confessions from Tara

How to be a gojillionaire...like Vera Wang

2012-02-11T12:11:00.001-07:00

So, I got a job the other day. Not exactly what I wanted to do, but one must weigh the pros and cons and make a decision. I decided, for the time being, at least, that the pros of getting a job outweigh the cons. But it was close!
Don't worry, though, it isn't some awful 9-5. It is piecework alterations three days a week. No biggie. It will mean a regular paycheck. And it doesn't mean that I stop doing my own thing, not at all.
Anyway, during the interview,after seeing my portfolio pictures, the owner of the shop asked me why I don't open my own shop. I have been asked that several times, actually. So, here is the answer.
Right now, I don't want to.
Before I had The Small One, I worked a lot. I worked at Brigham Young University full time and also did custom gowns on the side. After I left my job to care for my (much adored) nephew, I still needed an income, so I kept doing custom gowns and even advertised. I got very busy, but was still able to care for my nephew as he was a very sweet and easy baby.
When nephew was 3, I had a baby of my own. She was not a sweet and easy baby. She had colic to begin with, which made working hard. She is/was an infinitely more demanding than little nephew. Different personalites, you know?
So, I dialed back the work load to care for the baby.
Well, when she was 1.5, I think, the business with which TMOTH was affiliated went belly up. We lost, big time. So, I went back to work at a bridal salon as a designer/alterations manager. That lasted for a while, but didn't end up working out. The Small One did not deal well with me working full time. So, I left and went back to doing alterations and custom gowns out of my own space.
Fast forward to now. We have some things we want to do which require money (like pay off debt, for one. Go to the UK for another), so I have decided to get a job with a regular paycheck.
TMOTH was not thrilled about the idea, he thinks I am shortchanging myself. So do a lot of other people, for that matter.
But, here is the thing.
Running a business is HARD. Really hard. And you have to work more than full time to be successful. Why? Because, not only are you working full time at the actual JOB part, but you have to work a lot outside of the job marketing, finding work, doing paperwork, hoping you are figuring your taxes out correctly, worrying about whether it is worth it to have employees, etc, etc, etc.
So, I weight the pros and cons.
I could be successful at a bridal salon of my own, I think. I am good at what I do. I have a pretty good eye for design, I am a really good manager.
But. I also like my kid. (Not to imply that other people who work don't like their kids, I know they do).
What it boils down to is this.
I can make more money, but not see my daughter very much.
Or, I can deal with being poor, and hate it, but get to be with my daughter like I want to.
I could have my own salon and not much time.
Or, I can work for someone else, let them deal with the business stuff, make a bit of money and be home with The Small One like I want to be.
For now, anyway. Things will definitely change when she is in school all day. I won't have her with me, anyway, so I may as well put in some effort towards a business of my own, right?

It's the Small Things...

2012-02-08T23:55:00.002-07:00

Sometimes, when life gets a bit overwhelming and unpleasant, I have to try and focus on the good stuff. You know, count your blessings and whatnot. Of course, I am very blessed, even in my trials.
Things could be worse, right?
Although, sometimes, I am reminded of that cliche when a child doesn't want to eat his/her dinner and the mother says, "Eat it, there are children starving in Africa." That never made sense to me. Ok, mail them my dinner. I don't need it.
Obviously, the point was to be grateful for what I had. To be sure, my mom never used this one on us. I don't think it ever made sense to her either.
My friend, Jim Bennett, son of (hang on while I name drop for a second) former Senator Bob Bennett, posted something rather wise on Facebook yesterday, which is what made me think of this whole post.
Here it is.
I find the relativity of suckiness to be irrelevant. It is suckiness itself, any of it, which concerns me. I personally want less of it. Recognizing that my suckiness levels are ten times, fifty times, or a thousand times lower than someone else's reduces my own suckiness not a whit. However, it does produce guilt, as in "how dare you complain about your suckiness when Floyd's life is six times suckier." So there's that, I guess, but since guilt is sucky, that reinforces my central point.
He is wise, is Jim. I hope he doesn't mind me quoting him. I should probably ask. Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow.
Anyway, I think he is right. We all have our own trials, right? And they all suck for us, right? I mean, I know that what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger but sometimes it feels more like What doesn't kill me will invariably come back and try again until it eventually succeeds.
So, rather than focusing on the fact that it could be worse, because it could indeed, I am trying to focus on the things that are good in their own right.
No question that I am lacking gratitude sometimes. I should be overwhelmingly grateful that we have a home, a car that runs (knock on wood), etc. etc. But those things don't always cheer me up, because the reverse is so damn depressing.
So, instead, I like to focus on the small things that make me happy, bring a smile to my face.
Here are a few them-
-Jim Dale reading audiobooks. Awesome. Listening to Harry Potter for about the 30th time. Never gets old. And, if The Small One and The Man of the House are being noisy (fighting, usually), I still know what is going on at any given time, because I pretty much have the books memorized.
Wanna know what one of my most favourite parts is? Of course you do!
Book 4, Goblet of Fire. Ron and Harry in McGonagall's class having a sword fight with 2 of the twins fake wands. Ron's has turned into a tin parrot, Harry's into a rubber haddock. At the moment McGonagall yells at them to pay attention there is a pause and then the head of Harry's rubber haddock slides silently to the floor, having been severed by the parrot's beak a moment before.
I die. Every time. Laugh out loud funny. It is such a classic jr. high moment.
-Norm Abrams voice/This Old House/New Yankee Workshop. Why? I don't know. It is so classically lazy Saturday morning to me, I think. It means TMOTH is in a chill mood. It usually means the house is tidy. And there are beautiful things being made/done that I can ask TMOTH to make/do for me. Good stuff.
-When The Small One is driven to giggles. The real ones, not the silly, fake 4 year old hamming for attention giggles. Her nose squinches up, her eyes get tight and all her teeth show. She looks and sounds so utterly delighted that I can't help but laugh with her. It is adorable.
-TMOTH and The Small One laying on the floor, eating popcorn and watching movies. It is hilarious. They talk to each other like contemporaries.
-Dewberry shower gel and lotion from The Body Shop. This scent is what my flat in London smelled like. 11 years later and that smell still conjures London for me. If you combine that smell with cigarette smoke and car exhaust, well, it sounds disgusting, but that is what a Kensington street smells like to me. And it is a VERY happy smell.
-Knitting. What else is there to say?
-The way the chickens shout for attention when you go out in the back. Or follow you around if you they are loose. It is hilarious. They love people. And treats.
-Hot baths in my gorgeous claw foot tub. My mom rescued it for me when an old house in Salt Lake was being renovated. It is huge. And deep. With a slanty back.
-And lastly, for tonight. The fact that my friend's 4 year old is in love with TMOTH. For 2 reasons. He has a fire truck, and he can fix ANYTHING. Dreamy, apparently.

In other news, I have decided to put The Small One in a French Immersion program for school. This means that I will have to drive about 30-35 minutes twice a day once she starts school, but from what I hear, it is worth it. Should prepare her well for our trip to the UK and France in a couple of years. It has been a hard decision. Who knew choosing a kindergarten could be so angst ridden?

Bedtime Tamales and Other Inanities

2012-01-12T10:33:00.001-07:00

So, last night, TMOTH gave The Small One her bedtime snack. It is something she requires, or she can't sleep. This is no joke. Night before she sat up and talked and talked and talked and occasionally mentioned that she would like some cereal. And then she talked some more. Round about 11:30, I got fed up with her lack of sleep and got her some cereal. She ate half the bowl and then promptly conked out. Silly infant.
But back to last night's snack. Tamales. In my bed. And I am not referring to the cinnamon candy. Actual tamales. Who eats tamales for bedtime snack in bed? Seriously? I mean, besides my daughter and maybe a sleepy Mexican or two. I came in my room to find her happily ensconced in MY bed eating tamales. And getting tamale goo EVERYWHERE. All over my bed. And I just changed the sheets last night.
Why was she eating tamales in my bed? Well, I asked her. Because, she tells me, she wanted tamales. But why in my bed? Well, she didn't want tamales in her bed.
Oh. That explains it. If you are four years old.
I walked out and asked The Man of the House why he gave her tamales in my bed without laying down a protective sheet or, I don't know, feeding them to her in her bed. He looked at me and said, Yeah, did not think about that. Hmmm.
He politely came in and cleaned up the tamale goo from the bed. But now my bed smells of Mexican food. Which is a good smell if you are hungry and at Cafe Rio. Not so much whilst attempting to wander off in slumber.

Lately, TMOTH and I have had a few people tell us they love to follow us on Facebook. We look at them strangely and ask why. They look at us strangely and say-Well, you two do the most interesting things. Duh. We look back at them (strangely, of course) and say-Really? We think we are a smidge boring.
Tonight, one of those followers, who is also a friend, popped over to get eggs.
Speaking of eggs, we currently have 7.5 dozen in the fridge. Need any?
She wanted to see the redone room and the pottery wheel and the dollhouse. So, I showed her. Like most of you (admit it, it's true) I like to hear praise of my cleverness now and again. She was properly effusive, then mentioned how she likes to follow me on aforementioned facebook and see all the things I do or teach The Small One to do. She went on to say that she admired how willing I was to let The Small One try new things, and that some parents just can't handle the mess.
Well, if you came to my house, you would see that tidyness is hardly my strong point, so I can't really use that as an excuse to prevent her trying. Also, my parents let me do things like that, so it would sort of be cheating to tell my daughter no. That is how I learned, that is how she shall learn.
Besides, I like her enthusiasm. Most of the time.
Then, talking to my mother about a quilt I am (very slowly) hand piecing, said mother mentioned that she does not like to do things like that, she would never finish. And it occured to me that I don't do things specifically to finish.
And then this quote came to mind. And I think it describes my methodolgy perfectly. Thank you, Adam Savage, for being awesome in more ways than one.

"I don’t make things in order to have finished objects. I have finished objects as a by-product of my need to always be making.” Adam Savage

It is true. I absolutely have a need to always be making.
TMOTH sometimes makes fun of me and my brother, who is very similar, because we have a lot of unfinished projects. But that is the thing. I don't create to have finished things. I create to create. The process is it for me. I am a process knitter. A process quilter. And sadly, a process upholsterer and refinisher. And redecorator.
This is not to say that I don't have finished objects, I absolutely do. But the object is not the driving force. The creating is.
And I realized, The Small One is very like me in that regard. She likes to do. And to learn. She doesn't give a flying fig about the object. The doing is what has her mesmerized. And I love that about her.
Small One is hilarious as always. She likes to use big words. The other day she was telling TMOTH what was and was not "apporpiate" inside the house. Playing with water? NOT APPORPIATE inside. In case you wondered.
When I had my tooth out and was laid up whining and moaning with pain, she told me she was mamma-sitting me. She took care of me, brought me water and all sorts of snacks that I couldn't exactly eat. But it was very sweet. She would sit on the arm of the chaise and stroke my head.
I downloaded an app on my new Kindle Fire for her. You register your kid by age and name and then it picks appropriate (or apporpiate) games, movies and books for them. You can lock them in the app so they can't fiddle about with other things on the Kindle. Very nice. At the end of each week, it emails you a summary of what your child has been doing, what games they like to play, movies, sites they like to visit. Do you want to know what it says her fave site is?
BBC Kids. Yep. She is my kid.
Her second fave is PBS Kids. I am so proud.

Inauspiciousness. Say that five times fast.

2012-01-11T00:03:00.003-07:00

So, my New Year? Did not get off to an auspicious start. I hope yours was better. I also hope that the previously mentioned inauspiciousness is not an omen for the rest of the year. Because, if it is, I quit now.
Anyway, here is what happened.
After the Christmas festivities ended, I found myself a bit loose-endish and my house more than a bit crowded. The Small One had a giant new pottery wheel and a giant new dollhouse. Where to put them? The second half of our front room (which is a long narrow room) has been the sewing/Small One's crafty crap area for a few months. What that means is that I have a desk with a sewing machine and a few untidy stacks of fabric on it. And a knitting machine on the piano. And The Small One has 2 bookshelves full of crafty crap. Painting stuff, markers, crayons, pencils, paper, foamies, stickers, you name it, she probably has it. Oh, and the floor was covered by some ratty carpet that never stayed clean, because you try to keep a carpet clean that a bunch of pre-schoolers use as an art space. Not gonna happen. Just sayin'.
So, I got a bee in my bonnet about where on earth was the pottery wheel going to go where it would not cause havoc and despair on all things carpeted? Nowhere. Because there are only two uncarpeted rooms up here. My room and the kitchen. Yeah, no way.
I decided immediately to tear up the carpet in that room and expose the wood floor underneath. Good idea!
Now, a few tidbits about my house.
I live in a smallish town that was settled in 1853 (or thereabouts) by a bunch of Mormons sent on down from the Great Salt Lake City by Brigham Young. They first settled in a fort, than moved out slowly to parcels of property round about said fort. One dude settled on the plot of land on which I live. He built a smallish log cabin over a soft rock foundation and set up his smithy. As time wore on, he made more money and decided to enlarge said house. Well, really, he knocked the cabin down and built an actual house. The main room of the house was built over the soft rock cellar and the other two rooms built around. This was in 1880-ish. When he built the house, he didn't cheat. Foot thick adobe walls finished with lathe and plaster. 9 foot ceilings. And the floors. Beautiful,old growth, heart pine floors.
We found the first one when refinishing what was to be the nursery. We intended to put hardwood floors in, but when we pulled up the carpet, we found VERY old linoleum, nailed to the floor and surrounded by a painted wood floor. So, then we pulled up the linoleum, and Lo and Behold-a beautiful floor.
So, I figured that the wood probably extended into the other old rooms and asked the previous owner. He confirmed my suspicions and I have been pestering TMOTH ever since to let me pull up the carpet in the "dining area". He finally caved.
So, on Dec 29, I tore up the carpet, pulled up the nasty old linoleum, heaved up the nails and tack strip and was pleased with what I saw. The next day, my tooth went haywire. Bad. Pain, oh, pain. But I endured and began sanding the floor. Got the main part of it done. But the next day? Ten times worse. I could not handle the pain. No dentists anywhere (it was New Year's Eve). Finally, TMOTH called my GP at home and asked him to call in a prescription of LorTab so I could make it until Tuesday, when the dentists opened up again.
Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but they are not joking on that label when it says Do Not Drive or Operate Heavy Machinery While Using This Drug.
I am such a lightweight. Give me narcotics and I sort of float away. While itching. And talking non-stop.
It is pathetic, really. So, I was out for the count. New Year's Eve? No idea. I was stoned. Normally I watch the ball drop. Nope. Asleep by 10. And I am pretty certain I slept the next 3 days. Then I went and got the tooth pulled. And slept for the next 7 days. Seriously, I do not do painkillers well.
So, you can perhaps see what I mean about an inauspicious start to the new year?
First, I pretty much missed it, because I was either drowning in pain or drowning in narcotics, neither of which were fun.
Second, my house was in TOTAL disarray, because the only place to put things that come out of the room are in other rooms. Which kind of precludes using them. Or cleaning them.
Third, dude, pain. Enough said.
Fourth, very bad mood. Due to the previous three items.
I am sure you get it.
Anyway, I have more or less recovered, although the use of my jaw joint as a fulcrum for prying out the tooth has caused me additional aches, especially since I have TMJ, and the room is nearly done.
I will post some before and after pics so you can ooh and aah appropriately over my excellent taste in renovations/redecorations.
But not tonight. Tonight, I think I may watch Downton Abbey. And finish knitting my sock.

Here Again. Maybe?

2012-01-07T16:01:00.001-07:00

So, I got booted from my blog due to a serious mixup with accounts and websites and whatnot. Now I am back. Hopefully for real this time.
Been wondering what is going around here with The Small One and The Man of the House (TMOTH)? Well, pretty much, the usual. The Small One is always funny. And bratty. Which is to be expected from a 4 year old. And by the by, FOUR YEARS? HOW IS SHE THAT OLD? They are not kidding when they say time flies.
TMOTH carries on with working a lot, doing projects on our house (with me!) and being amusing.
So, here is a quick rundown of the recent past. I am only going to do recent, because I don't really remember further back. We are boring, so, there you go.
Christmas was good. It sneaked up on me again. I know, I know, how can I be surprised by something that occurs at the same time every year? Well, trust me, I can. Part of it was TMOTH working a lot. Part of it was me working later in December than I really like. Part of it was the lack of snow. I just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit this year, and that was a bit of a disappointment. But, The Small One had an excellent Christmas. She got a little barn with horses and people (dollhouse style) from my dad, which she promptly named Tambley farm. Why Tambley Farm, you may ask? Because that is what came out of her pencil when she wrote the sign. She is getting to a point where she can sound out letters and words, but sometimes she just writes things, and that is why Tambley Farm.
It had two cows and two horses. One white horse, one brown horse. In case you are unaware, and it is likely you are, white horses are unicorns. No, I don't know why. I am not a 4 year old girl. Unicorns are white, white horses are white. White horses must be unicorns.

The Small One also got a dollhouse from me ( I built it!) It was actually a kit given to me when I was 12 or so, that I never finished. Funny thing is, when I posted a pic on facebook, my friend called me and told me she recognized that dollhouse, because we had worked on it when we were small! She loves it, but it is huge, and really, she did not need more huge toys. Everything the child owns is huge. We don't do things by halves.

And, speaking of not doing things by halves, the be-all and end-all present she got? Something she has been begging me for for 6 months. A pottery wheel. Not just any pottery wheel, but a beautiful, full size, teak and granite pottery wheel made by none other than her daddy. It is awesome. Teak throw wheel, granite kick wheel, teak seat, metal frame, powder coated to a shiny white. She will be able to use it the rest of her life. And boy, does she love it. And, she is good at it, too. I was surprised, but I shouldn't have been. She is rather tricky with her hands.
If you wonder why she wanted a pottery wheel, and well you might, since a lot of our friends thought it was a curious thing for a small child to want, I shall inform you.
Back in June, we went to our local Heritage Festival. Living in an old, small town, these things are popular. At said event, there was a gentleman doing pottery and allowing the children to try it out. So, she did. Then a couple of months later, we were at a farmer's market/festival thing and there was another potter. Then, she discovered that her Uncle Danny does pottery and that he made some of our bowls. Well, that did it. She had to have a pottery wheel. And she did not forget about it.
We looked at kids pottery wheels, the motorized kind, not too expensive. But the reviews were terrible. They didn't last, the rpms were too slow to actually do anything, etc. So, TMOTH being clever, like he is, we decided he would build one.
Of course, being on a budget, there was no way we could buy a real pottery wheel. They range from about $400-$1000, which is a ridiculous amount to spend on a 4 yr old. Luckily, we had everything but the granite, which was also free from a friend. All we paid for was the powder coating and the shaping of the granite. Awesome.
So, while it looked like massive amounts of money were spend on the child, we really only spent about $100. Which is how it generally works out. Having crafty parents is good. Except that it often means that the child needs a GIANT playroom to hold her giant playthings. Giant dollhouse, giant pottery wheel, 3 piece play kitchen, rocking horse, playhouse, dress up closet. When you can make whatever you want, it is hard to scale back. ;)
And, TMOTH and I enjoy the building of said playthings. We took turns in the evenings working on our respective projects. He would come home, eat, then go out and work on the pottery wheel until 9, then come in and get The Small One ready for bed and I would go out and work on the dollhouse until about 11 or 12. Fortunately for us, we have nice garage heaters.
Ok, so I will REALLY try to post more often this year. It is one of my New Years Resolutions. Wish me luck.

Oooh, Pretty!

2011-09-30T23:59:00.000-06:00

Here are a few pics of a couple of gowns I have made. I took the photos of the gown worn by the blonde model.

Baby Shower!!!

2011-07-10T13:20:00.002-06:00

One of my BFF's finally got a baby. I have been friends with this girl for 18 years, and realized early on in the friendship, that, among other delightful things we shared, our taste in decor was one of them. We met in college, in the Costume Design program. We still share a lot of the same friends, most of them theatre people.
Now, here is the thing. I have given A LOT of baby showers in my life, but this one was special for a couple of reasons. One-friend waited a very long time for this baby. Two-this friend and our shared circle of friends are some of the few people I know that would actually get a shower like this. I mean, it was not simple and neither was the food. I don't know how things are where you live, but here, baby showers usually happen in someone's front room with cute baby themed decor and dessert.
That is not what was wanted here. I have wanted to do a baby shower like this for a very long time, and finally, I had the opportunity. I teamed up with another friend and away we went! Good thing we share similar tastes!

Wassup?!?!

2011-05-22T21:29:00.004-06:00

Dude, lame. I get spam comments. I mean really? I don't need Gucci handbag spam. Srsly.
Anyway, look, I am back! Well, for a minute, anyway. Here's hoping that I actually manage to stick to it for a while.
The problem here is twofold. One, it takes a bit of time to write posts. I mean, yes, I am naturally amusing and stuff, but I do do some editing. Second part of the problem? Stress, of which there has been a great deal, puts me in a bad mood and I don't want to post when I am in a bad mood.
Now, the fact that I am posting does not mean that the stress has left the building (it has not), it just means that I am temporarily not in a bad mood, so I thought I would take advantage of the opportunity and post a few things.
They may or may not make sense.

So, here is the thing. The older brother of mine is an artist. A rather successful one, as a matter of fact. An artist who makes a living doing arty type stuff, which, apparently, if you are an artist, is a really amazing thing to do.
Being that older brother and I went to the same high school and are very close in age, we know many of the same people. Also, being that we both live in the same general area, we again know many of the same people.
It often occurs that I run into some of these people out and about. Here is how the conversation goes.
Me-Oh, hey there, so-and-so, haven't seen you for ages, how are things?
So-and-so-Oh, things are great, thanks! How is your super mega awesome artist type brother?
Me-Uh, yeah, he is doing great, thanks for asking.
So-and-so-Is he still working for super famous animation studio doing super awesome things of which we are totally jealous?
Me-Yep. Still works there. Still does art type stuff.
So-and-so-Man, he is, like, so super mega talented! I always wished I could be like him. In high school we were cool and stuff, but now, man, he is so super mega awesome that I don't even dare to speak in his most august presence.
Me-Yeah, I hear that a lot.
So-and-so-Oh, I bet you do! He is what all of us artist types aspire to be. Super mega awesome, super mega talented, all that stuff. I mean, if I could even claim the kind of talent he has in his pinky finger, I would think I had made it in the world.
Me-Yeah, ok, well, I gotta go.
So-and-so-Why? Are you going to go worship at the feet of your super mega awesome artist brother?
Me-Uh, no. I don't really do that. I just need to get some bread and milk, then get back to work.
So-and-so-Oh, what do you do? Did your super mega awesome artist brother teach you how to do whatever it is you do?
Me-No. I make wedding gowns.
So-and-so-Oh. Cool. I bet you wish you were as super mega awesome as your brother.
Me-Ok. Well gotta go, see you.
So-and-so-Right, yeah, well, tell your super mega awesome brother that we said hi and that we think he is super mega awesome and we wish we could be like him.
Me-Right. bye.

Now, I admit that this sounds absurdly effusive, but I assure you, it is not far from the truth. Dude has a fan club. There are two guys in particular that I think would die to be President and VP of his fan club. For awhile, I thought about carrying a couple of t-shirts around with me saying "E for President!" In fact, I went so far as to make a shirt for his daughter that said that. But, I kept running into so many people who were over the top in their admiration for him that I changed the shirt and made his daughter a new one that said "E for intergalactic emperor" or something like that.

Anyway, the point of telling you all of this was for one reason. I have acquired a fanclub myself. Yes, folks, it is true. There are people in this world who think I am super mega awesomely talented. Not only do they think it, they post about it on facebook! True story.

I texted the super mega awesome brother last night to tell him he was not the only one with an effusive fan club. He texted back that it was nice to have someone who could take some of the focus of his awesomeness. He counseled me to be aware that it could be a heavy burden to bear to be so awesome, but that he had learned to deal with it and was sure I would as well.

Wasn't that nice of him?

Spring, spring, spring!

2011-02-12T19:42:00.002-07:00

I have spring fever, in a big way. To make things worse, two of my friends are in LA right now, enjoying the warmth. I oughtn't to complain, though, it was a beautiful day today. It is funny how we acclimate to our weather. Right now it is somewhere around 40 degrees outside, which, if it were fall would be FREEZING, but since it is winter, is positively balmy. We have been enduring temperatures in the teens and twenties lately (or lower if you get up at an unholy hour, which I do not), so when the thermometer gets above 30, we think it is lovely and warm. And I am not kidding. I went to the mall the other day with my mom and The Small One, I think it was around 32 degrees outside and The Small One refused to wear her coat. It was too warm. I couldn't argue with her, because I had already removed mine.
Tonight, we decided to go spend TMOTH's gift card at the local ice cream shop. Yeah, easy to see that things had warmed up here in Utah. The place was PACKED. That is what Mormons do when it is warm(ish) you know. We eat ice cream. Since we can't have alcohol, we must have other vices! Ice cream and Diet Coke, baby. Not that I drink Diet Coke, I think it is foul. I am a Dr. Pepper girl.
That is another funny thing about Utah. We like our fountain drinks. Convenience stores abound here, and I think they make their money off of fountain drinks, not gasoline. When I travel, I am always surprised at the scarcity of convenience stores. And when I do find one, there are only 5-6 options for soda! You go into the local convenience store/gas station here and, I kid you not, they have 4 banks of fountain drinks, with 8-10 drinks per bank. Not to mention the non-carbonated banks on the other side. Also, convenience stores are WAY bigger here. Lots more candy, nachos, hot dogs, etc. It is a wonder all Utahns aren't fat.
Which brings me to another peculiarity. When road tripping through the states, as I have done, it is easy to notice when you have crossed the state border into or out of our lovely state. You know how? The restrooms. Public and business. In Utah, for the most part, they are clean. Very clean. Once you cross the state line, well, ew. You are probably better off on the side of the road. This is not to say that there are not nasty restrooms in this state, just that in general, they are clean. And I know my restrooms, folks.
I know, fascinating, isn't it?

I'm me again

2011-02-12T09:31:00.002-07:00

About six weeks or so ago, I decided I wanted something a bit different for my hair. My hair, in case you don't know, is pretty long. I am generally in the habit of cutting it off every two years or so and then growing it back out. There are a couple of reasons for this. One, I get bored easily. Two, it grows crazy fast and I am too lazy and too cheap for the upkeep required for short hair. I love short hair, well, when it is the right haircut. It is sassy and suits my personality quite well. Long hair suits my temperament as well, though, because, as mentioned, I am lazy. Sweep it up into a french twist and Bob's your uncle!
So, as I was saying before I got a bit distracted, a while ago I wanted something different. The Man of the House asked me not to cut my hair off yet, to leave it long. Not because he doesn't like the way I look with short hair (he does) but because he says I complain too much while it is growing out! How rude. Since I am kind, I obliged him and didn't cut it. Which left only colour to change. Well, see, that is where I don't get very adventurous most of the time. It is silly, really, because hair colour is very easy to change, unlike whacking off your hair. But, I tend to keep my hair the same colour all of the time. Because it is me. It identifies me (at least to me), it makes me feel more like me.
Sometimes, though, me is BORING and I want something different. So, I went for it. I told my SIL (cosmetologist) that I wanted to go dark and weave it in with my natural hair colour, which is a dull strawberry blonde. So, we did it. And it was dark. And not very red.
I really wasn't sure what to think. It was a colour combination I had wanted to try for some time, but it wasn't red.
And I am a redhead (with all that entails, apparently)
The reactions I got were interesting. Polarized, really. TMOTH's family liked it. It was cool, different. My family? Not so much. It was different. They don't like different. Tara has red hair, therefore Tara should have red hair. They were mostly kind and simply refrained from commenting on it, but I know.
So, I kept it. Why not? Something new! Change is good!
Well, last night, I noticed I had about 1" of growth and when your hair colour changes significantly, 1" is rather noticeable and with my hair colour, not attractive.
So, I grabbed my boxes of dye from the grocery store and went to it. Colour, rinse, blow dry. Then back upstairs to join my family.
The Small One took one look at me and said "Oh, mom, I like you with red hair again."
Me too, Small One, me too.

Bleh and stuff

2011-02-09T00:49:00.003-07:00

This is my motto right now.

Or possibly this-

Do you know what it is from? Well, the first one, anyway, which has spawned many like the second. It is a morale booster poster from Great Britain during WWII, I believe. Might have been WWI, but I think it was II.

Anyway, story of my life.

I have had a wretched cold for over a week now, which culminated in one of the beastliest migraines to attack me in recent history. And, I assure you, migraines do attack. If you are prone to them, you know whereof I speak. If you are not prone to them, well, count your blessings that you know not whereof I speak. They are beastly. There are not words to describe just how beastly. There are some lovely migraine meds out there, sadly, the one that works for me does not work for my insurance. And they cost $25/pill, at at least two pills per migraine, well, sometimes I just stick it out and hope for the best.

