Woman with a Hatchet

I Love You...You Make Me Crazy

2012-01-05T17:43:00.003-07:00

There are so many things to remember that I am fast forgetting, I wanted to jot them down before they fade.

It's always amazing just how fast the kids grow up, isn't it? How quickly their language changes from baby talk and morphs into that of "real people".*

Aminals = animals
Yogan = Logan (Actually, any word that starts with "L", Logan pronounces as a Yuh. Yehgs = legs.)
Muse-kick = music
Lightning The Queen = Lightning McQueen
Chockit = chocolate
Peppah-oh-nee = pepperoni

They sleep in the same room, share toys (mostly), food, and laughter. Occasionally you can find one has crawled into bed with the other, clutching their blankies and fast asleep. Other times you'll be woken up by Logan wailing that Emma has stolen his blanket and you'll see she must've grabbed it and rolled over on it. Probably not on purpose, either.

Emma can stay up later than Logan without melting down and then sleeps like a log. Logan starts whining and is willing to tell you he's ready for bed at 6pm, but will wake up in the middle of the night hollering about one thing or the other. Is it nightmares? Is he just a light sleeper? Who knows! He's the first one to wake up in the morning, demanding food and clothing. He's ready to go to school at the drop of a hat. Emma will wait for you to choose her clothes for her, but won't act like you've asked her to fight off demons if you ask her to put on her socks. Unlike some people. [Insert hairy eyeball here.]

Logan whines more than Emma, but she's more likely to throw herself on the floor when melting down. He has worn a corner off of his blanket because that's his special sniffin' spot, but she holds it in the middle and sort of plucks at the raised fabric dots. She won't leave it at home when they leave for preschool, while he will. She likes milk, peanut butter and jam, while he won't eat nuts at all or drink milk that isn't in cereal or has chocolate mixed in. She speaks much more clearly than he does, but he'll correct you and say things like "Actually...[explanation]."

They both use ridiculous high pitched voices when playing together with their toys. It cracks me up every single time.

Logan will share food or toys with Emma at the drop of a hat. Emma will only share with Logan if she is done with something. Emma will snuggle you more readily than Logan will, he has to constantly remain in motion or the world comes to a firey end. They love to sneak into Caitlin's room and play with her things which drives Caitlin to distraction and me up a wall. I hate the sound of them fighting and when Caitlin** screams, "Logan!" in That Voice, I want to murder them all. They all love one another and hate one another. They play well together until they suddenly and ubruptly don't. I love the sound of laughing screams and chasing games until, suddenly, someone crashes or smashes another and all the laughter ends and the screeching begins. Then, it sounds like I live in the Monkey section at the zoo.

Emma is crazy about her baby cousin Maddie and cousin Natasha, while Logan goes nuts over cousins Axl, Max, and Daniel. If we ever get all of them in one room at the same time, I suspect the twins might explode from sheer delight.

Their faces keep changing, morphing into Who They Will Be from Who They Were.

Logan

Day 1

6 Months

Year 1

Year 2

2.5 Years

Year 3

Year 4

Today

Emma

Day 1

6 Months

Year 1

Year 2

2.5 Years

Year 3

Year 4

Today

Some day, very soon, they'll be starting kindergarten and I'll be left wondering where my babies have gone. While we still refer to them as "the babies", they really aren't, but "the toddlers" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, nor does it sound quite right. I guess we'll just have to start calling the twins plus Caitlin "the kids".

Frankly, I think I'll continue referring to them as "the babies" until I just can't anymore.

* I'll add more words as I run across them. These are all of the ones I can think of at the moment.
** I will have a post about Caitlin, too. Never fear.

Catching Up: All of the things I didn't write about when I really should have written about them

2012-01-04T11:17:00.001-07:00

Hey there! I know, my time for doing the 2011 Year in Review posting was soooo two weeks ago, yet here I am leaping onto the bandwagon. Or perhaps I'm just stumbling after it.

Only time will tell.

The children have all gone back to school today - Caitlin to her last semester in Elementary school and the twins to their last semester in Pre-school. Come fall I will have one child in middle school and a pair of kindergarteners! How crazy is that?

Certifiable, that's how crazy!

We went on a tour of Caitlin's ~~Junior High~~ Middle School last night, she and I, and I was markedly impressed. I am hereby remarking upon it. I'm hoping she loves it as much as I suspect she will. So many programs and clubs!

Anyway, last year...was a whopper. There were a number of very good things about it and some seriously miserable things. If you've been following along, you'll know of what I speak. I'll try to focus on the good stuff instead of sniffling over my keyboard.

Perhaps reverse order?

Xmas 2011 was very close to being a wash. Turns out that someone around here needs to start taking her vitamin D pills starting in September so that it has a chance to build up in her system. You know, in case you want to avoid a serious case of the Bah, humbugs! by the time Christmas rolls around again. I didn't get cards done or mailed packages to family. Let's just say I take after Dad on this one. Who's up for Christmas in July?!

The family came through for us on Xmas. There were all kinds of things from the cousins, grandparents, aunts and such. I didn't feel bad that we didn't add to the insanity other than a book apiece and a single DVD. Well, if you don't include the stockings. Those were full of chocolate this year (Plus the traditional apple and orange, although I subbed a Clementine for a regular orange. Must more kid friendly.). Which everyone ate while I was still in bed, as you can tell from Little Miss Chocolate Face right here.

Logan gravitated to the largest box under the tree. Turns out it was a Lightning McQueen springy tent thingy. He loves it. He jumps on it. Love and mangling go hand in hand, don't they?

I only asked for one thing this year. Well, other than no whining and fighting. Eric came through with a 50mm 1.4 lens! Woo! Here is a lovely shot of my test subject.

I'll have to play with the lens more in the new year. I look forward to more sexy bokeh!

This year's Spelling Bee fell on Eric's birthday, which doesn't actually explain why there are no photos of the tiny dinner party we had for him, but there it is. Caitlin didn't win the Bee this year, but came in 2nd place. She was undone by the word "laborious" by adding an extra "u". I was sad the Bee didn't go on longer because I really enjoy when you're down to the last two contestants and the words start flying back and forth, getting harder and increasingly esoteric. Ah well. She's got 3 more years of Bees, if she still wants to go for Nationals! We applied prescription levels of ice cream and all was right with the world.

During the first weekend in December, I shot my friend Susan's baby boy's first birthday party. Tiny red heads are so cute!

Perhaps I'll get back into the swing of photography again this year? At some point I'll have to determine what I want to do with myself once the twins are in school full time. I'm debating going back to school, the only question remains, for what?! That, however, is a discussion for another time. Deep, dark, soul-baring discussion.

In seemingly typical me fashion, I have pictures of the bread I made for Thanksgiving, but no pictures of Thanksgiving festivities. I fail the acid test of diehard scrapbookers. Clearly I'm not a scrapper.

Three versions of braided bread. Left: 6 strand braid; middle: 3 strand braid; right: 2 strand braid.

But...! But the bread was really good!

In the middle of November, still on the bread theme, I was testing out the differences in retarding my sourdough overnight versus baking it off the same day it rose.

Bread on the left retarded in the brotform overnight in the fridge. Maintained the shape better, but had less oven spring and grigne than the one on the right, which I baked the same day as final fermentation.

Either way, it was delicious.

In early November, we made a "surprise" trip to KS for Val's 40th birthday.

Except for one small problem: she wasn't surprised. Turns out her boyfriend can't keep a secret to save his life! I offered to pummel him, but he declined.

On Halloween, we got dressed up and took the kids Trick or Treating, but then completely forgot to take pictures of them in their outfits! It it wasn't for Misty requesting photos of her ultra cool Raven costume, there wouldn't be one of either Eric or I in our Archer/Lana Kane outfits either. Whoops!

In mid-October I finished the dining room painting and hung the floating shelves with Eric.

The finished art cabinet is in the corner. Keeper of all things paper, paint, and crayon related.

My String of Pearls plant won't survive the winter outdoors. Turns out that it can't survive my care indoors, either. Sadly, most of the succulents pictured here are dead now. I'll have to some up with an alternate display!

Wall of succulents brought in before the weather got too cold.

I'm so glad I finished painting the main floor. It makes a huge difference in how I feel about the house. In early spring I'll work on the rest of the painting. I need to be able to keep the windows open. Even low VOC paint has fumes that make my head spin in enclosed spaces.

In late September, the twins turned 4 and we had a party. Not that you noticed, since I didn't post anything about it in Blogland. Nope, skipped over it entirely on the blog, but posted pics on Facebook for my mom to see.

The big cousins, plus Marlena.

The cupcakes. This is as fancy as I got. Chocolate cupcakes with mint frosting, pink sprinkles for Emma with princess toothpicks and red sprinkles for Logan with Cars toothpicks. Tah-dah! Decorated! No balloons, no matching tableware and a whole lot less to throw away at the end of the party. Somewhere in Canada, my kid sister is stunned by how undecorated it all is. We have opposite birthday talents: she's amazing at decorating. I put all my energy into the food.

Emma shows off her princess cookie. Those were my goodies for the goodie bag: a single enormous sugar cookie with Royal frosting and pink or red sprinkles. Once again, "simple" and without a lot of trash or little plastic bits to get vacuumed up later.

We had our very own in-house facepainter at the party! Grammy Linda has taken on a new career as a facepainter and was doing up adult and child guests alike. Jenni makes a lovely butterfly.

Emma and Logan made a new friend at preschool: Asher.

King for a day!

Logan shows off his car cookie chomping skills.

The twins still love it when everyone sings. It's much more difficult to take pictures of them when they're no longer held in place by highchairs!

In between ferocious painting episodes, I stopped on occasion and enjoyed my hummingbirds.

Other than losing weight (Or, to be honest, just temporarily misplacing it since it seems to have found me again...), gaining muscle and then falling off the horse again (hard), the rest of the year was all related to Dad. The big drive cross country. Family. I still have yet more pictures from Canada to edit, which I'll get to this week.

I know, it's only been 6 months!

Whoops! Better go get the twins from pre-school! Ciao!

The After Party

2011-11-20T12:01:00.001-07:00

We returned to the church basement for the reception (Personally, I tend to see those as things you do after weddings, but I guess it was a reception, when you get right down to it.) and the starving hordes dug into the food that was arrayed before us. There was talk, plans for the day, discussions of who was doing what currently, how they'd all been, and how big all of the children were getting.

Time passed, pleasantly enough, and then the guests drifted away. As we wrapped up, we carted out loads of food, cards of condolences, and huge vases filled with flowers. Some were sent on to the nursing home in thanks, some went home with us. I carried an enormous vase overflowing with gorgeous flowers that were cut from someone's yard.

I didn't take any pictures of the reception, but when we got back to mom's house with our arms full of flowers, children, and food, I pulled out my camera for just a moment.

They were just so quiet and happy to be together, I couldn't resist taking the shot.

Dawn, Maddie and Emma hang out in the kitchen.

We "adults" sat on the screened in porch and chatted. The "girls", as we refer to my cousins (Doesn't matter how old any of them will ever be, we'll always refer to them as the girls. I feel certain that my siblings and I are referred to as "the kids".), were chatting with mom about their mother when the subject of letters came up. Mom pulled out a bag filled with old letters from my paternal grandmother, Alice; letters from my father's older sister, Thelma; letters from my father to my mother.

We laughed at how Nanny and Thelma were so thrifty that they'd use every possible inch on the front and back of any postcard or letter ever sent. Words would curl around the manufacturer's name and copyright date in a clockwise manner, the crabbed handwriting getting in as much news as possible in a very limited space. They are all fascinating glimpses of times long past: the cost of stamps, the images of vacation spots here and there, the prices of common goods mentioned fleetingly.

The most amazing letters of all, though, were those from my father to my mother. Mom didn't realize that she'd handed us one of dad's letter until we started trying to read it aloud. The paper was so very thin, to keep the cost of airmail down, the paper so fragile. The script was lovely, although occasionally it was hard to decipher. Marilyn was reading the letter when she stopped abruptly. It was a private letter from my father to my mother in their year long separation from one another, after he left the island and returned to Canada at the end of his shift in Jamaica.

I'm not allowed to talk about what was in that letter. I'm also not allowed to read all the rest of those letters until my mother passes away (A million, billion years from now.), and my kid sister suggested strenuously that I shouldn't even want to read them then. I, however, look at it very differently.

This letter, the way it was written, the very formal wording used, the script displayed upon it, and the very carefully relayed feelings it talked of are the very reasons we should get to read them, way into the future. The paper was so amazingly thin, it's called onion skin. It felt almost like parchment, or a stiff tissue paper. I had never seen a sample of my father's script before. All my life I only remember his heavy printed handwriting. The letter never talked of love. It never mentioned that my father was missing my future mother. The language was so incredibly formal that it could have been in one of Jane Austen's books. It was impossibly romantic in way that I never expected. It opened my eyes to a piece of my family history that was never mentioned, never talked about. It felt beautiful, delicate, and mysterious. My parents love story.

We had heard the stories about how he serenaded my mother; how he referred to her as his wife brazenly in the bank waaaaaay before they were ever dating; how she thought he was a "stuffed shirt"; how he fell into the pool filled with icy mountain water at her house, but the time between his leaving Jamaica and sending her the engagement ring is still a mystery.

Only my mother knows what happened and she's not telling. She promised we'd get to have the letters eventually, but not now. The mystery will have to wait. Piecing together their love story, and epic love story it certainly was, will wait. I only regret that by the time I find more pieces to the puzzle, I'll just come up with more questions and there will be no one left to answer them. (Let's face it, I'm the defacto family storyteller. My curiosity trumps all others. Besides, I've learned how to continue typing while crying and that takes skill, baby!)

Setting aside the 45 year old letter, I turned back to the folks on the porch. As they started making leaving noises, it struck me that many of my cousins were leaving that very day. I was about to miss my chance at any photos if I didn't hop to it. I shook off the sleepiness that was creeping up on me, there on the sun warmed porch, and grabbed my camera.

Nancy holds the letter in her hands. The paper was so thin that the script on one side interfered with reading the other side of the letter. We had to pore over it for quite awhile to make some of the words out. Everyone exclaimed over the beauty of it.

Some of the girls pose for a picture before they take off.

Marilyn, Ruth, Dawn holding Maddie, Mom, Cindy and Nancy the Younger down in front.

I got in on the act before my opportunity was gone.

Pat (on the left) and George (on the right).

Pat is the man that brought the engagement ring from my father in Canada to my mother in Jamaica. My dad just handed him a package in a completely unassuming manner, never revealing what was in it. Pat was stunned when my mother opened it up and found the ring tucked inside a folded piece of cardboard. He says he retroactively panicked over the fact that he hadn't taken any great care with it when carrying it, not realizing how important the contents were.

My dad was such a stinker.

My cousin Ron.

More talking and reminiscing went on after the first wave of friends and family left. Naps were had by young and ~~older~~ ~~not quite as young~~ more mature alike. The day was emotionally draining, yet uplifting at the same time. I hardly ever get to see my cousins and the stories they told that day broke my heart, made me laugh, and helped me to know my father a little more. Each one has their favorite story about my father. Each one a different perspective, another facet, holding another piece of the puzzle. They talk about sneaking in to peek at my gorgeous, exotic mother napping on the sofa in their house, in the days before the wedding. How dad would light up their mother and their whole house when he walked into it. How he'd taken them fishing and hunting. How he'd bake for them, making a huge mess in their mother's kitchen.

We wandered down into my mother's garden, filled with gorgeous blooms indifferent to the importance of the day. Peonies, roses, daylilies. Explosions of color and scent. Hummingbirds zipped along, sipping nectar.

It was a beautiful day. A day filled with warmth and sunshine; the sky clear and blue; the air warm and still. It was the day we buried my father. It was a good day to be alive and to love one another, just a little more, just a little while longer.

Life can't always be filled with pathos. Pain and suffering and illness eventually come to an end. Remember to sniff the roses. If not for yourself, then for those that have gone before.

As ever, my love to you.

Into the Earth

2011-11-19T16:41:00.001-07:00

Today would have been my parents 45th wedding anniversary. My gift may be slightly macabre, but it's been rattling around in my head and freezing my hands for months. Here's what happened on July 6th, 2011.

The day we buried my father finally dawned on us. It was sunny, clear, and warm. Considering it was early July the warmth shouldn't have been surprising, but since it had been relatively cool all of the days prior the warmth was unexpected.

