Bread Recipe:
You’ll need:
-3 eggs
-1 cup of oil (veggie oil or butter can be used)
-2 cups of sugar
-2 cups of grated zucchini
-1 tsp vanilla
-3 cups of flour
-1 Tbsp cinnamon
-1 tsp salt
-1 tsp baking soda
-1 tsp baking powder

*This recipe yields two loaves of zucchini bread (baked in 9x5x3” pans)*

  1. Beat eggs
  2. Add oil, zucchini, sugar, and vanilla and blend thoroughly
  3. Add flour, cinnamon, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and blend well.
  4. Pour into 2 greased and floured loaf pans.
  5. Bake at 350 for 50 minutes ~ check for doneness as every oven is different
  6. Cool for 5-10 minutes before plopping it out of the pan
  7. Enjoy because we sure did!

Little O and I made this this morning and the house smells divine. I don't use the word divine very often, especially with italics. This must mean that I'm telling the truth.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

New Old Jeans

There she is, oh-so-happy that the other two girls can't fit into these pants... they're just for her.

P.S. She picked out the crazy shiny butterfly shirt to match... just for the photo... I promise that I won't let her go to school in that... maybe...

Tutorial for lengthening and mending ripped jeans

There she is, riding away on the back of her "pony" (aka Miss B).

When Miss F came to me she was a 29 pound 6 year old. Think about that for a second... She wasn't just skinny but she was about the height of a four year old. Her belly was bloated (along with the other two) from three different worm species. I was SO excited to watch this girl grow! Her big pregnant-looking belly shrunk down and Miss F got a teensy bit taller. And then a little heavier and now she's a 44 pound seven year old. This constantly moving, chattering, and HIGHLY energetic little girl is always going to be thin. And when it comes to clothing, she is very much like me. When we like something we DON'T want to let go of it... ever. It's hard to find the "perfect" pair of jeans and Miss F knows this lesson already.

The evidence:
This pair of size 5 slim jeans were purchased last fall and she still tries to wear them every morning. Some days I'm too lazy to make her go change (for the 5 millionth time!) but this morning I had a better idea. Let's fix those suckers!
I started but appliquéing some home-made patches on. I drew them out onto paper, cut out the shapes, pinned the shapes to a pre-lined square-o-fabric, and then cut the shapes out of the fabric. Sewing these on was a roller coaster that I do not recommend. It was EXTREMELY irritating. At one point the sewing machine and I got into a fight and I punched it... Whatever! You try doing it!
For the additional length/colorful cuffs:
1. I started by cutting two 4 1/2" slabs of matching fabric.
2. Then I folded and ironed down about 1/8" along the length of the fabric. I folded that bad boy over on top of itself and ironed some more.

2. Then sew the fold into place
3. Now line up the rough edge of your slab with the very end of the jeans and pin ALMOST all of the way around.
4. Why ALMOST? Because I want for when you sew, to leave about an inch near the inside seam open. See? Also, go ahead and just sew on the prior hem line.
5. This is a little difficult to explain but just read this 5 bazillion times and then you'll get what I'm talking about. Push one side of the loose fabric all of the way up to the other side so that, once sewn, the hem will be fluid.
6. Pin this down - both to the jeans as well as together. Your fabric should be T'd.

7. I didn't take a picture for this ~ lame. Imagine with me. In the photo below, sew along the red line. Make sure that you don't catch the jeans but do make sure to sew both sides of the fabric together.
8. Now pin down the excess fabric, making sure that there isn't a hole at the top of your T... Sew it down by starting from where you left off (for that 1" gap) and joining the two hems

9. Fold her over and iron.
10. Now turn the pant leg inside out and fold the new cuff in half, wrong sides together. Match up the hems and pin.
11. Sew and then iron the cuff fold flat. 12. DUH NUH! Miss F is still at school but I'll get a photo of her in 'em later. Also, I put some funky embroidery on the bottom portion of the cuffs for extra cuteness ;)
Please, don't look closely at this photo as the appliqué is... less than perfect.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Little O-ism

I just HAD to post this even though this is #3 for the day. I was walking past the bathroom when I saw Little O with his shades on... So I of course grab the camera and take this shot.
That's when he says, "My booty just blew wind."
And I was laughing so hard but stumbled out, "You mean you farted?"
And he says, "Nope. It was much more like wind."
(He just came in here and saw his picture up while I was typing and sternly said, "MOM. Are you writing me?")