Also bleh, I have watched all there is to watch of my fave TV programmes. Kingdom ended after 3 seasons, all of which I have watched. Doc Martin's next season hasn't even shown in the UK yet, so goodness knows when we will get it here. I don't even know if they have started filming it yet, quite frankly. And, I am all caught up on Lark Rise to Candleford, which is fortunately available on youtube, because it won't show in the US anywhere else for some time. And this is the final season. Grrr. Downton Abbey is filming their next season, but again...who knows when we will get it.

I am addicted, ya'all. Completely addicted to British TV. Of course, I find myself longing to be back there again. Sigh.

I have found that in times of high stress, that is where I want to be. In the UK. Why? Well, I think because the time I spent there was one of the lowest stress, most enjoyable times of my entire life. I was quite young, 21 in fact. I was living with good friends. Not to say that there wasn't conflict, of course there was. You put 5 strong-willed and opinionated costumer designers in one very small flat, conflict is bound to happen, but nothing major. I had enough money to do more or less what I wanted and I was in a beautiful, accessible, history filled city. Paradise, my friends, that is what that was. London is my dream. My stress reliever.
Paris was a sad disappointment. Perhaps my expectations were too high?

Currently, though, where I long to be is North Cornwall. Too much Doc Martin, King Arthur and Over Sea, Under Stone, you might say. And you might be right, but it seems so idyllic. Warmer (currently) than it is here. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Small, peaceful, old. I could happily sit on a green cliff and knit and dream and sleep. For hours. Compared to the stress I am currently experiencing here, yep, idyllic would be the word.

I have insomnia right now. Which is absurd, considering that I got about 2 hours of sleep last night thanks to the stupid migraine. I should be exhausted. Well, I am exhausted. What I should be, and am not, is sleepy. I am very tired, though, as is probably evidenced by this rambling, idiotic post full of run on sentences. I may delete it tomorrow, depending on how idiotic it seems when I wake up.

Onward and upward. Keeping calm and carrying on.

I shall be more entertaining anon, I assure you.

Ooh, look at the pretties!

2011-02-07T15:53:00.005-07:00

I knitted some mitts for my Rav group's February Mitt-along. They didn't take very long, so I think I might make another pair. Kelly says she wants some like these. Kell, if they fit you, they are yours! They are too close in color to my other pair for me to want to wear them very often.
You can tell when I am feeling stressed, because I knit. A LOT.
Stupid pic is too big, but I am too lazy to fix it right now.

Mormon Mommy Blogs

2011-02-07T15:10:00.002-07:00

I am waiting for some water to boil so I can dye some yarn, and I thought I would take the time to post.
So, recently, there was an article in Salon.com about Mormon Mommy Blogs. First off, I didn't really realize that was a genre. Secondly, well, I think the author's view of Mormon Mommy Blogs is a bit, well, less than complimentary.
I think she was trying to be complimentary, but honestly, I did not like the way "we" came off. I have to include myself in the Mormon Mommy Bloggers group, because I am Mormon, and I do blog about my family. Among other things. And, I read some of the blogs she referenced. A couple of them anyway. Truthfully, the big reasons I read the two MMB's that I do is because I know the women who write them. Those being, CJane Enjoy It and The NieNie Dialogues.
Anyhow, it sort of struck me that she concluded that we are all "cute".
(Water is boiling, dye is added and yarn is in the pot, in case you wanted to know)
I am not cute. My life is not cute.
I suppose some of the things she says apply to me. My husband does look like a cute graphic designer, except he isn't one. I mean, he is cute and does have the cool glasses and wear plaid shirts, but he is a contractor. My house is cute, and I do reupholster my ottoman with thrift store fabric. Well, not quite true. I don't have any ottomans. But I do reupholster my couches and chairs. Sometimes twice a year. With cheap fabric, but that is because I am not loaded. My wardrobe wishes it were Anthropologie-esqe. And some of it is. But sadly, most of the time, I am wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Sometimes a sweater if I am cold.
My house is rarely clean, in fact, the only time it gets really clean is when my mom comes over and does it. She is handy that way, I am not. In fact, as I sit here typing, I am watching 3 little girls make paper dolls on the front room floor, making rather a mess. Around them are a spinning wheel that I didn't put away, some laundry that I ought to be folding but don't want to and all of the pillows off the couch. Because for some reason, pillows never manage to stay on the couch. At least I vaccuumed this morning.
If you look through the door facing me, you will encounter my studio. Which is about standard for an artistic temperament. Meaning, there are stacks and piles of things hither and yon. It's a mess, no question.
I don't have a picture perfect child. Far from it. But I love her more for being not picture perfect. Sometimes she is a perfect little wretch. Goes with the territory of being three, I think.
The author of the article also states that Utah is the state with the most anti-depressant use. That is often attributed to the cultural pressure we all seem to face to be super mommies. Clean house, perfect children, dinner on the table, etc. None of which describe me. I am more inclined to attribute it to the fact that we are all so damn inbred that we all suffer from the same mental illnesses. I kid you not, I think 75% of Utah is related to me. I do have Mormon Pioneer Ancestry, you know. It stands to reason that we would all have similar problems, exacerbated by inbreeding, right? Okay, I jest, but only a little bit.
The truth of the matter is, we may be happier than some other people. Like it or not, we believe the Gospel is the path to that happiness and if you follow it, heart and soul, you will obtain some of that happiness. Now, the problem is, we don't always follow it heart and soul. Goodness knows, sometimes I let my life get in the way of my happiness. This doesn't mean that things are going to be easy all the time. I am here to attest that they aren't. See my previous post about things sucking.
Maybe I don't read enough Mormon Mommy Blogs to have an opinion. Maybe the large majority of them are cutesy and perfect. If that is the case, I think we are doing ourselves and the rest of the world a disservice. We aren't perfect, our lives aren't perfect, but I think, for the most part, they are good. I know mine is. Despite the current suckage.
Perhaps I am different. Well, I know I am different than a lot of my contemporaries in various categories. Based on the number (1) and age (3) of my child(ren), I should be about 24. I'm definitely not. Based on my age (36) I ought to have many more children of a much higher age. Probably should live in a bigger, better house and drive a bigger, better car. I don't. I live in a lovely, very old house with a bizarre layout and unidentifiable drafts. I drive an older car (which I like very much) and my yard is utilitarian, for the most part. I am a feminist WAHM with a college degree and a lot of work experience. I got married late by Mormon cultural standards and had a kid WAY late.
I would say I can fruit and veg and make bread weekly, but that would be a lie. My husband does that stuff. I sew, I knit, I spin, I watch British programmes on Hulu and Netflix and I am a rabid reader. I think my daughter is ridiculously intelligent, and I know I am. I am, like most good Utah Mormons;), surrounded by my immediate family who may not be the friendliest folk, but are ready and willing if needed. And will talk your ear off if given the chance. Well, probably not yours, they don't like very many people. But mine, anyway.
What was the point of this post? I don't really know. Basically, that the article seems to think that we are all kind of one-dimensional people. And we aren't. But, if that is how we are presenting ourselves, perhaps we ought to change that.
But what do I know?

Post Edit, Only Not

2011-02-04T17:28:00.002-07:00

Okay, so I got some better pictures of the wedding gown reno I just did (and posted about) I changed the back so it was a better shape, but since I only have half a brain, I did not think to take pics of it on the bride, so it is still kind of hard to tell, as it does not fit my mannequin. And how was that for a run-on sentence?

In Other News...

2011-02-03T23:13:00.003-07:00

I did forget to mention where we got the cat. Back in that post labeled Kittens. Or whatever I called it. So, here is the dirt.
Once upon a time, I drove to a small town near mine to meet up with one of my brothers. The reason for said meeting was simple. He had run out of gas on the freeway. Being the kind sister that I am, I went down to the gas station, bought a gas can and filled it up, then off to the location of the dead car. Fortunately for all concerned, he had been able to pull off onto the shoulder of the freeway, and just down a small embankment was a road. So, I drove down said road, delivered the aforementioned gasoline, then arranged to meet the brother at the nearby gas station. This meeting was arranged to take care of a few things, number one among them, the fact that I had his small daughter in my back seat and I wasn't keen on keeping her forever. I wished to deliver her up to her father. And to get some money to pay me back for the gas can and gas, (gas cans are not cheap!).
So, off we drove to the service station. In my car were myself, my mother, the previously mentioned daughter of brother and my only child, The Small One. We arrived at the gas station and had a small wait. Brother had to fill his car (with the one gallon of gas the can held!), get back on the road, off the exit and over to the VERY BUSY service station. As we waited, The Small One noticed something. Were those kittens in that box in front of the convenience store? Indeed they were! Of course, she wanted a looksee. I let her out of her seat and took her over to the box, not really thinking of possible consequences. But, alas, too late. The children with the box were giving the kittens away and The Small One wanted one.
I pondered. Then I phoned The Man of the House to ask his opinion. That way, if he agreed and the cat later became a pain, I could lay the blame squarely at his door. I am clever like that.
TMOTH said, sure. Get a cat. Why not. Add it to the menagerie that we currently have. Which, should you not be aware, currently consists of one turkey (we ate the other one for Thanksgiving), 10 chickens, who provide us, and various and sundry friends and family, with lovely fresh eggs daily, and two dogs. Big ones, who don't do much except bark and eat and make a general mess of the backyard.
What was one small cat?
So, The Small One, armed with the ok of her daddy, marched back over to the box, determined to find HER cat. She took each cat out of the box in turn and examined it. It took a minute. Or several. Then she looked them all over again. Then she made her choice. The tiniest one of the bunch, though quite scrappy. Hey, that sounds like someone I know!
She took her cat, wrapped it in a blanket that was in the back seat and marched it over to show Memaw and cousin and uncle (who had finally arrived and taken possession of his daughter). Oohs and ahhs all around, then back to the car.
Did you know small kittens panic when in a moving car? The Small One did not. Shortly after takeoff, she handed the cat straight over to Memaw, after sustainging scratchy injuries to her hands.
Off we went home, to show TMOTH her booty. Of course, then came the important step of nameing the kitty. We suggested several appropriate names, but naturally, none of them would do. Remember, this is the child whose dolls are named things like, Wilhelmina, Georgina, Blue and Purple. Appropriate has never been her strong suit. She knew what name she wanted, though, so despite efforts on the part of TMOTH to sway her, she held firm. The kittens name? Well, it is from one of her fave movies, The Corpse Bride. She named him Victah. Not Victor, Victah. British, you know.
Bless her heart, she is becoming an Anglophile, just like her Mamma.
And that, my friends, is how we got our kitty. And when he is naughty she tells him to be nice or she will take him back to the gas station.
Someday, maybe I will post a pic. If I can find where I saved them.

Transformation

2011-02-03T22:06:00.010-07:00

I thought perchance some few of you might be interested in seeing what I do for a living. Or, at any rate, how it works. Some of you know what I do for a living, having been the recipient of said...doing.
So, without further ado-alterations on a dress. Terribly exciting, no?
Here is the before.

This is the dress as it came to me. Many of my clients purchase dresses from a lovely woman who lives about an hour from me. She owns a lovely dress shop in Newport Beach, CA, but brings her samples and "expired" styles here and sells them at a crazy discount. Then she sends the brides to me for alterations. This being Utah, most of my alterations clients are LDS and thus, won't be wearing strapless gowns, so I end up adding shoulders/sleeves to a lot of gowns. Good times.
So, little bridey wanted quite a few changes made to this dress. First off, it was too short, so we need to lower it 2"
Second, it needs sleeves.
Third, she wanted a ruched midsection, as she felt this would make her look thinner.
Also, a french bustle, take in the back and raise the back neckline.

Okay, so step one is to remove the skirt.

There is no extra hem in this dress, so in order to lengthen it, we have to add some length to the bodice. This is possibe because of the ruched midriff, which will cover up the seam.
Step number next, I need to remove the bottom of the bodice. Under the ruching, all of that lovely beading would be hidden, so there is no reason to waste it. I will be using some of it to raise the back neckline, anyhoo.
In order to do this, I measure up from the bottom an equal amount, then I use this piece as a pattern to cut the new longer piece, to lengthen the bodice.

Okay, so the new lower part of the bodice is on, two inches longer than the previous. It looks wonky because silk satin has a way of rolling up when cut on the grain. It is very annoying.
Now, we add the ruching. This part is a pain in the butt and usually takes me at least two tries to get it lay properly. I mostly just pin and drape, as I am too lazy to make a pattern. Go me.

Now I take the beaded back pieces I cut off the bottom and I am going to move them to the top to raise the center back up some. I don't love the way I did this and had I to do it again (no doubt I will) I will do it differently, but anyway, here it is.

Sorry, kind of a lousy photo. Looks pretty weird, though, no? Don't worry, it gets better.
Okay, next step, add the sleeves/shoulders. These are cut in one sleeves, which means there is no armscye seam. In order for them to cover what they need to, but still allow enough room to move, I cut the armscye really large and then run some elastic in it. This only works on the shirred sleeves, as it looks really stupid on a flat one.

Okay, we are getting close to putting the whole thing back together again. So, now all that is done, I reattach the skirt, put the zipper back in on the new, tighter line and embroider and bead the blank area and seam where I joined the new piece to the upper back.
Before

After

Before

After

As you can see, it is now too small for my mannequin. Damn tiny brides.
It still needs a bit of finessing, and I am not sure I like the shape of the upper back line, in fact, I think I will change it a bit, but I got tired after sewing most of the day. I will finish it tomorrow morning before she gets here. Still need to tack down the top fold of the ruching, make sure all the threads get trimmed and steam it.
All told, this is about 6-7 hours worth of work. I didn't really keep very good track, I did it all today. Betwixt and between, I played with my daughter, read my email, checked Ravelry, ate...you know. The usual.
I will post the final (prettier) pic tomorrow. If I remember.
Was that boring? Probably, but people ask me a lot how it works, so, now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

Sometimes it just sucks....

2011-02-02T18:19:00.002-07:00

Life has been a bit sucky lately. Oh, who am I kidding, it has been super sucky. We experienced a, how shall I say this...A Violent Financial Explosion. Said Violent Financial Explosion has left us in a deepish hole of debt. Bleh. I hate debt. We are becoming well acquainted with Mr. Dave Ramsey and THE TOTAL MONEY MAKEOVER!!! DUN DUN DUN!
Yeah, suck a duck. We are po' folk now, but hopefully, in a couple of years, we will no longer be such.
So, if you wondered where I have been, well, now you know. I mean, you know, right? Wallowing in self pity, obviously! Now, however, we are attempting to refrain from wallowing and are endeavoring to dig ourselves out. It isn't fun, I hate it, but there you go. Much work will be involved in this.
If you love me (or even if you don't) put the word out. Anyone need a wedding gown? Bridesmaids? Custom clothing? Baby things? Call me! Tell your friends! I also have an etsy shop, if you want to take a wee gander. It is called Lillyblythe. It is not well stocked at the mo', but it will be soon. I need to charge the camera battery first.
I will try and blog more often, I really have been in a pit of despair and whatnot and have not felt bloggy, but, I think I am over it now. At least for a minute.

Give Thanks

2010-11-26T22:31:00.002-07:00

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. It is a holiday we are very fond of in this household as it involves lots of really good food and a lovely time hanging out with most of my siblings. We had a great time. The Man of the House cooked the turkey of course. In fact, it was his turkey that he cooked. My nephew, TMOTH and a friend butchered it the day before. It was quite delicious, if I do say so.
The Small One had a fantastic time with her cousins, rowdies all. My dad's house is set up so that the kidlets can play in the basement as noisily as they wish while the rest of us hang out, much to my dad's dismay, in the kitchen. He tries to get us to move to the family room, but it does not seem to work. We are, and have always been, a kitchen-ish family. Plus, if everyone moved to the family room, those of us who do the cooking would get left out. I prefer the kitchen scenario.
I have learned in the past couple of weeks that my migraines and general feeling of unwellness are directly related to the amount of dairy I consume, which is a LOT. I love dairy. Milk, cheese, cottage cheese, yogurt. The only type of dairy I don't really eat is ice cream. No doubt you can imagine my dismay at learning that dairy is the culprit in my general malaise! NOT GOOD!
Every year at Thanksgiving and Christmas we load up on the good cheese. Multiple types of Brie and Camembert. Aged cheddars and soft bleus. A good Taleggio for variety. Then add on the potatoes cooked in milk and cream, the eggnog sweet potatoes and the hot chocolate, well, it is a dairy fest. And one of which I partook heavily. May I tell you how greatly I regretted it? Oh, dear me. I was not a happy girl last night or today. Miserable would be an appropriate word for how I felt. The only thing I could eat all day today was some VERY salty chips which helped calm the tum a bit. What a disappointment to have to give up dairy!
Ah well, I will survive. Maybe it will help me get skinnier.

In honor of Thanksgiving, I will tell you the things I am most grateful for.
My family. My husband and daughter are everything to me and I am soooo very grateful for their presence in my life.
My love and gratitude for them was brought into sharp focus this morning when I logged onto Facebook this morning. Being down at my dad's for the holiday, I didn't ever look at the news or internet yesterday, and I think I am glad. This morning, when I logged on, my Facebook update page was deluged with references to the death of a dear friend, schoolmate and colleague. I was shocked. I went straight over to KSL and learned that my friend, Stuart Lewis and his daugter KaraLee were killed when they were hit by a semi just a few minutes from his mother's house. His wife and two of his other children are in hospital with serious injuries. The suddenness of it took my breath away. I was and am heartsick. For the loss of him and for his poor, poor family. And for the poor man that hit the car.
Stuart was a wonderful, caring man. He would bend over backwards to help someone in need. He was never especially financially successful, partly because he spent much of his time and energy helping others. He was a talented designer, an amazing mentor and teacher, a great father and husband. His sense of humour and smile could light up a room. The world is a sadder place without him.
Rest in Peace dear Stuart and KaraLee and God bless your family.

Kittens and Other Nonsense

2010-11-23T23:11:00.003-07:00

This past week has been a busy one for certain Small Persons. And by certain Small Persons, I mean specifically The Small One, capitalized.
The holidays are upon us. Speaking of which, where on earth did November go? I seem to have lost it somewhere. Last I looked it was just Halloween! And now Thanksgiving? Aren't there supposed to be a few weeks inbetween? Perhaps I inadvertantly fell into a wormhole and the space/time continuum was distorted for me. I don't know.
Anyhow. As I was saying, busy week and whatnot.
A few days ago, the parents of The Man of the House, henceforth known as Grandma and Grandpa, stopped by for a short visit.
Grandma was on her way to be presented yet another award. Sort of reminded me of that episode of Spongebob where he keeps getting awards and Patrick feels bad because he never wins awards but Spongebob wins them all the time. The rest of us are Patricks. I am beginning to think that Utah will simply fall apart until Grandma returns home from her mission. I am not sure I ever realized how much that woman can accomplish! Go LS!
Goodness, I keep getting sidetracked! Back to the story.
Grandma and Grandpa stopped by and we all jaunted off to Texas Roadhouse. Now, I do enjoy the food at said establishment, but their goal to make things as hot and noisy as possible makes this girl VERY cranky. Especially when aforementioned girl is hungry. Bless me, but I am at the mercy of my blood sugar. So, as we waited at Texas Roadhouse, hungry as all get out, The Small One stood by the everpresent peanut bin. I thought she was innocently eating peanuts. Turns out she was actually licking them and putting them back. Oops. Slightly embarrassing, that. I informed the lovely hostesses of that fact, so my hope is that they emptied that peanut bin and refilled it with clean peanuts.
After a longish wait, during which The Small One ate rolls and tried to behave, we were finally seated. We eventually ordered and ate, but the heat and noise was wearing on both of us. The Small One even informed our server that she needed some earplugs because people were too noisy.
After consuming our comestibles, I excused self and Small One from the heat and noise and took her outside to wait for TMOTH, Grandma and Grandpa to finish. Naturally after about 35 seconds, she became bored. I asked her if she would like to run over to the Build A Bear workshop in the adjoining mall. Of course, she said yes. This is one of her favorite stores, right up there with Ikea. (Don't ask, I have no idea.) Ooh, that rhymes!
We toddled on over to the Build A Bear to have a looky round. We had been in the mall for a brief moment, previous to dinner, and passing the Bear Store, she asked if she could go it, but SUPPOSEDLY it was nearly our time to be seated at the restaurant, so we had to forgo the visit to Bear Shop. She endured this without complaint, bless her heart.
As she looked happily about the shop, I started looking at prices. I noticed that you could now get a bear for $10. Well, that is affordable, thought I. I recalled how she never complained when I didn't have time to take her into the Bear Store, how, after being told no, she never again begged for a bear and how she had tried sooooo hard to be good at dinner. She didn't fully succeed, but then, neither did I. Well, I thought, good behaviour deserves a reward! So, I called her to me, she came running and then, I asked her.
Would she like a bear?
She stared at me. A bear? she queried, unbelieving.
Yes, dear. A bear. Would you like a bear?
Her jaw dropped, her eyes grew wide and then a big, huge smile.
Really? she asked again, just to make sure.
Really, said I.
She turned to look at her options. I showed her which of the animals fell into her price range and told her to choose.
Now, if any of you know The Small One, she has a very hard time making decisions. If you watch closely, you can see the gears in her little brain ticking along, weighing pros and cons of each option. Her options, in this price range, included three bears, a dog and a turkey. I personally hoped she would go for the turkey and steered her in that direction, but alas, twas not to be. She eliminated the turkey and the dog at once. It was Build a Bear, not Build a Dog and most certainly not Build a Turkey. That left three bears. After much consternation, she chose one, carried it over to the helper at the stuffer and handed it off. The helper asked questions.
Hard or soft?
Hard.
Do you want a heart for it?
Of course.
Does he have a name?
Yes.
What is it?
Bozai.
What?
Bozai?
Ooookkaaayyy.
Helper looked in my direction. I shrugged. I hadn't the foggiest.
After Bozai is stuffed and closed, The Small One took him over to the bear shower, where he got a brush and scrub. This took somea long timeas The Small One is very thorough.
Finally, Bozai is clean and brushed. Just then, Daddy walked into the store.
The Small One rushed to Daddy to show off her new bear. Daddy admired Bear and inquired as to his name.
Bozai!
Bullseye? That is a good name!

Realization dawns for me. Bullseye! I get it!
The Small One asked to pay for Bullseye herself, so I gave her the money. She took it up to the cashier, paid and handed her bear to the cashier. Her joy knew no bounds when she saw that he comes with his own house! As the helper handed her the house/box, she smiled brightly and trotted off into the mall. The box is nearly as big as she is, so I asked if I can carry it for her.
No fanks, it's not heavy.
She isn't going to let Bozai go.
She has slept with him nightly since.

Stay tuned for further adventures, I am too tired to write more tonite. Besides, this post is long.

Brain Candy

2010-11-21T19:36:00.003-07:00

I have a problem. I get attached to characters in books and movies. Not all movies and books, of course, but certainly those that I like. And I like epics. I know some people don't love long movies and/or books, but I do. I LOVE them. Prolonging the pleasure and whatnot. So, if some bit of fiction or non-fiction grabs my attention, I prefer it be long and epic. Like, say...The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, Gone With the Wind, The Forsyte Saga and more recently Lark Rise to Candleford and The Duchess of Duke Street. All of these are movies that are based on books. How about that. I like that as well. If I read an epic novel or series, and THEN, it is made into an equally epic movie? Well, I'm done for.
Here is another problem, besides getting attached to the characters. I don't like to put the book/movie down. I feel the need to continue reading/watching, continously. And, as it usually happens at night, it means I don't get the sleep I ought sometimes.
So, as I said, I get terribly attached to characters. For instance, I cried when Dumbledore died. TMOTH made fun of me. I told him I was going to see the final Harry Potter alone because I knew I would cry at it. I cried when Frodo went to the Grey Havens. I cried when Bonnie died and when Rhett left Scarlett. Okay, I didn't cry at anything in The Forsyte Saga, but those people are all rather despicable. And now, The Duchess of Duke Street has absolutely caught my attention. It is a BBC miniseries (I love the BBC) made in 1976, and I am in love. Normally, I do not love watching movies made in the 60's or 70's because they are so dated and the color is odd and the acting style stilted. But no. These are beautifully done and I am completely addicted. Truth be told, I am a sucker for a good period drama, book or film. And these are good. SO GOOD. I am hung up on Louisa Trotter and Lord Haslemere. I want them to go on forever. I am so sad that there are only 2 seasons of it. It has filled in the time in between seasons of Lark Rise (another BBC period drama, hooray!) And I got all teary-eyed when Charlie married someone that wasn't Louisa. The costumes are dead on. The hair and makeup is amazing and the production design is stunning. And the writing! Oh my goodness! It isn't often that you get a series as well written as this.
Here is the funny. The male protagonist is Christopher Cazenove, who played Ben Carrington in Dynasty. Hahahaha! He was such a rotten character, Ben! But Charles, Lord Haslemere is lovely. Not that I watched Dynasty much, as it was on in the 80's and I wasn't that old.
If you were to look at my Netflix queue, it likely wouldn't surprise any of you that know me. And if you looked at the recommendations that Netflix has chosen for me? You really would not be surprised. I am not sure if you are familiar with Netflix? They give you recommendations based on movies you review and rate, and based on movies you have watched. And they list them by category. My primary categories? Are you just on tenterhooks to know? Well, here they are;
Period, British Dramas with a Strong Female Lead.
Hahahaha! Yep, that pretty much nails it.
The other main category that I have recommendations for is Fantasy/Fairytale.
Also not a surprise.

As for books, well, the same sort of thing really applies. A friend just got me hooked on a new series of books. Well, new for me. They are by Jasper Fforde, are set in an alternate universe Great Britain and feature a strong female lead, by the name of Thursday Next, who is a literary detective.
They are nothing deep or anything, really brain candy. Very light reading and whatnot. But so, so entertaining. Because Thursday is a literary detective, much of the plot devices rely on the reader being familiar with a lot of classic, mostly British literature. Which, I am. See above. I suppose, if you aren't a reader of classic literature, they may not be that amusing, but I love them. I would recommend them to anyone who wants a good laugh.

I recently did a meme on Facebook of the supposedly 100 most influential books of all time. It was kind of a dumb list as there was no Twain, no Verne, no lots of other authors I would deem influential, but whatever. Anyway, the BBC (creator of said list) assumes that most people have only read 6 of the 100 books. I have read 48 of them. So there, BBC.

So, what are your favorite books? Movies? Are you addicted to epics, like me? Do you have a hard time letting go of favorite characters, as I do? Fill me in.

And, I have noticed I have rather a few more followers and readers of late. Those of you whom I do not know, will you comment and introduce yourself? Tell me how you found your way here?

Random Stuff and Nonsense

2010-11-13T12:55:00.010-07:00

The Small One and her daddy are off to the mountains this afternoon. With dogs in tow. This is an occurence that The Small One, no doubt, wishes would occur more often than it does. Pity daddy is so busy. And that mamma does not love to go to the mountains. When she does go to the mountains, she has to have her proper hiking boots (which can only be worn for hiking or yard work) and her tiny camelbak and mountain cookies. She only eats mountain cookies whilst on the mountain. Do you wonder what mountain cookies are? I did too. Turns out they are granola bars. Clever infant.

The Small One gets the best of both worlds, being the child of self and TMOTH (The Man of the House) TMOTH. Haha. Sounds like a funny sort of super hero. I think I will start calling him that. Anyway, back to what I was saying. Best of both worlds and whatnot. From me, she gets a knowledge and love of sewing, designing, draping, knitting, spinning, shopping and all that. From TMOTH (that makes me smile every time I type it!) she gets a love of dogs, chickens, outside, mountains, hiking, camping, yard work and all things associated with the previously mentioned. Makes for a well-rounded child, no? She can hike with the best of them. As we know, she does love her chickens.

She is the Alpha in the barnyard, so to speak, and is the only one the turkeys at whom the turkeys DON'T fluff their feathers.
For all her bravery, recklessness and "alpha-ness" however, she can still be a big sissy. For example-I give you this video of pumpkin carving, in which she had to remove the guts from the pumpkin.

I should also add that I am perhaps not the sweetest mamma to ever walk the earth, as I found it HYSTERICAL that she was grossed out by "punkin goo" so I felt a serious need to chuck it at her. Which, as you can see by this video, I did. I could post the next video in the lineup, but it mostly consists of me laughing like a fool at her.

Here is a photo illustrating her well-roundedness, particularly as pertains to food.

In case you are curious what she chooses to consume, I will give you the rundown. She is having some very expensive triple cream brie, a lovely and well aged white english cheddar, a garlic dry aged salami and a white truffle oil dry aged salami. This is The Small One's idea of a lovely bedtime snack. I must admit, I concur. This delightful repast is what I received instead of a birthday cake from TMOTH. Lovely! Isn't he clever? I don't really like cake.

Here is one more pic from late summer. Just because I think she is so damn cute.

I'd know her anywhere!

2010-11-03T19:34:00.004-06:00

The Small One wanted to be Tinkerbell for Halloween. I did not want that. I wanted her to be Alice from the new Alice in Wonderland. She did not want that. Then she wanted to be Spiderman. I definitely did not want that. We compromised. I let her be Tinkerbell for her friend's birthday party if she would be Alice for Halloween. She agreed, but then was all sorts of bent that the wings DID NOT MAKE HER FLY!!!!! What a ripoff.
So, here we go. Alice, The Mad Hatter and The White Queen.
I have to say, that Hatter costume might be the best one I have done.