We got all dressed up in our fancy clothes and headed to the church. There we met up with my passel of cousins, young and not quite as young. As happy as we were to see each other, we were a little stilted and withdrawn. Do you perk up at the sight of someone you wouldn't even be seeing if your common relative hadn't died? I do, but it came and went in waves. I was pleased to see everyone, but it was hard to continue accepting condolences. Lining up, shaking hands. Who are these people? Church members, old friends, members of the choir all shuffle into the church and greet us using sad, tender voices.

After we greet the crowd, we wait in a small room with my cousins until the witnesses? audience? attendees are all seated. I took a few pictures to keep from thinking too much. The brightest spot of the whole ordeal was right here:

Maddie was as cute as a button.

Emma was fascinated by the 7 month old Maddie and spent a lot of time holding her tiny hands and stroking her soft cheeks.

Smooches for Maddie.

One portion of my cousins. An initial serving, as it were. These are the children of my dad's eldest sister, Thelma. These are the cousins I grew up knowing and they knew all of the best stories about my dad.

Marilyn, holding Logan, Ron, my own dark self, Nancy standing next to/behind Eric, who is holding Emma and Caitlin.

In the waiting room waited another serving of cousins, my brother and his sweetheart.

Ian, Deb, Maddie in the stroller, Ruth in the background, Nancy (the younger), and Marilyn again.

The priest and the undertaker sorted out their business and stepped to the front of the procession. We fell into line behind them and solemnly walked in, all eyes on the stainless steel urn held by the man at the front of the line. We finally made it to the front row, where all of the family spread into a thin, dark line and seated ourselves.

The formalities began.

Here's the part where I will be honest with you: I really couldn't concentrate on the funeral. I wasn't crying. I'm not sure if anyone was. I felt disjointed and distant. It wasn't a mass, since dad wasn't Catholic, but it was filled with singing songs I didn't know and some readings I didn't recognize save for one. I felt twitchy, overly warm, and out of place. I don't know if it was the kind of service he would have chosen for himself if you'd asked him. It seemed way too formal, bound by odd church strictures and laws. It did, however, begin to tell me what kind of funeral that I'd like, when that day comes for me.

Imagine a garden, my garden of the future, maybe. Perhaps a gorgeous park. Somehow I'm assuming I'll die when it's warm, but that may just be because of the current circumstances. A few concentric rings of chairs and a table with my urn on it in the center. I'd like to be flash frozen and shattered instead of cremated. I'd become instant compost. (In fact, the process is called corpse composting. Eco unto death, that's me.) The group of folks would then tell stories about me. No singing, unless someone really wanted to. No music, unless it would make the mourners feel better. Instead, a circle of friends and family, telling stories, laughing and crying. That's what I want. Outside the circles, food and drink, photos and the rare video of me. Maybe. When the party is over (and it is intended to be a party), my remaining family gets to take the package of my remains home. Put me up on the shelf with the ancient remains of my long dead cats. Put me out in the garden and let me feed a beloved tree. I don't know. I don't care. But don't bury me in a box, in a hole in the ground, and walk away from me. For some reason, that image makes me deeply sad. Plant a new tree, just for me, and bury me under it. Toss my dust out over a forest, but make use of me in some fashion that helps the Earth and the plants I love so well.

Finally, back in reality, the service is over and the majority of the family and my dad's closest friend Joan, pile into cars and head over to the grave site. Here's the plot that mom had purchased. An undistinguished section of grass with a small, rectangular hole cut into it. "Grass" carpeting covers the pile of soil next to the hole. Note that it's big enough for 6 cremains...apparently mom is planning on throwing an eternal party there in the ground. The undertaker pulls out a blue velvet bag, puts dad's cremains into it and lowers it into the hole. Then he pulls out a second bag that holds the purple cloisonne urn that contains all that remains of my maternal grandmother. Mom had her on the mantel at home and had been waiting to bury grandma with dad. There's room in this spacious plot for mom, one day far off into the future. She's planned ahead, my mother has.

The priest says a few more things. I think the line ashes to ashes comes up, but I can't remember now.

Suddenly, the first note of a bagpipe hangs in the air, and the funeral party turns, as one, in surprise to face him. I have no idea what song he's playing, but this might be a close match.

And damn! but didn't every single one of us who hadn't cried in the church and had been toughing it out, we all started to cry. Me, my cousins, my sisters, all of us. My mom turned to Joan, and they hugged and laughed through the tears. It was Joan's idea to have a piper, just as she was the one who arranged for a piper at Cindy's wedding, years before. It was beautiful, haunting, sad and just perfect. One small thing. A man alone in a graveyard, playing a haunting tune.

When it ended, we wiped our tears away and leaving my dad and grandma there in the plot meant for six, we drove off to the church.

To the after party.

Well, what else do you call the part where you get together with the other mourners and eat food at banquet tables in the basement of a church? That, my friends, is an after party.

The funny thing is that there was an after, after party back at my mom's house afterwards, but I have to run. I'll finish this post and include those pictures tomorrow. I just didn't want to break my monthly posting "streak".

My love to you.

One Month Later...The Completed Living Room and a few nice touches

2011-10-19T20:12:00.001-06:00

It took me a month to sand, prime, and paint the living room, dining room and kitchen. A month filled with going up and down ladders, getting coated in 5 different colors of paint, and discovering that when I obsess over something I have no room left for ordinary life.

I haven't baked in a month. Or made yogurt. Or dinner. I've been a little preoccupied.

It started here, with one wall.

Considering that I had paid for samples, I just kind of dove right into painting and assumed the colors I had picked were just right. Fortunately for me, the research I'd put into picking them out turned out to be dead on.

I don't have any straight "before" shots of the living room. You can just flip through random party photos and you're bound to see what the room used to look like*. I do, however, have a before shot of the new shelves we installed under the video screen, so that's a little something.

Original wall color: Ivory Tower.

The speaker used to sit on a birch wood shelf, but I had Eric remove it when I had the idea for new shelving. The idea sprang directly from the Montessori school: everything should have its own separate place. This way the twins won't get so overwhelmed when you ask them to put their toys away and they'll be willing to do it, just like they do at school! Apparently tossing them all into a giant bin was short circuiting their brains.

Here's that same wall after painting and installing the shelves and baskets.

New wall color: Vanilla Brandy

Much nicer! Watching the twins pick up after themselves at school and put their "work" away was a major motivator for me. I'm willing to spend a little money to buy baskets (I haven't gotten around to putting little photo tags on them yet.) to sort their toys into, if it will make my house appear slightly less chaotic.

Here's the bay window wall.

New ceiling color: Honey Beige

Removing the A/V tower has made a huge difference in how this room feels. It seems a lot more open now and I like not having to look at that mess of wires anymore. The only sticking point is the fact that the projector is exactly at twin level. We have to keep them from touching the lens or they might a) burn their fingers or b) wreck the lens or c) both.

Here's the before on my fireplace and 3/4 wall.

Three quarter wall color: Pacific Pines. Note the brass accents on the fireplace. So '90s!

After.

New 3/4 wall color: Burled Redwood. Inset accent color: Knight's Armor. Trim: Ultra White. Brass Accents: painted flat black with high heat paint. Ahhh!

I still hate the tile, but I'm not prepared to rip the walls up to install spiffy new tile or paint the old tile. Yet.

Closet.

I decided that all of that Burled Redwood needed a little relief and went with the white trim color for the door instead of using the Knight's Armor grey that I'd used on the front and garage door. I thought the grey would make this wall too dark.

Up the stairs we needed to transition from the dark cinnamon color (Don't you just love how all of my paint seems food related? Num!) to the new wall color. I really didn't want my interior hallway to be miserably dark.

Note how dingy the almond colored thermostat cover looks? The doorbell cover above it used to look the same until I attacked it with fine sand paper and white satin spray paint. I'll get to the thermostat pretty soon. Details like that make you crazy the longer you have to stare at them. Or is that just me?

I read about a neat trick for perfect painted lines after I'd finished, but what I did worked well, too. I used a plumb line, snapped it to the wall to get the straight line I'd need for my tape. Placed the painter's tape right down the edge of the line and used a damp cloth to burnish the edge of the tape and "seal" it to the wall. Then I wiped away the chalk line, painted like normal, removed the tape after the 2nd coat had dried and repeated the procedure on the other side of the lovely sharp line of paint with the second color. After pulling the tape away, my edge was lovely and straight.

The funny thing about spending all of your time up ladders, painting, is you have a lot of time to think. While I was in my zen painting mode, I came up with a whole slew of ways I wanted to decorate. You know, now that the twins are ~~apparently~~ ~~theoretically~~ ~~possibly~~ mostly out of their smashing phase. Those three photos were the first thing that leapt to mind as a great use of that space.

Another idea was this:

Curly stems in a black and natural bamboo vase. Here's hoping the twins leave it alone!

This is just to the right of the stairs pictured above. It's been empty and bugging me for a long time. This was just the ticket to fill the space and contrast my newly painted wall.

I even painted inside the coat closet and made some perfectly sized storage boxes to hold our hats and gloves and keep them off the closet floor. You know, in an organized fashion!

Yes, I did just say that I made those boxes. I followed the tutorial listed here and using boxes I already had, material left over from a dress made for my wedding, paper, a glue gun and spray adhesive, I didn't spend any money on these boxes at all. Unless you include the cost of storing all of those materials for all this time. : ) They definitely took awhile to make, but it was a good learning experience and next time I do it, I'll be faster. Heck if I'd known how to do it sooner, I wouldn't have bought baskets for the twins' toys!

Anyway...even though I've also finished painting the dining room, since this has gotten pretty long, I think I'll end here. I know my mother is dying to see what all I've been doing (Hints on Facebook aren't enough for her anymore.), but I'll show you the dining room another day. I promise it won't be a month from now!

Heck! I still have to tell you about the twins turning FOUR! and, you know, my father's funeral and stuff. There's so much going on, I keep on doing stuff, randomly photographing it and never actually write it up.

Tunnel vision. Crafting tunnel vision.

On the bright side, I now have some breathing room now that my painting fever has abated! I think I'll finish gilding the lily in the dining room (Ooh! I need to recover the dining room chairs!) before I most upstairs and address the horror that is my bedroom. I'll be sure to take you along for the ride!

* Apparently I was a little too good at cropping the vile tower of wires out! I can't find much. Wait - here's a pretty good example. See all of that stuff behind Eric? Tower of A/V equipment, wires, DVDs, CD tower even farther back and crap all over. Bleah!

What does Hatchet do with those "extra" three hours a day?

2011-09-19T22:07:00.000-06:00

Well!

Here it is, almost a month later from our first day of school and I haven't said a thing, have I?

Once I dropped the kids off to school, I did what comes naturally to me: immediately jumped into a gigantic project. Some women might have taken the opportunity preschool afforded them to enjoy their sudden freedom. You know, caught up on all of those books they'd put off; taken the time to pull a few weeds; signed up for a class; or done something decadent like eaten bon-bons while watching trashy TV. Or maybe even edited a few photos. No. Not me.

I started painting the living room.

Given three hours a day, I jumped into a project that would take up 6 or more hours a day, every day for weeks on end. The living room, you see, is the single largest room in my house. It has 14' high ceilings at the highest point, 12' high at the center of the room, a 3/4 wall, and is all of a piece with the kitchen and dining room which means that any changes you make in the living room you have to plan to make in the kitchen and dining room as well.

It always starts innocently enough. After having remodeled Caitlin's room, I knew that I wanted to do our master bedroom next, but I also knew that as soon as spring hit I'd have no interest in painting until the fall. I was right, of course, but the room I decided to work on first turned into the living room instead of my own. Why? Well...let me show you.

I'm warning you ahead of time, these are seriously embarrassing shots.

Here's what you would see upon entering my humble abode.

This wreck is my front entry way. Welcoming, isn't it? It says, "Welcome to chaos!" and possibly whips a shoe at your head. Watch your step!

Above is the door that leads to the garage. We deposit our keys and things on the hooks, so we don't lose them randomly around the house. This was one of the smarter things we set up in the entrance. However, with the introduction of 3 other people into our household, it just wasn't enough organization.

Here is the view looking down the stairs at the shoerack and front door. The rack was forever loaded with shoes that no one ever wore. Why is that, anyway? And papers. And bills. And hats. Large boxes that need to be recycled are regularly tossed down the stairs to wait for some kind soul to drag them out to the can. How long do you suppose that took, normally? [Shudder!]

Why yes, that is a piece of wire you see at the top of my door. It's a hack job for a wreath hanger because my actual wreath hanger went on walkabout. Can you blame it?

Starting in early August, I changed the front entrance to this.

Suddenly, life was looking up! A storage chest for the shoes. Now they're all in there and you can't see them! Three hooks - one, two, three! - for the three children. A small ledge (from IKEA, because I had to see what all of the hoopla was all about) for bits and bobs and sunglasses. On the wall to the left is a metal file folder for mail. Ahhh!

Once the twins started school, all of this would change. My inner decorator was fired up and raring to go!

Note that I left all of the bits on the hooks so you'd see those bags. In those bags are items for several crafty projects that I ~~can't~~ shouldn't start until the painting is done! One birthday wreath for the twins (Unless I don't get my act together in time, in which case it will suddenly be a Halloween wreath.); the almond contact paper is to darken the window over the sofa to enhance the movie viewing experience; there are pillow forms in there that will become throw pillows for the sofa made with fabric leftover from the dining room chair re-upholster I have planned; a paint pen and clear contact paper to change out the need for mini blinds on the sidelight and yet retain privacy; high heat paint to black out the brass detail on the fireplace and metallic spray paint to change out all of the door hardware from brass to brushed nickel. My god, people! I've gone and bought a glue gun!

Fresh paint!* Painted trim! Accent colors! More hooks! A mirror! Woo!

This image doesn't do the accent wall justice. The color is called "Burled Redwood" and it's a lovely, deep, cinnamon-y red. The door is "Knight's Armor" grey, the walls are "Vanilla Brandy" and the ceiling is "Honey Beige" (Are you hungry now? I am!). Lots of earthy tones. I'm letting my inner druid drive my inner decorator's color choices.

It's a whole lot easier to keep it neat, now that there's some place for most things that come in the front door. I'm still working on getting everyone to actually put their shoes into the storage chest automatically, but it happens more often than not.

I've also been painting the rest of the living room, building a storage space for all of the toys that wander our house and making plans to finally decorate my house. You know, like grown-ups apparently do. I've only been living here for 16 years!

I've got to be honest with you: painting just this entrance way was terrifying. Imagine being 14' up in the air, with the ladder blocking the doors and looking down the flight of stairs to the basement below. Not only do you get the thrill of potentially falling down 14 feet, you'd get the extra 6' to the basement should you misstep. It was a total cardio workout, going up and down the ladder in that corner! Gaaaah!

Today I finally finished** the part of the 3/4 wall that faces the living room, updated the last bits of trim (Except for the stair risers and railings, which make me exhausted just looking at them. The mere thought of having to remove them, sand them, prime them once or twice, paint them and seal them with polyurethane just makes me want to weep with frustration, so I'm leaving them for the very last thing I do. They may wait until after the bedroom is finished, depending on just how much looking at them bugs me on a daily basis!), painted inside the coat closet and started refinishing the handrail that leads upstairs. Once I have the closet door back in place I'm calling the living room finished!

Of course, in order to do that, I have to wash, sand, prime, paint and seal the door knobs and hinges....

I'm insane.

But by gosh! By golly! By gum! This room is going to look ab-so-fricken-lutely smashing when I'm done!

You're gonna love it! I already do.

* Why, yes, I have already threatened the Destructo Twins with death when they looked like they were about to start writing on the walls. Thanks for asking!

** When I say "I" painted, I really mean it. Eric has been replacing switches and outlets and their covers from almond fixtures (soooo 1990s!) to white, handling the children and moving heavy ladders for me. Him no paint. Him cook and do laundry.

The Beginning of a New Era

2011-08-22T20:35:00.002-06:00

On Friday, August 12th we found out a single piece of information that would change the course of our family's future.

The twins will meet the cutoff for kindergarten next year by three days.

Suddenly, we leaped into overdrive getting them set up in a half day preschool program that would run five days a week. Eric called up several different local schools and we went and visited about four of them. By the time we hit the last school on our list, a Montessori, we knew we had struck gold.