Too Funny!

Hey Southy, I read your color and hoped that mine wouldn't be purple because, apparently purple people have no depth! Guess what!?!

You Are a Purple Crayon

Your world is colored in dreamy, divine, and classy colors.
You hold yourself to a sky high standard, and you are always graceful.
People envy, idolize, and copy you without realizing it. You are an icon for those who know you.
And while it is hard to be a perfectionist, rest assured it's paying off!

Your color wheel opposite is yellow. While yellow people may be wise, they lack the manners and class needed to impress you.

Bumper Stickers

Lately I've had a strange obsession with bumper stickers. I have been inching closer and closer to the cars in front of me in order to read them (don't try that at home). Here's a few that I found here:

*side note: Mr. P colored a picture of he and I yesterday ~ the process was interrupted by an immediate need (voiced by myself) for his room to be picked up (cut me some slack. I was trying to do laundry and somehow none of his made it to the basket). But I thought that you might get a kick out of my freckles/leprosy and his stripey pants. He threatened to put hair on my arms ("because white people have that") and I talked him out of it. He then suggested some hair on my hands. Again, I talked him out of it. Then a fight ensued over who in the family had to be the pigs and who got to be the cat with a dress on. However, no one argued over the obvious fact that Husband is the " big boy cow" that I'm dancing with.

So after reading the other ones, I started looking for some that I could personalize... not that I would ever put them on my car but I joke with Husband about having two in particular. Here they are:

(I do this. It's true.)
(self explanatory)

Well... I might put them on if they were magnetic... I wonder if I can make that kind...

Monday, September 17, 2007

Naughty Dad

I don't know if this will become a weekly topic but it feels good to rant about it somewhere. I apologize if you could care less.

So Saturday was the kids' first official game and Husband had been practicing with Mr. P (who, by the way BEGS for Husband to play with him... I don't want you to think that we're psycho parents that focus only on a sport) the week prior so he was ready! The team that they played against was ... good. I mean, they're 6 year olds for pity sake. They played like 6 year olds. Our team, on the other hand, played beautifully. Mr. P was moving like a pro, making side shots and pulling cross overs. And Miss F moves like a gazelle and is starting to get into the groove more.

*side note. Husband watches pro soccer with Miss Brasil's husband or on the Spanish channel when a game is on. Pro soccer players celebrate after a goal is made. This can be done in many ways (similar to American football). For example, the rest of the team pretends to shine the goal-makers cleats or the goal-maker acts as if they're rocking a baby. This is just part of the fun. So I've been teaching Mr. P (Miss F is too shy) how to do flips and silly dances for when the opportunity presents itself. He and I think that it's hilarious.

Mr. P made the first goal within seconds of the game beginning. He ran out of the box with his fists raised in the sky as our side cheered. Shortly after this, I ran to the portion of the field that he was on and reminded him of the 'celebration moves' that we had practiced. He gave me a wink and a smile as the game continued. A few minutes later, he scored another goal and then did a cartwheel as he headed for center field. I was whistling and hooting... that kid makes me proud.

And then it happened.

A Naughty Dad from the opposing team screamed "FOUL" on Mr. P. No one had any idea what foul he was referring to so the coaches and he packed together to figure it out. Turns out that this Naughty Dad doesn't want for children to put their elbows up while dribbling the ball (in case you aren't sure, this is a completely legal move to guard your space). So our coach says that he won't call a foul on something that isn't a foul and that he doesn't want to ref any longer. The Naughty Dad does nothing but stare at our coach. A grandpa from the opposing team offered to do it. I think that the cartwheel may have thrown Naughty Dad over the edge.