Happy Halloween!

Opinions, I haz 'em.

2010-10-22T00:59:00.005-06:00

I have fairly strong opinions. If you are a reader of this blog, or happen to know me in real life or even just on facebook, I expect you know that. Not only do I have strong opinions, I have lots of them. On just about everything. And not only do I have strong opinions on just about everything, they are mostly fairly well supported opinions. Which means, if your opinion differs from mine, though I will listen to you, it is unlikely my opinion will change. Not only will my opinions not change, I might stomp yours into the ground, if it isn't well supported. Yep, I know it is kind of a jerk thing to do, and I don't really mean to be a jerk, it just happens sometimes. We all have our cross to bear.
I don't understand people who don't have opinions about things. Boggles the mind, really. My opinion of people who don't have strong opinions? Weirdos, one and all.
The Man of the House and I occasionally have discussions about this, because, for the most part, he does not hold strong opinions on a lot of things. Obviously, I think he is crazy.
Having opinions on things can put one in a stronger position, albeit one that sometimes annoys the living crap out of one's associates.
For instance, if you are hanging out with me and I say, "what would you like to do?" And you say, "Eh, I don't care" I will take you at your word. Since, odds are, I have an opinion about what I would like to do. If you do not voice your opinion, then mine trumps it by forfeit. Benefit for me! Sucks for you if you actually do care. I am willing to take your opinion into account, but only if you let me know you have one!
Lately, I have had opinions on lots of things. Oh, wait, I always have opinions on lots of things. But, I have VOCALIZED my opinions on things lately.
Par example-
I have an opinion about Park51, the Muslim Community Center proposed for Manhattan. Don't call it the Ground Zero Mosque, because it isn't at Ground Zero.
I have an opinion about certain rectally-cranially inverted Happy Valleyites who felt the need to voice their displeasure at a certain local business for having the audacity to allow polygamists to patronize said business. I think they are idiot bigots. The Happy Valleyites, not the business, nor the polygamists.
I have an opinion about opposite sex friendships. I think they are awesome. Let me emphasize the friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. I, personally, do not look on all members of the opposite sex as simply opportunities for sex. I think there may be a bit more to said people than that.
I have an opinion on gay rights, universal healthcare, stupid people, education, cheese, etiquette, funny words, books you should read, reality tv...you name it.
And I don't mind sharing them.

Sorry Kaytee!

2010-10-22T00:23:00.004-06:00

I promised Kaytee some new posts quite a while ago and I have not delivered. Oops. It gets stressful around here, sometimes, and it takes some doing to write a blog post. Which doing I do not always care to do. But, I know I should, as this really is supposed to be something of a record of my life, aside from entertaining the people who actually do read it.
I always wonder, though, why they do. Why do you? Because you find my opinions fascinating? I mean, I think my opinions are fascinating, but I am pretty aware that not everyone shares that view. ;)
Halloween is coming up. I love Halloween in abstract. It appeals to the costumer that still dwells within me. It appeals to the child in me that loves to play dressup, to the imagination that allows me to be, in real life, what I sometimes pretend to be or wish to be in my head.
But then, life has this annoying habit of getting in my way! October is such a busy season with weddings and all, that by the time I really think about getting down to the planning of the costumes, it is the week before Halloween and I am just too tired to really care. So, The Small One usually ends up with something pretty cool. My niece usually gets something nice, and me? Yeah, year after year I end up having to dig through my box of costume crap and try and come up with something. Now, grant you, I have a pretty good costume box, so even my thrown together costumes are pretty cool. Just not as cool as they would be if I actually got around to making something for myself. Alas.
I will post pictures of Halloween, though, rest assured. Kaytee, I will not disappoint!
The Small One is going to be "Blue Alice" as she calls it, from the new Alice in Wonderland. The Man of the House will be dressing up as The Mad Hatter. Spoiled niece will be going as Alice in the Red Queen's castle. The Small One thinks I ought to go as The Red Queen (whom she calls Red Queen Alice's Mom), but I don't have the energy or time to do that costume at this point. Bummer, would have been fun. She has also suggested once or twice that I go as the Bandersnatch, but I vetoed that one.

In other news, The Small One's humour still abounds. The other morning, I lay in bed with my hands tucked behind my head. She grabbed my elbow and pulled, telling me to put my arms down. I asked why? "Because peoples don't like to look at your armpits." Why not? I queried. At this juncture, she released my elbow prodded said armpit and announced, "Because, they are all wild or somethin'." Nice. My armpits are wild. Thing is, it isn't like they were unshaven or anything. They simply offended her for some reason.

She is turning into a right little drama queen, lately. I think it has something to do with being three? At least, that is what I like to believe. And that she will grow out of it, right? RIGHT?
Anyhoo, she has taken to throwing these utterly idiotic and annoying tantrums, which drive me batty, so when they occur, if we are home (how is this for a run on sentence!?!) I send her to her room. Where she howls. A few days ago, upon my sending her to her room, she ran in, cast herself upon the floor and proceeded to give voice in a most melodramatic fashion, as follows.
"JEEEEEEESSSUUUUUSSSSS!!!!! Where have you gone? I want to come to your house! Jeeessuuuussss!!! What did I do?"
I jest not. This actually happened. I think she must be channeling her Southern Baptist roots. I did not know that religion could be inbred like that.

In yet other, though related as pertains to her, news, she likes Dance class. Whew. Like big WHEW! She still whines at me when it is time to get ready, as she suffers from social anxiety, but once she sees how incredibly cute she is in her ballet attire, all is well. And I am not kidding, all it takes is for her to see herself in leo, pink tights and bun and she is rarin' to go. The spazziness that seems to be inherent pops up in dance class, and all I can say is that her teacher is unfailingly patient. The child does not follow directions, spaces off mid exercise and likes to admire herself in the studio mirrors. Not a surprise, really, and I warned dance teacher about it. Dance teacher is sweet and kind and gently takes the child by the hand to lead her back into what she is supposed to do.
Much nicer than me. When I want her attention, it goes more like this.
Me-Small One.
Small One-......
Me-Small One!
SO-......
Me-Small One!!!!
SO-......
Me-SMALL ONE!!!!!! HEY!!!! I AM TALKING TO YOU!!!!! PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR MOTHER!!!!!!
SO-......
At which point I generally poke her with something or flick her ear. Occasionally I have been known to chuck a pillow in her direction. Sometimes it works.
Here's the thing. You can shout at her until the cows come home and if she is distracted, she WILL NOT HEAR YOU. But if you open a candy wrapper in the basement while she is upstairs watching TV? You can bet that the stair door will open and a sweet voice will echo down the stairwell saying, "Hey, can I have some candy, too?"

Wow, go me.

2010-10-05T12:49:00.002-06:00

So, it seems I am a lousy blogger. I want to post more often, really I do, but I just don't seem to be able to find the time and/or motivation! I know, it is terrible, especially because this is supposed to be documenting the childhood of The Small One. And she says and does the funniest things, too, which of course, I cannot remember if I don't write them down. Yep, I am lame.

Anyhoo, let's see if we can catch some stuff up here.

The Small One started preschool in August and well, it did not go well. I thought she would do okay, since her teacher was our backyard neighbor, but oh. I was wrong. I guess going from being at home with Mamma to going to a large school with 18 kids in your class is a bit of a jump. Guess I should have thought of that, since it cost me over $200 for the three weeks she managed to attend. I had hoped she would get over her fear but when she started waking in the middle of the night crying and asking if she had to go to school, well, that put an end to it.

I decided that perhaps we would be better off starting small and then working our way up to prescchool. So, with that in mind, I enrolled her in a creative movement class at the ballet school near us.

Well, as I sit here typing this, The Small One is next to me on the couch howling about how she doesn't want to go to dance class. Great. Awesome. She is going to go anyway, like it or not because there are no refunds with this place. But UGH!!!! It seems I have ruined my child by being a stay at home mom. She doesn't get babysat by anyone but my mom or my niece. She only plays at a couple of friends' homes (who live very nearby) and she doesn't interact with very many children who are not her cousins. So now what? Well, I guess I just hope that she gets used to going to dance class and learns to enjoy it.

A couple of weeks ago, Grandpa Ed stayed the night here. The Small One stayed up a bit late to visit with him, so the next morning she slept in quite late. I finally went in to get her up and she sleepily looked at me and said "Is it time to get ready for church?" No, I assured her that it was not Sunday. "Is it a school day?" No, not a school day. At which point, she gave me a little push, rolled over and said, "Then go out, I want to have a few more sleeps." So, out I went. Silly infant.

More Life and Whatnot...

2010-08-02T17:04:00.002-06:00

So, apparently I worried some of you with my last post about being overwhelmed and stuff. Sorry. I am surviving, there is just a lot going on right now. My work, his work, plus some serious stress in my extended family. I have over-extended myself a wee bit, but I shall get through it. This, too, shall pass.

In other news, have I told you how much I like The Small One? Yeah, okay, not just like. Love. Adore. Want to kiss her silly face a lot. She brings me so much joy. She has this way of saying something utterly hysterical and then smiling this little, wrinkly nosed, mousy smile that makes me want to grab her and hug her. And sometimes I do. She is pretty good about it. Unlike my little nephews who think wiping my kisses off is the funniest thing EVAR! Brats.

Speaking of my nephews, have I told you how much I like them? They are adorable little stinkers. There are three in particular that come over here fairly regularly. One of them is my boy. Oh, I love him so much. One is the same age as The Small One and just as much trouble. And the third is a wee, fat little baby. Very kissable and huggable, but kind of likes to be left alone. I love them all. The middle boy and The Small One cause all sorts of really funny havoc. They are so much the same, it kills me. Crazy little rowdies, the both of them. Every time the boys are over, the curtain rod in the nursery gets broken. And they cannot figure out why! I mean, it should hold up their weight when they swing from the curtains, right? Right? Why else would you have floor length curtains?

In yet other news, courtesy of Pioneer Day, I have been looking up my ancestors online. On one branch, all English. Crazy. On the other, we get a Dane mixed up in there. On yet another (through my paternal Grandmother) it goes all Scottish. These people did not do much intermixing. Although, I suppose that stands to reason as they didn't have much opportunity to intermix until they came here. My paternal Grandfather's family popped on over in 1857 via wagon train. Hooray for the Mormon Migration! Woot!

Seriously, though. Following the 1857 ancestor's lines down, I find a whole lot of names I am familiar with. In fact, some friends' names mixed up in there. Now I need to do some research to figure out if I am actually related to said friends a ways back. I am related to the people I grew up across the street from. Through previously mentioned ancestor. Crazy. Utah is so inbred. ;)

Also interesting, one of the daughters of said ancestor lived in Rockville, Utah, which is in Zion Canyon. Right next door to Grafton, which is where some ancestors of The Man of the House resided. Wouldn't it be weird if they knew each other?

I read The Undaunted just recently. Wow. Great story. Not a Gerald Lund fan, really, his writing style gets on my nerves, but this book was worth the irritation. It is a novel based on the Hole in the Rock pioneers. Look them up. Because, HOLY CRAP, they did some serious pioneering. The Hole in the Rock is a crack in a cliff that they blasted out and took wagons down. You will flip if you do not know the story because it is mind-boggling what they were able to accomplish.

Well, I have got to go finish cleaning up my studio. Again. I am so disorganized when I work, that periodically I have to go through and shovel up the mess, put things back where they go, clear off the table and sewing machines and sweep up all the clippings. Just so I can continue using the room. Yippee. I hate cleaning. Not my forte.

First, however, I will go gather the eggs. 9-10 per day. Are you jealous? You should be.

Life...

2010-07-26T12:34:00.003-06:00

"I try to take life one day at a time, but sometimes, several days attack me at once."

This is how I feel right now. Dear friends, please be aware, I am utterly overwhelmed right now. If you asked me to do something and it hasn't gotten done, I am sorry. It probably won't for awhile. If you are wondering why I haven't spent time with you, it isn't because I don't like you, it is because all of my time is taken up doing stuff for other people and when a free moment comes along (and that is all it is, a moment) I want to sit down and just be me.

I am so overwhelmed right now that my work is suffering. I am doing very poor work and not even being aware of how bad it is until my unhappy client points it out. And that just sort of adds to the feeling of overwhelmed-ness. It makes my confidence in my abilities suffer. Which makes me do poor work, which makes my...well, you get the idea. Vicious circle and whatnot.

Stop asking me when I am going to have more children. I don't know. The thought of adding something like that to the mix right now may just send me straight over the edge. I love my daughter more than life, but she requires a great deal of time. And, as I do not have much of that right now, taking away the bit I do have for her in order to care for an infant seems cruel. Besides, I don't have insurance.

I am taking a break from working for a bit, as soon as I wrap up the clients I have. Don't ask me to sew for you. The answer is no.

I am going to focus on fixing the things I screwed up and then once I finish that, focus on figuring out how to get my head back in the game. Thanks for understanding.

Monica, this does not apply to your boys. They are welcome ANYTIME, as their presence makes me happy.

Beautiful Baby

2010-07-24T18:25:00.002-06:00

Here are some pics of the lovely child.

From Lilly three year

Chicken Girl

2010-07-21T00:14:00.002-06:00

The child is a born farmgirl. I am not sure how that happened, but it did. Would you like to hear (or read, really) an amusing story about The Small Farm Girl? I thought you might.
Once upon a time, long, long ago...oh, wait. Wrong story. Hang on a second while I reload...Okay here goes.
The other day...
The Small One and I went out to the back yard to give the chickens and turkeys a little treat. Well, at least they think it is a treat. I call it kitchen scraps, but chickens aren't that bright. As we walked over to the pen, The Small One decided she wanted to hurl the lettuce and carrot scraps to them. Being, as she is, Small, she can't hurl them over the top of the pen with quite the panache I seem to be able to muster. Or at all. So, I opened the door to the pen to allow her to toss her scraps to the chickens.
In the ensuing melee, one chicken managed to escape! As she headed for freedom (of a fenced yard?) The Small One gave chase. There was a great deal of flapping and squawking and barking (fear not, the barking was from the dogs who got a bit excited at the fracas. Our chickens don't bark.) Then the chicken, apparently one of the brighter ones, ensconced herself behind the lilac bush, without the knowledge of The Small One.
However, I had watched said chicken's every move and knew where she had hidden herself. Being not so small as the child, I could not quite fit behind the previously mentioned lilac bush. So, calling The Small One back to my aid, I armed myself with a leafy branch, crawled under said bush and blocked the escape on one side. Then, The Small One made her move. She slid under and behind that bush and snagged that chicken by the tail! The chicken flapped, she squawked, she squirmed and she flapped some more, but The Small One was relentless.
Despite all the flap, which would have conquered more valiant hearts, she persevered. She hauled that chicken out of it's forest fastness by the tail, when she got it close enough, she wrapped her little arms around it, hefted it up and hauled it back to it's imprisonment. I quickly opened the gate to the pen, she tossed the chicken in and I shut the gate before another could make a bid for freedom.
The Small One just dusted her hands off, said "There you go, mama." and went off to jump on the tramp. Just another day in the life, for her.
Yeah, I think she's pretty awesome.

From Drop Box

Home Again, Home Again

2010-06-29T09:46:00.003-06:00

Well, it seems we survived the drive home. I wasn't really sure, but now I am. Fairly sure, anyway. I have weird bits of soreness from being in the car for so long, and the skin on my right hip is a bit raw from the seat belt. 15 hours is a long time to be in a car, my friends.

We left the grandfolks at 4 am, partly because we couldn't sleep and partly because we just wanted to get home. Mom was supposed to drive in the morning so I could sleep, but alas, that did not happen. She has had a severe back and headache since last week and simply couldn't do it. Oh, well.

The Small One did remarkably well on the drive home. It was hard on her, poor little fidget. She is an active little baby and being strapped into a seat for that long was difficult, to say the least. Part of the reason it took so long to get home is because we stopped a lot to let her out. She kept telling me she wanted to get out and play on the grass, even when there was no grass!

I knew going into it that the worst part of the trip would be from Winnemucca to the border, and boy, was I right. Not only had we been on the road for soooooo long, but that part of the drive is so boring. There is nothing to see. However, crossing into Utah was like magic. I felt so much better, not too tired anymore, just anxious to get home. I love coming home.

Having been on the Central Coast for the week, I can tell you, I do not want to live there. It makes me uncomfortable for a number of reasons.

The sun rarely shines. Cloudy, cloudy, cloudy. I require sunshine.
It is HUMID. Oh, my gosh. I cannot bear humidity. Truth be told, I am a desert rat. I likes my dry air.
There are too many trees. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but the area in which my grandparents live is full of trees. You cannot see where you are going until you are right on top of it, and I find that annoying. Plus, the trees are weird and unfamiliar. ;) When we drove into Auburn on the way home, I breathed a sigh of relief. It is up in the mountains, so much more familiar territory. Normal trees and sunshine. Very pretty, too.

My mom loves the ocean, and my grandparents are very near. I like the ocean. I think it is pretty. But I will take my mountains ANY DAY! I love it here. I have lived a bunch of different places, but this is the place to be. One of my old roommates told me she though Utah was rather ugly because it is so bare. She is from a much more lush environment. I like it bare. It feels open and free and breathable. I love looking at the mountain outside my window and seeing the craggy, majestic rocks. And, did I mention the sunshine?

PS-Update on most recent bride. She had gone out of town suddenly and came home to a deluge of emails from me wondering what had become of her. She paid IMMEDIATELY (paypal) before she even emailed me. Then emailed, loved the dress. Whew.

Ye Olde Folks

2010-06-26T22:30:00.002-06:00

It has been...a week.

After the debacle of the nasty bride and her nastier mom, I was feeling a wee bit of stress (to put it mildly). I had another dress that HAD to be finished, that I was delayed on due to nasty bride and her nastier mom. Not only that, but I had to head out to my grandparents in California. Grandma had to have surgery to clean out a major artery and someone had to stay with Grandpa while she was in hospital.

So, Sunday morning, I hopped in the van with Mom and The Small One and headed out. Mom drove for the first few hours while I worked on the wedding dress. The whole of the dress was covered with hand sewn appliques and I was not quite done. So, whilst Mom drove, I sewed. And sewed. And sewed. And still did not finish. We stopped that night in Vegas, wandered around a bit, forgot to have dinner and returned to our hotel. Where I sewed and sewed and sewed some more. Then undid some of the things that didn't look right and redid them. And then I was done. Well, almost.

We arose the next morning, piled into the van and off we went to Los Angeles. I have been running out of lace and whatnot for some time and needed to get to LA to replenish the stock. However, this trip was not terribly successful. I found a few things that I needed, but the prices on some of the other things weren't really very low and I couldn't afford to spend that much all at once. Especially when I could get it for less with a coupon at Jo-ann. What a bummer. After a few hours in the fabric district, back into the van for the drive up to the grandparents.

Long drive, that. I had to do all of the driving from Vegas on. Mom doesn't care to drive and then at night, she can't see, so there wasn't any other option. Around 7 I started to get very tired and cranky, so we stopped for a bite to eat. And then on again. We arrived at the grandparents about 1:30 am, utterly worn out.

And, here we have remained. With brief trips into town (or surrounding towns) for a bit of shopping and simply to get out of the overheated, overloud, undersized home which my grandparents inhabit.

I had been communicating quite frequently with the hopeful owner of the aforementioned wedding gown and when I got to Salinas, I went over to the post office to post her dress. Express mail, you know, with tracking. She sent me a few emails about her excitement to receive her dress and then, I got the notice that it was received and...silence. Nothing. I have heard nothing from her end. Nor did she make her final payment as I thought she had. Awesome. She has now had the dress in her possession for three days and not a word, not a payment. As of right now, I have offically been stiffed $650 in two weeks.

So, that kind of added to the stress I have been feeling of late. I am sure you understand.

Stress from a nasty bride and her nastier mom, stress from a long drive with The Small One, stress from cleaning grandparents house (oh, you have no idea!), stress from trying to keep Grandpa happy whilst Grandma is in hospital, stress from the incessant noise of a VERY LOUD TV and the level of heat the old folks prefer, stress from the inability of The Small One to go out in play in the yard due to the very real possibility of her being dismembered by falling on something that normal people do not have buried in the weeds in their yards (possum in a cage, anyone?) and her consequent rowdiness in the house and STRESS from another bride who apparently does not want to pay.

Good times, I tell you. Good times.

It kicks one's confidence down when one has but one client who is displeased with one's work. Although in that case, it was the Mother of the Bride, not the Bride, but still. But, when one has two clients who are displeased? Ugh. I feel...lousy. Unable to work. As though I really am that sucky at my job. Last time this happened, I took a year off. I don't know why it does me in in such a major way, but it does.

We leave for home in the morning. I cannot begin to tell you how glad I am of that.

East, West, Home's best.

Humanity

2010-06-17T14:28:00.003-06:00

As many (or all) of you know, I make and alter wedding gowns for a living. I work out of a studio in my home, but I am a professional. I have a degree in my field and have been doing this for 17 years.

A few days ago, I finished major alterations on two wedding gowns for a bride. And I mean major. And the bride's alterations changed over the course of the 4 weeks I had her gowns. Mostly due to her mother's objections to the gowns not covering enough on top. So, I ended up doing the top of the gowns three different ways, in order to satisfy the desires of the MOB (Mother Of the Bride). It was annoying, but did not really matter as the bride was going to pay for the continual changes. By the time we were done, it was 2 1/2 weeks past her original pickup date and her bill had increased a bit.

She came to pick up her dresses, loved them, and was ready to take them. I was not satisfied with the fit of one of them and wanted to fix it (this was her first and only fitting with the third top). She said she did not have time to have them fixed before her bridals, so I said I would do a quick fix that would hold for her pictures and then she could bring it back for me to fix for real inbetween pictures and wedding.

She said yes, gave me a check for the $650, took the gowns and left. Normally, I do not accept checks because I have been stiffed twice before.

Now, I was looking forward to this money, because my grandmother is having heart surgery next week and I am going out to stay with my grandfather while Grandma is in the hospital. He cannot be left by himself. The money was intended to cover the cost of the trip.

Next day I got a phone call from MOB. She was not pleased with my work. It looked terrible, she said, and would not hold up for the wedding. I asked her to what she was referring and she explained that it was the quick fix I had done. I explained to her that her daughter and I had agreed on it and that it would be fixed before the wedding, but she was welcome to bring it to me right then and I would fix it. She got angry, began telling me it was all shoddy work and that the lace looked cheap. HAHA! It was Chantilly, beaded and VERY expensive.

I told her I would work around her schedule to get the dress back and get it fixed, as she was from out of town. She said okay, she would call me back and let me know what time. I never heard from her. I contacted her daughter (who had gone to Lake Powell), she said she did know what her mom was on about, she liked the dress.

I ran over to the bank, deposited the check and never heard from MOB or bride again. Until yesterday. I noticed my bank account was overdrawn and I was not sure how that was possible. I knew I had plenty of money.

Yep, she had put a stop pay on the check. Did not pay for the work. Took the dress and absconded with it, if you will.

Awesome.

Ruins one's day really. Disappointing. Make's one think people suck.

Here's the thing. Today, one of my online friends offered to deposit the money into my paypal account so I could afford my trip rather than wait for "wheels of justice" to get my money for me. I was floored. In a good way. I guess people don't suck. Just a few of them do.

I did not accept her offer as I can use my credit card if I need to, but it was amazingly kind.

Tastes Like Chicken

2010-06-17T02:05:00.005-06:00

We have poultry. You may have noticed them in the post somewhat below. The one with pics of The Small One running about in her skivvies and wellies.

To be specific, we have 12 birds. 2 turkeys, 4 Bard Rock chickens and 6 Rhode Island Reds.

The Small One loves her birds. So does The Man of the House.

The birds are somewhat dangerous.

Why, you may ask? Do they bite? No. Peck? Not really. Rake one fiercely with their claws? No, not at all.

They are dangerous because they spark OBSESSION.

The Man of the House felt he would like a couple of birds. He came home with 10. Then, several weeks later, he showed up with 2 turkeys. Then he began to talk of exotic chicken breeds. Silkies, Bantams, Crevecoeurs.

Then...it happened.

He wants pigs. And sheep. And cows.

The Small One wants a pony. And a cowhouse (as she calls barns). Maybe some gokes. (Goats).

A farm, my friends. The Small One and her daddy want a farm.

I would not have thought it.

In other, related news, three of the hens have begun laying. Teeny little eggs, as they are still very young. The first day The Small One found eggs, this is the conversation I had with her.

SO-Do chickens have eggs?
Me-Yes, they do.
SO-Are they in their stomach?
Me-Mmm, yeah, close enough.
SO-Do they poo them out?
Me-(laughing) Something like that.
SO-(looking quizzically at the egg in her hand) Well, can I eat it?

Naturally, I howled with laughter, then followed her in and she fried herself a tiny brown egg with lashings of butter.

(Yes, I let her cook on the stove. Yes, I keep a very close eye on her. How else will she learn?)

Mmmm, Toasty

2010-06-17T01:59:00.003-06:00

I love my bed. It is big and comfy, the pillows are perfect and the sheets are crisp and cold.

After working late on a wedding gown tonite, I went into my room to take my rightful place on the left (stage left) side of the bed, next to The Man of the House.

But, alas, I could not.

You see, The Small One had been eating Cinnamon Toast on my side of the bed and it is rather...sandy.

So, I leave The Man of the House to enjoy the comforts of the bed himself and I shall betake myself off to the bed of The Small One.

Which is delightfully free of crumbs and sugar. Though the pillows aren't as nice.

ugh

2010-05-11T23:23:00.003-06:00

I am overworked.

The Small One is feeling neglected.

It is wedding season.

You know I make and alter wedding gowns, right? You can check out my website at www.thedress.net . It is a bit messy right now. Because it is wedding season and, yeah, I don't have time to fix it right now. Sorry.

So, here, because I am just too tired, are some photos of The Small One that illustrate why I enjoy being a mother.

Truthfully, the child would never come into the house if she didn't have to.

She loves her chickens: This is a daily occurence.

From Lilly

And her dogs.

From Lilly

This is also a regular occurence. Shedding of the clothing. Playing in the dirt.

From Lilly

In Review

2010-04-30T00:45:00.003-06:00

Hello there, and welcome to another installment of Has it Really Been a Month Since I Last Posted. Because that is what I think every single time. Where exactly does the time go? Oh, I know, it is wedding season, that lovely time of year when I can't even call my soul my own. The Blessed Brides seem to think that I belong to them, 24/7.

Anyway, on to my subject. Do you like to read? I do. I am a voracious reader. Don't get me wrong, I won't read just anything. I am (sort of) discriminating in my tastes. Though some people may like a good trashy read, I myself usually pass.

Why do we say that? I, myself? I mean, it is really redundant. It isn't as though one would say "I, yourself" or "I, himself", right? Although, perhaps one might. Once upon a time, long, long ago when I was still in college I had a friend named Ai. Prounouced "eye". I was telling my roommates something about him one day, and I started the story thusly. "I was sitting next to me on the couch..." they heard. What? "I was sitting next to me on the couch..." Confusion reigned. You were sitting next to you on the couch? I don't get it. "Oh! Haha. No, AI, as in the person who lives across the street, was sitting next to me on the couch!" Oh! Laughs all round and I carried on with my story. Which I don't actually remember at this juncture' the point being that one might indeed say, Ai, himself.

You know, we had a lot of oddly named people in that complex. A guy named Amerik and a girl named America. A guy named Tuna (I think his given name was Ryan) an apt. of guys named Larry, Moe and Darryl, but we called him Curly (and he was).

But, I digress...

Do you like to read? There was a meme going around on Facebook for awhile of the top 100 books that people ought to have read and the deal was that Americans had in general only read around 30 of them. I had read 80 or so. I likes me some classic literature. A lot. But, I also like some good, dorky fantasy as well. Hook me up with The Belgariad and The Mallorean anytime. Then there is the be all and end all of literature, which is classic fantasy! Does it get any better than this? I think not! T.H. White's The Once and Future King is a delightful book from cover to cover. The Lord of The Rings? Awesome. It is true, I am a sucker for a good fairy tale, I cannot deny it.

I get my street cred by reading Jane Austen and Anthony Trollope. If literature can have street cred, something of which I am not sure.

I have been asked before what is my favorite book, and truthfully? I do not know the answer to that. I love books. Here is a partial list of several faves, as I cannot pick just one.

Mary Stewart's Crystal Cave Trilogy-best King Arthur books, hands down. Although they are about Merlin.
The aforementioned The Once and Future King-yeay King Arthur!
Gone With the Wind-I love Scarlett, that is one hell of a woman.
The Chosen and The Promise by Chaim Potok. I would recommend anything he wrote.
Harry Potter-of course
The Emily Trilogy by L.M. Montgomery. I also love the Anne books, but the Emily's are definitely the fave. Much darker.
Emma by Jane Austen-although I like all of her books.
Anything by Anthony Trollope-so entertaining!
The Forsyte Saga
John Adams by David McCullough-so fascinating.
Jeeves and Bertie novels by P.G. Wodehouse-absolute howlers.