They had not one, but two openings. This is key when you have twins, you see.
School started on Monday, August 15th.
The twins loved the school.
During our visit, one of the teachers sat down with the twins and started an I-Spy game of letters and toy fruits and veggies, while we talked to the administrator.

Eric promised that we'd get back to them once we had a chance to think it over. I thought it over on the trip to the car. "Call her back as soon as we get home! They're closing in 5 minutes! It's Friday!" And so he called the administrator right back and told her that we'd bring them in first thing on Monday morning.

The same day we dropped Caitlin off at school for her very first day as a Fifth Grader.

Who's ready for school? I asked as I shot the above photo. As you can see, the response was overwhelmingly positive.

Emma is ready!

Logan is ready! And very excited about his new Lightning McQueen t-shirt.

Caitlin was ready to take on the world as a senior in elementary school.

I feel a little bad, we sort of short changed her at drop off. We whisked in with her bags of supplies and walked her to her line. After hugs and kisses goodbye, we took off, rather than wait for the grades to walk inside.

I think she was pretty OK with it, though, since she wasn't paying any attention to us at all. She was too busy greeting all of those other kids who would soon roam the halls with her.

Then we drove off, with the twins, to their very first day of preschool.

Oh the excitement!

Emma at check-in, snuggles with her blanket.

Logan can hardly wait to run off to his classroom and play with all the new toys!

The additional benefit of this preschool was the fact that they were able to put Emma and Logan into different classrooms. This would be the very first time they had ever been separated for any real length of time. All day, every day, 5 days a week for three hours*: solo. They would finally have a chance to make friends and see what life is like solo.

They never for a moment showed fear or insecurity. They didn't even say goodbye when we brought them to the play area to leave them. Instead, they raced off and left us standing on the sidelines.

We marched over, demanded kisses and made them say goodbye to us sad sacks!

Buh-bye! Don't let the door hit you in the back on your way out, mom!

Who are you again? You know I'm busy playin', right?

So we left them. All alone. Together.

And ran away giggling into the early morning light.

Preschool acquired!

Freeeeeeedommmmm!

Later, they looked like this after school:

Emma was exhausted after all that learnin' and stuff.

Logan was still pumped from all the educatin'.

Caitlin was psyched.

* The list of things I want to get done in those three hours is just beginning to unfurl in my head! Weeding! Photography! Painting the house! Decorating! Writing! Decluttering! Grocery shopping without short people! OMG! Squeee!

A Vigil for My Father

2011-07-28T07:31:00.000-06:00

[I'm now back in Colorado, and after a week of getting the house and garden in order, I'm ready to finish the tale.]

On Monday, July 4th, Dad was cremated.

I can honestly say I don't remember what all we must've done on Monday, but I know that one fact for certain. On Tuesday we held Visitation Hours at the funeral home for dad.

Considering that I really had no idea why we "needed" visitation hours, it turns out that the second session was the absolute best part of the whole death ritual. Even better than the funeral itself, for me at the very least.

We walked into the oddly hushed room, where the walls were lined with ancient sofas from a time long gone. Just as uncomfortable now as they were when originally purchased, no one had ever sat on them for comfort or had time to get the seat to conform to their shape. I walked in with Eric, Cindy and Jason, but without the children. We had hired a sitter to keep them from lighting the house on fire and from expiring from utter boredom at such a decidedly child-unfriendly event. Random people populated the room, random photographs were strewn across a coffee table. In the back of the room, flowers were on display; huge bouquets of flowers from friends and family members, the bank where dad worked and friends from church. The displays were lovely.

Flanked on either side by the flowers was a console table and two photos of my father.

One was from his early banking days, he was probably just 30 and looked as if he'd just stepped out of a scene from Mad Men; stiff white shirt, dark tie, sharp black suit and glasses that brooked no nonsense.

The other was from just a year ago; 77 years old and wearing one of his ubiquitous sweaters and wool driving caps.

The two photos encompassed about 47 years of his life, but couldn't even begin to express all the living that occurred between one and the next. Yet somehow they managed to capture a little something about dad. Was it the twinkle in his eye? A bit of a smirk where another might've grinned? It's hard to say just what you saw when perusing these pictures, but you definitely understood that it was my father, your uncle/cousin/friend/husband.

In the center of the console table was the urn.

It was pretty, sitting there, lit with a quiet understatement and yet a heavy presence. Here lie the ashes of a man... It suddenly struck me that all that remained of my father was in that itty bitty steel vessel and it stunned me that all of him could fit in there. A lump formed suddenly in my throat and tears leapt to my eyes. The reality of the moment settled heavily on my shoulders, reinforced by the abnormal hush, the somewhat dusty scent, the ancient sofas and striped wall hangings.

It took me a moment to collect myself, catch my breath and find my words once more. Quiet greetings murmured to people I didn't know, people I should have known and cousins I'd never known about. We took a break for dinner (and yet more doughnuts) and then returned for the final set of visiting hours and the eulogy. In the second hour, the folks I recognized began to appear. They trickled into the room in groups of two or three; cousins, old friends from dad's Jamaica days, his school friends, his nieces and nephew. My family. My parent's community. The characters that all held memories of dad that differed from mine, slices of his past, pieces of his personality.

My kid sister (fun to still call her that, at 32 and a mother of 2 children) took to the floor and read the eulogy that she had prepared and had printed out in 18 point font. It took up three pages, not because it was just that long, but because the font size was that large just in case it became a tad difficult to see. Smart girl, that one.

She told us of early morning piggyback rides down the stairs and coffee shared with a 5 year old; Christmas stockings that were never large enough and overflow candy ending up in size 13 shoe boxes beneath the stockings. She asked us to remember him as he was, not as he became and not as a victim of Alzheimer's, because dad would've wanted it that way.

When she finished, she looked me in the eye and wanted me to take the floor. I wasn't ready yet, so I had Dawn (my older sister) go up instead.

Dawn spoke of dad's years as a track star and how he could still beat her in a race back when she was in high school. How he spoke of practice and working hard at your goals. Next it was my turn.

Being me, I didn't want to regale the crowd with my memory of dad whilst standing up. It was rather like being on a stage, minus the trappings of an auditorium and the comfortable seats. Instead, I pulled up a bench, since I wasn't certain if I could stand and speak or if the formality of it would bring me to tears.

In my memory, we were somewhere in Canada on a family camping trip, deep in the woods, roughly 27 years ago. Dad and I had gone for a walk away from the family and tent, down towards a distant lake. As we walked along through the forest, we kept quiet and listened to the jays calling overhead; the sound of leaves and small branches crunching damply underfoot; smelled that rich aroma of pine and decay and fresh air that permeates a forest; felt the breeze on our cheeks and we just were there, together. Just us. Quiet. Peaceful. Serene. At the lake was a single loon, calling. I called back and it responded as it swam. We called back and forth for awhile as my father watched me, quietly amused at my antics. As the loon swam out of sight, dad took my hand and we turned to go. Just a father and a daughter. Quietly together, far from home.

As I finished and stood up, I turned to my brother whose turn had come to speak. He had chosen to speak last for reasons of his own.

He started off well enough and then the tears overtook him. Seeing him struggle, I was overwhelmed with empathy and grabbed a handful of tissues for him, then stood beside him as he collected himself and carried on. I figured he needed to say whatever it was he wanted to tell this room full of folks who had come to pay their respects. So I stood there, with my arms around my not-so-little little brother who towered over me at 6' tall and supported him as he spoke. We may have our issues, he and I, but in that moment, he needed someone and I stepped up. I don't remember what he said, exactly, but I remember he was glad when he was done and shuddered in relief.

After we 4 kids were through, a small trickle of cousins and friends stepped up to share their stories.

One of my dad's nieces, Nancy, told us a story about how dad would visit and turn their entire house upside down.

That's Nancy, standing behind Mom and Joan.

He'd bring laughter and joy with him when he came to see his eldest sister and her brood. He baked a pineapple upside-down cake, doubling the batch which spilled out of the pan in its enthusiasm and then woke the kids to come have a slice, in the middle of the night. He made them laugh. He took them camping. He had them stay with us in NY while they were visiting or in school, or just passing through. I love their memories of him, so filled with life.

The stories continued from one person to the next. Words wrapped us up together in comfort; laughter burst forth sporadically and we passed the time together, if not happily at least meaningfully and joyfully.

Pat tells the story of the engagement ring.

Dad's oldest friend, Joan, was the last person to speak.

She told us of a terribly mischievous boy, forever hounding her and leaving her bruised, who somehow turned into a perfectly bidding boy at the call of his mother. She also explained, once and for all, that she was not, nor had she ever been, his girlfriend. The room rocked with laughter and mom, who had been sitting next to Joan the whole time, laughed long and loud and tightened her grip on Joan's hand.

Mom knew all the stories. She'd heard them all again and again.Over the years, mom had turned into my father's external memory deposit. She kept all of the strands of his past together in her head, since he couldn't anymore. And while she didn't say a word or share any of her memories of dad that day, she thanked each person that spoke in turn and warmed herself with their words.

Death Rituals

2011-07-11T05:14:00.001-06:00

Eventually, after a few more tears were shed, the whole family walked out into the garden to start dealing with the matter at hand. Phone calls to friends and family members were made. Discussion about our desire to donate dad's brain and how to do it were addressed. The funeral home was contacted and the nurses were thanked for all of their hard work.

I flipped my Dark Humor setting to On. Tired of crying, I decided to try a different tactic.

My brother asked if we knew what kind of a funeral we wanted for dad and then suggested a Jamaican one. I couldn't let that slide and exclaimed, "What?! You want rum and fist fights? Awesome! Let's do that!"

Cindy then eagerly suggested a bagpiper, then Dawn suggested a trumpeter and I declared that we should do both for the thrill of it. Mom listened to us riffing back and forth and looked a little...perturbed. She was trying not to laugh, but she was also red eyed and trembling on the edge of crying again. I figured she needed a good laugh and kept being ridiculous. Pretty soon, I latched onto the phrase "Dad would've want it that way." and used it to support almost any idea we ran across.

Doughnuts? Dad would've wanted doughnuts. Story time at the funeral home? You betcha. Rum? Absolutely. Pie? Dad really would've wanted us to have pie. (To date, we still haven't had pie. We need to work on that.) And so we passed the time. Outgoing calls, incoming calls, a short round of discussion over whether the local University could have his body or not (By the way, did you know there are brain banks? If you, or someone you know, has a disease like Alzheimer's and wants to donate their brain to help continue research and eventually find a cure, you can donate just your brain. Or, if you'd like to help further medical research as a whole, you can donate your whole body.), we voted not to give them his body if they weren't going to use it for Alzheimer's research. After numerous phone calls my older sister, the nurse, found the right person to get dad's brain to and that bit was done.

The question about whether we'd have an open casket funeral followed by cremation was stomped flat. No one within our family or among dad's friends needed to see dad like that. It was a situation where my silly little phrase was completely useful. Dad never would've wanted that. Instead we opted for immediate cremation. When the van came to take dad's body away, the nursing home staff lined up in the corridor like an honor guard. He'd only been there a few months, but they got to know him pretty well and everyone loved my mom who was there every single day he was in there. We thanked them, said goodbye, and then trooped down to the funeral home to make the last of the arrangements.

Never having lost anyone close to me before, fortunately, I was all at sea when it came to local funeral rituals. What are "visitation hours" used for? Who goes to those? Can't we just skip to the funeral and interment? Why are those are done separately? What about all of those scenes in the movies where herds of mourners are at the grave sites and the famous Dust to Dust speech is given? Clearly I had a lot to learn.

Oh, and in case you were wondering? Funeral homes are kinda creepy. Yeah, you say, you're not surprised, but when you come face to face with an ancient print of Little Bo Peep on the wall that screams horror movie ghost girl at you, you'll know what I mean. Antique furniture that you just know was bought when it was new in the 1800s, depressingly serious wall colors, quietly consoling artwork and the casket room added to the Creep Factor. It wasn't scary, per se, but kinda spooky. Sounds seemed oddly muffled.

As I mentioned earlier, my dad had been dying for a long time and yet mom never got around to choosing an urn. So when the director asked if we wanted to pick it out, we said yes and three of us trooped after him. Up a rickety set of stairs into what would be the attic, with its oppressive slanted roof, where several caskets were on display up on lucite Xs. It's important to note that when not in use, clear lucite Xs should be stored flat along a wall unless you want a 6' tall man, distracted by a room full of coffins, to put his foot right through one.

Oh, yes. Oh, yes he did indeed.

We stifled some laughter at my brother's expense and turned our attention to the shelf full of urns and a rotating display case full of...coffin bling.

I kid you not.

There, on a rotating rack in front of the shelf full of urns, was a selection of what was clearly meant to be coffin or urn adornments. There was an open mouthed bass; a plaque with trees and a lake enscribed with the word Dad; a flowered disc and other items that I can't recall since I was too busy trying not to giggle. Once Cindy made ooh-ing noises about the fish, all I could focus on was how to redirect her interest in case she got serious about it. Veto plans firmly in place, I turned my gaze to what would be the final resting place for my dad's ashes.

Turns out there are all kinds of urns available in all kinds of shapes, colors and sizes. On the way up the stairs, I had threatened my brother with a pink flowered box for dad's ashes and sure enough, there was one waiting. Instead, we all chose the simple stainless urn inscribed with a Greek Key. Dad would have approved. Another bonus: you couldn't attach any bling to it. Fish crisis averted! Decision made, we trooped carefully back down the stairs. My gaze traveled across caskets with pink interiors, fluffy cream colored pillows, engraved brass plaques that declared this to be Dad's Final Resting Place and lids carved with images of trees and deer. I was suddenly glad that we were skipping right to cremation. You can spend an awful lot of money on a tricked out box!

I'm pretty certain dad would've wanted us to save the money for rum and pie.

In the office once again, we finalized the text for the obituary (Those things can get pretty long!) that Cindy had been working on; arranged for cremation on Monday, visitation hours on Tuesday afternoon and the funeral and interment on Wednesday morning. As it turns out, there's a lot of Red Light, Green Light when it comes to funeral planning. Religious funeral? Church. Catholic? Funeral with eulogy. Not Catholic? Eulogy during visitation instead. Mass with service or without? Would the children do readings during the visitation service or the funeral? Readings needed to be on the approved list. I really had no idea.

Updated to add: Cindy reminded me about the Ashes Issue. As we were wrapping up, Cindy remembered to ask for some of dad's ashes to be set aside for scattering, per his wishes.

Cindy suddenly remembered that dad had wanted his ashes sprinkled over the Hammond River and asked the funeral director to save some. "Not a lot!" she added, hurriedly, in case he got the wrong idea. "Just some. A little." I looked at her oddly, a light dancing in my eyes and barely restrained myself. "What?" Clearly I was being a pain.

"You're worried you're going to get a big old bag of ashes to haul around, aren't you? A one pound bag of Dad." Horrified, Cindy began gesturing emphatically and attempted to explain. I laughed at the image of a gallon sized baggie of Dad being thumped down in front of her for scattering, but the director assured us that he understood completely. Second crisis averted! We were totally getting the hang of this!

Decisions made and one burning personal question answered (What happens in cremation if you have a metal hip? What do they do with it? Could you get it back if you wanted it?) for my brother,* we went home to mom's house. We all declared it was time for Rum.

Fisticuffs optional.

*No pun intended. Seriously. I even said it that way while we were in the office. Let's just call it a Freudian slip and move on, shall we?

The Final Farewell

2011-07-09T11:18:00.000-06:00

After a fast shower and a leisurely brushing of teeth (mine had grown a bit hairy during the long drive), we left Eric behind with the children and drove off to see dad at the nursing home. We were assured he was still alive at this point and responding to others when they spoke to him.

Now, the thing to keep in mind about where we are in the Maritime region is that everything is about an hour away from wherever you happen to be at the moment. Want to go to mom's house from Cindy's house? An hour's drive. Want to go shopping? An hour's drive. Want to run out to the store and grab some milk? An hour's drive. So, going to the nursing home from Cindy's house was going to be...an hour's drive. After I'd spent three days driving with a sense of urgency, you would think that another hour would be easy enough to bear, but that drive wasn't leaving me just yet. Not until I had a chance to see him would I know whether I could step down from Red Alert or not.