Then Mr. P scores another goal (this time with no celebration moves) and a large number of the opposing teams parents start shouting, "THIS ISN'T GOOD SPORTSMANSHIP! PULL HIM OUT OF THE GAME!" because they're mad that Mr. P is a good player. Our coach tries to keep the moral of our team up by attempting to ignore the strange adults that are shouting at my son. Then the Naughty Dad's kid pushes Mr. P out of bounds. The grandpa ref doesn't call it and Husband and I don't say anything because we want our kids to learn how to be good sports - sometimes you get shoved and you just get up and play that much harder. Our coach saw it and he decides that it's time to pull out Mr. P. He also slims down our team to three players. Why? To make a point.

So now Miss F is rockin' the field and she scores 2 more goals. Are you with me? We took Mr. P off the field, played our 3 players against their 4, and we still scored 2 more goals. GIRL I WAS A GRINNIN'! We, of course, won 5-3.

*Another side note. The biggest reason that those parents IRK the poo outta me is because of my husband. He was raised in the south (north FL, 1/2 an hour from GA) where football is everything - the entire town shows up to watch the high schoolers play. Husband has always been a big guy (he's 6'5 and about 250 now), so when he was playing football in jr. high, he would get the ball and just plow through the other team. The parents on the opposing teams got together and complained about him publicly. The next year, Husband had a red stripe painted on his helmet and he wasn't allowed to touch the ball.
He never played on a football team again.
It wasn't his fault that he was good! He was a freakin' kid!
And since when do we DISCOURAGE children from excelling? LAME.

p.s. My MIL, after reading this post, just emailed me this:
"Actually, the red stripe on the helmet happened to him while playing independent football at the rec center and he was only in grade school! All the boys that weighed over like 100 pounds or so were "red lined.""

Saturday, September 15, 2007

A slip of the tongue?

I was lying in bed this morning (trying to sleep in and yet awake) and I heard Little O scream, "D@MN3TT!!"

Don't look at me... I don't say that cuss word.

So I call him into the room, along with Miss Z whom he swore at, in order to get the story. Miss Z said that she was sitting on the couch when he walked up to her - this is when he yelled the profanity at her.
Then she said, "Ooooo! I'm tellin' Momma that you said a bad word!"
His reply? "Whhhhyyyy? D@mn3tt means please scoot over."

Friday, September 14, 2007

I need an opinion or two.

Something that's been on my mind since this past spring.
Mr. P's hair.


I had been taking him to a typical barbershop (well, not exactly typical. they have a couple of flat screens and more than one video game system) where boys/men just hang out and chat. I really enjoyed the lively atmosphere and Mr. P liked his cutter. Plus they always have new magazines. The problem? The owner was RUDE. Rude always rude.

So I took him to a dumb old super-dee-duper-cuts place because while I would love to pay the nice cutter, I know that a portion of that $ is going to Mr. Rude Owner. Dumb old super-dee-duper-cuts isn't very good at cutting his hair PLUS they don't even have magazines. Not to mention that even I can cut it better (which isn't saying much, trust me).

So I started doing it at home. Can I fade? Nope. My edges got better the more I practiced but it just doesn't look like it did when we went to Mr. Rudes' place. They actually know what they're doing.

And then there's Berry's place. He's a guy that I grew up with and now he owns a couple of barber shops but they're all the way up on Rainier. What to do?

Here's our options:
1. Mr. Rude's place
2. super-dee-dumb-cuts
3. me
4. or a 25 minute drive to my friends shop

What to do? It's definitely time for a haircut.

Do I deserve it?