That is a short list of books I love. I could go on indefintely.

Then, there are books I don't love. What are they, you ask? Sit tight and I shall tell you.

I do not like modern smut, though I won't turn down good 18th or 19th Century smut, since it generally isn't actually smutty. Well, except maybe Lady Chatterly's Lover, which I have not actually read.

I do not like Gothic Romances. Jane Eyre? Blech. Wuthering Heights? Ugh. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall? No, thanks. I think Gothic Romance is not romance, it is idiocy. I do not care to subject myself to it, thank you very much.

I also do not like badly written sequels by person's other than the author of the previous books. Take for example, Scarlett, the sequel to Gone With the Wind. Dear heaven above, was a worse book ever written? Of course, I read it. I wanted to know what the author did with Scarlett. It was plain a couple of chapters in that she DID NOT understand the character of Scarlett, which she proceeded to butcher in the most heinous manner. Margaret Mitchell must have rolled over in her grave.

I do not like boring books, though I confess to loving books that others might consider boring. If it bores me, I probably won't finish reading it. Moby Dick, I am looking at you!

I do not like dark and depressing novels. Anything by John Steinbeck does not belong on my personal library shelves. So depressing. Yes, I get that he was writing about the human condition during a particular point in history, and yes, I get that things were dark and depressing, but that does not mean I want to read about it.

Evidently I am an escapist. Hmm. Intersting.

I do not like cheeseball romances. Nicolas Sparks. Ugh. Seriously. No offense if you like him. I just don't.

So, there you go, there are some of my likes and dislikes. I am a re-reader. Big time. I have a couple of shelves full of books that I have read countless times. Always good to fall back on when I haven't anything new to read. And it is hard for me to find something new to read. I don't often read newly published novels, because too many of them are so trite. I rely on the suggestions of friends and family whose taste I trust, my dad in particular. He has good taste in books and knows my taste, so I have a pretty good list from him. I have read some fairly obscure (now) books thanks to him. Here are a few good ones-

The Thorn of ArimatheaThe Egyptian by Mika Waltari
Quo Vadis (not really obscure, but, you know)
A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush (laughed my head off!)
The Last Grain Race
Kon Tiki by Thor Heyerdahl (I think)
Endurance
Ghost of Everest
The Silver Chalice-Thomas Costain
The Last Plantagenet-Ditto
The Magnificent Century
A Distant Mirror
Hmm, that is all I can think of off the top of my head, but good reads, every single one.

Well, that about does it for tonight. Won't you leave a comment and tell me what books you love? I am always on the lookout for something new!

A Peek

2010-03-23T01:52:00.002-06:00

It is nearly 2 am and I am sitting in bed next to my blessed daughter, The Small One. Laying in bed with her is a bit easier sometimes, than with The Man of the House for one simple reason. He is a light sleeper, she is not. I can type, read, knit, listen to audiobooks, eat sunflower seeds, what have you, whilst in bed with her. With him? Not so much. So, I let him wander off to slumberland by his lonesome and I sit cozy in bed with my little fidget, because, you know, I don't always want to sit out in the front room to do whatever it is I am doing. It is lonely and not cozy.

That is not to say that I don't sometimes like to do just that. Sit out in the front room. In fact, sometimes, I like to fall asleep out there in front of the fire. But then, I usually wake up all sweaty, with drool on my pillow. Thus ends the romance.

Anyhoo...Did you know The Small One will be three in a couple of weeks? Three? THREE? What the...? Where did the time go? What happened to my wee sweet baby? I swear she was there a couple of minutes ago. Now she has been replaced by a smart, mouthy, funny, rowdy, hyper little girl. Or big girl, if you ask her. She likes to remind me that she is getting bigger. Of course, if she doesn't want to do something, well, she just tells me she is too little. Whatever. It always seems to work in her favour, sizewise.

She is a big girl, though. And one who brings me insane amounts of joy. Sometimes, okay, lots of times, I like to just sit and watch her. When she is unaware that she is being watched, she is soooo adorable. Does the funniest things. I love to watch her concentrate and try to blow bubbles. I love to watch her sit on the couch and color with her markers, so determined. Seeing her out in the yard playing with her daddy, her dogs and her chickens makes me smile.

And yes, they are her chickens, just ask her! She has 10 of them, in case you were curious.

She is a bold and independent sort, just the kind of girl I like. She is a girly tomboy, is that possible? She loves pink, and princesses and makeup and fluff and sparkles and dollies. And she loves racecars, and dumptrucks and dirt, and climbing and dogs and horses. And chickens, of course.

And I love her.

Sundays

2010-03-14T18:28:00.002-06:00

Sunday mornings are sometimes difficult here our household. Not because we aren't holy and stuff, you know. Okay, we aren't holy, but we try. ;)
Anyway, The Small One, she does not enjoy having her routine messed with. And Sundays? They mess with her routine. Not pleasant.
I would like Sunday mornings to be nice and peaceful, but they aren't. In reality, they are an ongoing fight to get The Small One ready. And then, when we finally make our way to church, she fights about going to nursery, which is utterly ridiculous because she LIKES nursery!
This morning was no different than usual, fight, fight, fight, finally get to church, take her to nursery and she glues herself to me. So, I sit down in nursery with her and try to make her get off of me. I am not terribly successful. (And before you tell me I should just drop her off and let her cry, yeah, that doesn't work. She barfs if she cries too hard and the nursery leaders tell me they aren't up for that.) I rarely make it to my first meeting. Aargh.
Fortunately, she acclimates and I am usually able to leave her there at the point that they switch rooms. That means snacktime and as it involves cheese, she is always up for snacktime.
After I pick her up from nursery, it is time for the main meeting. Of course, having already been through 2 hours of church, the last hour is exceedingly difficult for her. She goes into the chapel and makes her rounds. There are certain people she has to say hi to before the meeting starts. Social little infant.
Then the meeting starts and so does the aggravation. She hates being trapped in a pew. We try to keep her entertained, but are not always successful because, you know, sometimes we like to listen to the speakers and not her. Oh, well.
Today, she picked up my scriptures and climbed into Daddy's lap for a story. He took them and started very quietly "Once upon a time..."
NOT GOOD!
She says, not quietly, THAT IS NOT HOW WE READ SCRIPTURES!!!! WE SAY "AND IT CAME TO PASS!!!!" Oh, dear. Well, at least she is familiar with the scriptures, right?

Latest Words from the Small One

2010-03-07T21:04:00.002-07:00

She continues to entertain.

Never fails, really.

Wanna hear the latest?

Because it is pretty amusing.

How about this.
Saturday, I got dressed in some fairly comfortable and, I thought, rather cute clothing. It consisted of black leggings, a tan turtleneck and a short black dress over the top.

I came out of my room in the outfit and added a knit headband and some Ugg style boots. And then I walked into the kitchen where The Small One was waiting to go to Memma's house. She took one look at me, crinkled up her adorable little face and said,

"Don't look like that! You need go change!"

I looked at her and smiled and inquired into her opinion concerning my attire. Do you like it?

"No, I fink its really, really, really, really ugly."

No exaggeration. She honestly said really at least 4 times. Maybe more. I laughed.

Shortly thereafter, The Man of the House walked in and looked at my outfit. Hmm, judging by the expression on his face, I gathered he didn't like it either. So, I asked his opinion of my sartorial choices. He thought I looked like a Russian peasant.

I took The Small One over to Memma's, still wearing said outfit and walked in the house. My mom looked at it and said, "Well, that's interesting." I told her to ask The Small One what she thought, so she did.

"Small One, do you like your mamma's dress?"

"Yes, it's...NO! I fink its kind of ugly!"

I took the dress off at that point. When she has such decided opinions about something, she is probably right.

And here, just for the sake of amusement, is a picture of The Small One eating a cinnamon toast sandwich. Without pants.

From Lilly

And here are a few pics of her hangin' with dad in the evening. This is a nearly nightly occurence.

From Lilly

They like to work together.

Oh, and I nearly forgot! A house exploded about 100 feet from me last week! How weird is that?!?!

The Small One and I had gone down to the Covey Center to meet The Man of the House, who was TD-ing a ballet in the space. We went to get dinner, took The Small One back to the Covey to watch the ballerinas for a bit (which she thoroughly enjoyed) and then she and I headed home. As we were nearing our turn, I considered heading over to the gas station to get a drink. Then I decided I didn't want to bother as The Small One had conked in the back seat and I didn't want to wake her and drag her in the store. So, I turned off State street to head home. Then, I remembered a very important fact.

There is a gas station nearby with a drive thru! Dr. Pepper would indeed be mine. So I turned down the next cross street to head over to said drive thru. It was about 7:40 in the evening and quite dark. There I was, driving calmly along in my lovely residential neighborhood when, all of a sudden,

KABLAAMMMMM!!!!

An earth shaking explosion. It shook my car, rattled the windows good, but curiously, did not wake The Small One! I looked in the direction of the sound and a HUGE plume of smoke and flame was rising over the trees just to my left. I reached the cross street and turned down it and then promptly had to pull over. The street was blocked with debris. Bricks, glass, insulation, stuff. I got out of my car and walked over to a girl standing nearby, in the parking lot of a local diner.

What happened? I queried. She looked at me, a bit shocked and said, "It just...it just...the house just exploded!!!!"

There was a loud hissing noise coming from where the house had been (there was not much left) which I realized was probably gas. I told the girl we should probably get out of there, she agreed and turned to go to her car in the parking lot and I realized she had been in the diner when the house blew. I got back in my own car, flipped a U and headed back up the street as the emergency vehicles came howling down (from 2 blocks away) And still, The Small One did not budge.

I drove back down the next day to see the damage, as I could ascertain nothing but a mess in the dark the previous night. And here, for your viewing enjoyment, are pics of said damage.

From Lilly

Notice the debris up in the tree.

From Lilly

The roof of the house and a semi trailer belonging to a nearby business.

From Lilly

Oh, and in case you wondered, I did not get my drink that night. I was so shaken from the violence of the explosion that I completely forgot about it. Blasted it clean out of my head, if you will.

I Heart Governor Herbert

2010-03-06T08:36:00.002-07:00

WOOT! In an update on my previous blog entry, Gov. Herbert refused to sign the bill criminalizing women who have miscarriages due to reckless behaviour. The bill was revamped, saying that it is against the law for anyone who is not a doctor to cause an abortion/miscarriage, but that the woman cannot be punished.

Seriously, awesome.

Also, another reason I like him is that he is of the opinion that all school districts in Utah should get the same amount of money per child regardless of whether the area is rich or poor. I agree. This comes from the recent split of the Jordan School District into two. The Canyons (who chose to split off) has a much higher tax base that results in a budget of about $2200/child. Jordan was left with the lower tax base which gives them $1200/child.

Not cool, folks.

It shouldn't matter where the kid lives, they should all have the same opportunity for public education. Now, if you want to send your kids to private school, fine, have at it. But as far as public education goes, being wealthy shouldn't mean your kids get a better education. Or having the luck to live near wealthy people. Kids in Utah are the future of Utah. All of Utah.

Oh, The Frustration

2010-02-28T14:30:00.002-07:00

Frustration reigneth here in Utah amongst those of us who treasure women's rights. That includes me. I am terribly frustrated with the Legislature here for a number of reasons. Let me enumerate.

1-Sex Ed in Utah.
Rep. Steve Urqhardt from St. George, sponsored a bill here in Utah about Sex Ed.
Turns out Utah is an abstinence only state. Seriously. Also turns out that the rate of teen pregnancy and STD's in Utah is high. Somehow or another we are surprised about this. Seriously? Steve's bill would change the law to allow for more comprehensive sex education in school. Understanding the conservative viewpoint, the bill included an opt-out for parents who, for whatever reason, did not want their children getting comprehensive sex ed. See? Something for everyone. Those who believe comprehensive sex education is in the interest of protecting our children get what they want. Those who want to keep their children in the dark about sex get what they want. Everybody's happy, right? Wrong. The bill was not even discussed in the Senate. Just voted down and dropped. For shame Utah. For shame.

2-Women's rights as concerns pregnancy.
The Legislature just passed another bill that I find so appalling that it makes me sick. Current law in Utah allows for prosecution of persons causing harm to an unborn child. As in, when a woman gets an illegal abortion, the person performing the abortion can be prosecuted. If a woman is beaten, and it causes her to lose her fetus, the person inflicting the violence can be charged for the harm to the woman and the harm to the fetus. Basically, if someone causes the loss of an unborn child, without the consent of the woman, can be charged for the loss of that unborn child.

BUT, and this is very important, the woman herself CANNOT be charged.

Until now.

Now, the woman can be charged. I understand (sort of) the reasoning behind the change. The girl last year who hired someone to beat her up in an effort to end her pregnancy. Certain persons want her to be prosecuted. So, yes, I understand the reasoning, but I think it is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!!!!!! On so many levels.

Instead of considering what might have possessed this girl (and she was a girl, not an adult) to hire someone to BEAT HER so severely that she would lose her pregnancy and, oh, I don't know, figuring out WHY and HOW TO HELP HER, they choose to prosecute instead. That is smart. There is one level.

Next level. They want to prevent abortions. That is what this law is supposedly about. But, instead of doing things to help prevent pregnancy, like SEX EDUCATION in school, they just want to prosecute those who are accidentally pregnant and need to end it. Maybe, just maybe, if they considered that comprehensive sex ed might help prevent unwanted pregnancies, we could get somewhere. But no, dear heaven above, if we teach kids to have safe sex they will just go out and bang anyone and everyone!!!!!!!! HORRORS!!! I hate to break it to you folks, but fear of STD's and pregnancy does not prevent most kids (or adults) from having sex. If they are going to have sex, they are going to have sex, whether you not you give them the info to do it safely. This is proven by the high numbers of STD's and teen pregnancy abounding in our lovely state. If keeping the info out of their hands would prevent them from having sex, there would be no teen pregnancies and no STD's! Clearly, abstinence only education is not the answer.

3-And this is the one that REALLY makes me angry.
The law criminalizes any woman who recklessly or with intent causes a miscarriage. Of her own. Sounds kind of innocuous, no? But it isn't! It means that some random prosecutor, doctor, midwife, judge, nurse, whoever, gets to decide what is reckless behaviour for me. Say I have a miscarriage and in the midst of my treatment mention that I had been drinking Dr. Pepper. My doctor could decide that was reckless behaviour on my part and report me. I could be charged with causing the loss of my baby. Doesn't matter that I may be devastated by this loss and am probably blaming myself (wrongly) anyway. They will make it worse by slinging me in jail and charging me with the murder of my child.
What if I am out running while pregnant and fall and hurt myself and cause a miscarriage. Is that reckless? Should I be jailed?
What if I eat alfalfa sprouts on my deli turkey sandwich and end up with listeriosis?? I mean, it looks healthy, right? But it is pretty damn reckless, isn't it? I mean, doesn't everyone know that raw sprouts and deli meats can carry listeriosis? Oh, wait, probably not, since we don't talk about pregnancy and sex in schools.

And before you tell me that I am being ridiculous and they would never push things this far, let me tell you this. Not too long ago, a woman in Ohio became the victim of just such a law. She was very distraught, briefly lost consciousness and fell down her stairs. She elected to go to the ER to get the baby checked and while talking to the nurse about her distress, due to her husband's decision to leave her over the pregnancy, mentioned she wasn't sure she wanted to be pregnant.
Nurse told doctor, doctor called the police and she was jailed for two days. Two days, kids. She had two little ones at home who had to be taken care of, but no matter. She fell down the stairs and obviously must be punished.

Or how about this one? A woman here in the United States was told she needed to go on bedrest. She was a single mom, had other children and a job. She couldn't do bedrest, if she did, she would have no one to take care of her children and no money with which to pay for food, home, clothes, bills, what have you. But, instead of providing her with useful assistance, the state chose to prosecute her. For being unable to care for her family while on bed rest.

So, my friends, it is not that ridiculous. In fact, what it is, is dangerous. A slippery slope, if you will. What is the next step in the erosion of my rights as a woman? Telling me what I can or cannot do WITH MY OWN BODY while I am pregnant is beyond ridiculous and criminalizing it is incomprehensible to me. You can be that I will be writing a letter to the governor and to my representatives about how utterly ludicrous things are right now. I mean, really, we won't teach the kids about preventing pregnancy and then we will punish them for their lack of knowledge if they do get pregnant and happen to lose said pregnancy. That makes a whole lot of sense.

Stuff and Junk

2010-02-12T19:31:00.004-07:00

Hey there, what's up? Thanks for dropping by! Hope you find things entertaining, at any rate. Won't you leave a comment if you drop by? Just let me know you have been here.

Did you watch the Opening Ceremonies? I am sitting in front of the tv right now, waiting for them to start. I love the Olympics. So entertaining. And I hope the USA kicks some trash. No offense to any international readers I may have. I'm just a wee bit competitive.

Watching the Olympics always brings back memories. The Man of the House and I were heavily involved in the 2002 Winter Games, as they were here in Salt Lake City. The Man of the House actually shot fireworks for much of the Games and then for the Closing Ceremonies. I gt to attend the Closing Ceremonies, which was seriously AWESOME!.

We both worked for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints prior to the games, making costumes for the VERY large show that the Church put on during the Olympics. I had an all access pass to the tunnels underneath the Church complex in Salt Lake City. That was also, seriously awesome. Tons of fun.

Then, shortly after the Games ended, we got married. Also, awesome.

Sadly, these games in Vancouver are getting off to a bit of a tragic start. A Georgian Luge Runner was killed in a horrible accident this morning. My heart goes out to his family.

So, I have been busy the last couple of days trying to get stuff up in my etsy shop. I focus mostly on boutique style children's clothes, although there will be some adult fashions in there as well. There isn't much up yet, but there will be more soon. Check it out at lillyblythe.etsy.com

I am still planning to do my lovely wedding website, but I need to finance said endeavor and am hoping this etsy site will help me do that.

Don't know what etsy is? You should totally check it out. It is a shopping site for handmade and vintage items, so everything in my shop is handmade by me. Hope you like it!

Also, I finally finished knitting this gorgeous tunic for my darling daughter, The Small One. What do you think?

From Drop Box

Okay, well, I think that is all for now. I will post again, soon. I hope so, anyway. I have some thoughts floating around in my head that I need to organize.

Post of Random

2010-02-03T20:01:00.003-07:00

This is going to be a fully random post, so fasten your seatbelts and I hope you don't get confused!

I am sitting here with The Small One eating Nerds. Well, I am eating Nerds and she is pouring her Nerds between two boxes and eating the occasional few. And handing the occasional few to me with a reminder to not eat them all or she will spank my butt. Then she apologized and said she wouldn't really spank me, but make sure I don't eat them all!

From Drop Box

Too many Nerds will make your teeth hurt. In case you wondered.

My dear SIL, Kaytee, got me hooked on Overstock.com. Bad Kaytee! I found these shoes that I want for Valentine's or whatever holiday for which I can justify having them.
Here they are: Shoes of Fabulousness

From Drop Box

Ooh, pretty! Don't you think?

The Olympics are coming up very soon. I love the Olympics. Of course, they aren't quite as much fun as they were when they were here, but still fun. And, for fibre geeks like myself, it is time for the Ravelympics! Woot!

What are the Ravelympics, you ask? Simple. It is a contest in which all fibre geeks, like myself, who are members of the great and wonderful fibre community, Ravelry.com, pick a project that is challenging and try to finish in the same amount of time as the Olympics. Last Olympics, I made my first sweater. It was very simple. This year I am up for something a little more technical. Like this!

From Drop Box

I love this sweater. I have not decided whether or not to knit it in brown or cream. But yummy! It is from Vadis Designs, which is one of my FAVE knit designers.

I bought a new camera. A little Sanyo 1200. Sadly, my awesome Canon broke and I haven't gotten it fixed yet. And it will likely cost a lot to fix. And I needed a tiny camera I could stick in my purse, anyhow. I have been borrowing my Mom's camera and that of The Man of the House when they are around, but I really needed my own, for work. And for The Small One.

Speaking of The Small One, here are some more pics for your viewing entertainment.
Just because, you know?

From Drop Box

And just for kicks and giggles, here is one The Small One took of me the other night.

From Drop Box

Oh, and I have thought of a new nickname for The Small One. I think I shall call her Miss Adventure. Because, you know, she is rather adventuresome, and said adventures often end...not goodly. ;)

Housecleaning is a sin

2010-01-30T15:18:00.002-07:00

Okay, maybe not. But if you know me, and odds are fairly good that if you are reading this blog, you know me, or maybe not, I don't know. Anyway, lost my train of thought there for a mo'. If you know me, you will know that I HATE cleaning. I think I may have mentioned this recently. Or was I talking about laundry? I can't remember. But, I do. I hate it. It ruins my day. Most of the time. Here's the thing. Clutter? It makes me twitchy. Cleaning? Makes me even more twitchy. (On a side note, my husband generally hates clutter, was a neatfreak when I married him, as a matter of fact. Fear not, I have since corrupted him.)

Here is another interesting aspect of my enormously complex personality. I hate dirtiness worse than I hate cleaning. Does this make sense? I do not like clutter, but am a seriously disorganized person. I hate cleaning up, which results in largish amounts of clutter (I am also a bit of a packrat, but that is another post entirely). But I do clean up, sometimes. I really, really hate dirtiness. Nastiness. So, while I don't subscribe to submitted wifery (haha, inside joke) I do clean my baseboards. And my fridge handle. And the fact that the paint is wearing off of my cabinets and so they look like they are very dirty. It bugs me. Scunge bugs me, it is gross. So, my entire point is this; my house may be very cluttered (and it is) but it is not dirty.

That brings me to my second point. Have you seen my house? No? Here, let me show you some pictures.

From Drop Box

It is adorable, is it not? My delightful abode is composed of three different parts, which occurred at three different periods in time.
The first part of the house, that consisting of the front room, dining area and what is now my studio were built around 1880. They have lovely thick walls and deep window wells. The exterior walls are adobe, faced with brick. The interior walls are lathe and plaster. What does this mean, you ask? Dust. Lots and lots of dust. The adobe breaks down, the plaster cracks, 100 and some odd years of dust leaks out of every crevice. The second problem. We have a wood burning stove in our fireplace. Heats the house deliciously, makes things oh, so cozy...BUT...oh, the ash that flies hither and yon when one opens said stove. Everything around the fireplace gets pretty heavily coated and it flies lightly about the entire area.

I hate dust. It makes me sneeze and it makes things look...you guessed it, dirty! Ewwwwww. Dirt. Yuck.

Problem number next. The second phase of the house, that consisting of the kitchen and bathrooms, was built around 1900. Back in the day, not having cars, there was no need for a garage, so the garage we have was an afterthought and therefore, not connected to the house. So, the entrance to the kitchen is straight out of the yard. Also? No mud room. This means that every bit of dirt on anybody's shoes gets tracked straight onto my floor, which foolish me for choosing it, is white. What was I thinking? Because, guess what?

DIRT! MORE DIRT! DIRT EVERYWHERE! I HATE DIRT!!!!!

Dirty floors, yuck. Dirt on the baseboards. Nasty. Dirt on the door from a certain Small One's grubby little fingers (not to mention the dirty fingers of the hardworking Man of the House). Ewww.

Are you getting the vision? The whole, entire point of this whole entire post is this. If you come to my house and see lots of clutter and think that I am a terrible housekeeper, you are right and wrong. It is messy, but baby, it is clean.

Teh Interwebz

2010-01-25T23:51:00.010-07:00

Hi, my name is Tara and I am an internetaholic.

It is true. I am addicted. I would suffer terrible pangs of withdrawal if someone took my internet away. Goodness knows, I would get more done without it. Oh, that is a lie. I wouldn't. Before I became addicted to the internet, I could easily while away an entire day reading a good book. Now I while away entire nights reading said books, because during the day I am on the web.

I have one major addiction (and a number of smaller ones). The Big One? Ravelry.com. A website for knitting/crocheting/spinning freaks. Of which I am one. I knit, I crochet and I spin. And I am kind of a freak. See how that all fits together so nicely? It is like Ravelry was made for me! I know, I know, it doesn't sound that interesting. It probably isn't, unless you are a freak of the aforementioned variety. However, it isn't just about the arts that celebrate fibery goodness, it is an online community. Fibre is simply the tie that binds, as it were. I belong to, oh, I don't know, like a kajillion groups on Ravelry, but only two in which I am an active participant. One is a purely social group, and the other is a religious discussion group. Now, I find the second one purely fascinating because I am one of only two Mormons on said group, and let's be honest, our theology is rather different from the rest of Christendom. I begin to understand why a lot of the rest of Christendom do not consider us (Mormons) to be Christian. I think they are wrong, but I understand the thought process.

It is utterly fascinating to listen in, if you will, on a conversation between members of several different denominations and religions and see where they are similar to my own and where they are different. And, I gotta say, the more I learn about other religions, the more I am convinced I chose the correct one. The LDS version of the Gospel makes so much more sense to me than any other version I have encountered. No doubt there are many who would disagree with me, and indeed there are many who do, but I feel fine about that. I still know I picked the right one! Would you like to know more about it? My religion, I mean? Go here, mormon.org. It's pretty awesome.

Whaaaa?????

2010-01-24T16:48:00.002-07:00

January 20 what? Seriously, I am like the world's worst blogger EVAR!
Are you wondering if we had Christmas? We did. It was lovely. I will post some pics.
Are you wondering if we are still around? We are. But, honestly, I think we are maybe just too boring for blogging? But then, I have to think, who do I blog for? Do I blog for myself or do I blog for my readers. Since I only have, like, 2 readers, I will have to conclude that I blog for myself. Not to denigrate my 2 readers, as I love them, but you know...
More people should read my blog, in my humble opinion, because, let's face it, I am pretty darn funny sometimes. Okay, maybe more snarky than funny, but still.
Here are some funny stories, no thanks to me, but more to my very amusing daughter.

There we were, standing in the bathroom, getting ready for the day. Likely it was Sunday, since I am very lazy and don't often actually do my hair or makeup (or that of The Small One) during the week. I was happily combing my hair or doing my makeup or possibly putting piggies into The Small Ones hair when she cranes her skinny little neck over the edge of my tub to give it a critical look. She gazes upon the white porcelain, then looks up at me. "Mamma, your tubby is a zaster." Uh, what? "Your tubby is a zaster! You need a clean it." I glance over at the tub. Not that dirty. Besides, as I told her, SHE was the last person in it, maybe she needs to clean it! She disagreed and gave me stinkeye. Hmmm.

Okay, that was just one story. I have been uber lame lately, and have not written down the amusing things The Small One says.

Oh, but wait. Just now, as I was writing this, the naken bummed child came in and sat upon my head and thereupon informed me that my head stinks. I asked why and she said because her naken bum was on it. Nice. For the record, I do not teach her these things. I suspect The Man of the House, but this cannot currently be proven.

Do you like to cook? I like to cook, and The Man of the House (generally) likes to eat that which I cook. However, I hate to clean. Hate. Like with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns hate. So, The Man of the House does the cleanup. Most of the time. Occasionally, I take pity and try to clean up myself, but let's be honest, that does not happen very often.
Don't misunderstand me, this is not to say that I leave a ginormous mess for him to clean up, I mean, I do put (some) things away as I go.
I have discovered, though, that what I consider easy, other people do not. I like to cook from scratch, and am kind of opposed to pre packaged food. I do use it, when necessary, but I don't like how it tastes.
I make up recipes all the time, but then I forget what I made, so, although I could have a nice repertoire of recipes, I don't. Kind of lame, don't you think? I would consider starting a food blog, but I can't even post on this one more than once a month, so a food blog seems rather like an impossibility, no?

Eating at home is good for a number of reasons. It keeps our spending down, it allows me to control what goes into it, and, sigh, it enables me to keep my calories down. Do you know how hard it is, though, to try and keep my calories down, whilst living in a house with two people whose calorie counts need to be high? Aargh! It is dreadful.
The Man of the House works so hard that he has a hard time keeping weight on, and if you have read my blog at all, you know that The Small One has eating issues, so high calories for them, low calories for me. That means healthy-ish meals and they get dessert.
I started exercising about 2.5 weeks ago. I am not an exerciser by nature. I don't like to sweat. Yeah, yeah, I could go swimming, but there isn't a pool at our Rec center and I don't have a gym membership, or the time to change into a bathing suit, go over to a pool, shower, swim, shower, dry hair, change, drive back home. And what to do with The Small One while I am gone?
I have a treadmill, which I have been using. I have been exercising about 1 hour every day, burning a good number of calories according to Sparkpeople. I have been watching my calorie intake and guess what? NOT A POUND HAVE I LOST. How lame is that? Seriously lame, that is how. I am not happy about it.
Yesterday, I treadmilled for over an hour and then forgot to stretch afterward, boy am I paying for that! The back of my knee is NOT thrilled with me.
I shall persevere, however. I suppose, even if I don't get thinner, at least I will get more fit, right? I will confess, though, that my motivation wasn't to get more fit, it is purely vanity. I want to be skinny again. The getting fit is just a bonus. Probably, I should be thinking the other way round. Oh well.