As we drove, Cindy and I caught up. We talked about dad, mom, and the miracle of getting my brother Ian to fly in. He would be arriving later that evening with his sweetheart, Deb. Mom was thrilled that he'd be there. We three sisters were convinced that this is what dad was waiting for before he could let go of this existence. The weather was lovely, so many degrees cooler than Colorado, and so much more moisture in the air that it was just a bit like swimming. We drove, reminisced and wondered if we'd make it in time.

As it turned out, we did. We pulled into the Centre and walked in through the security doors. Since some Alzheimer's patients tend to go on walkabout when not supervised they have a keypad lock on the door and large, serious signs about making sure the door was shut all the way and that no patients were lurking about, waiting to make a break for it. The building was surrounded by lovely gardens, maintained by a team of volunteers. I appreciated the lush beauty of it just as I appreciated how very different it was from the depressing look of the hospital in January.

We opened the door to the Palliative Care Room and walked inside. There, on the hospital bed was my father. Cindy had warned me, but there's really nothing you can do to prepare someone for what a loved one looks like at the very end of their days. He was a husk, a mummy, the bare essence of my father. His eyes were still the same, if unfocused and rheumy. He was so very thin, as if all his life had burned up while trying to hang on, just a little longer. Long bones exposed, his hands curled into stiffened claws, his cheekbones sunken in. I held back tears, because I wouldn't lose it just as I walked in the door. I could be strong, at least for a little bit longer.

I walked around the side of the bed to where he could see me and said, "Hi dad!" He worked to focus on my face; his eyes found mine. Did he know who I was at the very end? He did recognize my voice, somewhere deep inside? Did he think I was mom or Cindy or some long remembered relative? I don't know and it doesn't really matter. I remembered him and I had made it in time to say goodbye. Again.

I don't remember what I nattered about for a couple of minutes, but I do remember telling him that we'd had a very long drive. I then joked that I wish I could tell him that we'd flown in and "boy, were my arms tired!". At that old joke, he smiled. He smiled. He was still in there. He'd heard me and smiled at my stupid joke. At that point my ability to tough it out failed and I excused myself and walked out into the garden just outside his door. My face crumpled up and the tears came. Cindy hugged me, hard, as I cried. Dawn came up and wrapped her arms around us both. It was so awful to see him left as just a shadow of his old self; that huge, bluff, loud man we knew as our father. I cried for myself, for my father, for my siblings and our children; for all that we had lost, all that we'd had and all that he'd never been able to do. All of those things he'd kept on putting off until "tomorrow". A tomorrow that never came as all of his yesterdays were erased bit by bit.

Cindy congratulated me for making it that long without crying. Then we walked it off a bit by wandering around the garden and admiring the plants, so lovely, lush and exuberantly alive. Peonies bursting open like slow motion fireworks, hostas with leaves the size of platters. Mom came out, traded off with Cindy and walked with me. She was all choked up.

The thing you need to know about my mother is that she hardly ever cried when we were kids. Apparently these days, tears were never far from the surface. All of those years of being calm and cool had dissolved as her husband of 44 years faded away. I always figured that since he was 12 years older than mom that he'd pass away first, but I never imagined it would be like this. Mom cried a little as we walked and talked. She felt guilty for all the things she should've done. That she should've spent more time just sitting with him when he asked her to. I told her that I often felt the same way about the twins and Caitlin, but that someone has to wash the dishes, do the laundry, sweep the floor. She'd done a fantastic job taking care of dad, all by herself, for all of those long years. She had no need to feel guilt for what else she might've done.

No one could have done a better job of taking care of dad than mom. The doctor expressed his surprise and deepest admiration for all of her work. That he'd never seen anyone as advanced in Alzheimer's in such excellent shape when dad was checked into the hospital in January. He was still ambulatory, he could still speak and eat on his own. I reminded her of all this and told her how strong she was, how proud I was, how heroic she was for taking care of everything. She amazed me.

Now we waited for my brother to arrive; we expected Ian and Deb to arrive at 11:30 pm that night. Dawn, Cindy and I were convinced that dad was hanging in there for mom who was holding him through sheer willpower. Making him wait, just a little longer, until Ian arrived. A steady stream of mom's choir friends came by with cookies, bars, sandwiches and fruit. Time slid by, slowly and steadily, as dad went in and out of a fitful sleep. His labored breath sounded as if he was scuba diving; bubbly and thick. His final bout with pneumonia would be his last.

Finally, Cindy and I drove off to pick up my brother. We warned him that it wasn't pretty. We told him it was going to be hard. I may have used the term "mummy", my black humor was the only thing between me and constant tears. Even with that preparation, he was aghast at what he saw. The last time he'd seen dad was for the twins' 3rd birthday party. That man was long gone. He cried. We cried to see him cry. Mom cried from happiness that he'd finally made it. Dad woke up a bit for mom who asked him to say hi to Ian. He got agitated, although we don't really know why. Was he in pain? Was he tired of listening to all of our voices?

We walked out into the garden to give dad space and told Ian how glad we all were that he'd made it in time. That he showed up.

Sometimes that all it takes. Just show up. Be there for the people that need you.

After awhile, we went back to Cindy's house to sleep. I had had 2 hours of sleep in the last 40 hours. As we drove, I tried to stay awake for Cindy, who was driving. Tried to keep her awake so that we didn't get into any untoward meetings with deer upon the road. I blinked in and out of consciousness as we drove. I passed out entirely when we crossed over the river on the ferry. I felt drugged, heavy and uncoordinated as we climbed up the stairs and into bed. How much longer did dad have? Would mom call us if he passed away in the middle of the night? During our drive home? Early in the morning?

First thing in the morning, Cindy called to check in and dad was still hanging in there. Around 2 pm, mom called. Dad's breathing had changed to agonal breathing. The end was very near. We needed to get there ASAP. We flew out the door and broke every speed limit between here and there. When we arrived, I recognized that sound. Those final breaths. We talked to dad for just a bit. We each said goodbye. Strangely enough, he seemed to be mouthing something. Was he trying to say something to us? What was he trying to say? Cindy swears it looked like he was saying, "Mom. Mom. Mom." over and over again. I couldn't disagree. Was it possible he saw his mother? He tried to reach out, but was too weak. His hand fell back into his lap again.

Mom, Ian and Deb weren't there. Mom had run home for a quick shower; Ian was off washing the car as mom had asked and getting lunch. Was washing the car the funereal equivalent to tearing bedsheets and boiling water?

Cindy was concerned that dad may have been in pain and called one of the nurses in. A pair came in to help readjust him to ease his breathing and give him another shot of morphine to keep him comfortable. As they left the room, one poked her head out the garden door and told us that if we needed anything at all, to call for them. I think she knew, right at that moment that the game was up. We went back inside and stood beside the bed. I recognized that he was fading away at last and that he wasn't waiting for mom and Ian to return. My eyes filled up with tears and a lump formed in my throat.

Dawn stood across from me and held dad's hand. She told him it was OK and that we'd take care of mom for him. That it was time to go. That it was OK to go. Cindy stood next to Dawn and couldn't believe it. I was nodding that yes he was going, then he had one last breath and I shook my head no, but then there was that long, last, slow exhalation and nothing more. After a moment of stunned silence, we held each other tightly and cried. Our tears fell freely at that point.

Gone. All gone. So quietly. Peacefully, even.

We pulled ourselves together just a bit and I asked what time it was. Roughly 4:05 pm. Dawn called mom who was terribly upset that she wasn't there. We figured dad was waiting for her to leave so he could go. Sneaky, stubborn dad. There was a problem, because Ian wasn't back yet. We didn't know where he'd gotten off to, so Cindy jumped into the car to go collect mom and bring her to the nursing Centre. As we waited, the nurse came in to verify my father's death, to check his vitals, and to set the funereal gears into motion. Just a few minutes later, my mother and brother walked in (My mother's house, fortunately, was not an hour away from the nursing home.) and cried. My mother kissed my dad goodbye.

My brother kissed my father on the forehead when he thought no one was watching and whispered something to him.

It was over at long last and we had all made it. We were exactly where we needed to be.

The Race Cross Country

2011-07-07T11:57:00.000-06:00

My sister Cindy called me at 6 am on Monday morning, June 27th, and told me my dad was dying.

Since he was in the final stages of Alzheimer's, he'd been dying for a long, long time, but this was it. She had called a month ago and said we were getting close to the end, but this was the final curtain call.

We had planned on going out mid-July, but I had made it very clear to both my mother and Cindy that if anything changed that we'd drop everything and come out earlier. A month ago, they said we should just continue with our current plan. Monday morning, everything changed. Dad had had four bouts of double pneumonia since January. Four times he was dosed with antibiotics and three times he bounced back.

Not this time.

I answered the phone, voice rough with sleep, to hear Cindy's voice choked with tears. "You need to get here. Soon."

Suddenly, our leisurely search for a house/plant/cat sitter plunged into full gear. Mountains of laundry were washed; e-mails mailed; plans made; friends contacted.

All of the plants that I'd grown from seed that were still on the back deck needed to be dealt with before we left. Tomatoes, bell peppers, basil, and parsley needed to be rescued. I couldn't just run off and let them die. At some point I would be back and would regret it if I didn't take a few hours to pot them all up. It was also something to focus on instead of freaking out while all of the laundry whirred in the washing machine and dryer. Something to keep busy with instead of sorting through memories of my father. I asked Eric to buy me 3 large bags of potting soil, two more very large pots and set to work. Later, I'll be glad I did it, I assured myself.

Finally, at 1:30 pm on Tuesday, we were ready to go. I'm sad to admit that a great deal of yelling occurred as we rushed the kids into the car. One of the main reasons we bought the minivan, in all of its hugeness, was to make this very trip. Trying to fly was prohibitively costly: well over $6000 for all five of us and there was no way I was going to go alone. I knew I'd need my support system. I also knew my mom would want to see everyone. So we yelled. We hollered. We packed. I baked 2 dozen muffins for the trip and finished writing up my Taking Care of Hatchetville note to leave for my friends who were watching the house.

Then we hit the road.

We drove for 12-14 hours the first day and slept in a hotel somewhere in Nebraska. We repeated that long day of driving and slept somewhere in Pennsylvania. On Thursday, we hit the road around 10 am local time and drove forever. Eric was beginning to flag after about 12 hours, but my urgent need to be there kept me awake and sharp. I drove through the night. Through upstate NY, Massachusetts, New Hampshire and finally saw the sun rise while flying through Maine.

Just before the border into Canada, I stopped and let Eric take over. It was 5:30 am and I had just driven us to the edge of my ability. Now we only had an hour and a half to go to get to Cindy's house. I had slept for a total of 2 hours in the last "day".

At 7:30 am we pulled into Cindy's driveway and knocked on her bedroom window. "What does it take for a girl to use the bathroom around here?!" I called to my befuddled younger sister. She was amazed we'd made it there that early. We checked in with mom and my older sister and dad was still hanging in there.

Waiting for us.

Waiting to say goodbye.

I spoke to my father today

2011-06-19T20:53:00.000-06:00

and the conversation went like this:

Me: [Cheerful] Hi dad! [In the background, I can hear mom explaining who I am to dad.]
Dad: [Breathing]
Me: [Still cheerful] I just called to say happy Father's Day!
Dad: [Breathing]
Me: [Beginning to crumble a little] I love you, dad. I'll talk to you again later.
Dad: [Breathing] OK.
Mom: [Takes back the phone]

Now, my younger sister had given me a heads up as far as what to expect from dad so I wasn't surprised. Also, his conversation skills on the phone had been limited to about 30 seconds to one minute this last year or so, but this was clearly the next phase in his Alzheimer's progression.

As sad as this was, I took the fact that he responded to my "I love you" with "OK" as a win. Normally (and by "normally" I mean back when he used to know who I was) his response to "I love you." was "Same here."

He's only ever told me "I love you" about three or four times my whole life, so that "OK", that acknowledgement of my existence on the phone, was good enough for me. I'll take it. How far have we come that listening to my father breathe at me on the phone and say OK is all I need from him? To know, logically, that this is the normal progression for Alzheimer's victims, and to accept it are two very different things.

I can't help but hope that if there is a heaven, that dad will get all of his memories back when he dies, and can remember that we loved him. So very much.

Happy Father's Day, dad.

Recipe: Triple Coconut Cupcakes (When Double Coconut Cupcakes just aren't enough for your coconut needs.)

2011-05-06T13:57:00.000-06:00

What is it about coconut that you either love it or hate it? Some of the folks I know can't stand this nut, while my family and I are all for it.

I suspect my Jamaican heritage is at play here, as well as in my rabid love of all things mango.

To whit, when I took a pastry class, lo these many years ago, one of the recipes was for coconut cake. Mind you, this isn't just a recipe for white cake with a marshmallow-like frosting that has toasted coconut sprinkled on top. This is coconut cream and coconut extract, coconut buttercream frosting and toasted coconut. Or you could try to mix it up with a coconut cream cheese frosting.

Triple Coconut Cake with Mods for Cupcakes
Adapted from Cooks Illustrated by the Cooking School of the Rockies and again by moi.
Cake recipe with Mile high elevation changes listed in parentheses.

5 lg egg whites @ room temp
3/4 c cream of coconut
1/4 c water
1 lg egg, room temp
1 tsp coconut extract
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 1/4 c cake flour (Add 1/4 c extra flour for mile high elevation for a total of 9.8 oz cake flour)
1 c sugar (Less 1/4 cup sugar for elevation)
1 tbsp (Only 2 tsp in CO) baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
12 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 12 pieces and softened (I've used salted butter and just dropped the amount of salt added by 1/4 tsp, works fine.)

1. Set oven to 325°F (340°F for elevation) with rack set to middle position. Lightly coat 2 9" round cake pans w/ veg oil spray and then line bottoms w/ parchment paper circles.
2. Whisk egg whites, cream of coconut, water, whole egg and extracts together in lg bowl and set aside.
3. Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder and salt together in a large bowl. Beat in the butter, one piece at a time, with an electric mixer on low speed until the mix resembles coarse crumbs, about 2-5 min.
4. Add 1 c of egg mixture, increase speed to med-high and beat until light and fluffy, about 45 sec. Add the remaining egg mix in a steady stream and continue to beat until batter is combined, about 30 sec, scraping down the bowl as needed. Batter will be very thick.
5. Divide batter evenly between pans and smooth tops. Bake approx 30-35 min, rotating pans half way through baking time.
6. Cool cake in pans 10 min on wire racks. Run a small knife around cake edge to loosen and then invert onto racks. Remove parchment paper, let cool completely before frosting, 1-2 hrs.

Mods for Cupcakes:
1. Set oven to 340°F. Oil muffin tins or use cupcake liners.
2. If you don't have cake flour, you can use 7/8 c AP flour + 2 tbsp cornstarch for every cup called for in the recipe. Total weight again is 9.8 oz. The cupcakes were no longer dished in the center when I did it this way.
3. Stick with 3/4 c of sugar for high elevation as called for in recipe.
4. Baking time will be less than 30 min. Check with toothpick after 15-20 min, being sure to rotate after 15 min.
5. Makes approximately 21 cupcakes when I used an ice cream scoop to ladle out identical amounts in each muffin tin. I highly recommend the ice cream scoop method of batter portioning. That way, they're all the same size and should bake at the same rate. Also, fewer arguments about this one getting a bigger/smaller cupcake than that one.

Coconut Buttercream Frosting
2 tbsp heavy cream
1 tsp coconut extract
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch salt
16 tbsp unsalted butter, softened (If your butter is salted, don't bother with the pinch of salt. You may notice the frosting being salty, or it may just cut down the sweetness a little. Try it, if that's all you have on hand, and see if you like it that way. I do.)
1/4 c cream of coconut
3 c confectioners sugar, sifted
2 c toasted sweetened, shredded coconut

Stir cream, extracts and salt together until salt dissolves. Beat butter and cream of coconut in a lg bowl w/electric mixer at med-high speed until smooth, about 20 sec. Reduce speed to med-low, slowly add confectioners sugar, and beat until smooth, 2-5 min. Beat in the cream mixture. Increase speed to med-high and beat until the mixture is light and fluffy, about 4-8 minutes. Assemble cake and press toasted coconut onto sides and sprinkle across top. For cupcakes, you can either slather it on with a palette knife or use an icing bag and a large tip like the Wilton 1M. Pretty!