Absolutely not! I've got quite a bit of work to do in the "niceness" department. But I will accept it graciously. I would like to thank my kids for pushing my patience daily (that's how we gain patience, RIGHT!?!). Also props to Husband who teaches me how to be nice through his own actions. But God, you're the one that I'm giving my award to because anything within me that is worthy comes straight from you.

I'm handing this bad boy to ... (drumroll please ~ okay that was trite)
*Rebekah because she ALWAYS has something pleasant to say... even when I go off about poo heads.
*Dancer because even though she hasn't blogged in a while (hint hint), I adore her.
*Miss Brasil because she's always around to be the bestest friend ever. Can you say that when you're 29? BFF.
*Southy I want to give this back to you. Is that possible? You are WAY nicer than I am. So nice, in fact, that you think I'm nice!?! By the way, you're late for coffee. The Korean ladies and I are waiting for you to show up. Should I serve them the shortbread now?

Okay... I'm off to quilt ~ suprised? The Ghetto Quilter is actually quilting. How unusual.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Banana Bread

The Easiest Banana Bread Ever
..that is unless you know of a recipe that I don't know of that's easier..

5-6 old bananas
2 cups of sugar
1 cup of butter, softened
3 1/2 cups of flour
2 tsps of baking soda
1 tsp of salt
4 eggs

  1. Start by creaming the sugar and butter in a big bowl... this is the secret key to success (that isn't really a secret anymore)
  2. In a seperate bowl, squish the bananas
  3. Now add the rest of the ingredients to the big bowl ~ including the banana goo
  4. Keep stirring, even though your arm hurts, until it's a goobery brown thick liquid
  5. Plop mixture into a greased pan, I use 2 glass 8 1/2" pans
  6. Cook at 300 degrees for about an hour and 15 minutes. I would check when it's getting close, though.

The bananas were so old that when I picked them up, the peels fell off. Gross.
Little O is more than happy to be at home alone with mom in the mornings... he gets to help with everything without all of the competition.
Stirring away.
Looking to see if it's done yet even though the oven light is burnt out.
Because the bread takes so dang long to bake, I thought that I would just swing by and pick up Mr. P from morning kindergarten. I told myself about 50 times to turn off the oven before we left (there was only about five minutes left of cooking time so I figured that I could switch off the oven and just leave the bread in there to cook in the cooling oven). Did I? Nope. That would have been the "right" thing to do. So the bread was well done, but slab enough butter onto it and it remains yummy-licious. Mr.P won't stop asking me for
just one more

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


This morning was fairly uneventful ~ minus having Miss Brazil over for coffee. She didn't want short bread cookies at 9am. Weirdo. Now, tell me if I'm wrong but don't short bread cookies sound yummy. I'll think I'll go get one....

Or two. They're a little stale from sitting out but I'm not picky at 10:30pm.

And then Husband got home a bit early and so he went to pick the girls up from school. The neighborhood kids asked him if he would take them to the park for a round of soccer.
"Sure." replies Husband.
"Right now!?!" asked neighborhood kid
"Well, not nooowwww... But how about after a bit? I have to go home and talk to my wife"
"But will you come over and get us because my dad wants to know that you'll be there with us."
"Okay, but it won't be for a bit."
"How long is a bit?"
And the conversation goes on from there but I'm too lazy to type it out and it's kinda boring anyhow.

The part that matters is still coming.

So husband takes all of the kids to the park and I'm left to my own devices. What should I do??? I know! Go to the grocery store all by myself! And I grabbed Husbands keys because he has a stick and that sounded fun. That didn't sound appropriate. Get your mind out of the gutter! I made myself a cup of afternoon coffee because I'm an addict and I climbed into the car. Turned the key. Nothing. Turned the key again. Nothing. So I went inside to call Husband for help. He told me to try again. Then it started.

"Please take the other car just in case." he requested.