And Now, For Your Viewing Enjoyment....

2009-12-21T20:51:00.004-07:00

Here are a few videos of The Small One.
Of course, these were taken in September. So, it was a little while ago. Oops.

BUSY!

2009-12-16T16:33:00.002-07:00

Hello all.
Once again, I have let a rather largish amount of time go by since last blogging. It isn't that I haven't anything to say, it is simply that I haven't the time to say. It has been a busy bit of time these past couple of months.
Why, you ask?
Well, I have had the good fortune to team up with a lovely lady in Park City who sells floor sample wedding gowns. She sells these at a serious discount out of her house, so there is no alterationist on the premises. I met her randomly through a friend and she promptly asked if I would be interested in doing alterations for her customers. I said yes, although I don't really like doing alterations. I figured it would be good money. And it is. Much better than I ever made at the Bridal Shop at which I was employed. So, you see, the increased compensation more than makes up for the fact that I don't enjoy alterations. Also, most of these dresses are not LDS Temple worthy, and the majority of my clients are LDS. So, that means much more extensive alts on a lot of them, which means much more excited brides who see their dress transformed.
Some weeks are very busy, and it is easy to see which those are. My house turns into a disaster, because I don't have time to clean. We eat out a lot because I don't have time to cook. And The Small One? Poor baby, she suffers. She doesn't like it when my attention is focused elsewhere. If I go into my studio and she has had enough of it, she runs ahead of me and blocks the sewing machine and tells me "No more sewing! You cannot sit here! You are all done!" At that point, I usually concede that I have perhaps worked a little too much and play with The Small One instead. Then I work during her nap.

Sabbath

2009-11-29T14:27:00.002-07:00

Church today was...inspiring. Sometimes when I go, I think the lessons are nice, but not particularly attention grabbing. Today was attention grabbing. Maybe I was in the right frame of mind, maybe it was something I particularly needed to hear, I don't know.
The lesson in the first meeting (Relief Society for my Mormon readers) was on remembering Christ, how knowing Christ can change your outlook. The teacher quoted my favorite prophet, President Hinckley, a lot during the lesson. The primary thing I took from it, and one of the big reasons he is my fave prophet is because of his constant reminder to us to not despair. Things might be hard, the world might be ugly, war does exist, BUT...things that are hard can teach us. The world IS beautiful and we can work toward peace. And above all, and this is my most favorite scripture-BE STILL AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD. Regardless of the ugly and the evil, the Lord is still in charge. Despite the sorrow that can come from the blessing of agency by making wrong choices or by those who choose evil, good WILL prevail.

Then, in our main meeting, one of the members of our congregation spoke about example and the love of God. She was talking about her son and the joy he gave her and how sometimes that joy is intensified by the knowledge that he is hers. And the realization that that feeling of love and joy is just a tiny part of how the Lord must feel about us.

We also had an amazing musical number with 6 women and 5 men in our ward. I can't describe it, but it made me very happy to be a Mormon.

Happy Christmas Season everyone!

The Fabulous Life of...

2009-11-25T14:49:00.003-07:00

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a girl. This girl got a bee in her bonnet about blogging and thought, what a great idea! A lovely way to preserve her memories of family, life and her growing daughter!

As you can see, that tale is not ending happily. I am terrible at keeping up with this, and terrible at remembering all of the hysterical things my daughter does. And, believe you me, she is hysterical. The amount of funny in the things she says just does not come through with the written word. You have to see her facial expressions and body language as well.

For instance, the other day, she was eating her dinner. Oh, correction, I was FEEDING her dinner, because the child does not eat of her own volition. Anyhoo, whilst eating, she informs me that she needs her drink. I hand her her milk. She vetoes and reaches for my drink (raspberry slush in seltzer). I say, that is my drink. She looks at me, cocks her head sideways and says, "Acksally, I think it's kinda MY drink", then picks it up and has at it. Yep. I laughed.

I looked up the development tracker yesterday to see where she falls on the scale. It was a bit alarming. The child is 2 1/2. Her physical development(gross and fine motor skills) falls squarely into the 3 year old category. Her cognitive development (language and emotional skills, logic, etc.) falls squarely into the...4 year old category. I am not kidding. I was not expecting that. I joke all the time about how it annoys me when she acts like a two year old, but the fact of the matter is, most of the time she doesn't! She acts much older, and consequently, I expect more of her.

At church a couple of weeks ago, a lady came up and started baby talking to The Small One. Now, The Small One is familiar with this lady, so it wasn't like STRANGER DANGER! or anything. The lady says something like-Oh you such a coot widdow girl! Did ur mommy make oo dat pitty dress?-and The Small One just stares. The lady carries on for a minute, with The Small One just giving her stinkeye, then, she reaches out to pet The Small One, who says calmly and clearly, "Don't touch me." At which the lady looks taken aback and we skedaddle off to nursery.
Later, The Man of the House informs me that said lady mentioned to him how clearly and precisely The Small One talks and she wasn't expecting that.

Now, let me say, we do not talk to her like she is a baby. I baby her sometimes and all that, but in general, we talk to her like she is a person. If she asks me a question, I answer. I explain to her what I am doing, if she wants to know. I explain how things work, if that is her query. Consequently, she has a GIANT vocabulary, for a two year old, and her enunciation is very good.

Twice now, I have had people in church disapprovingly ask me why I talk to her the way I do. My answer, although I don't say it out loud, is that she is a child, not an idiot. Mostly, I just smile and tell them she responds to it well.

Here are a few more fabulous tidbits from The Fabulous Life of The Small One.

Overheard one warm day in October (I was in the back room, The Man of the House and The Small One were out back.)
-Hey, Hey, HEY! What are you doing? PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON!!!!!!
Anyone who knows my child, knows she loves to be naked.

One morning she perusing the interior of the fridge and saw a bowl of cut mango and asked if it was cheese. I said, no, and she said, "Oh! It is canlaloupe! I love canlaloupe!" She took a piece from the bowl and placed it in her mouth, chewed once and promptly spit it back out. She looks at me and says,"This is not canlaloupe" (I cannot even begin to tell you how hard it was to hold back the laughter at the surprised disgust in her face) I told her no, it was not cantaloupe, it was mango. She pondered the fruit in her hand, looked at me and announced, "I do not love it."

A few weeks ago, we took a drive up the canyon to enjoy the beautiful fall leaves. We stopped at Cascade Springs to walk around (The Man of the House had never been there! Boggle.) We walked about with the dogs (which The Small One mostly rode, pretty funny) and enjoyed the scenery. As we headed down one path, The Man of the House and the dogs got ahead of me and The Small One and veered off the path into the marsh. The Small One ran off the path through the weeds to catch them, not realizing that is was a marsh. Run, run, run, suddenly-SPLASH! right into a pool of water screened by weeds and whatnot. She stood up, completely confused. It looked like solid ground to her. I laughed and laughed. The Man of the House maintained taht she knew what she was doing, as she had been trying to get into the water the entire time we were there, but I don't think she could fake surprise that well.
On our way back up the last stretch to the carpark, I was walking well ahead of The Small One and her daddy (I had the dogs at that point and they were more or less dragging me up the path). I hauled the dogs to a stop, because I saw the cutest little fuzzy caterpillar. He was one of those black and bright yellow striped ones, but he only had 4 stripe segments, so he was short and fat and very cute.
I called to The Small One to come up and see and up she runs, takes one look at it, shouts, "A BUG!" and stomps it flat. Nice one, Godzilla. Several people were standing around looking at the fat, little guy, and up comes my wee delicate little girl and squishes the bug. At least it made everybody laugh.

The Small One was playing with her Madame Alexander doll (who is called Girl, you know, to differentiate her from the baby dolls) and came up to me and said "I need hersherder." Uh, what? "I need hersherder!" Honey, I haven't the foggiest what you are saying. "Come here!" I follow her into the hallway, to the door of the kitchen, where she props Girl up against the jamb and demands a pencil. OH! You need to MEASURE her! "Yes, hersherder!" You see, I measure The Small One, periodically, against the door jamb between the kitchen and hall and mark her height and the date, she figured Girl needed it as well.

I recently finished a bear rug a couple of weeks ago. Yes, a real bear. I occasionally do work for a couple of taxidermists. The Small One decided she needed to help me cut the felt for the dust ruffle, which I do with this old school, hand cranked scallop cutter. I cut the felt into strips and then run them throught the scallop cutter and it does the obvious, cuts scallops on one side. It has a small rotating die that squeezes the felt between it and a metal plate, and it is a bit sharp. Whenever I use it around The Small One, I make sure no little fingers get in the way, as it could do some damage.
So, back to the story, she decided to help me, so I let her crank the handle. This, itself, was funny to see, because it takes some effort to crank and she is little. So, she has both hands going, getting her whole body into it and I am feeding the strips and keeping them straight. As I get to the end of a strip, I hold it and let my fingers slide up on the platform near the cutting die. The Small One stops, cranking, grabs my hand and says earnestly, "Watch your feeners! Be berry careful! This danjrous, don't get your feeners squitched!" At least she learns, right?

Well, that is all for this post. I hope you have enjoyed your peek into The Fabulous Life of the Small One!

Short but Amusing

2009-10-19T23:05:00.003-06:00

I refer to both this blog post and The Small One. Both are short, both are amusing. At least in my estimation. Your estimation may vary.

This morning, upon waking, I realized that the headache I had gone to bed with was just about to turn into a migraine. Not good. Migraines are evil. I hate them with the fiery burning of a thousand suns. But, that is not the point of this blog post. The point is, whilst lying in bed bemoaning my fate (silently, as I did not want to wake The Small One, she awoke anyway.) Due to a serious need for sleep, The Man of the House opted to sleep in the nursery while Small and I slept in our bed. I don't blame him, my nasty cough keeps everyone awake.

Anyway, The Small One woke up and laid there for a moment, sideways with her head on my midsection, as per usual. Then she sat up and solemnly declared that she was "soggy boggo" and promptly began to remove her clothing. She is not one to wait around, she makes a decision and gets down to business. After divesting her thin frame of its clothing (and hurling the offending garments into the corner), she sat on the bed for a second. "I feezing" she tells me. I groaned. My head hurt. I lifted the covers and motioned for her to climb under the covers with me, but she demurred. She looked over at her crib, next to the bed, saw the blankets therein and made a decision. Crawling over to the crib, she grabbed her pillow and fluffed it, just as The Man of the House does, pulled and straightened the covers, one of which is the electric blanket she stole from her dear daddy, scooted up to the top of the bed and shinnied down into the pleasant warmth with an audible sigh of pleasure.

I looked at her and laughed. She is her daddy's daughter. Warm and cozy, buried under a pile of blankets, is the way to be. Although, she particularly likes to be buried in warmth whilst naken.

I asked her if she was comfortable. "I comfable," she replied, "my own daddy turn my blankly on for me." Then she demanded a bottle. It had to be warm as well. Fortunately, her daddy had provided one before he left for work. All I had to do was hand it to her.

Pleasantly, she remained like this for nigh unto an hour. Long enough for my meds to kick in and allow me to feel like facing the day. Bless the child.

More adventures from The Small One

2009-09-19T11:36:00.002-06:00

Who is getting to be not so small! Not sure I like that plan!

This morning, once again arising earlier than I prefer, The Small One announced that it was time to get up. Not only was it time to get up, but she had to go potty. Normally, she is quite capable of going potty by herself, but it was a rather darkish morning and the lights weren't on. I groaned, not wanting to get up as I had a rather sleepless night. She was demanding. But...ah, blessed baby. She wanted Daddy to be the one to come help her. Hallelujah! At least from my point of view. Not from his. Lazy beggar didn't want to get up either.

After going potty, she returned to the bedroom, where she spied my bottle of Powerade. I don't particularly like Powerade, but I was stricken with a dehydration headache last night, so got Powerade instead of water for the bedside. Over trots The Small One, picks up the bottle and looks me straight in the eye. Dis my juice. Okay, you can have it. Dis MY juice. It for me. Not for Mamma. Fine, you naughty stinker, take the juice. And again, with finger pointed my direction, for emphasis. Dis my juice. You not cannot hab any. And turning on her heel, she marches out of the room. Ah, my sweet, generous, sharing baby. Not.

We read scriptures and say prayers at night and The Small One is learning how to do it herself. The other morning, she climbed into bed with me, grabbed my Scriptures and opened them. I will read scritures to you, Mamma. Ok, baby, that would be nice. She flips a couple of pages, settles back into the pillow and says, An it came a pass, (blah, blah, nonsense words), an it came a pass, (more nonsense words) and it came a pass! I all done! With that, she shut the book, got down and went to watch Spongebob.
You should hear her say her prayers. Let me tell you, this kid is grateful for EVERYTHING!

She is becoming more and more independent by the day. Somehow or another, she figured out how to buckle her carseat buckle, but it takes FOREVER for her to do so. Then I get frustrated that she is taking so long and try to "help" her. Thanks, but no thanks, she does not need (want) help! So, as we are getting ready to leave a parking lot, my mom, in the passenger seat, turns around to help The Small One buckle up. NO! DON"T BUCKLE MY DOTTOM!!!!! Yeah, she didn't want help buckling the bottom buckle. I tried to warn my mom, but alas, she would not listen. But now I tell The Small One to behave or I will spank her dottom. She looks quizzically at me when I say that, because, you know, the little folk hear themselves saying the word correctly, but when you mimic them, they just don't get it. Silly baby.

Well, if I can get my battery charged and download my camera, the next post will contain photos and video. You are sure to get a laugh!

Tootle

2009-09-05T22:32:00.002-06:00

The Small One refused to take a nap today. This is happening with increasing regularity, which does NOT make me happy. She is far too young, in my humble opinion (and mine is the only one that matters), to be discontinuing her naps. Her naps are my free time, my quiet time, the time during the day in which I am allowed to work. If she gives up her naps, I could conceivable lose this time. This is a daunting idea. Of course, there is always quiet time, but this is something The Small One has a difficult time with. She is not good at the quiet. But, come on! She isn't even two and a half yet and wants to give up naptime? Although, my mother says she is two going on five, what with the way she talks and struts about the place. There is certainly something to be said about the confidence of The Small One.

Anyhow, so she refused her nap, which, come evening time, left her very tired and a bit cranky. I did not want to let her go to bed too early, because then she will wake up too early and, as I am sure to have mentioned before, I do not like to get up early. I also do not like to make The Man of the House get up too early on the weekends, as he does it during the week. Point being, if The Small One gets up early on the weekend, I have to get up with her.

The Man of the House, being the chivalrous gent that he is, went over to the church to print off the monthly Church Newsletter for me as I prefer not to be in the church alone at night. Creepy. So, I remained behind to put The Small One to bed. She whined piteously at me that she was ready for bed, so I asked her if she wanted her jammies. She did. Off she trotted to the nursery to find them. I clothed her in her nightwear and asked if she would like to go to bed now. She said yes. So, I took her and laid her in bed. She sat up. "I need my Tootle!" Your what? I queried. "My Tootle! I need my Tootle!" Your Tootle? I queried again, perplexed. "My Tootle! My dog!" Ah, now I understand. She needs her little stuffed poodle that Memma gave her yesterday. Her Toodle. I rousted out said Toodle, gave it to The Small One, she said thank you (unfailingly polite, she is) rolled over and went to sleep.

P.S. Would you like to know the names of her other dollies and things? Of course you would!
She has several dollies (not babies, so don't call them that and don't refer to her as their Mamma. She doesn't like it) They are named-Georgina, Alsatia, Blue and Purple. The other two don't have names.
She has two kitties, Grey and Tabby.
She has a Kangaroo named Pop.
And now she has a Poodle called Toodle.

Oh, and we cannot forget Torres, the Wonder Pup. He is one of those little soft lovies that babies have.

Sniff, sniff

2009-08-30T20:37:00.002-06:00

Smell is perhaps the most evocative of the senses. It most assuredly is, for me. Certain scents can stop me in my tracks, dragging me rapidly back to a certain memory here or there. And certain scents remind me of the people to whom they belong. For instance, my older brother, who used to have waist length hair, used Pantene shampoo and conditioner. It was a very long time before I could use it on a regular basis because when I did, well, I smelled like my brother! Not that there is anything wrong with my brother, I just didn't want to smell like him.

The Small One, of course, has a readily identifiable scent. I love it, it makes me happy when I lay down on one of her blankies and can smell her.

There are two particular scents which overwhelm my mind with memories and images whenever I catch a whiff. The first is Dewberry, from The Body Shop. Oh, the fond memories this evokes. Dewberry is the smell of my London apartment. Every time I smell it, I am transported back to my tiny, cramped flat in South Kensington. I remember the noise of the traffic on Queen's Gate, the sight of the little French schoolgirls, dressed like Madeline, parading down the street to their school. I recall the tininess of our postage stamp sized kitchen. The sound of the (very annoying) pigeons which roosted on the back courtyard. It brings back memories of my flatmates, costume designers, all, and very quirky.

From Drop Box

I attach the scent of Dewberry to my flat in London for a very good reason. Shortly after arriving there, I was shopping in Covent Garden and my hands were VERY dry. I hate dry hands. And I am OCD enough that once I realize my hands are dry, I cannot stop thinking about it and must remedy the situation immediately. So, upon realizing, I promptly began searching for said remedy.

Covent Garden is crowded with shops and I did not think it would take but a moment to find a chemist and get some lotion for my poor hands. Alas, there was no chemist to be found! What was I to do? Then I spotted it, The Body Shop. This was well before they were here, so I had never heard of them, but could guess it would be rather outside my price range. But, what could I do? I couldn't enjoy my excursion if all I could think about was how dry my hands were. So, I went in.

There were only a couple of bottles of lotion small enough for me to afford, so I sniffed and bought the one I found least offensive. I did not particularly like it, but I was in need, so there you go. My hands found relief and the bottle of lotion went into my bag, and consequently, into my makeup bag back at the flat. I didn't want to waste my money and so I used the lotion whilst in London, though I did not care for the smell.

Fast forward, back to the states. I had been home quite some time when I walked by a Body Shop in Salt Lake. It had just opened and there was a girl at the front handing out those little paper strips with perfume on them. She handed me one and I took a delicate sniff. The shock was almost like an assault, but very pleasant. I was stopped dead in my tracks. The scent she had handed me was Dewberry. It had been a year or two since London, but it was like I had stepped back into my flat and was getting ready for another day of adventure. I could see and hear everything so clearly! Since then, I have purchased Dewberry rarely. I use it sparingly as I want it to continue to remind me of London, I don't want it to gain any other associations as that particular association is a very happy one for me. To this day, when I open a bottle of Dewberry Lotion, the memories are as clear as when they actually happened, sigh, 13 years ago.

Which reminds me. I haven't had Dewberry lotion for a long time. Perhaps I ought to try and remedy that.

For Kaytee

2009-08-18T22:05:00.003-06:00

Kaytee thinks I don't post enough pics on this blog. I expect she is right. So, here, for the benefit of Kaytee and all other interested parties, are some pics. Possibly with captions.

My adorable and adored Small One.

From Drop Box

The Small One and The Man of the House enjoying a bit of leisure time. Note the requisite lack of pants on the part of The Small One. And the ever-present popsicles.

From Drop Box

This is what happens when The Man of the House gets The Small One ready for bed. It makes my sensibilities ache.

From Drop Box

The Small One figured out she could make a "splinkler" by sticking her thumb in the end of the hose. This was a daily occurence when the weather was super hot. She is "watering the garden".

From Drop Box

And here she is hauling around her giant bag of...stuff. It contains Georgina and Blue, a towel, a blankie, some binkies and a couple of books. You know, the important stuff!

From Drop Box

I hope that takes the edge off your hunger for pics. At least a tiny bit.

I have discovered an easier way to post them, so I hope it worked. If it did, there will be more pics in the future. Just for you Kate. Just for you.

2009-08-18T08:05:00.002-06:00

You know those security words they have you type in on certain sites? So they can make sure you are not a computer? Sometimes, they are hysterical. Like today's little soldier in the world of Spam Prevention. Today was...fordspog. Hehe. Fordspog. Sounds like an epithet a Dodge owner would throw at a Ford owner. Man, that dude is such a Fordspog!

Don't you think?

Wishful Thinking

2009-07-30T22:47:00.002-06:00

I had the pleasure of IM'ing a very dear friend of mine today. She was stressed out about work and whatnot and mentioned that she wishes she could take a two month vacation. A real one. Not one of those quick vacations where you run about trying to sightsee all there is to see and not blow all your money and know that you have to come home to your messy house and a pile of laundry and that you are tired in every bone and need a vacation to get over your vacation. (How was that for a run on sentence?)

No she meant a REAL vacation. The kind people like us don't get to take for a variety of reasons. Between us, we came up with the ideal, relaxing vacation for us. Which we would take together.

Would you like to know what it involves? Of course you would!

For starters, it has to be far away from where we live. She lives on the West Coast, I live in Utah. Far away would be the East Coast. We think Maine. And of course, it needs to be ON the coast.

So, a beach house in Maine. Oh, lovely. This beach house would be older, charming, hardwood floors, BUT it would have one very, very important upgrade. A gourmet kitchen. Now, the friend is not sure she would want to cook, but I assure you I would. For a couple of reasons. One, I would have at my fingertips the freshest seafood obtainable. Oh, the joy! I have had East Coast fresh seafood before, during a delightful sojourn in Charleston, SC. (Possibly one of my most fave trips EVER!) I know whereof I speak. That is some tasty eating. I guarantee I would be inspired to cook. If I had a gourmet kitchen, I would be doubly inspired, since I currently the not too proud owner of a small, non-gourmet galley kitchen.

In addition to the gourmet kitchen, the beach house would come equipped with a sleeping porch, fully equipped with hammocks and cots. Have you ever known the joys of a sleeping porch? Me either, but imagination tells me it is a good thing.

Also, a sittin' porch. With rockers. And hammocks. On both porches, because, you know, some of us might like to rock supine, whilst others prefer to remain upright.

It would be fairly sparsely decorated, I think. Bedrooms painted cool blue with bright white bedding and a few cosy rugs. A front room with an internet connection, but NO TV. A couple of lambswool rugs and a fat couch with a canvas slipcover. Some lazy chairs and a lot of good pillows.

The bathrooms are important. Clawfoot tubs are a requirement, you know. I do know the joys of bathing in an enormous clawfoot tub. I own one. It occupies the vast majority of my tiny bathroom, but I would not trade it. No way.
Clawfoot tubs, with a separate shower.

Oh, I forgot, right off the porch would be a shower tiled in natural rock. For the rinsing off of beach sand, of course. We don't want to track too much of it into the house, it is uncomfortable on bare feet with wood floors.
And in that mode of cleanliness, there would, without a doubt, be a housekeeper. No question there. We are not vacationing to clean house or do laundry or dishes. Heaven forbid!

And last, but hardly least, it would have a well stocked library. This is of the utmost importance. We plan to be very lazy most of the time. Of course, we will work off the abundant extra calories by taking a morning swim in the surf. But the time not spent cooking, eating, swimming or sleeping will be spent reading. All of the books we have been wanting to read but haven't had the time.

It is sort of wrong, you know, to not have the time to read. No, not sort of wrong. Very wrong. I would of course, bring along my knitting. And possibly teach my friend how to knit. She has learned crochet, time to branch out.

What do you think? Does it sound relaxing? I think I will start planning now, I need to save up!

Vacations

2009-07-30T22:11:00.006-06:00

Hello again, and welcome to my blog! It has been a little while, but not as long as last time!
Here are a couple of things to entertain your eyeballs.

First, a delightful pic of The Small One at the wonderful splash park in St. George. We stopped there for lunch on the way to LA and went to the aforementioned splash park to give The Small One a break from the car. Why all communities don't have a place like this is beyond me. It is a dream.

So, without further ado-The Small One:

From Drop Box

Is she not adorable?

Ah, what the heck, how about a couple more?

From Drop Box

And just to increase the level of adorable-ness? Adorability? Whatever, you get where I am going. Just to increase...it...I am laying in bed with The Small One and she scooched over to me and says-Mamma, I wanna lay fa you. Which translates, I want to lay with you. Which in this case means, I want to lay ON you. I said, in a minute. She said-No, I need a lay fa you. I your little sweetie.

I mean, come on, how do I resist that? So she is currently laying on my right arm, which makes typing a bit difficult. Worth the sacrifice, I gotta tell you.

The Small One, as I may have mentioned previously, LOVES the water. She is a little fish. So, in the late afternoon, when we have a bit of shade in the yard, I let her outside to play with the hose. My flagstone patio has moss growing in it and it needs a great deal of water when the heat index is so high. I turn the irrigation hose on to a small flow and hand it to her and she plays on the patio for a good 20-30 minutes. Sometimes longer. She is happy, I have a chance to clean the kitchen and the moss gets a good soaking.

Well, today, she had, unbeknownst to me, her little doll Georgina out with her. Georgina is The Small One"s fave dolly, probably because she has a voicebox inside so she can laugh and cry (curiously, this is one of the least annoying talking dolls I have ever come across.)

Anyhoo, after playing outside for a good while, she calls me to the door. Yes, Small One? I say. Georgina wet! She need towel, she very cold! Oh, dear. Georgina has a cloth and foam body and the voice box. Not good. I take Georgina from her, remove her dress and try and wring her out a bit, then lay her on the counter. A couple of minutes later, The Small One is at the door again. Mamma! I all wet. I need a towel! I feezing! I grab a towel, strip The Small One down and wrap her up. She lays on the kitchen floor while I finish cleaning. Yes, she does this often, she is a bit odd. I then take Georgina out and lay her in the sun to dry. A few minutes later, The Small One gets up from the floor, drops her towel and goes outside. Um, where are you going? I query. Oh, I dus need wait for Georgina. What? I need wait for Georgina. She get dry. Oh, I see. Well, it is going to take a little while for her to dry. She is going to have her nap out on the table. Oh, okay. And off she trots to watch Sponge Bob, which, oddly, is the only show she will even pretend to watch. Good think I like it.

In case you were worried, Georgina dried out nicely and her voicebox started working again. Whew!

Lately, The Small One has a new food obsession. It is called a cheese hamburger. She loves them. It cracks me up. Every day, I ask her what she wants for lunch. And every day the answer is the same. I want cheese hambugga. And every time I laugh.

She also has a new trick to try and get out of trouble or to try and prevent bedtime. When she gets yelled at or ordered to bed, she comes up to me and puts her little hand on my face, squinches up her face the way you do when talking to a little baby and says Oh, you so cute mamma! You so cute! You a little sweetie! Manipulative? Yes, I think so.

Now The Small One is laying in bed singing a french lullaby at the top of her lungs. CUTE! Of course, she gets all the words mostly wrong, but who cares? You should hear her sing the alphabet!

Random Thoughts

2009-07-21T23:19:00.002-06:00

I have things I think about that aren't really enough to be worthy of a blog post all their own, so I am going to just smush a few of them together here. If you are bored by them, well, go read cnn.com or something.

First-Do you ever look at other people and their kids and wonder if it is possible that they love them as much as you love yours?

I do.

I see The Small One and, particularly when she is being adorable, I think that I could not possibly love her more. My heart overflows with love for my little girl. I don't have words for how much I adore her. And I look at other people and their kids and think they can't possibly feel what I feel. Their kid simply isn't adorable as mine. Simple fact.

Second-I have a thyroid problem and my meds just got upped for it. Because of the thyroid problem and the meds being too low, I have been wickedly tired in the afternoon. A couple of times, when The Small One has gone down for her nap, I have given in to the temptation and joined her. And that feeling? Where you are so tired that it is an effort to breathe and to lay down in bed and give into is just glorious? You know, where your mattress feels like heaven?

Yeah, that only happens to me in the afternoon. At night? Not so much. I find this quite unfair. I get tired at night, well, early morning. I don't go to bed early and when I do go to bed, it is because I can no longer keep my eyes open, but not because my body feels tired. What a ripoff. I would love bedtime if I felt like I do at naptime.

Third-Why aren't all husbands as handy as The Man of the House? And since they aren't, does it drive their wives crazy? Cause, let me tell you folks, that kid can do pretty much anything. It is kind of bad for my friends' husbands when the friends hear about the stuff The Man of the House can do. They are jealous.

Plus he is good-looking.

Fourth-Sometimes it makes me a little depressed to try on really expensive clothes, because I know I can't buy them. If you have ever tried on a designer jacket or pants, you will know whereof I speak. Wow, the cut, the fabric. It is positively delicious. I love clothes. I wear t-shirts and jeans mostly and I love them (don't get me started on the joys of designer denim) but I am a glam princess at heart. I am just too lazy and cheap/frugal to really do anything about it.

Okay, that is all. Carry on with whatever you were doing previously!

No good, rotten, very bad...

2009-07-20T22:16:00.004-06:00

mood. Is what I am in.

My house is disastrous. Disastrous, I tell you.