Coconut Cream Cheese Frosting
8oz cream cheese, room temperature
1/4 c butter, room temperature
1/4 c cream of coconut
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp coconut extract
3-4 c confectioner's sugar, sifted

Mix cream cheese and butter together until creamy. Add cream of coconut and extracts until combined. Add confectioner's sugar 1 cup at a time until frosting is thick and smooth. Top with toasted coconut.

Now, be careful! These things are addictive.

Seriously.

If you need help, call me and I'll throw myself on a batch for you. Ayup.

Hatchet: keeping the world safe from unwanted cupcake consumption.

The Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything

2011-05-03T23:12:00.000-06:00

just happens to also be my age. The age that I turned back in March.

For my birthday, there was no cake and no party and no hullaballoo. I went to dinner with Eric and we made a quiet evening of it. A day later, however, we went to a fancy party for the Colorado Environmental Coalition and I was able to spend the evening with like-minded eco-conscious folks. A dinner where I get to talk about backyard chickens, composting and gardening? And no one looks at me like I'm crazy? Sign me up! We ate seriously delicious food and we even got a chance to dress up.

Since I have few dresses these days (Being a SAHM means your fancy clothes wardrobe is generally limited to the "nice" jeans and the "clean" shirt.), I begged my friend Misty to go dress shopping with me.

This may have been a mistake.

She convinced me to buy not one, not two, but four dresses because they were far too cute to leave behind. I fell for the dresses and wandered out of the store a little poorer, but with a greater selection of fun dresses to wear on fancy occasions. Here's the blue dress.

Hatchet at 42

I tell you this to give you fair warning that I'll probably post a picture of the crazy, fancy, red dress that I bought since I have another dinner with the CEC later this month. I needed a red dress, you see. I think every woman does. Long, swishy, sexy. I had to have it.

Related to the dresses and getting older and all that jazz, Eric and I have taken up weight lifting again to attempt to get into better shape. We tried going to the gym back in November, but Logan put the kibosh on that thought by screaming like a Banshee being attacked with a buzzsaw. It wasn't a pretty sight. Or sound. Apparently all of those kids were too much for his tiny brain.

A few months later, though, and everything is OK. He and Emma are excited to go visit the gym and be dropped off in daycare. Suddenly, we get to go workout and have a short break from the kids! It's like a mini-vacation where you get to tote heavy bales voluntarily! Golly!

Now if only I could make myself stop making cupcakes! I bet I could actually lose weight if I did that. The draw of the cupcakes is too strong, though. At least, so far. I blame Stef at The Cupcake Project blog for all of her fantastic recipes and photos. Oh and the recipe for Double Vanilla Cupcakes by Simply Recipes which is where the sudden interest in cupcakes started. I had all of these leftover vanilla beans and wanted to make something with them. I settled on vanilla extract, vanilla sugar and the vanilla cupcakes. To say they were good is a massive understatement. They were damned good.

Yes, I'll post some recipes. because you, too, deserve to ~~gain weight right along with me~~ eat scrumptious cupcakes. Cupcakes from scratch rock!

Anyway, fair warning: I'll be bouncing around on subject matter and going back and forth in time to bring you up to speed on family, gardening, baking and other strange things I get involved in. (I've even been fiddling around with making my own personal care products....You know you want to know how to make underarm deodorant!)

Clearly, I have too many interests and not enough time.

Ciao!

Oh! Hello there!

2011-05-02T22:56:00.000-06:00

So...how you doin'?

What?! Do I really think I can just waltz right back in here just as easily as that without an explanation? Do I? DO I?!

Um...I've been, you know...busy!

There have been plants

Prairie smoke in the front yard.

and Easter egg hunts;

Logan searches high and low. Well...OK. Just low.

cleaning up the garden and growing tiny plants from seed;

Chamomile, calendula, TX sage, cardinal climber, parsley, and zinnias.

Tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers, basil, thyme and an itsy bitsy heliotrope.

getting my house painted,

Blue!

and buying a new car and selling off my old one.

Well, OK, that's a minivan, but kind of a cool one. Caitlin now has her very own row and the twins can no longer punch her in the face. Ahhh! The soothing sounds of a little less whining!

There have also been cupcakes,

Coconut cupcake with coconut cream cheese frosting and toasted coconut flakes. Is it good? Ohhhhh yeahhhhh!

because anniversaries and birthdays are coming up and I need to test out some recipes!

I've also been thinking about all of the photos I haven't edited and all of the stories I haven't written. I'll get to them. It's been tough. Being busy with the short people and thinking about my dad; visiting with my mom and sisters; watching the weather and waiting for a chance to do some planting. I even gained a year and didn't mention it back in March. Heh!

You know...life. It just keeps on rolling.

I'm still here, though and that's a good thing!

Looking for Advice: Boys and Potty Training

2011-04-07T13:47:00.000-06:00

WARNING!

This entry will be filled with poop, not unlike Logan's underwear, so if you're easily offended you may want to read something else. Maybe about kitties?

I know they're 3 1/2 years old and you know they're 3 1/2 years old, but Logan has decided he's completely uninterested in pooping on the potty. As in, we know he can but he won't. We've asked, we've begged and pleaded, we've offered bribes of the chocolate variety and of the toy car variety, we've threatened, we've taken away toys. No dice.

That boy has no interest in pooping in or on the potty. He pees in one like a champ, unless he's playing outside in the yard. Somehow neither Logan nor Emma can remember that there are toilets inside the house if they are outside the house. Too distracted throwing sand around, I guess. Neither one of them wakes up dry, either, so they're still wearing the Bum Genius diapers at night*. Emma started to, but I think she backslid after watching Logan get away with peeing everywhere like a puppy.

Maybe I'm wrong, but there has got to be a way to get him to poop in the potty! Please help me! I'm really tired of having to wash soiled Pixar undies and have him freak out when he's all out of Lightning McQueen underwear. You know, because they are filled with poop.

What can I do?

* Yes, they really have been wearing the same reusable diapers for two years and nine months. How awesome is that? Freakin' incredibly awesome, that's how much! The velcro closures have taken a beating, but I've just been using a strip of velcro over top to hold them on. The diapers still look good and work great. Except that Logan pees like a racehorse, so he's always soggy in the morning. I'm starting to wonder if his bladder grows larger as he sleeps and sucks in the moisture from the air.

Plant Check! (Alternative title: Spring Has Sprung...Hatchet Style)

2011-03-30T18:22:00.000-06:00

You know how you felt, as a kid, when you grew your very first bean-in-a-cup? Or the first time you saw newborn kittens and/or puppies? That moment of squee married to fascination? I get that feeling every spring.

Every. Single. Spring.

This spring is extra special since it's the first one I haven't come out of winter all sad and grumpy. Instead I'm perky and raring to go.

This doesn't mean I've planted a single seed, though. I've been distracted by all of those other projects I'm still working on like finishing Caitlin's wall unit, baking bread and making yogurt and dabbling in making personal care products. (I made deodorant and it works like a charm! I'm steeping vanilla beans in jojoba oil and lavender in witch hazel! Lotion, moisturizer, toner and lip balm aren't far behind.)

So after I finished putting a few coats of lacquer on Caitlin's wall cubes, I went wandering around in the back yard. Eric thought I was crazy for hanging around in the blustery cold, peering at plants, but when I reminded him that I'm a druid at heart, he concurred and returned indoors. I kept poking about, checking for signs of new life and found them all over the place!

And nothing compares to the thrill of seeing plants I've ripped out of the ground and relocated putting out new growth.

"Yay! I haven't killed it!"

"Woo! You survived!"

"Well hello there, peonies!"

Yes. I talk to my plants. And cheer for them. And threaten to rip them out of the ground if they don't shape up.

I'm a benevolent dictator, for the most part.

From the looks of it, it should shape up to be a fabulous spring...if all of those newly relocated plants bloom this year, that is! Columbine are popping up all over (as are weeds, of course) along with a host of other plants. The lavenders I relocated are alive as are the peonies, catmint, smoke plants, sedum, autumn sage, agastache, prairie winecups, bleeding hearts, etc., etc., etc. I am pleased with all of the work I put in last fall and am looking forward to seeing the results of that work!

You know you're a real gardener when you can walk into almost any garden center, look at the thousands of plants on display and mentally tick off your list:

"Yup, killed that one. And that. And those. Oh! I remember that one! It was so pretty!"

The flip side is that you're always willing to try again. Maybe this time it will be happier over there?

As always, no matter how many I have, there's always room for one more. Or fifteen more.

Those bags of daylilies and dahlias begged to come home with me. Seriously.

Caitlin says...

2011-03-25T22:12:00.000-06:00

Caitlin is upstairs in her room with her friend. They're having a 2 day sleepover and are having fun.

Eric [Downstairs in the kitchen]: Caitlin!
Caitlin: Yes?
Eric: Did you drink my soda that I had here in the fridge?
Caitlin: No.
Eric: Do you know where my soda is?
Caitlin: [Guilty silence]
Eric: Caiiiiit-lin?!
Caitlin: It's underneath my pillow because we couldn't open it and we thought we'd get yelled at.
Eric retrieves the soda and returns to me shaking his head.

Caitlin: Splitter of Hairs Extraordinaire.

We now will attempt to return to Woman with a Hatchet. Some assembly may be required.

The Craftiness Continues! Now for fun with...DRAPES!

2011-03-09T15:55:00.000-07:00

I blame my sister Cindy and Ana White for the crafting bug that has taken hold of me recently. If it weren't for Ana's web site and her cool plans for furniture, I never would have found Young House Love.

The problem with having found their site is that it immediately filled my brain with all sorts of cool ideas about how I could finish Caitlin's room. Finish as in decorate. I've been so busy working on my garden for all of these years that I never really think about the inside of the house a whole lot. Mostly because to me, mopping a floor that will be dirty again just as soon as a twin passes by is a lot more frustrating than pulling a weed that I know will come back. However, time between weed regrowth is usually a matter of weeks, while floor destruction is only a matter of moments.

That sense of satisfaction that you get from a job well done is far more fleeting inside the house than outside the house.

That being said, making furniture has been a heck of a lotta fun. At least for me. Now, after having spent hours scouring decorating blogs (There are some amazingly talented people out there! They have some fantastic taste! I am so totally stealing their ideas! Woo!) for cool ideas and easy/cheap ways of doing things, I learned about heat bond tape. It means no sewing.

No sewing.

At least for simple things like drapes, that's frickin' awesome! So I ran out and bought some and then pulled out some white fabric that has been laying around for a few years in my garage. What did I buy it for originally? I can't remember, but there was plenty of it to make Caitlin some very, very simple drapes.

Want to make some, too? First we'll need some supplies.

The magical heat & bond tape that I grabbed from the local craft store. I bought a bag that had 4 rolls in it, since I didn't know how much I'd need or if I might get all crazy and make something else after I was done with this set of drapes. I had a coupon, so it the tape was 40% off. Nicely done, me!
I snagged some cloth daisy pins for 50 cents each, also at the local craft store, since I didn't want the curtains to be just plain white.
I pulled out my measuring tape, iron and ironing board.
Don't forget the fabric you want to make into a curtain. I'd already cut it to the length I'd wanted, although since I'm notoriously crappy at math, I didn't quite cut it long enough, so it isn't fully floor length like I'd originally wanted it to be. Oh well! This is only my 2nd time making curtains, so I don't feel so bad!
Finally, you need ring clips (unless you want to make cloth tabs) and a curtain rod.

Measure your hem and iron it down. Another blogger had mentioned that professionals make 4" hems and after checking the ones that I'd had made for me years ago, confirmed that to be the case. So, being a wannabe, I made my hems 4" wide on both the top and the bottom. I think this is where I made my length miscalculation. I ironed that sucker flat and rolled it over a second time and ironed that flat.

Then I pulled out my new magical crafting tool (I might like it almost as much as I like my sander!) and double checked the directions on the back of the package. I'm glad I did, because unlike Sherry's tape, mine didn't have any paper on it to peel off. If I'd put the hot iron on it...well. Let's just say I'd have suddenly started searching for How To Remove Glue from your Iron.

I plopped my 4" hem on top of the tape, ironed it down and repeated the process on each side of the panel. When I was done, it was a thing of beauty. I didn't have to curse out my sewing machine. I didn't have to pull out my hopelessly messed up stitches. Amazing!

That's it! I was done making a panel! All I needed to do then was do the same thing on the second panel and then go grab some ring clips. I had a curtain rod that I'd bought back when I made a curtain for the living room, but found out it was too long for the space. Since I figured that I'd eventually use it in my room, I just put it in the closet. Where's it's been for almost 5 years. Sigh.

My next step was to attach the ring clips to the panels and have Eric install the rod. Then, as the final touch, I pinned the cute flowers to the panels and called it Good Enough.

It's not perfect, but it's fun. If I run across more of those flowers, I'll be sure to snag them and add them to the 10 I found originally.

I think Caitlin will like it! What's more, what I've learned here will stand me in good stead when I start working on my room!

What do you think? Easy and cute! Easily changed, too, if Caitlin doesn't like it or wants something different or wants simple, white curtains.

Awwwwwe-some!

How to ...Make Your Own Magnetic Blackboard

2011-03-06T11:53:00.006-07:00

That's right. Now I've caught the crafting bug and I've got to finish up the desk backing for Caitlin's room. My plan is to make a magnetized blackboard to fit that opening.

Hope you're having a great day!

Tutorial with photos!

First, get yourself a thin piece of plywood, for sturdiness. Have it cut to the size you'd like. (Do you have an old frame that needs a new purpose? Wall space crying out for some magnets?) I have two of them around 30" x 20", one is for Caitlin's desk and the other is going to be my menu board/shopping list board mounted in the kitchen.
Get a quart of magnetic primer. You don't want spray paint for this. From the reading I've done, it doesn't appear to work so well. Make sure to either have the store you buy it from use their agitator to shake it or expect to stir it up a lot when you get it home and while painting it on. You need to ensure the primer is well mixed for it to work properly.
Use a very smooth roller or a foam brush. I went the foam brush route, since that's what I had on hand.
Sand your plywood with a fine grit sandpaper, just to ensure it's nice and smooth. Wipe away the dust with a damp rag and allow to dry before priming.

The primer I picked up suggested a minimum of two thin coats, so I went for three and tested in between each coat with a small magnet for strength after allowing it to dry for 30 minutes each time. After 3 coats, it seemed to be strong enough for my needs.

By the way, this stuff is really whiffy, so you'll want to paint it outdoors or in an extremely well ventilated location. I was in the garage with the door open and I still chose to put on a mask to fend off the fumes. By the time I was done with the third coat, it was starting to get a little too chilly to move on to the next phase of the project: applying the chalkboard paint.

I will start on that tomorrow, assuming it's not too cold to paint!

- - -

Of course I couldn't finish what I'd started. It dropped below freezing and has stayed there the last 2 days. So...instead I'll put this post on hold until the weather returns to the "spring" setting.

In the meantime, I'm working on an indoor project. More about that later.

Caitlin's New Desk: Hatchet and Husband Take on the DIY World!

2011-03-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

Just under a week of hard work, swearing, sanding, painting, sawing, swearing, building and then last minute panic, ripping apart and refacing, it's done.

One third of the giant wall unit for Caitlin's bedroom is finished. Now she has a place to do her homework...in her room and away from the babies. No excuses.

Check it out!

One desk with hutch and drawer. It's not perfect at all, but talk about proud! Aaaaand a massive learning experience for Eric and I. I'll be making sure that he takes into account the measurement for any drawer slides before putting the drawer together in future!

The drawer interior. I totally stole the idea from Young House Love (Crafty devils!) because I thought it was a fabulous touch. Caitlin chose the wrapping paper and I got my first dose of decoupage. Be afraid!

The knob Caitlin chose after much back and forth with me. White knobs on a white drawer weren't going to work for me. This, on the other hand, is lovely! We have another pair of matching handles for the drawers on the base units. Base unit construction starts...tomorrow!

Caitlin's finished door with her colorful name and the desk we've been working on for a week! Caitlin even did homework on it this evening!

Whew! What a lot of work! I'm so glad it's done.

On to the next piece! Huzzah!

Whaddayah think?

Emma says...