I didn't. I wanted to drive the stick but I didn't tell him of my evil intentions. So off me and my coffee went to the grocery store where everybody knows my name. I chatted with the clerks (I'm pathetic) and stole some samples from the Starbucks girl with a giggle (that's me: the dork) and had a marvelous time. But I figured that I'd better be getting home to make the dinner that I had just purchased.

Turned the key. Nothing. Turned the key 5,000 more times. Nothing nothing nothing.

I REALLY didn't want to call Husband for help. I should have taken his advise in the first place, but since I hadn't, I REALLY didn't want to call him.... he would rub it in. So I turned the key with my arm lifted a little higher, with the e-brake off, with less pressure on the key, more pressure on the key, ect. But then my hair was irritating THE POO outta me and so I needed a brake. Leaning back in the seat, I noticed the Korean ladies.

Now, this isn't your average group of Korean ladies. They are older (like great grandmas) and they hang out in front of the grocery store in the late afternoon. They use their secret language (that would be Korean) to chat about me every time that I walk by them. You think I'm paranoid? I'd like to see you up against this group! They don't mind if they stare and point at you while that chat about you. Alright, that may be stretching it a bit but I really want to impress a point.

The ladies were watching all of this go down. They were chattering and staring at me, probably taking bets on how long that I would hold out before I called Husband. This made me more embarrassed. I tried to talk myself out of being embarrassed and here's what I came up with:

  1. Everyone's car breaks down eventually
  2. It's okay to ask for help even when you're an idiot
And that was it; but it was enough to get me to call Husband (this was about 30 minutes after I was done shopping). So I went and called him from the pay phone old school style and they overheard everything that I said to him. It was humiliating. Their eyes followed me to the car as I propped up the hood and climbed back into the drivers seat. I'm pretty sure that they were saying, "Look at that redhead! She thought that she had scored the best spot in the parking lot when she got here with that big smile on her face. She's not smiling, now, is she?" And then they would all laugh. This is when I tried to talk myself out of being embarrassed about everyone knowing that my car was broken... But I wasn't able to and so I just pretended like it was cool.
  1. I chewed on the invisible cuticle
  2. I cleaned out the non-dirt from under my fingernails.
  3. I tried to reinstall the rear view mirror that hadn't been mounted since we replaced the windshield.
  4. I ate some wheat thins
  5. I nonchalantly hung my bare foot out of the window (This was shortly after noticing that the car was beginning to smell of rotten pears and then realizing that it was coming from my feet... What? It was hot!)
  6. I went through my purse, looking for that one pretend thing
  7. When it wasn't there, I looked for it in my wallet
  8. And then I looked for the pretend thing on the car floor
  9. I can't believe that I'm admitting this to you.
And then Husband showed up and pushed the car to another part of the parking lot to work on it. I'd like to think that this was for my benefit of staying out of the ladies eye-shot. But that isn't possible because I hadn't told him about them. Because if I had, then he'd know how weird that his wife truly is.

Coffee Anyone?

Maybe I'm in one of those... daydreamer moods but I wish wish wish that we all lived near one another and I would invite you over for coffee (I make it REALLY strong but always have half and half on hand) and would serve you special sugary treats. We would chat about some light things at first, setting the stage for really getting to know one another...

Some of us on couches, others on chairs. All of our kids would be in a safe and fun place, far far away and that would be good because it's 'mommy time'. We could just focus on prayer needs and getting to know one another. I'd throw on some good back ground music and we'd all wear eye liner because the event would be that special. Maybe we'd even have a book club... okay... This is definitely a fantasy now. But all of that to say that I wish that we knew one another better.

I got a call later this morning from IBSEN and they (I love you Anne!) wanted to know if I would be willing to share our story at this years auction. I'm flattered and have butterflies already brewing. Last year I got to attend the event and there were at least 1500 people there... at least. And I ALWAYS cry like the big weeny that I am whenever I tell God stories. I wonder if they know what they got themselves into!?!