This is a problem for a number of reasons, the primary one being, I DO NOT LIKE TO CLEAN. In fact, I hate it. Don't get me wrong. I can clean, quite well in fact, but I have never been a neat freak. Usually, if it is sort of tidy, that is good enough for me. But lately? Oh, lately? The mess has been getting to me.

You see, we decided a while back that we really needed to purge some random and various things from our household. I am a packrat, not as bad as the grandparents, but still, I tend to hang on to random stuff. Also, The Small One has outgrown a bunch of her stuff, and is potty trained. This translates to the need to go through her clothes once again, pull out what no longer fits, try to find all the stuff in the next size that has been passed down and get all of that put away. Also, find a box big enough to store all of her diapers, preferably without resorting to the spending of the money. Not an easy task.

I know, it sounds like it should be, but truly, it is mammoth. The child has an insane amount of clothing. That I did NOT purchase, thank you very much. I only purchase thing she needs, although, I do occasionally wonder how she could possibly need anything when one considers the amount of clothing the child possesses.

In addition to switching out the clothes and packing up the diapers, The Man of the House decided to take down the crib and put up the bed. And here is where our problems begin. The storage room is a mess. Plus, we need to remove things from it to purge, you know. So, The Man of the House did not want to put the crib in the storage room and block access even more. So he put it in the laundry room. Which is currently full of stuff that is either being purged, sorted or needs to go in the aforementioned storage room. No room, really, for the crib. So he put it on top of my drying racks. Along with some other stuff.

Also, we decided that The Small One really needs a bigger dresser than the little one she currently has. This necessitated my moving out of my dresser and The Man of The House moving out of his dresser. He moved into a smaller one, I moved into his and The Small One moved into mine. Did you catch that?

So, let me lay this out for you.

The nursery is full of boxes and clothes being sorted. The couch cover from the couch that used to be in the nursery is on the floor. So is the crib bedding. And the box of diapers. And all of The Small Ones shoes. Not to mention the toys and books she likes to play with. Oh, and a bunch of laundry.

The front room has three baskets of dirty laundry in it because there is no room for it in the laundry room.

The laundry room has a crib, several storage boxes and goodness know what else scattered hither and yon, along with some laundry. The dryer is currently vomiting underwear out toward the floor because The Man of the House couldn't find a basket in which to put said underwear.

The office is full of camping gear that got pulled out for a camping trip that wasn't and then not put away because we really need to clean out the storage room before we put more crap in it.

The spare room is a mess because I cleaned out the stuff in the closet and have not yet had an opportunity to haul it to DI. Plus, The Man of the House removed the sheets to have them cleaned and the blankets are piled hither and thither.

Today, I made a vain attempt to clean up the nursery, but I didn't get very far because most of the stuff that is creating the havoc has to go into the storage room, but we really need to clean out the...oh, you get it.

It seems everything hinges on that damn storage room and getting it cleaned out. I guess I know what we will be doing this weekend. Ugh.

Don't even get me started on the state of the bathrooms.

Kiffes

2009-07-16T22:47:00.006-06:00

I am laying in bed next to The Small One in the hopes that she will settle down as it is past her bedtime. When she stays up too late, she gets a second wind and is very wired. So, as I lay next to her, knitting, she pats my head and says, Need take your clippies out? My hair was up in a french twist with those little claws. So I take my clippies out. Need take glasses off? I remove my glasses. Need blankley? She pulls the quilt up to cover me, well, my legs anyway. You all done knitting? I kind of was. I worked a lot today and then helped The Man of the House move some furniture so my carpal tunnel was bothering me. So, I put the knitting aside and tried to decide if I wanted to run next door to my mom's to grab the third Fablehaven novel.

But then, a small body wormed up under my arm. I need cuddles! She lays on my chest and pets my face with her hand. Hi Tawa! You so sweetie! I love my little honey! Can you tell the things I say to her? She lays with her head on my chest for a bit, then raises for a moment. You need kiffes? Well, of course. I always need kisses. Then she proceeds to do her little ritual. She kisses both eyes, then my forehead, then my nose, then my cheeks, then my chin before finally planting one on my mouth. I love her kiffes. They make me smile. Funny thing is, she figured that out on her own. I don't generally kiss her face that methodically. I like to kiss her all over her face at random until she starts to laugh.

She ends by wrapping her little arms tight around my neck and saying. You so pwitty, Mamma! I love you. I love her back.

Well, Hello There!

2009-07-13T20:51:00.002-06:00

Have you been wondering where I had got to? Do I still have any readers left? I wonder...
I have written a couple of posts, you know. Rather good ones, too, if i do say so myself. Problem is, when I wrote them, I had a rather iffy internet connection and consequently, lost them both. It made me rather annoyed, and therefore put me off of posting for a bit. But, for better or for worse, I am back. For the minute, anyway.

So, what has been going on, you ask? Well, plenty.

To begin with, we made a sojourn to California to see my maternal grandparents. They are lovely, hysterical people who live on a farm with no animals save a couple of dogs, a kitty and a myriad of spiders. I do not like the spiders. The dogs and the kitty are fine.
We drove first to Los Angeles so I could purchase fabric for my next big project. I will discuss that in a bit. The drive from here to St. George was without incident and we made good time. The Small One behaved herself in the car and we were pleased and had high hopes for the remainder of the drive. Said hopes were cruelly dashed just out of Vegas. Sigh. As we left Vegas, the traffic slowed, and slowed some more. All told, the 9 hour trip turned into 15 painful hours in the minivan. (My mom's, not mine. I don't drive a minivan). Never drive to LA on a Sunday, it is one looooong traffic jam. In the end, our average speed out of Las Vegas was a whopping 28 mph, and I am not kidding.

We arrived in LA, to our lovely hotel in Chinatown, which, I am fairly sure, made my parent rather nervous. But, it was a decent hotel, not too expensive and right close to the fabric district, which was our destination the next morning.

Off we went, bought loads of fabric for the upcoming endeavor and then headed off to some small town north of LA to see my aunt, whom we have not seen for nigh unto 30 years. That was a bit awkward, but there you go. Probably won't see her for another 20-30 years.

From there, we drove up to a small town near Salinas for our yearly visit with the grandfolks. Ah, my grandparents. They are A-1, first class rednecks. Awesome, I tell you. They live on a farm, as previously mentioned, but said farm is not occupied by crops and animals, but instead by outbuildings and...stuff. They are packrats of the highest order, having lived during the Great Depression and been very poor besides. The buildings are full of spiders, which don't bother my grandparents, but sure do bother me! As my grandma says, just smush 'em with a stick and they won't bother you none. Except the very act of "smushing" bothers me. Ewwww.

We stayed a week at the grandparents and enjoyed ourselves nicely. They love The Small One, she entertains them nicely. After a week there, one is rather ready to come home. The grandparents are old and deaf. The TV is always blaring so they can hear it and they keep the house VERY warm. I had a perma headache the entire time, but, you know, that is alright.

After that? Well, mostly just working. I have a decent amount of custom work right now, keeps me busy. Plus, trying to get the patterns done, so I can get the samples done for my new website. Cross your fingers that it works!

The Small One continues to amuse and delight with her witticisms. Here is an exchange I had with her a week or so ago.

She and I were standing in my small bathroom as I got ready for church. She was just messing about and I was doing my hair. Suddenly, plunk! She was on the floor. She whimpered and whined, but I could tell she wasn't hurt, so I told her to get up and quit being a baby. (hehe). She got up, dusted her wee bum off and walked around to the other side of me. I looked down to find her pointing her finger at me with a stern look on her face. "Tawa?" she says. I knew I was in trouble. Yes, Small One? "You push me?" No, Small One, I did not push you. A long pause while she continues to point her finger and stare sternly at me. Then..."Okay." The finger came slowly down and she walked out. I feared for myself. She was ready to put the smackdown on!

Then, a few days ago, I was cleaning house and singing a song. The Small One evidently does not appreciate my musical talents because she kept telling me to stop and be quiet, but I refused. Finally, she came up to me, got her finger out again, pointed it at me and said, Mamma, you need a panks? I asked her why I needed a spank and she told me I was being very naughty and needed to stop. So I did.

The Small One, bless her, loves to be naked, as may have previously mentioned. Yesterday, after she went potty, she neglected to put her pants back on. She trotted out the back door into the yard to play and I asked her what she was doing. "I naken!" she answered. I told her I was aware of that as I could see her bare bum, but she ignored me. When she came back in for a minute, I picked her up to discover her bum was a bit damp. I asked her if she had peed and she answered yes! So, I asked her where (not really wanting to know the answer) and she got down, walked to the door and pointed out. "Right there!" She says. I guess she figured she was naken, she might as well! When she started talking to the neighbors through the fence, The Man of the House made her put her pants back on. We do have limits.

Sewing Meme I stole off Leigha's Blog

2009-06-11T00:10:00.003-06:00

What brand and model do you have?
Bernina 910 Domestic, Bernina 950 Industrial and some others.
How long have you had it?
The 910, for about 10-12 years, the 950, 6 years.
How much does that machine cost (approximately)?
A lot. A new 950 is around $2000, a 910? I don't know, I don't think they make them anymore. I didn't pay for either. The 910 I inherited from my mom, it is around 25 years old. The 950 I ended up with.
What types of things do you sew (i.e. quilting, clothing, handbags, home dec projects, etc.
Everything from bear rugs, to wedding gowns to quilts.
How much do you sew? How much wear and tear does the machine get?
A whole lot, as I do it for a living.
Do you like/love/hate your machine? Are you ambivalent? Passionate? Does she have a name?
LOVE THEM with all my heart. They are both stellar machines. Can't live without the industrial. And I can fix them, most of the time. I have sewn on this brand for so long that I can tell when it needs oil just by the sound of the bobbin.
What features does your machine have that work well for you?
Speed, baby. The industrial hauls. The domestic is also very fast for a domestic. Also, I can wind bobbins while I sew. And they both have several stitch choices.
Is there anything that drives you nuts about your machine?
The domestic has a power source issue. In fact, it is currently out of commission because the power source broke again. This is the fourth time.
Do you have a great story to share about your machine (i.e., Found it under the Christmas tree? Dropped it on the kitchen floor? Sewed your fingernail to your zipper?, Got it from your Great Grandma?, etc.!)? We want to hear it!
I got my domestic because my mom was using my machine and damaged the power cord and caught the machine on fire. She was buying a new one for herself anyway, so she asked if I wanted her old Bernina or if I wanted her to fix or purchase mine. I told her I wanted the Bernina.
The industrial came to me by way of a costume shop, prop shop, costume shop. I was working on a show for the 2002 Olympics and we didn't have much of an equipment budget, so we had to beg, borrow and steal machines. This one was an old one from a shop I worked in that had been given to the prop shop. They broke it and bought a new one. They lent it to the Olympic cause, but we didn't have the money to get it fixed, so it just sat there. After the Olympics, I tried to return it to the prop shop, but the foreman told me to drop it off a cliff. I asked him if I could have it and he said yes. It sat in my storage for a few years because I didn't have space for it. When I finally pulled it out, my brother looked it over, oiled it, tuned it and discovered it had one small broken part. Got it replaced for about $75 and it has worked like a champ ever since!
Would you recommend the machine to others? Why?
Oh, absolutely. They are all metal and are very hard to permanently break. And they are FAST.
What factors do you think are important to consider when looking for a new machine?
Speed, durability, all metal parts and does it do what you need.
Do you have a dream machine?
I have several. I own one of them. I wouldn't mind a leather machine. And a ruffler. And a blind hemmer. And possibly an embroidery machine.

Dampness Abounds

2009-06-10T23:29:00.003-06:00

It rained today. And rained and rained. And then, just for the sake of variety, it rained some more.

My little nephews were with me today and as a treat, because I love them so, we went to McD's for lunch. They care little for the food (or any food, for that matter. The Small One's apathy towards it comes naturally) it is the playplace they are concerned about. Much fun was had by all until some rambunctious bigger boys came in and ran over The Small One too many times. I told them to quit squishing small people and then made The Small One and the nephews come out of said play place. It was okay, shortly afterwards their mother came to get them. Anyhow, in the transfer of carseats and children, all and sundry got a bit damp. From the rain I mentioned previously. After all children were installed in proper seats in proper cars, The Small One and I came home for naptime. Hers. I wish mine as well, but alas, that is not in the cards for me.

As we came in the house, the rain had eased up, so we didn't get too wet moving from car to house. I brought The Small One into the bedroom and took her shoes and socks off, beginning to get her ready for nap. I opened the outside door for a minute and put her in bed. And then, the deluge. The rain came down in torrents! I thought it pretty awesome and The Small One concurred. There would be no sleeping during that!

Out she flew from the bed to the door to watch. The wind picked up a bit and blew some stray rain into her face as she laughed with delight. The dogs came running to see what was going on and she looked at me with her Please? look. I nodded and she bolted from the house into the storm. I stayed in the doorway and watched her cavort in the wind and rain with her dogs, while she shrieked with laughter. Each gust of wind brought with it another excited peal from The Small One, accompanied by happy barks from the dogs. They love it when she comes out to play.

After about five minutes of this, The Small One tired of the game and came back to the doorway and stepped inside. "Brrr, chilly, chilly. I take off clothes! I wet!" Indeed she was, very wet. But her eyes were bright and happy. She pulled off her little shirt, struggled out of her wet jeans and peeled off her damp skivvies. "Brrr, chilly! I need bed! Blankey!" I popped her back into bed, she crawled up to the pillows and grabbed her new fave cuddle, my heating pad. She flipped the switch on laid it on her spot, laid on top of it and demanded her blankey, which I provided, and cuddled up into a ball. A couple of minutes later I asked her how she was. "I cosy warms" was the answer. A couple of minutes later, I glanced down at her again, to find her fast asleep.

Shall I tell you the story of her discovery of the heating pad? She thinks it is a thing of beauty and wonder, you know.

A few years ago, I seriously injured my shoulder. Dislocated it, tore a tendon or two and generally messed it up. I was uninsured at the time and couldn't afford physical therapy. Since then, I have never been able to properly lay on my back with my head propped in my hands. My shoulder injury doesn't allow my arm to bend that way. Anyway, the other day, The Small One did not want to be held, although I was holding her. In retaliation for not getting her way, she threw herself backward. May I just mention that this and head butting are two things that seriously get my temper up, fast. So, she threw herself backward while I held her in the previously injured arm. To keep her from falling to the floor, I had to strain my arms and bend them oddly. In doing so, I re-injured my shoulder, though not seriously. The cool dampness of the air has been causing it to ache rather badly.

This morning, upon waking, I laid in bed with my laptop answering emails and what not. To combat the ache, I had my heating pad on my shoulder. The Small One awoke and joined me in my bed. (She likes to lay about in the mornings before actually getting up) She asked what was on my shoulder and I responded that it was a hot pad. She said Oh! I bowl (blow) on it! So she did, to cool it off, you know. So nice of her. She patted it and said That feel bettah my piggy puff? Yes, my love, it does. (In case you wonder, I call her my pixie puff or pixie dust. She gets a little confused and calls me Piggy puff. I do think pixie is much nicer, but what can you do?) She looked at the heating pad wonderingly, patted it again. That very warm. Yes, it is, it makes my shoulder better. She laid on it cautiously. Looked at me with a smile on her face, as though she had discovered something wonderful. That cozy warm! Yes, it is, isn't it?

She sat up, looked at me and smiled again, scooted herself into a comfortable position and then sprawled across me to get the full benefit of the cozy warmness of my heating pad. Are you comfortable? I asked her. Oh, yes! was the answer.

To Do or Not To Do...

2009-06-10T00:57:00.004-06:00

That is the question. I am quitting my job. Did I mention that already? Since making the decision, I have been beset by anxiety. This is somewhat normal as I am often beset with anxiety. The issue at hand, however, has created an additional bit of anxiety. Why? Well, because, after losing his job last October, The Man of the House has been without a steady, guaranteed paycheck, whilst I have had both steady and guaranteed. This is not to say that he hasn't been earning a living, he has, doing various and sundry jobs here and there. But, it is neither guaranteed nor steady.

However, things being what they are at the workplace (see previous blog discussing some issues) I have come to the conclusion, with the full support of The Man of the House, that it is no longer in my best interest to work there. Hence the anxiety. Don't get me wrong, I am not worried about it being the right decision, I am quite sure it is. But I stress about money. Blame it on my childhood. I also dislike change. I like to get into my happy little rut and stay there. Well, except sometimes I stress about being in a rut. See? I can't win.

Anyway, so alternate plans for earning money are being explored. I think, even if I didn't need/want the extra cash, I would still feel impelled to do some work for a couple of reasons. One, it is ingrained in me that one should earn one's living. (Not that I wouldn't be doing so by being a SAHM). Two, there has to be more than one outlet for my creativity. I can't just knit, you know. I have to make wedding gowns. I simply cannot...not.

Here is the alternate plan, tell me what you think. I intend to open an internet shop (so very much less expensive than actual storefront) for wedding gowns. I will start out with just a few styles and as (or if?) they sell, then I will add to the line. Once I have enough money in the company, I will hire a manufacturer. Until then, I will be the manufacturer. But, here is the thing. I want to do clothing as well. I see all these cute, boutiquey websites with their cute clothing and I think, I could do that. In fact, I could probably do it better. Hubris? Perhaps. But no sense in hiding my talent under a bushel, right? I am good at what I do. Even if that makes me a prima donna.

I am going to LA in a couple of weeks to buy fabric to make samples. I am nervous, what if they don't sell? What if no one likes my stuff? Do I really have what it takes to run a small business? Do I want to have what it takes to run a small business?

I think my employer would be unhappy to know just how much I learned about running a wedding dress business whilst working there. But, I have. Certainly, a great deal about what NOT to do, but also just being involved in the whole design, manufacture, sales process has been awesome. Which is why I am not remotely sorry I took the job to begin with. Yes, it was very hard to spend so much time away from The Small One, yes, my ego has taken a bit of a beating and yes, the job has caused me some undesirable stress, but overall, I feel that it has been invaluable in giving me a peek into the world of design/manufacturing, which I needed in order to be able to do this. Wow, that was a long sentence.

So, no, not sorry to have taken the job a year and a half ago. Also not sorry to be leaving it. Hopefully I can take what I learned and parlay that into success for myself and my family. Needless to say, The Man of the House is fully supportive. He is always fully supportive of my schemes. Isn't he great?

Here are a few pics that a lovely photog took of some of my dresses. I hope to use him (and the awesome makeup artist) for my own line. The photog is Isaac Rush of Krush Photography. The makeup artist is Denise Lyons.

Oh, look Kaytee, its your dress!

It's about me

2009-06-07T00:57:00.003-06:00

Things I love (in no particular order)
1-The Man of the House
2-The Small One
3-Fudge Bars
4-Zebra print rugs
5-Zebra print shoes
6-Shoes in general
7-The Small One's little clothes
8-Cloth diapers
9-Knitting
10-My Dogs
11-Blogging
13-Humour
14-The way The Small One says particle accelerator
15-Beautiful Fabric
16-My yard
17-Knitting
18-Old quilts
19-Vintage clothing
20-Vintage shoes
21-Good cheese
22-Good Books
23-The LDS Church
24-Faerytales
25-Making Patterns
26-Embroidery
27-My family
28-Swing Dancing
29-My nephew Tristan
30-My House
31-The New Stroller
32-Deadliest Catch
33-Canoeing

Things I Do Not Love (In no particular order)
1-Unpleasant work environments
2-Spaghetti
3-Unemployment
4-Lasagne
5-Stupidity
6-Cruelty
7-Messy house (although I have one)
8-Cheesecake
9-Getting up early
10-A dirty bathtub
11-lateness
12-Alterations
13-Achy hands
14-Anxiety
15-Slasher films
16-Stepping in a wet spot with socks on
17-Hurting my shoulder (again)
18-Dental work

I suppose it is a good thing that I can think of more things I do love than I don't, no? Off the top of my head, anyway.

Prima Donna

2009-06-01T22:28:00.002-06:00

Today did not exactly turn out to be the best of days. It started out decently enough. The Small One went over to Memma's for the morning and 4 of her cousins were there. Always a good time. After lunch, The Small One went down quietly and willingly for her nap. After nap, we went down to the office part of my work to sign a time card, as I like to get paid.

Whilst there, I ran into The Boss, which I didn't really want to do as he has been a pain lately. Sadly, things devolved into a "meeting". I use the term loosely because really, it was just a plain, idiotic pointless discussion. Among other gems that he delivered, The Boss informed me that I was a total jerk, a primadonna and that he only "put up with me" because I was so good at my job. Oh, and that The Small One is only afraid of him because I have a bad attitude. So charming.

I was also informed that rather than doing the designing with the help of my lovely assistant, it would now be opened up to any all who may want to contribute and I will have the responsibility of doing tech notes on all of them and then we will have a big party where we will choose which designs go in the line. Ooooh! Fun for me!

I asked him if he really wanted me working for him. He said I was good at my job, so yes. He just wished he could find someone as good who wasn't such a pain. I told him he was doing a great job of shoving me out the door.

Then, just to add insult to injury, the office manager texted the store manager to ask if I was pregnant. There was something different about my face. Could it be that it is fat? Hmmm. I guess I need to get crackin on that diet and exercise...

And just in case you agree with The Boss, don't bother leaving a comment saying so. I don't need to hear it.

Nerdy Baby

2009-05-27T23:27:00.004-06:00

I confess to falling to falling prey to that which all mothers fall prey. I think The Small One is a genius.

Perhaps I should clarify. As far as I am aware, not all mothers think The Small One is a genius. They may think their small one is a genius, but not The Small One. But, at any rate, she is. A genius, I mean.

Okay, maybe not quite a genius, but she comes pretty darn close. Smart kid. And smart kids, they are difficult. Primarily because they can outthink us sad adults.

Tonight, and Melissa, this is for you, I was playing flashcards with The Small One. My lovely and delightsome friend, the abovementioned Melissa, sent The Small One the most hysterical set of flashcards, ever. They are from The Nerdy Baby and I so love them. The motivation for this lovely gift, aside from The Small One's recent celebration of her birth, was my complaint that she liked to say smoke detector far more often than I like to hear it. All the time. Moke detecka. Larm go beep-beep. Yes, my love, I know. And do you know how I know? Because you have told me ninety five thousand times.

Bless her, she does like that word.

Anyhow, because she is kind, Melissa decided to rescue me from my plight. True friend, that. So, in an act of benevolence, she sent the flash cards in the hope that The Small One might learn a new word. Which she did. Ask her to say Particle Accelerator. It is awesomeness. This is what I am talking about, these flash cards rock my world. Especially because I was a total science geek in school. I wanted to become a doctor, you know. (I have decided to become a midwife instead, but that is for later.)

I will provide you with brief sampling of the words contained on said flash cards. A is for Atom, B is for Binary Code, C is for Cell Membrane, D is for Diurnal, E is for Electromagnet. And on down to the fave, P is for Particle Accelerator.

Now, Particle Accelerator coming out of the mouth of a two year old is hysterical. So, of course, we make her say it over and over. Small One! P is for? Pakikle celawata. Followed by giggles and laughs from her proud parents.

Are you wondering if there is a point to this story? One beyond my telling you how cute and clever my little girl is? There isn't, but the story does continue.

After our fun with flash cards, it was time for The Small One to get ready for bed. Off she went and climbed into her little bed. Okay, not really, The Man of the House had to put her there. Once there, the discussion commenced.

Need pias fores. What? Need pias fores! Um, I have no idea what you are saying.

I was called in to translate as The Man of the House was getting nowhere. Say it again, Boo.
Need pias fores! Wow, not a clue. I asked her to show me what she wanted and she pointed to the front room. Pias Fores! Exasperation sounded in her voice. I still had no clue. She climbed out of bed, motioned for me to follow her and went in to the front room.

Straight for her flashcards.

Aahhh! Realization dawned.

She needed her P is for...

Gender roles?

2009-05-22T20:44:00.002-06:00

So, a few days ago, I discovered a delightful website. You can link to it there on the left, click on cupcake. The website is called conversations with a cupcake and it is the delightful blog of some girl I do not know. I found her through cjane. Who I do know. Sort of.
Anyhoo, on said delightful website, there is a recipe for wild strawberry cupcakes. I have wanted to try these since I saw the recipe. I don't have wild strawberries, in fact, the berries I do have are the opposite of wild. They are oh, so domestic, having come to me courtesy of the local Walmart. But, that is neither here nor there. I want to try this recipe. Don't wild strawberry cupcakes sound delightful? I think so.
I haven't tried this recipe for one reason, and one reason only. Mike hasn't had time. Yep, you heard me right. Mike. I don't bake. I can follow a recipe, but for some reason when Mike does it, it comes out so much better. Don't get me wrong, I am a wicked good cook, but baking is foreign to me unless it comes out of a box. Tonight, Mike is home, I have a box of strawberries and a bit of time. So I decided to give it a go. The conversation went like this.
Me: How do you make a cake?
Mike: What?
Me: Like how do you mix it, is there a technique? How long do you mix it for?
Mike: Well, mix it until it is well incorporated.
Me: Um. okay. Is that good?
Mike: Well, maybe a little more (adjusts the mixer and watches with an experienced eye.)
Me: Okay, now, do we have cupcake wrappers?
What about mini ones, do we have those?
Mike: No mini wrappers.
Me: So, how do I grease the tin? Do I pam it? Do I flour it?

Mike greased the tins for me, isn't he nice? Then he laughed at me and told that some folks might think we are weird and shouldn't I be the one telling him that he is making the cake wrong. Lol. We do not hold to gender roles in this household. We divide and conquer based on our strengths. I cook, I do not bake. Mike bakes, although, no lie, he is a wicked good cook as well.

He is also quite handy at cleaning the kitchen.

Which is a good thing, since there is only one chore I hate as much. Laundry. But I mostly do that, since I don't trust him with my laundry. I am super anal about how my clothing is laundered. He can do his, if he wants. I don't care. His is dirtier anyhow. ;)

Suburban Contentment

2009-05-17T14:55:00.006-06:00

I have a nice life. A lovely, lovely life. This is not to say that it is without trial, because it isn't. We have them. But they do not make my life completely unpleasant. Occasionally unpleasant, sure. Worrisome? You bet. That is okay, though.

I consider this a sort of symbol of my nice life. My suburban contentment, if you will.

Are you jealous? You ought to be. Look at that adorable house, the picket fence, the lovely gardens. I can't, of course, take credit for it. Michael does all the yard work. With help from The Small One. Here is her contribution.

She was in charge of the hose. Lest you wonder what she is doing there, I will explain. In the first pic, she is trying to fill her croc with water so she can drink it. As you can doubtless see, there are holes in the croc, so she was unsuccessful in her endeavors. The second pic is fairly obvious. She gave up on the shoe and went straight for the hose.

The Small One is rarely ill, in fact, she hardly ever gets colds. I think the only time she is ever sick is when my friend Marianne tries to plan a get together. She refuses to plan them now. ;) These pics help illustrate why the child is never sick. The water which she is putting into her adorable little mouth is IRRIGATION WATER. Ewww. Don't worry, I put a stop to it. But she also licks rocks and kisses dogs. Sigh. Her immune system must be made of iron by now.

Here is a funny little story for you. Made me absolutely howl with laughter. I have a dear friend, who lives across the way from us. She has a boy the age of The Small One and they are great friends. She also has a 5 month old baby boy, Ryker. Cute as a bug, that one. Anyhoo, they came by for lunch and a visit a couple of days ago, and after we ate, my friend sat down to nurse Ryker. The Small One would trot over here and again to pat Ryker's head and say hi to him. So cute and friendly! Fast forward a couple of days. The Small One and I are getting ready to go over to friend's house to take baby Ryker some clothes. Small One says "We go Minnie's house?" Yes, we are going to Mindy's house. "See Baby Wykee?" Yes, we will see baby Ryker. "Wykee eat Minnie's boops. Ew, goss!" I died. I absolutely died. The Small One had no idea what I was laughing at and simply gave me the bemused look she uses when she thinks I have gone off my rocker. I am not sure why she thinks it is gross, but evidently she does. Thing is, when we went over, Mindy was nursing the baby again and The Small One didn't seem to mind!

And finally, here are a couple more pics to illustrate the Suburban Contentment.

These pics are from the family birthday party for April/May at my brother's house. I think The Small One may need a playscape of her own.

Updates

2009-05-17T00:41:00.004-06:00

Memma came home from Vegas and The Small One nearly died of excitement.

I got my lovely Peg Perego stroller. Delightful. The Small One agrees.

It looks like the plan for me to work at home and not at the shop will come to fruition.

We are going to demo our kitchen and push it back 8 ft to the garage next year. I am very excited.

Time Off?