2011-03-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

After a quick bath this morning, Emma asked Eric if he liked her pretty hair.

"I love your pretty hair," Eric replied. "Do you like my pretty hair?" and gestured to his shiny shaved head.

Emma's eyes crinkled and her nose squinched up. My favorite laugh bounced around the kitchen and she said, "You don't have any hair, Daddy!" When he asked what she thought happened to Daddy's hair, Emma said, "You frew it away! It's in da garbage!"

Logan walked in with his bag of toys, bright yellow hard hat and Lightning McQueen snow boots and exclaimed, "Sniper took it!"

"We have to go find it, Yogan!" Emma squealed and jumped down from her chair. "Let's go get Swiper!" She grabbed Logan by the hand and together they ran into the living room.

Moments later we heard a pair of voices yelling, "Swiper no swiping! Swiper no swiping! Swiper no swiping" from the living room. Emma came back to us and held her hands out, empty and sad. "It's all gone."

So much for getting Eric's hair back!

I'm in real trouble now!

2011-02-26T22:38:00.000-07:00

See what happens when you go visit your kid sister? You come back with a hundred ideas about how to organize your house and Oh! wouldn't it be nice to paint the bedroom and living room again and Oh! what colors should I use and Ooh! we need to build Caitlin a desk/cubby system and on and on and on.

Next thing you know you're falling down the rabbit hole of links and find wall art so sensational that you know you must recreate it in your own room. I'm doomed and here's the picture that doomed me (From Girl in Air's blog. Too crafty for words.). I searched her site thinking that I was looking at a stencil, but it turns out she used a projector and here are the step by step instructions from Vintage Revival's blog. Now I'm seriously all squee-y about those trees and the burning need to paint them in my own room.

No, those aren't going into Caitlin's room. I think I'm done there, other than the cubby/desk furniture. Fortunately for me, I ~~bugged Eric until he couldn't take it anymore~~ got Eric to start work on the desk yesterday. Today I started sanding and filling in holes while he put the drawer together. If I weren't so tired from being up at 3am with a screamy Logan (Why? Whyyyy did I offer to let them sleep with me last night?!), I'd be out in the garage right now priming that sucker.

I should probably take pictures, huh?

Tomorrow, in daylight, I'll take pictures.

Then I'm gonna bug the heck out of Eric to finish the cubby system until we can get all of Caitlin's crap out of our room so that I can start work on renovating our bedroom! Lemme tell you, it's a wreck.

I don't know about you, but my bedroom becomes a dumping ground for all of the laundry, books, confiscated toys and books and other debris that needs to find a home. The main problem with it being our room that I've waited so long to work on is the fact that I know the Diderot Effect will get me. I will want blackout shades that match those in the kids' rooms instead of the ones we installed 16 years ago. I'll want to rip out the carpet and replace it with bamboo flooring to match the rest of the house (Why didn't I just do that when we had the floor installed during the kitchen remodel 9 years ago?! Clearly I'm a blockhead.) and then I'll need to update all of our trim to white to match Caitlin's.

I already gave in to the idea that once I started changing trim out that I'd then have to do the whole rest of the house. Bit by bit.

The problem with me is that once I have an idea for something, I wanna do it now! Now! NOW! Quick! Before my inner slacker takes over!

I can just feel Cindy laughing at me in Canada and my mom shaking her head at me and mumbling something about "not doing anything by halves". Again. Yeah. Fortunately (?) for me Eric is on the critical path (Project manager speak, there. Don't mind me.) to getting stuff built, so I have to move at his speed. His speed, when compared to mine, is often...lackadaisical. (Yeah. Second definition down.) Good thing I'm good at ~~pushing~~ motivating him.

[Breaks out the coconut cupcake recipe.]

Caitlin's Room Remodel

2011-02-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

What does the Hatchet do when she can't garden and doesn't really want to bake bread?

Well, she finds something else to obsess over. Like organizing the house starting with the bedroom of her eldest child; there has never been a room in more desperate need of a good cleaning and makeover as hers.

Here are the Before pictures. However, "before" doesn't mention the 4-6 hours worth of cleaning that it took to get her room into this shape. Three bags of trash. Two bags of recycling. Sweeping and sweeping and vacuuming and sweeping and a great number of unanswerable questions like "Why is there a half eaten quesadilla under her dresser?" and "What's with the billions of tiny pieces of paper?" and "Oh my gawd! Look at her closet! WTH?!".

That last was me since I spent the majority of the time pulling the huge piles of crap out of her closet.

Then we moved all of her stuff into our bedroom, leaving her with a clean/empty room and us with a wrecked/stuffed room.

Anyway, on with the show!

Caitlin with the hippo our friend Steve painted for her right before she was born. It's been almost 10 years; time for a makeover!

The ceiling that I painted with oddly shaped clouds. It's a dog! It's a pig!

This is Caitlin's closet after we had spent hours and hours cleaning her room out. Three bags of trash and two of recycling later, it looked like this. Then we had to COMPLETELY empty it for painting. Her dresser was just pushed in there for a size check.

The wall her dresser used to be on. Note the multiple color paints. This required the use of tinted primer to cover up. Yup. I did that to myself. Oh and there USED to be a wallpaper border, but Caitlin peeled it off when she was 3. After that, I swore I'd never use wallpaper again.

The window wall, left side.

Window wall, right side.

It's been almost 10 years since I last touched that room with a paint brush. At the time, it was a lovely room. It was a nursery, with bright colors and very suitable for an infant. Now...well, she's about to enter double digits, so it seemed like a good idea to take time to remodel her room now rather than wait until the summer when it will be murderously hot and my garden sings its siren song.

Just to put this all into perspective, Caitlin's room is 10' x 10' with 8' ceilings. It took me 10 days to go from the nursery pictures. to this:

AFTER! Woohoo!

These are display shelves that Eric built and I primed and painted, and the VERY purple walls. Each display shelf is 4' long and built with 1 1x2, and 2 1x6s. Pretty cool and seriously easy. The plans are at ana-white.com.

Thanks to my sister Cindy for turning me on to Ana White's DIY site! Next up: a giant shelving/desk system on the opposite wall! Eric is going to be spending a LOT of time building stuff for me this year!

If you don't like lilac/lavender, you won't like this room.

Note that Caitlin also got a new comforter set to complete the makeover. While we were shopping she informed me that she doesn't like pink. I was stunned, I tell you, stunned! So much for my idea for pink accents! That's OK though, I like the bright green and aqua blue.

The room is actually 2 colors: the walls of the main room are a dark lavender (Mystic Purple) and the ceiling and closet interior are a lighter lilac (Purple Dragon). Today I finished painting all of the wood trim bright white, like that shelf in the closet.

We took the sliding doors off her closet with plans to turn them into doors that open outwards and possibly have a shelving unit built in like this, but I'm not sure we have the room.

Nothin's says lovin' like sanding, priming and painting wood trim. I blame Cindy. She convinced me that I should update the trim in my house to white. I bought into the idea and now I will have to go room by room on my hands and knees and change it. Eventually. Maybe in the fall. Spring is coming, after all!

The finished wall where some day there will be a cool desk and a set of cubby shelves like this. Minus all of the pink, of course.

Now all I have left to do is sand, prime and double coat her door and it can go back on its hinges. Then I'll bug Eric to work on the desk and cubby system, which I'll then be required to paint. By the time we're done, there should be no excuses for stuff left on the floor or shoved into the bottom of the closet. Actually, I'm moving her dresser in there, so I'm hoping she won't be able to stuff anything in it!

Later I'll build her an end table and a shelf/cubby for the gerbils to live on where she can store their stuff. Storage! It's all about storage!*

Like I said, I am suddenly obsessed with home organizing and learning how to do some woodworking that will allow us to fit our stuff in our home more comfortably will be awesome!

* Even later still I'll build some toy boxes, maybe more shelves for the twins room and a bench and hook system for the front entryway. I'm sick of shoes all over. I blame Cindy for all of the woodworking ideas!

Regional Spelling Bee and Where HAS the Hatchet Been, Anyway?!

2011-02-20T21:20:00.002-07:00

I'm sorry I've been offline for so long. A lot has been going on, not least of which was the fact that I was still processing my trip to Canada.

There's nothing quite like dropping everything, rushing off to hang with your mom and sisters to give you a lot to think about. Then, after I returned home again, Eric and the kids were kind enough to share the plague that they had contracted whilst I was away. I ran a 103.6 - 104 degree fever for a week.

That'd put a dent in anyone's blogging schedule, I betcha.

Add a little crazy life action, a decided lack of desire to edit photos that leave me sad, a screamy Logan (Being ill doesn't suit him.) and a sudden and burning desire to organize my entire house, starting with Caitlin's room and that's where I've been.

Oh yeah, and watching Caitlin at the Regional Spelling Bee.

She really didn't want to go, which I chalked up to nerves. I don't really blame her, but I knew it was better for her to go than to give in and let her skip out. This was a learning experience, people!

Eric studied with her, cramming words in right up to the day of the Bee, after chasing her around for a month trying to get her to study a little at a time. Hmm. Wonder where she inherited the Cramming Gene from, eh?

Anyway, we went to the Bee and it turns out she was slotted to sit in seat #1. Oooooh! No pressure, kid! The kids there ranged from 7(!) to 14. The winner gets an all expenses paid trip to Washington for the National Spelling Bee. How cool would that be?

There in the background is the 3rd time winner of the Regional, a 14 year old. In second place was an 11 year old. Awesome!

Caitlin, like all the other 52 kids, was terrified up on the stage and spent many minutes during the practice round picking the sparkly bits off of her shirt, tapping her feet and holding her breath. Not that we noticed or anything. Or tried to get her to stop. Nope. Heh! (Practice word: "admiral", which she nailed.)

It was fascinating to me to see how the Bee actually worked and that clearly, a number of these kids had all been there before in previous years and had the pattern down!

Conspicuous? Continuous? Oh man! What did he SAY?!

Caitlin's word: "contiguous". Unfortunately, being as nervous as she was, she didn't make better use of the tools they reminded all the kids they could use. Ask to hear the word again, get a definition, and hear it used in a sentence. She missed the -uous by changing it to -ious and that was all she wrote. turns out you only get one opportunity to spell the word and once you say a letter, there are no take-backs.

Suddenly, we were done.

Since we had a sitter watching the twins at home, we took the opportunity and our Champion Speller off for a day of Alone Time with the Parents. We had brunch, did a little shopping and picked up How To Train Your Dragon on DVD. All by ourselves.

Win, lose or draw, it was an excellent day and she's an excellent girl.

We're already negotiating whether or not she is going to be in the Bee next year. Hah! We told her to not even worry about it until next fall. Then we'll see.

Next up: What have I been doing in Caitlin's room?

Happenstance

2011-01-27T13:39:00.000-07:00

When you think about the sheer number of incidents that occurred in the lives of my grandparents and parents lives, it's a wonder the four of us kids were ever born at all.

To whit:

My grandmother, Corinne, was born 2 months early. In Jamaica. In 1908.

NINETEEN OH EIGHT, people!

Mom said they pinned her to a pillow to keep her close by. She must've been teeny tiny at birth, because she was tiny as an adult.

Then, at 18, in 1926, she got pneumonia. Her doctor sat beside her bed and begged her not to die. Only two shots of penicillin were sent to the island and were meant for someone else, but that person died before they got there. The shots were given to my grandmother instead. She went on to outlive all of her immediate family, doctors and friends and died at the ripe old age of 96.

My dad, born in 1933, was what they called a "blue" baby. Apparently my Nanny had rH factor problems after her first child was born and my dad, the third surviving child, could've died. They actually gave him a blood transfusion to save his life. Then later, still as an infant, he got horribly ill with what we think was bronchitis. All of the doctors in the area were at a conference, so none were available to come and help. Someone apparently put a mustard plaster on his chest, but he didn't improve. A cousin who was also a nurse went out to find the one doctor that didn't go to the conference. He came, saw dad was turning blue (Again!), ripped the plaster off and gave him a teaspoon of brandy. Mind you, this was during Prohibition, so that teaspoonful came dearly. The brandy caused him to shudder and cough and breathe again.

Saved by booze.

Then, my parents having met at all was sheer coincidence. Mom was supposed to have left for the US on a piano scholarship in the fall, except that the nun she gave her application papers to didn't submit it. Dad was on assignment to the bank in Jamaica, but was already past his allotted time. He should've only been there for 2 years, but was finishing up his 5th year by the time he met HER. At the bank. So she should've been in the States, but wasn't. A friend of hers told her that a girl had just quit and a position had opened up at the bank and that mom should apply for the job. She did and was hired. Dad showed up a few months later to relieve the bank manager and met mom.

From the stories I've heard, once dad laid eyes on mom he immediately started referring to her as Mrs. Family Name (i.e. where Family Name is my maiden name. Obviously.). Nowadays, we'd call that harassment. Back then? That was flirting. Dad was dead lucky that mom was able to get past his "stuffed shirt" appearance to get to know him.

Their romance is a tale in itself. One day I'll get the whole story. A drunken serenade is involved, so you know it's good!

Our family tales are made of equal parts unlikely happenstance, pathos and comedy.

But maybe that's the stuff of which all of us are made. We just have to live through it and make the most of it while we're here.

Regrets

2011-01-24T22:47:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but here's what I've learned about myself: I've never, ever regretted spending more time with my family.

No matter how inconvenient or expensive or late or distant a trip might have been, it has always been worth it to go. To attend. To be there for whatever event may have occurred. Weddings. Funerals. Anniversaries. Birthdays.

Sometimes it was just dinner.

It's always been worth it.

Now the issue is illness.

And here I am, in Canada, with my mother and sisters, brother-in-laws, nieces and one nephew. I am here, because here is the right place to be. My dad is not doing well. My mom needed me to be here, although she never asked me to come. She wouldn't have, because she doesn't ask for things like that. She doesn't make requests for herself.

She's used to being The Rock. She's not used to being on the receiving end of caring. However, I knew that I needed to come out and see her now. Not in a few months from now. Not after I've processed the emotions I'm currently running through (Grief. Remorse. Fear. Sadness. Horror. Anger. Disbelief. Loss. More fear. Anxiety.), which will take quite awhile. Not when it may be more convenient for me or I can find a cheaper flight, or any of a billion ~~reasons~~ excuses that I might otherwise come up with to not come.

Now is the time to be here. The troops have rallied. My sisters and I are here. Even if we can't do anything for dad (And honestly, we can't. There's nothing TO be done.), we can be here for mom and for each other. Even if all we did was sit around and stare at one another over dinner for the week I'll be here, we can do it together and provide each other a shoulder to cry on (That would be my job: to cry.), an ear to listen, someone to bounce ideas off of, or just to chat about completely unrelated things (So, this one time in Band Camp? No...wait...we talk about raising children and gardening and food and I listen to weird stories about television shows I know nothing about and offer completely unsolicited marital advice and tips on child raising because I'm such an expert. Ayup.) and to sometimes even laugh.

Even though dad isn't going to look up and recognize any of us and you can't really hold a conversation with him and you certainly can't resolve any outstanding issues you may have with him, you can still show up and be counted. Maybe he will look up suddenly and recognize me for a moment. He probably won't. But if I wasn't here to see him myself, I would never have even the slimmest chance of that happening.

Each time I see him, my heart breaks a little more. It's true. Each time I see him, I have to say goodbye. Each time I say goodbye, there's always that chance that I never will see him again. Hell, I could get hit by a bus and he could outlive me by years and years. You never know.

You never know when your "last" visit will come. Not with anyone.

I'm not willing to waste time making up excuses for why I can't come and see my father or my mother, or my sisters and their children. I'm not willing to waste my life waiting for the "right time" or "enough" money.

Now is the time.

Now is the only moment we have.

I have no regrets. I am exactly where I should be.

Even though it hurts.

The Healing Power of Tears

2011-01-23T22:10:00.000-07:00

"Go ahead and cry," my mother said to me. "Tears will heal you."

If only they could heal you. If they actually possessed a magical healing power I would capture them all in a cup for you and anoint your brow with them; your eyes with them; your ears with them. If I covered you in my tears would you come back to me? Would you remember me? Would you awaken from this walking sleep that holds you?

If I could brew you a bittersweet draught from my tears that would strip this fog away, I would cry every tear for you. I would weep again at all of the sadness I've ever caused you; all the pain I ever inflicted on you; all the anger I engendered in you. I'd weep for all of the things you've lost. All of the people you've lost. All of the years you've lost.