2009-05-12T21:35:00.004-06:00

This week, my nanny has gone to Vegas. She hasn't had an actual vacation in years. I know this because my nanny is my mother. Before you all go on about how cheap it is, let me inform you that I pay her. The last thing I want to do is burnout or take for granted my fabulous babysitter. What could be better than a nanny who can keep the baby overnight if need be? Or who understands without explanation that she should just take the child and not ask questions when she pops over in the wee a.m. to find me crying over a wedding gown? I am blessed, the nanny is worth every penny and then some. I would pay her more if I had more with which to do so.
That being said, she is gone. And The Small One misses her dreadfully. I cannot count the times during the day that I hear a voice behind me wistfully asking to go to Memma's and not understanding that she isn't there. She is always there when wanted by The Small One.
Due to Memma's absence, I am left without someone to watch The Small One. She has some sort of weird abandonment complex and will not stay with anyone that isn't Memma, Papa, Uncle Jamie or Aunt Korbie. As Papa and Memma are in Vegas and Jamie and Korbie work full time, this leaves me with no one to watch the baby. I am fortunate at work to have gotten an assistant not too far back and she is actually intended to take my place there at some point in the near future. (I should specify that she will be replacing me as alterationist, not as designer). Since she is supposed to replace me, we decided that this week would be an excellent trial week for her. I cut the number of fittings down to about 1/3 what we usually do and told her I would be available by phone. I would be staying home with The Small One and working from home and she would take care of the fittings and problem solving.
So, two days into it, I bet you are wondering how it is going. Well, not great, that's how. I got about 5 phone calls from work today, all with emergencies. Oy. I don't want to deal with it. Put me in a bad mood and gave me a headache. This was in addition to a bride of my own deciding she was NOT satisfied with her dress, which I rebuilt for her and wanted it changed. Things like this make me feel as though I am really not very good at my job. I know it is silly, but I can't help it. And these things seem to happen in bulk. So very frustrating.
But, problem solved. That is what I do, you know? Solve problems. Actually, I explained the problems to my lovely husband, who had some great advice. Which I took. I know, shocker, huh? Anyway, here is to hoping things will be better.

Better? They have to be. Having been home for a few days with The Small One has made me realize that this is, indeed, the place for me to be. Part time work is great, and I will continue to do it. I enjoy what I do, I think if I didn't do it, I might feel a bit lost and unlike myself, but I don't care to devote my whole self to it. If I have to devote my whole self to anything, it is going to be the child. I rather like her. Oh, that is such an understatement. She is my heart.

Yesterday was a very good day. The Small One and I cleaned up the house a bit, did some laundry and then went outside.

On a brief side note, I just heard this from the kitchen, which currently contains The Small One and her dad. Loud whiny noises from The Small One and this from her dad. "When did it become all about you?" HAHAHAHA! That is priceless. I believe it became all about her the day she was born. Possibly before that. Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

On another, very delightful side note, The Small One is sitting on the floor in front of me, completely naked, eating a quesadilla, watching Deadliest Catch and singing Ring of Fire. What could be better than that? Okay, now back to your regularly scheduled program. I promise.

For those of you who know The Small One, you know that outside is pretty much where she always wants to be. It never fails to surprise me how much the child is like her father. Nature/nurture and whatnot. Anyhoo, outside is where we spent the large majority of the day. The Small One played and played. With the ball, with the dogs, with the dirt. I let her stay out until the dogs made her cry with frustration, which was my cue that she was ready for nap. I looked at my watch, and sure enough, 2:30. Naptime. In to bed she went with Blue (her dolly), blankley and binky. I kid you not, within 45 seconds, she was out. Sun and play make her VERY sleepy.

After nap (during which I worked), she let me cuddle her for a bit. Did I mention this is one of my favorite things about a sleepy Boo? She loves to cuddle when she is tired, I love to cuddle her. Daddy loves to cuddle her, but sometimes she won't let him because she just wants to go to sleep. As soon as cuddle time was over, up she got and out she went. Daddy arrived home from work and off we went to the nursery to buy plants. The Small One loves to go to the plant nursery (and church nursery and home nursery, but that is neither here nor there.) Plants were purchased and home we came. Daddy and The Small One did not want to go in the house (big surprise) so we stayed out in the yard and planted and weeded. It took an awful lot of effort to get those two to finally come in the house. They eventually did so, took their baths and BAM! Asleep.

Like I said. It was a good day.

Stroller Envy

2009-05-09T23:09:00.005-06:00

I am suffering from Stroller Envy. Or Pram/Pushchair Envy to be a wee more precise. The Small One and I have been taking a daily constitutional round about our small town. It is highly enjoyable, gets my workout in and The Small One loves it. But, there are a couple of minor drawbacks. One, the sidewalks (where they exist) are quite bumpy. Wide cracks, root growth underneath, you know. Where they don't exist is even worse. Our road repairs consist mostly of chip and seal which is terribly rough.
Now, I am in possession of a delightful Jeep Liberty Sport stroller,

but it has a major drawback. The tires have a rather annoying tendency to go flat. Especially the front one which I have replaced 3 times. I have owned this stroller for about 5 years. Now, before you get confused, yes, The Small One is but two. Previous to her, however, I nannied a dear little boy, my nephew Tristan. The stroller was purchased for him and we used it quite a bit.

I am also the owner of a decent Graco (I think) travel system.

This one also has a drawback or two. The primary one being that it works best with a heavier weight towards the front. Now, for normal people with normal sized children, this is a non-issue. When normal children weigh what The Small One weighs, they are usually still in a baby carrier type carseat, which distributes the weight nicely. The Small One outgrew a baby carrier ages ago, which means her lightweight self sits in the stroller, well, by itself. And she doesn't weigh enough! The front wheels have a tendency to go a bit wonky and then it is so hard to push. Especially if there is anything at all in the basket.
The other drawback? Well, it it has your average small hard stroller wheels. Not fabulous on the uneven, smalltown pavement. In fact, the bumps are so obvious that The Small One likes to listen to her voice rattle whilst being pushed.

I also have my pride and joy, a beautiful vintage pram. Gorgeous. Lovely bassinet/carrycot style. A delight to push around. Large rubber wheels that never go flat. Spring suspension, perfect for the terrain. It's drawback? It is big. Great for walkies, not great for shoppies. It doesn't fit in my trunk. To be honest, neither does the Jeep, really.

So, to the point. I want a new stroller. Mike laughs at me because, well, I own four strollers (the fourth is a plain old umbrella stroller, not hardly worthy of a mention) Now, there are many beautiful strollers on the market. My dream? A Silver Cross Balmoral Pram. Don't worry, it only cost $3000.00. GORGEOUS! The Rolls Royce of prams. I covet. So very British. I will never own one, but that is okay.

My next fave? Well, probably Inglesina, but I can't afford one of those, either. But, in reality, I would take a Peg Perego. Not just any Peg Perego, though. I want this one.

Carrycot, pushchair seat, carseat. What more could you ask for? Big, beautiful wheels, great suspension, large basket underneath, height adjustable handle. (No, I do not work for Peg Perego). Carrycot is perfect in case I have another child someday, but in the meantime The Small One would love the stroller seat. And, in case of second child, the carseat fastens directly to the chassis frame, no sticking it in the seat of the stroller. Nice, huh?

Here is the thing. This set up, brand new, $1000. Hmmm. Tiny bit out of my price range. But....I found one in Vegas for $300! Oh, I want it. So nice for running about the small town. I have been walking to the grocery store, which is a mile away, and it would be delightful for it.

So, yes, here I am, coveting a very pricey stroller and actually considering dropping $300 on it! I could sell my other strollers and pay for about 3/4 of it...I have a couple of bears coming in that need to be turned into rugs. Those would pay for it. I have a wedding gown I have just finished alterations on. It would nearly pay for it. There is another wedding gown about to start that would easily pay for it. And, I haven't specified a Mother's Day present yet, so he hasn't bought one. That would pay for part of it. See how good I am at rationalizing the purchase. Hmmm. I have to think fast as my mom is going to Vegas tomorrow and will pick it up for me if I want.

What do you think? To buy or not to buy? Is it wrong to want a stroller that will make people look twice?

Gratuitous braggery

2009-05-08T22:23:00.005-06:00

So, here for your viewing enjoyment are some gratuitous shots of The Small One. Not very many because most of the pics are on Mike's computer and I am on mine.

Here is The Small One at her birthday party at the grandparents.

And here is The Small One in her carseat on the very long drive to the Southern End of the State.

Knitting and whatnot

2009-05-08T21:30:00.008-06:00

Wow, look, me again, already!

Today, my intent is to show you a few things I have been working on lately. So, if you are not interested in my enormous talents, do not read any further. Otherwise, carry on!

So, first on the list is this delightful little number that I just made for The Small One. It is called the Victorian T-shirt by Oat Couture. I made it of Rowan Cotton Glace that I found on major clearance at the ever delightful Black Sheep in Salt Lake. (Okay, honestly, I don't know for sure if it is ever delightful, as I have only visited once, but let me tell you, the lady running it is brilliant. She played with The Small One the entire time I was there, thus enabling me to purchase more yarn. Smart lady.) I made a size 18 months, which, of course was too big for The Small One, who is, well, small.

Anyhoo, here it is in all its glory.

Do you see the look on the child's face? So her. Just looks like she is going to get in trouble. Mischievous, I believe is the word.

Secondly on the list, is my ever delightful Maude Louise. This is my second actual sweater to knit and I LOVE IT. It is a great cozy cardigan. Not beautiful, but oh so comfy. This one is constructed of Kashmira, which is a lovely yarn to knit with. This yarn was purchased at Joann for $.75/skein. I should have bought all of it. I assume they clearanced it because it is kind of a not fabulous color and I fully intend to dye this one. Probably red.

I have also made a cute little shrug from Stephanie Japel's Fitted Knits, but I don't have a pic of that yet.

Right now I am working on the Somewhat Cowl by Wendy Bernard. This is a fabulous sweater, super cute, super easy top down construction. This particular delight is made of Brown Sheep Nature Spun Sport in Tornado Teal. I don't have a pic of it either, as it is still under construction. This one I am making as part of the May knitalong on Ravelry, CESOB group. I found this great company in Wyoming that sells Brown Sheep yarns at a clearance price. LOVE IT. Super cute dark teal yarn. Although, it is a bit hard to count my rows because the yarn is so dark. I am very excited about this one, I have wanted to knit it for awhile, but haven't had the right yarn, or couldn't afford enough yarn.

Now, here are a couple of things I have sewn lately.

This dress is a beauty, but was a huge pain in the butt to make. It was very difficult to get the right fit on the girl and it had sooooo many details that had to be exactly right. I love how it turned out though.

And here are the bridesmaids outfits that go with it. Quirky, but cute as well. I think I will make one for myself, but not two toned. I am thinking just white would be delightful

I think that is all the projects of late. Well, all the projects I want to remember anyway.

I also need to get to work on redecorating my front room. I have put the summer cover on the couch but that is as far as I got before things went nuts. Hopefully, I will have time this month to finish that project. I would rather it got done before it is time to change back to the fall decor. ;)

Long Time

2009-05-03T21:47:00.007-06:00

As has been noted by my readership, all what? 4 of you? I have been rather absent from my blog of late. Perhaps you are wondering why. Perhaps not. Regardless, I will tell you why. It is because the month of April is prep for marriage month here in Happy Valley. We have two universities here and Mormons being what they are, they like to get married as soon as school lets out. Which means hell on earth for those of us in the wedding business. Marriage is supposed to be a joyous time, a binding of two people forever. But, whatever joy the lovely people may or may not be experiencing, the majority of them do not choose to share it with me. Instead, they choose to share their worst side. I don't really understand why I am still in this business, but I am. Oh well.

On top of the regular workload at the bridal shop, I have had several emergencies, as well as my usual side work. Now, the side work has actually gone fairly well and my brides were quite pleasant for the most part. The people involved in the emergencies were also pretty nice. It waws the others that make me want to tear out my hair. Them and their moms. Heehee. That sounds like a childish insult. Oh yeah? Your mom!

Brides think that they are the most important person in the world at any given time. I could be half dead with swine flu and they will still be angry with me if I have to postpone their fitting for a day or two. See, that is another problem with brides in Utah. They don't plan things in advance. In the rest of the world you have to plan for a good 6 months or so to get a dress and have it altered. In Happy Valley, some of them wait until a week or two before the wedding to take care of things. I have had brides pitch some serious fits at me because I charge them a paltry rush fee if they want their alts done in less than two weeks. Most weeks this month I have had in excess of 30 gowns to alter. They don't care. I still have to get theirs done or all hell breaks loose and they think that I am horrible if I don't. Ergh. So annoying. I hate brides right now. Here are some of my side brides, though. I like them.

The Small One loves to help with the wedding gowns. She sticks lots of pins in that I occasionally forget to remove.

In other news, a few weeks ago we took a trip to St. George to visit the in-laws. Michael's grandmother and uncle were coming in for a visit and, quite franky, I seriously needed to get into some warmer weather and sunshine. As always, Southern Utah delivered. Hoorah! I did NOT want to come home. Whilst there, we celebrated The Small One's second birthday. Can you believe that? Second birthday? Where the heck did the time go? Here are some pics from the delightful event.

Here is The Small One holding her much younger cousin, Adyn. The camera angle makes Adyn look a lot bigger than The Small One, which she isn't. But nearly as big. ;)

Speaking of The Small One and St. George, she made friends with Mike's Uncle Larry and likes him VERY much. The Small One is extremely picky about the people she chooses to friend, so this is a minor miracle. In fact, she continues to talk and sing about him with relative regularity. Although, she calls him Grandpa Larry, but he said that is okay.

Small One also got to go horse riding with Aunt Kaytee and Uncle Josh. That was terribly exciting and a little frightening for her, at first. Then Aunt Kaytee got on the horse with her and all was well. The Small One is an adorable little horsewoman, but heretofore had only ridden ponies. The largeness of the horse was a bit off-putting for one so wee. I think I will make her a little pair of jodhpurs and get her some proper English riding boots. We are not cowboys, you know. I would happily post some pics of the adventure, but they are on Mike's camera, which is currently not in my possession. (Speaking of Possession, have you seen that movie? Excellent bit of cinema.)

The Small One retains her humour. Or at any rate, still makes me laugh. She is quite naughty, as usual. I think that will likely never change. Lately, with me working so much and Mike being gone to Super Sekrit Scout Camp two weekends in a row, she has been more fractious than usual. Bless my mother, she is without a doubt earning the paltry salary we pay her for watching The Small One. A few days ago, we (meaning me, Small One, my mom, my stepdad and my nephew, Small One's BFF, Ethan) all went to The Pizza Factory for dinner. Small One was oddly wired, not sure why, maybe because I came home at a decent hour. Anyhoo, during dinner she was all over the place and I was constantly telling her to sit down, turn around, be quiet, eat your dinner. You know, the usual. All to the entertainment of the older couple seated nearby... I was very tired and overworked and rather short on patience. Finally I grabbed her arm and got right in her face to tell her if she didn't start to behave there would be some serious consequences. Well, right as I got to her face, what do you suppose she did? She LICKED me! Just stuck out the tip of her wee little tongue and licked my nose and lips. Well, that did it. I couldn't stay annoyed. Being the bad mamma that I am, I dissolved into giggles. As did everyone else at the table. Sigh. I can't win.

The Small One went in for her two year well baby checkup earlier this week. I had high hopes for her weight gain, but as usual, they were dashed. She weighs just over 20 lbs. Seriously. She is still right on her curve, growing at a normal rate, just well below the chart. Height-wise, she is still a tall little thing. Right around the 50th in height. Her head? Yep, still ginormous for her size. 75the percentile. Still deserves the nickname lillypop. She is a stick with a big round ball on top. Her gross motor skills are about average, meaning she can run and jump with no great agility. Part of the lack of gross motor skill stems from a Tibial Torsion. Sounds bad, but isn't really a big deal. Just means her tibia is slightly twisted, which makes her foot turn in as she runs. You can actually watch it happen, as she runs along, her right foot slowly turns further and further in until she actually falls over it. Doesn't seem to bother her, she gets right back up and carries on. But it does mean she doesn't run and jump as well as she could. At any rate, she will outgrow it.

Check this out. She is too lazy to hold her bottle, (is that a gross motor skill?) so she propped it on kitty so kitty could hold it for her.

Her fine motor skills are well ahead, as usual, as is her mental development. Nurse April asked if she could use two word phrases and I laughed. The Small One speaks in sentences. She also likes to use big words. Last week, daddy installed new smoke detectors in the house and inadvertantly set one off. It scared the goodness gracious out of The Small One and when I came home from work, she told me all about it. "Moke Detecka, mamma." Uh, what? "Moke Detecka make sad! I cry!" Mike translated. The Smoke Detector made her sad and she cried. Now, it is her favorite word. When we went over to Memma's to see Ethan, she bent down in front of him and said "E-e, moke detecka. Say it. Moke de-teck-a"' She made sure to enunciate very clearly so he could learn to say it as well. I got tired of hearing the word and am trying to teach her hippopotamus instead, but she doesn't seem interested. Apparently, hippopotamus is just not as cool. I could try to teach her pneumonultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, but it might be a bit beyond her. (Are you impressed? I learned how to spell that in seventh grade science as the bonus word on all spelling tests for the year. It is a lung disease.)

What?!?!

2009-04-01T00:49:00.004-06:00

What in blue blazes is wrong with the weather? This ain't right folks. It does not snow conference weekend, IT RAINS!!! Aside from that fact, I was quite done with being cold and was seriously enjoying the balmy weather. Imagine my dismay to go to bed Sunday night in a fairly temperate clime only to wake up to SEVEN INCHES OF SNOW! Let me reiterate. That ain't right.
Thank goodness we are off to the Land of Sun (St. George) this weekend. Perfect weekend for it, I say. I intend to lay on the back lawn and knit in the blessed sunshine. There had better be sunshine.

In other news, I am on a quest, my friends. No, not for the Holy Grail. I am on a quest for the former me, or at any rate, the former me's body.
For, you see, once upon a time, long, long ago, I was thin. Very thin, in fact. And then I got married and put on a few pounds (The silly husband being a stellar cook and all). Then, oh then, I did the unthinkable for one's figure. I had a baby! And I am no longer very thin. Or even thin, really. I tend toward the chubby. Not fat, no, not by any means.

But, yes, somewhat chubby. Now, before you all jump in with your kind words of how I look fine, this is true. I do look fine. What I don't look is like me. And I don't like this not me. It weighs too much, it can't really shop in the juniors section and quite honestly, being thin is infinitely more comfortable than being chubby. When one is thin, seat belts don't squeeze things they oughtn't. Waistbands don't squeeze things they oughtn't. I think I hate the waistband thing more than the seatbelt, although the seatbelt is more uncomfortable. Or would that be less comfortable? Hmmm. The first one gets my point across better. Anyway, as I was saying. The waistband. I don't enjoy having a bit of my anatomy in a shape that can be referred to as a "muffin top". That ain't right!

So, I have embarked on a quest to find the old body. It has a closet full of clothes in my basement that I would like to wear again. They are super cute and were purchased in my more money having days. If I could fit into them again, it would be like brand new clothes! I could go shopping in the basement bedroom!

To aid me in this quest, I have enlisted the help of some online friends. We have a little bet going to see who can reach their goal by June 1. Wish me luck! There is a pair of Seven for all Mankind jeans in my bottom drawer waiting for the old body to love them...

Things of Note...

2009-03-27T20:43:00.002-06:00

Or Not.

I hate when my mouth hurts two weeks after a root canal.

I hate when I have panic attacks for no apparent reason. Actually, I hate when I have panic attacks for apparent reasons.

I hate when I order a Caesar Salad and it is mostly romaine spines and very little actual leaf.

I hate when work causes me stress.

But...

I love when my starts sprout earlier than I expected.

I love sitting in front of a warm heater.

I love when The Small One kisses all over my face.

Speaking of The Small One, she is funny. Seriously funny. And sometimes, not in a good way. I am a bad mamma. I laugh sometimes when she does naughty things. I should discipline her, but I can't. I am too busy laughing.

For instance, (you knew an example was coming, didn't you?)

T'other day, The Small One awoke in the beautiful am, and after giving brief cuddles to her mamma, announced that she needed to see dogs. So, I took her to the back window and opened it and she called the dogs to her. Of course, they came. They love attention and they love The Small One. She smiled at them and told them they were good dogs, at which point, neighbor dog began barking. Perhaps he wanted some of The Small One's smiles and coos as well, I don't know. At any rate, bark, bark, bark is what we got. The Small One, ever ruler of her domain, was not pleased with the intrusion. She poked her wee (not really) head out of the window and shouted "What the hell, dog?" At which point, he retired. I did not teach her this.
I controlled my laughter as best I could and calmly informed her that we did not say that word. She said okay, and went on her merry way, at which point I dissolved into helpless giggles. (See? Bad Mamma!)

A couple of days later, in the morning, whilst I lay abed, The Small One divested herself of her clothing and climbed into bed with me. She likes to lay in bed "naken" and cozy warms. So, in she climbed, burrowed her cold wee toes into my thigh and cuddled her bottle. She doesn't sleep with a bear, she sleeps with her bottle. Yep, she's weird. As she turned onto her back, bottle fell onto her tummy and dribbled cold milk all over her. The Small One picked up the offender, gave it a stern look and said, "What the hell, Baba?" I didn't even get the chance to tell her we don't say that before I died with laughter. After I recovered, I reminded that we don't say that word, as it is naughty. "Nonnie?" Yes, naughty. "okay!"

Fast forward again a few days. I am sitting in the front room working on something with The Small One next to me waiting as patiently as she can for tubby time. As it is not arriving quickly enough, she trots into the kitchen where daddy is cleaning. "Daddy! Tubby time!" "Okay, in a minute" She comes back to join me in the front room. A minute passes, and up she gets again, trots into the kitchen. "Daddy! Tubby Time!" "Okay, Boo, in just a second." Back into the front room with a small huff of impatience. She plops her little self down next to me and wistfully asks, "Tubby Time?" "Daddy is almost done, then he will..." I am interrupted by a rather largish crash from the kitchen as Daddy drops a cookie sheet. The Small One looks up at me and with adorable seriousness in her voice, plaintively asks "What da hell Daddy doin?"

All I could say was I don't know...

Delightful Day

2009-03-13T17:31:00.004-06:00

Not really. I just wanted to fool you into reading my downer of a blog. Heehee.

Last night I got a text informing me that certain things were due for work. These are things I had forgotten about in the mad dash of pain that was getting ready for photo shoot. And now, they need to be done, well, now. I had good intentions last night. I really did mean to go home and get it done.

But, you know, there's The Small One. She is incredibly persuasive.

She threw fits and chucked things until I paid attention. Ah, the blessed baby, she has her tactics down pat.

But, in reality, I have sorely neglected her of late. (Not in a call DCFS immediately sort of way, chill out) She deserved some attention. So...I didn't do what I ought to have done. I played with my wee lassie instead. Is that bad? Nah, I don't think so.

On to Plan B. I would get up early, get to work, get those alterations done and move onto to Important Project. The Fates? They were thumbing their collective nose at me. Very rude.

I chatted online with a friend last night, for quite some time. Good quality time as I haven't seen her for a while and relationships are important, you know. Shortly after ending the chat, I crawled wearily into bed. And that is when the evil began...

My tooth began to ache. Then to throb. Then my entire jaw started to hurt. I got up and took some ibuprofen and sat up for a bit and the pain subsided. So, again, dragging my weary frame into the bedroom, I crawled into bed. And it began again! The pain, the throbbing, it would not stop. I got up again and again, the pain subsided. I heated up a rice sock and took it to bed with me, but to no avail. I could not make the pain go away whilst laying down. Sigh.

I felt annoyed and frustrated. I couldn't sit up all night long! So, I finally caved and took a Lortab. I am not fond of the opiate drugs, in general, I seriously dislike the feeling I get when I am "high", if you will. I could never be a drug addict because I hate the feeling so much. I have to be in a lot of pain to take that stuff, because it is a trade off of unpleasantness for me. So, yes, I was in a lot of pain. Mouth pain really does me in. It makes me depressed on top of everything else.

The Lortab finally kicked in around 3 am and I knew my Plan B was lost...Important Project was not going to get done in the a.m. Rats.

I awoke to my alarm at 7:45 and rolled out of bed. Oh, dear heaven I was tired. Called the dentist, I hate getting my teeth worked on. I don't know why, he rarely causes me pain. (On a side note, if you are interested in a great dentist, mine is incredible).

Off I went for an emergency root canal. I know you are jealous. Due to the short notice, they couldn't do the whole thing and I am stuck with a temporary, which, I was warned, would probably hurt quite a bit the first day.

They did not lie.

Spring, spring, spring!

2009-03-11T13:32:00.002-06:00

Okay, not really, since it is super cold outside and snowed yesterday. But before that it was deliciously warm!!!!
And what does this mean, you may ask? It means it is time to start seeds for my garden! Oh, yes, this is indeed, very exciting.
I love to start seeds. I love to watch the garden grow. Okay, so I don't love digging in the dirt so much, but Mike and The Small One do! And just seeing those little green sprouts fight their way out of the darkness in the little greenhouse in my window brings me an awful lot of joy. I get ridiculously giddy about it, as a matter of fact.
As the economy has tanked and we are a bit low on funds, I will be starting even more seeds than usual this year. Mike has plans for a much larger garden space this year, although we did have quite a bounteous harvest last year. He has plans for an even more bounteous one this year. Much canning will be done in the fall, more than usual!
The Small One loves to be outside and loves to play in the dirt. At her daddy's request, I purchased a hoe, rake and shovel yesterday, in pink, naturally, for the small one to use in her gardening. She has a special outfit to wear as well. It consists of wellies, overalls and a gingham sleeveless shirt. We call it her Farmer Boo outfit. Terribly cute. I need to get her a straw hat to keep the sun off of her very delicate complexion!
Needless to say, I have had quite enough of winter. Gloomy weather on top of gloomy finances do not make a person supremely jolly. At least, not this person!!!!

Good news? Bad news?

2009-03-09T23:09:00.003-06:00

Or maybe just no news.

I would like to post that there is good news going on, but really, I can't think of anything.
I just spent the past two weeks working 65-70 hours each week, trying to finish sample corrections and do the photo shoot for the catalogue. It was mind numbing and so very fatiguing. Really, really makes me wonder why on earth I decided to do this. The entire time it was going on, The Small One was very put out with me, and I can't say I blame her. Bless her little heart, she was bent at mamma for working so much and not paying enough attention to her. I worked at home part of the time, simply because I could not stand to be in my basement studio at the bridal shop any longer. Whilst I attempted to work at home, The Small One would walk up, give me that look, reach down and grab my thread and chuck it across the room. I think she may have wanted some attention. Eventually, I would give up and play with her, which of course, is what she was after. It did result, however, in my having to stay up VERY late to finish things after she had gone to bed. Really, I would rather play with her than spend 30 hours beading a dress I don't even like. But, I suppose we all do what we must...

In other not great news, we are having trouble on the health insurance front. I am uninsurable, Mike is uninsurable (it is none of your business why, so don't even ask), which means we can't get insurance for The Small One, either. We applied for CHIP, but apparently, even my paltry income is too much to qualify. Seriously, gov't aid is broken in this country. You have to be utterly destitute to qualify for anything, and once you reach that level, how in hell are you supposed to get out? No wonder people end up on welfare or gov't assistance forever. There aren't many other options. Ugh, I can't get started or I will end up soapboxing about it for pages and pages. Not a good option. Just makes me mad.

Okay, some good news here then, although it isn't anything important. I am nearly done with my Two-Toned Shrug from fitted knits. Except it isn't two-toned. Just one. Currently grey, but I will be dyeing it when I am finished. I haven't decided what color yet, though. I got some Jo-ann Sensations Kashmira for 90 cents a skein a while ago and I bought a bunch. I love to knit with it, so nice and stretchy and has lovely stitch definition. This is the second sweater I have knit of it, the first being a Maude Louise, which is fabulous, but still needs a dye job and buttons.
I think, after I finish this, I may splurge on some Malabrigo and make a little sweater for The Small One to wear next fall/winter. I also want to get a nice cotton to make her a summer dress, but I am not so up on the cotton yarns, so will have to do some research to figure out what I want to use.

The Small One is a funny little bug. She talks so much now. Okay, she has always been a little chatterbox.

I have no idea where she gets that.

Anyhoo, when she talks now, actual words and phrases come out of her mouth and they are by turns snarky and wise. Well, wise if you are nearly two. She thinks passing gas is utterly hysterical, and woe unto you if you do it near her and don't want anyone to know. She will tell on you. She tells on herself if she does it. Butt tootle is actually what she says and it is hysterical. See, just typing Butt Tootle makes me giggle like a little boy. Daddy tootle is what she says if he does it. Which is funny that she doesn't say, Daddy butt tootle. Just Daddy tootle. If you could here her tiny, wee disney voice say it, you would laugh too. I promise.

The Small One is finally getting into dollies, which is also a crack up. As I mentioned before, she was quite put out with me for working so much, and consequently acted up quite a bit. The result of this is time outs. She got put in time out so many times last week that she eventually just put herself in time out when she knew she had been naughty. (on a funny side note here, right before this I was on Ravelry, the happy knitting website, reading forums and whatnot, where people use the word knotty. I typed knotty instead of naughty in reference to The Small One.) So, Sunday, she was playing with one of her baby dolls and patting it's back and saying shhh, go night night, when all of a sudden she took dolly off of her shoulder looked at her very firmly, said TIME OUT, and parked her in the chair. I nearly died with laughter. I asked if Dolly was naughty and she very solemnly nodded yes.

The Small One, like all little folk, loves to be naked. Or naken, as she calls it. She has finally figured out how to get every single article of clothing off of her body, so we quite frequently find her playing in the nursery completely "naken". Oh, well. I just wish there was more fat on her little frame to keep her warm, as we keep the thermostat lowish in this house.

Her hair is getting quite long now, well the back is anyway. She still has a super mullet. My brother calls her Milly, which is short for Mullet Lilly. (My other brother calls her Lillypop because she is a stick with a big, round head. They are not known for their niceties, my brothers.) I like to put her hair in low pigtails sometimes. But only sometimes, because when I do it, she looks like she is three. Tiny three, but three nonetheless. Especially when she is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Not a baby anymore, that one. She is a kid. Saddens me a wee bit, but she is just so funny and FULL of personality that I adore. I know she is spoiled (oops) but I love her big personality and her bossiness and her complete self possesion. She is an attitudal little girl, but I think it rocks. I am not into the retiring violet kind of girl. The blessed child is not afraid of anything either! I have friends who worry about her around our big dogs, but I don't. They knock her down all the time, but she just gives them a big shove and gets back up. It is hilarious, because they are rather bigger than she is.

Just to give you some perspective on her size. She is nearly 2 and weighs 20 lbs. My friend has a 9 month old child who weighs 24 lbs. She is of average height, just no fat on her wee bones. She is potty training again (let's hope it sticks this time) and when she is wearing her wee tiny skivs (that have to be custom made as they do not make underwear for bums that tiny) her pants won't stay up. Once she is potty trained for real, I am going to have to make a whole new set of pants for her. I can't buy any small enough. She can still wear a 12 month with diapers on, but they are way too short. She is a leggy kid, did not get that from me!

Well, I guess that will do for now.
I should probably go to bed.

Oh, one last thing...
If you visit my blog, even if I don't know you, won't you leave a comment? Unless you are going to be mean and nasty, in which case, go somewhere else.

Crazytown

2009-02-27T17:04:00.003-07:00

It's where I live lately.

Things are nuts in this neck of the woods. I wanted to be a fashion designer. I didn't realize it would require as much work as it does...

My lovely co-designer and I decided to take matters into our own hands with regards deadlines for the Spring 2010 line, which is a pretty good sized line. There we were, happily jogging along at a nice pace, getting things done, working happily together on our own little time line on our own big wedding line.

When suddenly...

Things came to a screeching, grinding halt.

The samples from Fall 2009 came in and it was disastrous. I don't know what happened. One sample seemed as though they simply didn't read the notes, just looked at the picture. Another sample, the opposite, only read notes, but didn't look at the pictures. And some came in just fine. Obviously, more than one group of people does the patterning for the samples. The fabrics were wrong, the sleeves were wrong, trims were misinterpreted. What do we do? Photo shoot for the catalogue is coming soon!!!!!!

Fortunately, we had gotten things to the factory early enough that we (and by we, I mostly mean me) would be able to make corrections to the samples without to much trauma.

But then, it happened.

The Big Boss Man got it into his head that we should meet with a designer who works directly with our factory on the their own line. Get some tips from her on how to communicate. (I don't speak Chinese, nor does my co, nor does Big Boss Man. Said designer does. Seeing as how she is Chinese, that is to be expected.)

Now, here is the thing. Big Boss Man was right, meeting with Chinese Designer was a good move. We learned a lot about what information the Factory needs. Coincidentally enough, the information they need turns out to be the same information in the same format that I originally wanted to send them when I started working there a year ago. But Big Boss Man didn't think it was appropriate and wanted our stuff to look more "professional". Which it does. Look more professional, however, does not necessarily translate into is more professional. Because it isn't.

I have lots of experience making patterns. As a matter of fact, it is my specialty. I love it. Having done it for a number of years, and having worked with others who have done it for a number of years, I am pretty well versed in "what kind of information and in what format your average pattern maker needs." I mean I was one! That should qualify for something right? WRONG!!!!!

Big Boss Man is all about appearances, and to him, the format looks sloppy. I can understand. It kind of does. But, really, in the grand scheme of things, is that what matters? I mean, if you want to be serious about appearances, I think that having samples come back looking right is far more important than having info "looking" right. Especially when certain persons don't actually know what "right" is, having never done it themselves.

But, I digress.

So, the meeting with Chinese Designer was very useful, if only for the fact that she, being a real designer (as opposed to the fake kind, like me) made the same points I did, and Big Boss Man agreed with her. No, I did not bring up to him that I had already made those suggestions and gotten vetoed. It would have served no purpose. I know I was right, that is what matters. He is worse than I am about being convinced he was wrong.

But, that said, the meeting with Chinese Designer was very UNuseful because it meant I couldn't start on corrections on the samples until after we met with her, because Big Boss Man wanted her to see what a disaster they were.

So, meeting over, Co-designer and I start on the corrections. Mowing through them as fast as we can. My lovely mother is also doing a lot of them, as there is no way on this green earth I could finish them all. There are...I don't know...like 50 dresses? Co, though she is a super fab designer, is not a super fab stitcher and therefore was relegated to rebeading one dress while I dealt with the rest. That is right folks, I am that good.

In the meantime, due to the disaster that was Fall '09, Big Boss Man demanded that we put Spring '10 on hold for now so he (and we) could concentrate on getting Fall '09 ready for the shoot. I disagreed. The sketches were due and he had some decisions to make. Until those decisions were made, we couldn't go forward on the line. He didn't want to focus on that, he wanted Fall '09 taken care of. So...I caved.

BAD IDEA !

Let me reiterate.

HORRIBLY BAD IDEA!!!!!!!!

Want to know why?

Of course you do!

Photo shoot for Fall '09 is Tuesday and Wednesday. We will make the deadline by the skin of our teeth.
I just got an email today informing me that Spring '10 is due to China on Tuesday. That's right kids, the very same Tuesday as photo shoot.
I think my blood pressure went way up today.

Jelly Boo

2009-02-13T14:37:00.004-07:00

I left Mike home with The Small One today.

The Small One can get in big trouble.

Mike left her alone in the bedroom.

With a jar of vaseline.

This is the result.

Tag from Kaytee

2009-02-09T14:59:00.002-07:00

Here are 25 random things about me.
1. I got married when I was 27.
2. I worked on The Light of the World show for the Olympics.
3. I have been inside the LDS Tabernacle Organ.
4. I used to have an all access pass to the underground tunnels at Temple Square.
5. I started my college career as a pre-med student.
6. I switched to fashion design, then to costume design my second semester.
7. I only have one child.
8. I learned to sew at the age of 3.
9. I design wedding and evening wear for a living.
10. I own a house that was built in the 1870's.
11. I have two large dogs (chocolate labs)
12. I knit as often as I can.
13. My daughter had meningitis and nearly died when she was 6 months old.
14. I plan to be a Certified Nurse Midwife after I am done having kids.
15. I love photography.
16. I used to speak French fluently.
17. I met my oldest friend in 1976.
18. We are still close friends.
19. In fact, she lives across the street from me.
20. Our kids are the same age.
21. I have 5 brothers and no sisters.
22. My mom lives next door to me.
23. I used to share an apartment complex with some of my brothers
24. I love Dr. Pepper.
25. I met my husband while working summer stock theatre

Light?

2009-02-09T14:49:00.003-07:00

I am looking for a light at the end of my tunnel.

I can't find it.

It has been the weekend from hell.

We were lambasted at church on Sunday by a neighbor whom I normally get along with very well. She brought up each and every thing we have done or they think we have done in the 4 years we have lived there. It was unpleasant to say the least. Many people in church saw it happen, which is rather embarrassing, and we got told by a member of the bishopric that it wasn't appropriate for church. Boy, we knew that!

The whole thing was precipitated by the fence we put up in the backyard...at their request. She just didn't like the type of fence we got. Which was dictated by our current financial situation. Yes, it's ugly, but it does the job for now. Goodness knows, since we share the property line, she could put up a fence she likes...

That whole incident just ruined our Sunday. In fact, I was so upset by it that I had to leave church so as not to cry in front of EVERYONE. (something I hate doing)

Because I was so upset by it, I was in a nasty mood the rest of the day, and consequently rude to my husband and The Small One. Not an excellent plan all around.

Today? Today, I have a migraine. From the stress, no doubt.

Monday

2009-02-02T09:37:00.001-07:00

I went to St. George this past weekend, where it was sunny and deliciously warm.

I am now back in Utah Valley, where it isn't.

It is the very Mondayest of Mondays.

The Beauty of Inversion

2009-01-23T23:46:00.002-07:00

The past couple of days were not fabulous for various reasons.
As I drove to work the day before yesterday, the thoughts in my mind were not terribly pleasant. The weather was ugly, the air was bad, I was tired, it was too early in the morning, things at work were cranky.
The ugly weather and bad air are the result of a fairly common phenomenon here in Happy Valley. S ince we live in a valley surrounded by very high mountains, we get these lovely things called inversions. And I use the term lovely VERY sarcastically. Inversions are evil, horrible, nasty things. In a nutshell, warm air traps cold air in the valley and allows for no air movement. This results in serious pollution and haze. Those with compromised immune systems or respiratory problems are encouraged to stay inside. Even those us with healthy lungs have a difficult time breathing.
So, there I was, driving through the nastiness, when I noticed that it was...particulating? Not snow, not rain, not really ice. Little tiny sparkly crystals landing on my windshield. I looked around and realized...

I was driving through faeryland.

It was beautiful. Hoarfrost coated everything. Thick, delightful layers of frozen glitter clung to each and every branch and leaf. The sad, stark trees from the previous day were gone, to be replaced by a beauty rarely seen here. When the sun was able to peek through the haze, the coated vegetation positively glowed in the light. Oh, how I wish I had had my camera! This was not the usual morning frost that a touch would melt away, no this, this was jewellike. It was as though the trees had been dipped in diamond dust. And it would not have been possible without the inversion, without the horrible cold, without the nasty, wet air. I don't have words to describe the beauty of it.

By the time I got to work, I was in a great mood. Beauty has that effect on me, natural beauty in particular. God is, indeed, good.

Mommy blogging

2009-01-20T16:04:00.002-07:00

Yep, that is what I do. Although this blog is technically supposed to be about lots of things...I find that it mostly focuses on The Small One. Big surprise, that, since I find that I mostly focus on The Small One.
So, here, for your reading enjoyment are a few stories about her.

Firstly, we shall start with her adventures shopping with Memaw and Papa.
The Small One is partly potty-trained, but often still wears her little cloth diapers. Bless her, sometimes she just can't be bothered to use the potty! You know how it is, busy 2 year old and what not. Well, last week, she was out with the grandfolks and wandering about through a store. Periodically, she would stop, tuck her hands between her legs, bend over and squeeze her legs together. Papa noticed this odd behaviour, but wasn't sure at first what it signified. After the third or fourth time, he realized it's purpose and asked The Small One if she needed to use the bathroom. She nodded solemnly. Papa took her over to Memaw who asked her the same question. This time she shook her head. Even more solemnly. So, Memaw asked her if she needed to have her pants changed. Emphatic nodding.

Then what did she do?

Well, she laid her wee self down on the floor in the middle of the store and said "Diapee?"

The child has no boundaries!

Sunday was a bit of a difficult day at church for The Small One. Memaw and Papa were absent due to nasty colds and that set of The Small One's routine. She does not like to have her routines messed up. She doesn't have very many of them, but those she does have are terribly important and if you value quiet and sanity, you do not mess around with them.
So, we have sacrament meeting last, and by that time, The Small One is very tired. Normally, at this point, as we walk into the chapel, she starts her routine. She wanders around a bit before the meeting starts, saying hi to certain people. There is one particular gentleman to whom she must always say hello, and he loves it.
After she has said hello to all and sundry, she wanders back to our pew, plays for a little bit, then invariably climbs into Papa's lap and goes to sleep. (this meeting falls during her usual nap time).
Well, this past Sunday, that didn't happen, as Papa wasn't there. She fussed and yelled for a bit, then I finally took her out before she got too loud. I walked her about in the halls (I don't allow her down in the halls, if possible) and she calmed down. About 15 minutes before the end of the meeting, I started to take her back inside the chapel. The moment the door opened, The Small One set up screaming. Not just fussing. She let out an unholy yell. Of course, everyone turned to look, including The Small One's daddy (thank goodness) I motioned for him to come out and stepped back into the foyer. He brought our things out and we proceeded to get The Small One ready to go home.
The moment we walked out the outside doors, what do you think she did?

Threw her arms into the air and shouted "Woo-Hoo!"

I kid you not.

It would seem I am raising a heathen.

Young and Hip

2009-01-11T20:37:00.002-07:00

That which I am not. Not for my field anyhoo. Bummer.

I work with a delightful girl, who is my co-designer for Eternity Bridal.

And she is.

Young and hip, I mean.

We had a design meeting last week with the big bad boss, wherein he chose the 19 designs that would go into production for the Spring 2010 Bridal line. She and I both designed quite a few dresses, then Big Bad Boss went through them all, we described them to him as needed. And he chose...

15 of hers and 4 of mine.

Sigh

Once again, it is brought to my attention that designing isn't my forte. I am a rockin' pattern maker and seamstress. I am a fabulous manager. I am an okay designer. Young and Hip is a great designer. I can see that, even in my disappointment. She felt bad when the numbers came to her attention and told me she didn't want to step on my toes and asked what she should do. I told her it wasn't her fault, it is just how it is.

Now, we have Prom designs to get in. I am even further from Prom age than Bride age. I guess we will see how that goes!

In other news, we have a new dress code and direction at work. We are hoping to phase out of standard Bridal Shop into something more posh, more Bridal Salon. The new "dress code" involves us looking more "hip". Which means I really need some new clothes. So, I am on a quest for some fabulous tops. The bottoms are not so much the importance because we have to wear black pants or skirts. I will also need some more fabulous shoes that will allow me to be on my feet all day. I have some fabulous shoes, but they do not allow one to stand all day without some serious discomfort.
I will have to make a bunch of new tops as I cannot afford to purchase the level of fabulous hipness I want to achieve. Maybe looking fabulous will inspire me to design better, I don't know.

Truthfully, I am a very good designer. The problem is I am a good designer for my age group, which is not the target market.

When did I become old?

Funny Boo

2009-01-02T22:53:00.003-07:00

sooooo....I have the funniest kid ever. She kills me.

For example:

This morning after I took The Small One's nighttime diaper off, I left her butt bare to air out for a bit. She wears cloth diapers, so they don't suck the moisture off her bum.

So, there I was in the bathroom getting ready for work, having left The Small One to be watched by her loving daddy. Suddenly, I hear a shout from loving daddy and the pitter patter of small running footsteps. I stepped from the bathroom to see what had happened and discovered that The Small One had accidentally sharted on the floor. Oh, dear, that was funny. She thought she just had gas, turns out it was a little more than that. Mike said that he heard her toot and looked over to see her surprised face as she bolted for the bathroom. Poor baby. She sat down on her potty and kept looking at me and saying "poo?" I told her yes, it sure was. I couldn't stop laughing.

Also...the other day, we were hanging out at Memaw's house and The Small One got an ink spot on her wrist. Over to me she toddles. Mamma! Mamma! I look down and she hold her wrist up for my view. I look down. "What is it?" "A tattoo!" she says.

I pause.

I cannot possibly have heard this right.

"A what?" I say.

"A tattoo!"

Really? Can she possibly know that word? I know that she knows a lot of words, but tattoo?

So, I show her a picture of a tattoo. "What is that?" I ask her. "A tattoo!" she answers. Then points to her own wrist. "Wook, Mamma! Tattoo!"

Dear heaven above. That is what she was saying. She knows what a tattoo is. Is this wrong? I realize that my nephew, who spends a lot of time at Memaw's and consequently with The Small One (he is 4, she thinks he belongs to her), loves temporary tattoos and usually has one when he comes over. So, I know the origin of the word, but, really? How does she know that?

Lately, because Mike is out of a job, he is home in the mornings when The Small One wakes up. She climbs into bed with us when she awakes and proceeds to harass daddy until he wakes up himself.

Which he does not love.

But I do. I find it highly amusing.

This morning, for some unknown reason, she needed to walk across the top of the bed, over and over. The problem? Well, daddy's head was in the way. She walked to my side, turned around, walked to Daddy's side. Head. "Moof!" she says. Daddy lifts his weary head. She passes and he lays back down. The Small One turns around to traipse back the way she came. Again, there is a head in her way. "Moof!' she commands. Again, the weary head lifts briefly as she passes. This happens 2 or 3 more times. Daddy finally gets sick of it and scoots down to the bottom of the bed.

At which time, the game ceases to be amusing, so The Small One stops.

For some unknown reason, if The Small One has a bottle at home during the day, it requires laying in my bed to do so. I don't know why, that is just what she does.

So, she asks for her 'bobble' and follows me into the kitchen as I go to make it. After she has verified that I am indeed making the bottle, she toddles off to the bedroom saying "nigh-nigh!" A few seconds later I hear a squeal of fright. I take the bottle into the bedroom to find her clinging to the bedside table and the side of the bed with a grip of death. One hand has hold of the table, one hand the top of the mattress and her tiny toes are hanging on for all they are worth to the very small ledge formed by the bed frame. She looks at me. "Mamma! Tuck! (stuck...this is one of my favorite words for some reason. It's just funny!) I rescued her, of course, and she took her bottle and drained it. Don't worry, she will try to climb up herself again, the child has no fear. In fact, she has discovered the great joy to be found in climbing up things and jumping off to waiting arms. This would be fine, except I worry that she will forget to tell the arms they ought to catch her and one day will just jump, hoping for the best. And it may not be the best.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-02T22:12:00.002-07:00

Christmas came and went.
I was not quite ready.
This should not come as a surprise,
but somehow it does.

Christmas was delightful, nonetheless.

The Small One got her first "lolly" (doll) which she loves.
And a laptop from Grandma Linda, which I love. It keeps her grimy little fingers off of mine!
And some tractors. She loves those. She finds it very amusing to drive them on me.

Mike and my dad, they got me an iPod. It has a wee tiny screen for movies. I love it.
Also, much knitting toys were given me. I heart knitting. It makes this girl very happy.
Oh, and a seriously cool book. "Inside the Victorian Home" all about the day to day life of Victorians in England. Love it.

Mike got a gun. Go figure. Silly boy. Wants to hunt.
Also he got some new clothes for his forthcoming new career. He wants to be a desk jockey for awhile. Use his degree or something.

The Small One? She is kind of self-centered. She gave Grandpa John a picture of herself for a present. She outdid herself with Memaw and Papa's present. It was a whole collage of pictures of her from birth on. Narcissistic little infant.

We hope things get better financially in this next year. For everyone!

Baby words

2008-12-24T01:01:00.002-07:00

I love when the little folk talk. Baby words are some of the funniest things ever. Have you noticed that they can make sounds that you can't copy? And that you can't spell? I want to record on here the thing The Small One says, but that isn't always possible because sometimes she says things for which there is no phonetic symbol.
Here are some of my fave words-
She calls my youngest brother, wienie. His name is Jamie.
She calls his girlfriend, bickie. Her name is Korbie. She tries to say Kiebie, but it comes out backward. I notice that she gets a lot of her sound order mixed up.
For instance, snow? Nos. Long o. So cute.
For Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas, we get Ho, may kees.
Horses? They say yee-haw!
She knows the important words as well. Money is a big one. And she says it right.
There is also nankee. Which is candy. Sadly, she knows that one quite well.
When we say prayers, it doesn't matter if you are actually done or not. When she is done (which is what is important) she throws her arms into the air and shouts "maymen!!!" I think she may have been a Pentecostal in a former life.
Her cousins, she has given very funny names-
Natasha is tata, Ethan is E-E. Alyvia is Biba. Jackson, Jassy.
And Uncle Emil? That is meow.
I love to listen to her talk, I wish I could get it on video, but the second she sees the camera, all she will say is "see? see?" Ah, well, maybe some day I will be able to sneak up on her and record it for posterity. ;)

Short post

2008-12-22T23:49:00.002-07:00

I am watching a show on Discovery about Jesus. It is a "scientific" look at the life of Jesus Christ, very interesting and fairly well done.
The reason I am writing is this. The more I learn about other Christian religions, the more science comes out about the "real" Jesus Christ, the more I realize how logical and true the LDS church is. It just makes sense!

Baby Love

2008-12-22T00:08:00.003-07:00

The past week or so, with The Small One getting sick has brought a few of things to the forefront of my mine. The first being that I love her so deeply that it borders on adoration, the second that this makes me insanely vulnerable and the third, being reminded of the fact that I nearly lost her just over a year ago.
All of these things are rather interconnected, so I shall start with number three.
As many of you know, at the end of September of last year, The Small One was stricken ill with the dreaded illness, Spinal Meningitis. The day she became ill, I was at a baby fair attempting to sell some of my wares. When I got home, I was rather appalled to see how sick she looked. I took her temperature and off we went to the Urgent Care Clinic. The doctor there took one look at the sick child and sent us straight to the ER. At the ER, she underwent numerous tests and tortures. She was so dehydrated that it took so very many tries to get her IV in, that I was ready to cry. We were there for hours. IV, blood tests, urine tests, lots of mistakes by the lab. When we finally got her results back, the news was not good. Her white count was very high. This meant the dreaded spinal tap. Oh, it was evil. As a rule, they do not give an anesthetic to infants before a spinal tap, figuring that one poke is better than two. This is not true. The poke to deliver a local is MUCH less painful that the one to get a tap. However, I did not know this at the time. I tried to stay in the cubicle while they took the tap, but was unable. The moment Husband curled The Small One up into a ball to expose the curve of her spine, I ran. I could not stand there and watch them cause my daughter, my heart, so much pain. I went out into the main body of the ER, just outside her cubicle. I knew the moment the needle pierced her spine, her cry was heart wrenching and I began to cry as well. A male nurse approached me and asked if I would like a chair. I said no, he brought one anyway, obviously afraid that I would faint. When the tap was over, the nurses came out with the sample, and I went back in to reclaim my daughter. I took her fragile figure into my arms, and her sobs began to subside. Mine did not. The horror of knowing the pain she was in, that I was privy to, was too much for me. I held her and rocked her and cried. Eventually, the doctor came in to tell us that her fluid was clear, not cloudy (thank the Good Lord), but they were fairly sure she had meningits. Shortly after delivering this news, he was kind enough to inform me that the large majority of infants who contract meningitis die within 24 hours. This was too much for me. How could I bear the loss of this little one who had such a claim on my heart? In the short six months she had belonged to me, I had invested EVERYTHING I had into her. If I lost her, I lost part of myself. But worse than losing part of myself was losing her. I wanted her, I needed her.
We were transferred up to the pediactrics unit and given a room, at which time I called my mom. When she arrived (somewhere around 2 am) I sent Mike home, as he had to work the next day. I had calmed myself by that point, but when my mom arrived and I gave her the rundown of what had happened, I began to lose control again. Holding this blessed infant, wearing hospital jammies that were far to large for her and hooked up to tubes and IV's and monitors I realized afresh what it would mean if she died. I felt then, as I feel now. If she were to die, a very large part of me would die with her. She is my life, she is everything to me. I didn't know if I would survive the loss whole or at all. My mom, in her wisdom, told me I would, but that it would be insanely hard and I would indeed lose part of myself, but that since I had to go on, I would do so.
Needless to say, she did not die. She was released from the hospital 1 week later, whole and well. I did not sleep much that week and I thanked the Lord daily that she had survived another day.
Fast forward to the following July 4. She is again running a fever (the same thing that cued us into her being very ill the first time). After some time of keeping an eye on her, we take her to Urgent Care. Once again, off to the hospital. This time, the stay is much shorter.
Perhaps you can see why The Small One getting a fever makes me a bit paranoid? Why it reminds me of the first time. You see, she has had a fever only three times in her life. Two of those times ended up with hospital visits and one nearly cost her life.
This past week has been a bit of a sleepless one. I took her temperature obsessively, willing her body to remain below 103, the danger mark for her age. Doing everything within my power to keep her fever down and her hydrated. If she continued to drink and her fever stayed lower, it wasn't life threatening. I prayed constantly that it wasn't something dangerous, that she would overcome whatever had a hold on her. Again, thank the Lord she has. It seems she has roseola, which isn't terribly dangerous.
My point is this. I love her. Beyond all. She is a literal part of me. And to love someone this much makes one incredibly vulnerable. I sometimes feel that I am just asking to be hurt. Having a child and loving it opens one up to all sort of joys, but with those joys can come the very depths of despair. I fear for her. For her health, for her happiness, for the kind of world we are leaving her. But on the other hand, I wouldn't trade it for anything. To love someone the way I love her, to know I had a significant part in her creation, to know she is part of me is...awe inspiring. And the joys are there and they are un-numberable. To see her precious smiling face in the morning, to feel her soft angel kiss on my cheek. To feel those tiny arms wrap around my neck and squeeze. To rejoice in her triumphs, to laugh at her silliness.

To love her.

That is the infinite joy.

To love.

Vent

2008-12-17T16:27:00.002-07:00

Aaargh! I have been sick for about a week now. I hate that. But, what I hate even more? When my baby gets sick. She has a fever and is not a happy camper. She has only had a fever two other times in her life and both times she went into the hospital. So, of course, I am paranoid that she is going to have to go to the hospital again. We do not enjoy this. Add to that the fact that we have no health insurance and it is kind of sucky.

And she yarfed on me so I smell like vomit. Nice.

Update

2008-12-15T14:20:00.003-07:00

New baby friend got to come home from the hospital on Friday. We are very pleased! The Small One hasn't gotten to go see him, yet, though she talks about him every day. Sadly, I have a nasty cold which has led to the loss of my voice. We don't want to send new baby back to the hospital, so we will stay away until I recover.

New baby friend

2008-12-11T15:36:00.002-07:00

A couple of nights ago, my dear friend gave birth to a big baby boy, cute as anything. Sadly, due to low oxygen and high white count, he was put in the NICU, but nothing dangerous.
So, the night before last, I took The Small One over with me to the hospital. New baby's big brother had been staying with us, but he and The Small One were both quite done with each other and he wanted his mom and dad. The Small One wanted to see the new baby, and although she couldn't go into the NICU, I knew she would be able to see him through the window. So, down we went to NICU with my friend to see baby. She went into the NICU and The Small One and I stood outside the window watching. They had the boy in a heated bed with all sorts of tubes and monitors hooked to him. When the nurse went over to his bed to put his O2 monitor back on, he started to cry. The Small One started to look worried and kept saying, "no, no" to the nurse. She thought the nurse was hurting the baby. Then when nurse laid the baby back down, he stopped crying and shut his eyes. The Small One turned to me and said "baby honkshu, honkshu" Snoring, if you will. She thought baby was sleeping. The nurse then picked him up again and turned him to the window so The Small One could see him, but she didn't like that at all. Now, if you are familiar with the trials of The Small One, you will know that she has been hospitalized twice in her lifetime. Once at six months and once at 15 months. She doesn't care for nurses and tubes and monitors and seeing the nurse holding the baby worried her.
So, baby-mama took the boy from the nurse and brought him close to the window for the Small One to see. He promptly stopped crying, opened his eyes and turned his head to look at The Small One. At that point, the grin just split her face. She loved it. Oh, cute baby! she said, excited. It will be funny to see how she reacts when he comes home from the hospital. She has never held a baby that young before, at least not to realize what it was!

More stuff

2008-12-11T15:11:00.002-07:00

So, would you all like an update on the goings on in the lives of Us? Of course you would!
As I mentioned before, the Husband lost his job a few weeks ago. Tragic, I know. But, really, it turns out to be a good thing. He is happier right now than he has been in a very long time. Like, back to the jolly guy I married. I like that plan. Well, in the midst of my despair over the job loss and consequent money loss, my boss/friend offered me full time work if I would like to accept. I didn't want to, not wanting to work full time with The Small One and all, but I realized it would be a necessity for a while, at least, and that this was a great blessing. Me working full time would enable us to get health insurance, which is ridiculously important. The Husband has had a wealth of side jobs appear, which is fabulous. Not a lot of money in them, but a little, enough to get by. On top of the switching to full time (which happens next week, ugh) my side work has blossomed. There was a dearth of it for a while, which I wasn't too sorry about, but right as I started needing to make more money, a great deal of it fell in my lap. Now, it is not easy to work a day job and do custom work, but the money is worth it right now.
Here is the really good thing. Turns out, the Husband is an awfully good stay-at-home dad. Who knew? Of course, he doesn't have The Small One full time, she still goes to Memmaw's for babysitting several times a week, but the times he does have her, he does such a good job. Like, better than me, because he actually CLEANS THE HOUSE! I know!!! Crazy, huh? But, I love it. Almost makes working more worth it. I leave, he takes care of baby and house, I come home and play with baby and he puts her to bed. Could it get much better?