But it doesn't work. These tears I can't shed in front of you go unused. Dripping down my cheeks, they land useless in my hands. Only my eyes are changed by their passing. You remain the same.

The hollow man. A ghost of your former self. A shadow. A shade. A revenant.

Where are you? Where have you gone?

Are you still in there? Do you rage inside your mind when we don't understand you? When you want to communicate and yet can't? Do we frustrate you when we can't translate what you want or need into a form we can understand?

I want you to know me. To remember me. To recognize me.

Just for a moment. Just for a minute. Just a bubble of memory that will cause you to look me in the eye and let me know that you see me.

It's still your voice, your chuckle, your hazel eyes that look back at me.

Dad? Daddy? It's me. I'm here.

Come back.

I miss you. We miss you. We love you.

Please.

These tears are for you, though you may never know that they are for you or that I am yours. To you, I am no more than the smiling stranger with the tears standing in her eyes.

But I know. I know you.

I miss you.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

Cross Country Adventure: First Stop NY Baby!

2011-01-22T09:15:00.000-07:00

I'm in NY for a few hours on my way to Ohhhh, Canadaaaaa! To visit my mom, dad, sibs and nieces and nephew.

I've finally met my (month old) niece, Madeline! She's so little! She's teensy weensy! She makes all those cute little baby noises! Grunting, nursing, hiccups. I've forgotten just how small "small" really is, since my version is now 3!

Anyway, we'll soon be on the road headed up the East Coast, through a snowstorm, to get to my mom. I'm driving up with Dawn, Matt and Madeline.

But first, a quick stop to go visit a certain cousin-in-law in NY.

Ciao!

Spelling Euphoria

2011-01-13T21:05:00.002-07:00

Today was the Spelling Bee* at Caitlin's school. She had signed up to do it before Xmas break and studied a bit, on and off (Mostly off.) over break. Then, with two weeks left, I started asking her to study. Suddenly she decided she wasn't going to do it.

Cold feet.

At first, Eric was going to let her drop out, but I convinced him that this was a clear situation where giving in to fear was a bad idea and would set a bad precedent. If she really hated it, she didn't have to sign up again next year. But since she was already signed up, she needed to follow through.

I know. I'm a hardass, aren't I?

Well, Eric spent the last three days reviewing the word list with her, over and over again. I cheered from the sidelines between diaper changes, meltdowns and screaming fits (Logan's, mostly, not mine.) and stayed out of it.

Today was the big day.

There were about 33 kids all lined up in seats, ready for the Spell Down. We sat way in the back with the twins. Logan had to be removed immediately since he wouldn't be quiet and this was definitely a Quiet Required activity. Emma and I made it to the end of the first round before Emma had to pee.

Caitlin's first word: quarterback.

I left with Emma as the first round was applauded and took Logan from Eric. The three of us went to Caitlin's classroom to get out of the way and keep our noise to a minimum. Mostly.

At 10 am, people started filing into the classroom. The Bee was over and I'd missed it. I was crushed.

But wait...!

Turns out that there were 7 kids still standing, but they'd run out of time! Those remaining 7 would finish the Bee at 1:45 pm in this very classroom.

And Caitlin was one of the seven!

Woo!

After some negotiation, it was determined that since I'd missed the 6 rounds that Eric got to watch, that I'd go back at 1:45. Alone.

Armed with my camera and a notepad I set off.

Seven children sat in chairs. Only one other parent was there and a whole lot of children. Caitlin's entire class and the other 4th and 5th grades were squeezed into that one classroom. After the first round ("Your word is 'lugubrious'.") was over only two children were left and Caitlin was one of them (Her word was 'hexagonal').

Holy cow! I was amazed.

Uh-maaaaaaayzed.

Now was the moment we'd all been waiting for: the final round. In case you didn't know, the first child to get a word wrong puts them into the Death Spiral (If that's not what they call it officially, it IS what they should call it! I'm just doin' my part to sexy up the Bee.). The 2nd child has to spell 1st child's word correctly and spell a new word of their own. It went down something like this:

1st Child: spelled something correctly (I can't remember.)
Caitlin: Effervescent. CORRECT.
1st Child: spelled something correctly (I still can't remember.)
Caitlin: Quizzical. INCORRECT. She put an 'a' in there for the second 'i'.
1st Child: spelled something correctly and then whiffed her second, potentially winning, word.
Caitlin and 1st Child get Lackadaisical incorrect (So did I, for that matter.).

Caitlin: Incendiary. CORRECT. Whiffs potential winning word Malleable. So does 1st child, who then goes on to misspell Endocrine.

Caitlin: Endocrine. CORRECT.

Tension mounts.

Caitlin: Intermittent. CORRECT.

Holy shit! Caitlin just won her school's Spelling Bee!

OMGWTFBBQ?! SQUEE!

She was immediately mobbed by her classmates, after congratulating her opponent and accepting congratulations graciously.

They carried her around in a little circle until she made them put her down so she could come and hug...me. That teary-eyed, terribly proud mom with the stunned look on her face and the too heavy camera.

And that is the story of perseverance that I'm going to trot out every time the going looks scary or tough. For Caitlin, for the twins and for myself.

That's my girl.

Amaaaaaaazing.

* In her first Spelling Bee she made it through the first round and whiffed it on the word 'futon'. In her second Spelling Bee, last January, she made it to fourth place. I appear to have skipped writing about it. Whoops! So she's made significant jumps in her spelling, year over year. Yay, Caitlin!

Mouse-aroo-lions*

2011-01-12T20:44:00.001-07:00

Christmas came and went at a slow, torturous pace. Rather like being drowned in treacle.

With glitter.

We got a tree and instantly learned we couldn't decorate it with glass ornaments thanks to Destructo Boy. I strung lights around the arch at the front door and set it up on a timer. Every night when it winks on at dusk, Logan squees with delight, so that was a big win. We hung our stockings by the chimney with care and then needed to put them up on the mantle until Xmas day because Destructo Boy desperately wanted to pull them (and their brass weights) down onto his head.

Christmas shopping was very, very light this year. Except for one uber present for Caitlin.

Note the fantastic wrapping job? Yeah. That is a bed sheet. We're totally stylin'.

It was a fish tank full of...small animal gear!

The very next day, we went shopping for the owners.

Please welcome Digger

and Gryphon.

The newest members of the Hatchet family.

Caitlin approves.

Just mind the cats, boys, and you'll be juuuuust fiiiiine.

"CATS?!"

You know what's fun? Letting your inner 9 year old girl squee while you're sitting in a bathtub with a pair of gerbils running around and checking you out. Squeeeeee!

Why yes, I am enjoying the gerbil taming!

* Pronounced: mouse-ah-roo-LEE-uns. They look like mice. They stand on their hind legs like kangaroos and they have an extra tuft of fur on their long tails like lions. What else would I call them?! Other than Gerbilitos, that is.

Best Cheesecake EVER: Caramel Cheesecake

2011-01-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

Since it was Eric's birthday just recently, I needed to come up with a cake for the occasion. Unlike my friend Val, who always has Red Velvet Cake for her birthday, I make a different cake every time. There are just so many amazing recipes out there, why wouldn't I?

Caitlin had suggested an ice cream cake, but I didn't think Eric would go for it. However, whilst poking around one of my favorite bread baking sites, I saw that she had the recipe for Caramel Cheesecake. Immediately, I knew I had to bake it.

I've made cheesecakes before, and they've turned out very nicely, but this one took the cake (Sorry, I had to say that.) and received top honors. Mind you, it wasn't without its frustrating points. I broke the cake getting it out of the pan. Whoops! The first caramel I made for the topping went too far towards burnt sugar, so I had to toss it and start over again. Whoops! I also determined that next time (For there will be a next time! Oh yes. Yes there will be!) I will chop up the toffee bar finely. Or skip it entirely.

Did I mention this cake was crazy? Graham cracker crust, cheesecake, caramel top and bits of toffee around the edges. It may kill you, but you'll go out with a dreamy look in your eye!

My photo absolutely does no justice to this cheesecake. Instead, go to Wild Yeast's entry. Now that's pretty.

Instead, let me share with you her recipe with a few adjustments I've made.

Caramel Cheesecake
(Cake adapted from Wild Yeast's version of the SFBI cheesecake and Epicurious topping.)

Yield: one 8-inch cake
Time:

Mix: 15 minutes
Bake: 1 hour 15 minutes
Cool: at least 2 hours
Chill: overnight
Unchill and top: about an hour
Chill: 2 hours or longer

Crust Ingredients:

132 g graham cracker crumbs (1 pkg or ~9 graham crackers)
44 g sugar (1 1/2 oz)
64 g butter, melted (2 1/4 oz)

Filling Ingredients:

532 g cream cheese, softened (18 3/4 oz)
160 g sugar (5 5/8 oz)
26 g melted butter (1 oz)
10 (2 t.) g lemon juice
5 g (1 t.) vanilla extract
139 g (3 medium) eggs at room temperature
46 g heavy cream (1 1/2 oz)
46 g sour cream (1 1/2 oz)

Topping Ingredients:

150 g sugar (5 1/4 oz)
14 g (2 T.) water
1/4 t. lemon juice
120 g heavy cream (4 1/4 oz)
pinch of salt
2 Heath Bars, coarsely chopped (Any candy bar will do here and you really just need one. I used a high end toffee bar and chopped it finely.)

Method:

Preheat the oven to 285F if you have a convection setting, or 325F for the regular bake setting. Start boiling water for the water bath.
Butter the bottom and sides of an 8-inch cake pan. Line the bottom of the pan with parchment paper, and butter the parchment.
Mix the crust ingredients together well with your fingers. Press the crust into the pan and partway up the sides, to a thickness of 1/4 inch.
In a small bowl, blend the cream and sour cream together.
In a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream the cream cheese on medium-low speed until it is very smooth.
Add the following ingredients is this order, mixing on medium-low speed until smooth after each addition and scraping the bowl frequently:
- butter
- sugar, lemon juice, and vanilla
- eggs, one at a time
- cream/sour cream mixture
Pour the batter over the crust in the prepared pan. Tap the pan on the counter a few times to release any air bubbles.
Place the cake on a rimmed sheet pan and set it in the oven. Pour boiling water in the sheet pan to just below the rim. (This may cause your pan to float. Cut back the water to about 3/4s up the sides of the pan. You want it surrounded by water to act as a temperature regulator and to keep the top from cracking. You aren't sending it on a float trip.)
Bake until the cake has just a slight wobble in the center when nudged.
Remove the cake from the oven and let it cool, still in its water bath, to room temperature.
Run a knife around the edge to make sure it is free of the pan, then invert the cake onto a plate and again onto a second plate so that it is right-side-up.
Cover the cake with plastic wrap directly on its surface, and chill overnight.
Remove the cake from the refrigerator and let it unchill slightly while you prepare the topping. Keep the plastic wrap on during this time so any condensation forms on the plastic and not on the cake.
In a medium saucepan, stir together the topping sugar, water, and lemon juice over medium-high heat to dissolved the sugar. Heat on medium-high without stirring, washing down the sides with a wet pastry brush occasionally, until the mixture turns an amber color.
Add the cream and the salt and simmer over medium-low heat, stirring from time to time, until the caramel is thick but not chewy (gauge the consistency by dripping a bit onto a metal spoon).
Remove from the heat and pour into a metal bowl. Cool at room temperature until it is slightly warmer than body temperature; it should still be quite pourable at this point.
Pour the topping over the cake; use an offset spatula to spread it to the edges and let it drip down the sides.
Top with chopped Heath Bars. (Chocolate bars. Nuts. Crunchy bits of something yummy. Bacon? Maybe not.)
Cover with a cake dome and chill for 2 – 6 hours before serving.

Here are a few of her cheesecake tips:

To make a smooth batter, the cream cheese needs to be very soft. Leave it out to soften overnight, or put it in the microwave a few seconds at a time.
Keep the mixer on low-medium speed, to avoid incorporating too much air. Scrape the bowl and paddle frequently.
Avoid using a Springform pan, which can allow water to seep into the crust when you bake the cake in a water bath (even if you protect the bottom with foil). A straight-sided cake pan works just fine.
Cool the cake completely at room temperature before refrigerating or freezing.
To cut cleanly, dip the knife in hot water and dry it with a towel before cutting each slice.

I've found that if you have the extra wide, heavy duty foil, you CAN use a springform pan. I tried this recipe initially in a regular cake pan and couldn't get it out of the pan to save my life. Fortunately, once you add the topping, you can't see all of the cracks where it fell apart after I whomped it on the counter to "extract" it. Cracked cheesecake is just as yummy as uncracked cheesecake, so don't fret if the same thing happens to you.

The best part about making the topping for this cheesecake is that once you've done it, you need to realize that you just made caramel. From scratch. And since that wasn't too terribly hard, you can do it again. And again. It's a lot of fun and yummy, too. Add assorted flavors to it and suddenly you have candy to give away to friends.

Or not. I won't tell.

This was my second attempt at the caramel cheesecake and it turned out even better. This time I used a 9" springform pan and only 1 chocolate bar.

Scrumptious.

Potty Training Twins, Act III - the Logan Edition

2011-01-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

On Dec. 24th, after a normal diaper change, Eric asked Logan if he'd like to wear his big boy underwear. Tempted yet again by images of Lightning McQueen and Buzz Lightyear on his butt, Logan agreed. He also agreed to actually sit on the potty for the first time in months and months. This was, clearly, a major breakthrough.

After listening to our pediatrician and just leaving Logan alone about the potty issue, something finally clicked in his head. After months of "Would you like to wear some underwear?" "No!", "Would you like to pee on the potty?" "NO!", "Would you like to poop on the potty?" "NOOOOO!", we're finally seeing the light at the end of the toilet.

Of course, to keep things interesting, Emma has regressed and started peeing all over everything. I changed her sheets 3 times in one day and then gave up entirely on putting her down for naps or to bed without pull ups* or a diaper. I watched her sit on the stairs, look me in the eye and just let 'er rip. Ugh!

Maybe she was giving Logan a chance to catch up?

This morning I woke up to the dulcet sounds of "Mommy! I PEED!". Eric was in the bathroom and Emma was curled up in bed with me, so I got out of bed, expecting the worst. Instead, royally ensconced on his throne, was Logan. He had taken off his PJs, taken off and disposed of his pull-up properly -- in the trashcan, climbed up onto the potty and peed.

All by himself.

There was no pile of sodden clothing. No puddle on the floor.

Just one little boy, proud as can be.

Let the squeeing commence!

* After years of the reusable Bum Genius diapers, we thought we'd try the pull-ups to see if introducing those would make a difference to Logan's potty training. Something more like underwear, but a lot more absorptive. I don't know if they actually helped him get more into it (They have Woody and Buzz on them, you see.), but whatever the combination of factors, it's currently working. After this box is gone (We only bought the one box.), we'll switch back to the diapers for bedtime, if necessary, or see if he can transition to underwear all of the time. He pees like a racehorse in his sleep. Wish us continued luck!

Just when you thought it was safe to take a nap...

2011-01-06T20:25:00.000-07:00

There I was: napping.

Eric was downstairs with the twins. Or was he?

I was woken from my very odd dream of the twins getting in a great deal of trouble to the sounds of...the twins getting into a great deal of trouble.

"Oh no! Why did you...?!" Clearly, words were failing Eric as he attempted to express his utter astonishment that in 5 minutes the twins were able to redecorate the living room.

Note that the tree has lights but no ornaments. Logan convinced us within the first 15 minutes of tree trimming that we couldn't put any ornaments up that weren't made of paper. Even then...he tore up half of those, too.

That's just under 5 lbs of bread flour and about 3 ounces of rye flour. They helped themselves, you see.

Oh and let's not forget the entire 1 lb box of penne noodles they put in their oven. Clearly they were cooking up something.

What? Me? In trouble?

This is what I refer to as Emma's Princess Hobo outfit. Liberally dusted with flour, of course.

"But I looooooves my sister! She's not bad!"

"Logan! Get off!"

"Fine! Then YOU get to take the fall alone!"

Apparently 5 minutes, under the cover of watching a movie, was long enough to coat the living room, sofa, kitchen and part of the dining room in two kinds of flour. Fortunately, they hadn't gotten to the whole wheat flour by the time Eric found them. That would have been another 5 lbs all over.

These babies need bells! Or constant video monitoring. Maybe low-jacks.

Or maybe I just need a fairy godmother. Ack!

Time Keeps on Slippin'...

2011-01-05T10:55:00.000-07:00

Into the futuuuuuuuure! You can hear that song, can't you?

Anyway, during my month of not writing there've been several birthdays, including that of my new niece, Madeline; 2 caramel cheesecakes to die for; Christmas Eve celebration with my SIL and nephews and a whole lotta screaming/squealing; Christmas and more squealing; rotten behavior; excellent behavior; tons of urine soaked clothing and bedding (because that's what potty training really is: Olympian Loads of Laundry); New Years Eve, where we got to go to an actual adult party sans offspring; caramels and fudge and a decided lack of shipping of Xmas gifts or creation of Xmas cards.

Now, Caitlin is back in school and the twins are running amok. So much so that it deserves its very own post, with photos.

Oh and the best part? Logan has finally decided to start potty training. That was his gift to us for Christmas.

I kid you not.

Now I just need to get some safe time where I can edit the photos to show you.

So! How is your new year going?

Baking Sourdough Bread

2010-12-04T23:45:00.000-07:00

I realized, as I was poking through my posts that I haven't written about bread in awhile.

Some of you are bored already and some of you are dying from your gluten allergies. Sorry about that, but I must carry on!

I've been baking bread, steadily, crazily and continuously all year long. Somewhere in February, I decided to take the plunge and create my own sourdough starter. After days and days of making a slurry of flour and water in little jars and throwing away half of the weird smelling goo daily, it finally started rising, and no longer smelling weird and funky. A month later, I made my first batch of bread. The first batch was kind of funny, but so freakin' yummy that we couldn't stop eating it. I bought a set of bannetons (Bread molds or forms made of coiled reed to help the dough hold its shape while rising.) and learned how to use them. I then created a second starter, this time it was a rye starter. You know, for rye breads.

White sourdough from Bread Baker's Apprentice. Rings of flour are due to the banneton being heavily floured. Pretty!

And I went to work on my slashing and steaming techniques.

Look at the gringe (ear) on that loaf of rye sourdough! Sexy!

Next thing I knew, I had bought yet another ridiculous bread baking book (Bread by Jeffrey Hamelman and no, I'm not being compensated, it's just an incredible book. Not for the beginning bread baker, though.) and was making bread that took even longer to make than the Bread Baker's Apprentice loaves.

Crazy? Oh yes. Yes indeed.

Next thing I knew there were sourdough bagels,

English muffins,

multigrain boules

and loaf after loaf of different sourdough recipes. They weren't all successful, but almost all were fantastic. Now, our every day bread is made of sourdough. It might be a whole wheat multigrain with rye flakes, flaxseed and millet or a nice rye (Hey, it turns out that I like rye bread! It's just caraway seeds that I object to in my bread!) loaf. It all depends on what I'm in the mood for that baking day.

It's also been terribly therapeutic.

The act of taking wild yeast (Captured from the flour itself, not from the air as a TV chef would have you believe. Wild yeast grows on the food source it likes. For example: wheat.) and flour, water, and salt and making something as basic, yet as lovely as bread is rather soothing. The babies may be crazy, but look at this bread!

Pain au levain. Sexy French sourdough bread.

Making it has been fun, and I've learned an awful lot. I even put some up for sale for a good cause and have given away dozens and dozens of loaves (Which is the only reason I'm not the size of a whale, at this point!) to friends and family.

It's a helluva hobby. Considering how far I've come in the last year, I'm kinda worried what next year's leap will be. Will I start grinding my own grain? Planting an acre of wheat? Aiee!

Well, instead of worrying about it too much, I think I'll go have a slice of the Jewish Rye with caramelized onions I have sitting in the breadbox. It's calling to me, you see.

Graiiiiins!

Emptying the House and Doing Good Locally

2010-12-03T20:41:00.001-07:00

Eric is about to take off for a week's vacation (It's his turn, after all. I took off for a week to go visit my mom for her 65th b-day celebration. To which I still owe you pictures. Ack!) and I will be all alone with the ~~screaming~~ children.

To maintain at least a modicum of sanity, I have determined that this would be a good week to work on de-cluttering the house*, starting with my old maternity clothes, infant gear and whatever gets in my way in the garage. Helping to motivate me was the Evening of Sharing we just attended at Caitlin's school. There were assorted organizations there asking for volunteers, money or gear and I decided it must be kismet. I have stuff and a burning desire to get rid of it and they have a burning need.

I don't have the patience to run any sort of a garage sale and my friend Christine is no longer local to coax me into it. Instead, any large, potentially valuable items will go up on Craigslist (Crib, anyone?), but for that I appear to need to take photos before posting. This leads to procrastination on my part, because I just can't get excited about taking pictures of my old washer. However, I am motivated to sell it off somehow, if only just to get some floor space back in the garage. (Possibly because I'm also afraid that Eric and I both carry Hoarder Genes and if we don't get rid of some stuff, it will be goat trail time!)

Also, I want to buy a larger vehicle to haul the loud, young people around in. A vehicle that will put them farther away from me. If I could drop a soundproof plexiglass sheet in between their area and the front seats, I would. Maybe install some knockout gas nozzles aimed at their seats, too. Yeah. That's the ticket! Anyway, any loot that I sell off I'm earmarking (Earmarking: it's not just for Congress!) for the new vehicle. I suspect it's going to be a loooong time before I get any new keys in my hands, but I thought if I had a plan, it would be more likely to happen.

Have you had any success selling off your gear on Craigslist and if so, what tips would you give me to ensure a successful sale? I'm not willing to ship anything, so e-Bay is out. Too much of a headache. If I get too overwhelmed I'm most likely going to set it all out by the curb, bit by bit, with a sign saying, "Free!". That always seems to get anything to go away.

Except for the mice.

Dang it!

* I find that I can open almost any drawer or closet or cupboard and put my hand on any number of items that I can get throw out. I keep asking myself as I run across these things why have I kept them so long? Why is that dead plant still sitting there in that pretty little pot? Let's just dump it in the compost and put that pot in the garage. Next season I can put a sempervivum in it. Why do I still have this 10 year old nail polish? Aging it isn't going to improve it. So I'm taking back my cabinet space, one handful of "stuff" at a time. I got a little thrill when I actually started putting bread in my breadbox. I know, that's just off the hook, right?** Right!

** I need to get out more, don't I?

Smells Like Christmas!

2010-12-02T23:02:00.000-07:00

We just bought and brought home our tree today!

From Costco, of all places. What can't you buy there? Seriously! (They should start paying me to shop there, I love them so much. Or get a restraining order. Can't decide.) It was about 8' tall and Eric had to haul it in on his own, leaving a trail of dead pine needles up the stairs and across the living room.

That's OK, though, because December is Pine Needle season. Every day until we compost that puppy, it will drop needles and I'm OK with it because I can't get over how gorgeous it smells. My house smells like a forest. A lovely, dark green, pine-scented forest.

We'll decorate it tomorrow with the kids and attempt to keep the twins from smashing the decorations or pulling the tree down on top of themselves.

That may be tougher than you think, too. Those two are crazy! Other people have cat and tree stories. Ours will be about the twins who will cackle evilly and whisper their diabolical plans back and forth and then set forth and destroy everything in their path.

If only we could harness that power for good instead of evil....

Happy Thanksgiving! Now with more cookies!

2010-11-25T10:36:00.000-07:00

I went to two different craft stores, three different kitchen stores, three grocery stores and then finally found what I was looking for in a hardware store. Then again, it's the hardware store in Boulder, so maybe it's not such a big surprise that they carried turkey cookie cutters.

Among about a million billion other items as well. However, that's neither here nor there. (Mostly it's there.)

Instead, I went on a wild bender and bought turkey, bear, maple leaf (Oh, Canada!), airplane (For Logan at Eric's insistence. I'm sure that it's just for Logan. Uh huh.), kitten and flower shaped cutters. Hey, they were 69¢ each! How could I resist? Clearly I couldn't.

First, I baked a set of just leaves and turkeys for Thanksgiving down at Grammy and Grampy's house. I figured it could be both dessert and a craft to keep the kids busy. Then, since we invited a handful of friends over on Friday, I clearly needed to make a second batch of assorted critters for them to decorate.

Decorating is the best part! I don't care how old you are, last time I threw a birthday party for Caitlin where we had cupcakes and cookies to decorate, it was the adults that went nuts with it.

I was going to need a lot of different colors for the cookies, so it's a good thing I messed up the amount of icing I prepared. I had only meant to make 1 lb, but wound up putting almost 3x the amount of reconstituted egg whites into the bowl than I should have. Whoops! Almost 3 lbs of confectioners sugar later:

Finally, at 10 pm last night, it was time to ~~make the doughnuts~~ ice a sample cookie. After I finished the first one, I remembered that Bridget had created a tutorial on the design I wanted to do. So I started over again on a second cookie.

There! That's more like it! Feathers!

Eric watched me as I outlined, flooded and detailed the cookie and was very impressed.

Now that I've done it, I find it's actually pretty easy, but like everything else will get better with more practice. Good thing I've got a lot of icing!

It's also a good thing that I have plenty of volunteers to eat the cookies, too.

Just in case you're worried I'm not bringing anything else to the table but cookies, I've also made Heavenly Potatoes, cranberry-apple chutney, and multi-grain whole wheat sourdough bread for dinner. I didn't want to slack off. Heh!

Here's wishing you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving, with all the trimmings!

Is This What Normal Feels Like?

2010-11-19T20:25:00.000-07:00

As some of you may have noticed...it's fall outside.

Yet I am still running around and doing stuff, both in the garden and in the house. I have not yet succumbed to my annual Dying of the Light doldrums.

I'm amazed and thankful. I blame the Vitamin D I'm taking.

Holy moly! This stuff actually seems to work! I've been taking it since May 24th, so it isn't a fast fix, but it does seem to work. Getting my thyroid level adjusted probably helped, too.

Normally, I'm tired and grumpy and sad when the days get shorter. I haven't felt that way. In fact, I've enjoyed this fall. Having beautiful weather way into November is probably a big part of that, but I am grateful. So grateful! I watched the trees change color throughout the neighborhood without even a wisp of sadness. I was so busy rushing in the garden to get my work done before the first frost that I didn't have time to feel sad.

Since then, however, I still haven't slowed down. I'm turning out a frightful number of sugared confections in the kitchen, too. Marshmallows and caramels and cookies! Oh my! Mostly I'm recipe testing for Xmas presents, but even so!

Just yesterday I was mucking about in the yard and finally covered my raised beds in a 4"-6" layer of lightly chopped leaves. I whipped out the leaf blower and sucked up the enormous pile my lawn guy left for me. Then, when I ran out (Amazing, considering the size of the pile I was working with in the yard!), I blew the leaves in my back yard into nice, fluffy piles and then sucked them up, too. It took a few hours, but now my beds are covered (I'm certain the mice will be happy in the cozy beds.) and all I'm missing from my sheet composting experiment is a few bales of straw.

Just for grins, let's revisit my 2010 Garden Goals, shall we?

2010 Garden Chores List (Not necessarily in order)

Move big elderberry to corner. DONE
Dig up 6 agastache and relocate to front yard. DONE
Remove and relocate 2 Chinese grasses to front yard. DONE
Relocate caryopteris. DONE
Move "Dawn" viburnum down to the left ~3'. DONE
Fill with Russian sedum as ground cover. Covered with mulch instead.
Feed crab apple tree on monthly basis through summer. DONE
Order and spread mulch. DONE
Take cuttings of sempervivums for new pathway. DONE
Install 2 kinds of thyme (Woolly and variegated) in new pathway to help with roof runoff issues. DONE
Relocate butterfly bush to front yard. DONE
Move compact burning bush somewhere else. DONE
Relocate plants from future pathway to side gate somewhere else in the xeric yard. DONE
Clear out plants from around sprinkler heads. DONE
Fix broken sprinklers. Repeat ad nauseum during entire length of summer. DONE
Replace all old fashioned sprinklers. Only when they break.
Move asters from back to front yard. DONE
Weed sidewalk garden. DONE
Weed xeric garden. DONE
Relocate plants around xeric garden to fill empty spots. DONE
Ditch irises from the front yard. Yes, all of them. Offer them for free to neighbors and meet new people. Neighbors LOVE free plants! DONE
Move blue fescue to sidewalk (SW) garden. DONE
Plant 3 new grasses in SW garden. DONE
Order 6 shrubs and 3 grasses for part shade garden in back yard. DONE
Rip out and relocate 3 peonies, Autumn Joy sedum, Blue Hills sage, large catmint, and 2 kinds of garden phlox. DONE
Rip out Keys of Heaven, bindweed, bee balm, clematis tanguica, lamb's ear and other assorted weeds. DONE
Sift wheelbarrows full of compost. DONE
Install Java Red weigela, 3 Miscanthus 'Morninglight' in newly weeded sunny part of back yard. Maybe this will keep me weeding that section more frequently? DONE
Move bronze sedge from shady part to sunny part. DONE
Finally plant new scented penstemon purchased at DBG plant sale. DONE
Rip out weeds and morning glories volunteering all over raised beds. DONE
Plant cool weather seeds for "fall" veggies (e.g. spinach, peas, beans, zukes [45 and 50 day varieties, just to see if it's possible], lettuce, pak choi, cilantro, dill [very old seeds, will they work?], green onions, and carrots,) by Aug. 2nd. Realize that I probably should have started this in mid-July, but hope for the best. DONE
Install new sprinkler line down to cover sunny corner of yard and keep new plantings happy. DONE
Remove potting bench and its mess off deck. DONE
Sort out pots and stuff, send bad pots to McGuckin's for recycling (Check with your local garden center - they may take all of your old pots for recycling, too!). Sorted, but not accepted at gardening center. I missed the drop off date by two weeks! Argh! I'm going to hold onto the pots until next year. Maybe they'll offer the program again in the spring?
Clean deck and organize potted plants on deck. DONE
Begin making mental list of plants to live on deck next summer. DONE
Install bronze/purple ajuga as ground cover in part shade garden. DONE
Install 6 new shrubs (Pictured at bottom) and 3 new grasses. DONE
Learned a new mulching/sheet composting method I plan on trialing this winter. Must steal bags and bags of leaves and get a few bales of straw. DONE except for the straw.
Begin planning 2 more raised beds for raspberries and rhubarb. Wonder if I can sucker husband into making two more beds? He likes raspberries.... Vetoed by He Who Has To Do The Building
Determine that only crazy people garden like this. DONE
Lounge in hammock and drink lemonade. DONE
Wait three years for new garden to mature. Tic, tic, tic!
Begin making 2011 garden chore list. In progress!

Wow! Except for where I was thwarted by Himself and the gardening center, I nailed it this year! Woo!

I think I've turned over a new leaf. How's by you this fall?

Things That Make You Go Hmmmm: Bubble Gum = Plastic

2010-11-17T14:55:00.000-07:00

Did you know that bubble gum is made from plastic and rubber? It used to be tree resins (which sounds odd enough, but then again, aspirin came from tree bark, and that's worked out well), but in order to save money, it's now made from plastic.

No kidding.

So, if you spend a lot of time making sure your kid is drinking from BPA free water bottles and carries a waste free, metal lunch box, why would you let them chew plastic?

Because you didn't know, of course. But now you do.

Beth Terry mentioned this in her blog, Fake Plastic Fish, but I missed that article. Give it a read. It's eye opening.

Knowledge is power. Be powerful.

Hatchet in the Kitchen

2010-11-15T20:51:00.002-07:00

Now that it's chilly outside and my gardening is severely curtailed (When did it actually become autumn?!), all of my excess creative energy is being devoted to baking.

We're in deep, deep trouble at Chez Hatchet, folks.

In one day, I had Swiss cream cheese setting up on the counter, apple butter cooking down in the crockpot and panettone-inspired muffins baking in the oven. I also have lovely iced sugar cookies on the counter and homemade marshmallows awaiting hot chocolate to swim in. Fresh bread is always readily at hand and I now have cranberry-apple chutney ready for Thanksgiving dinner (The flavors will meld together in the fridge this week.). I've picked up a handful more icing decorating tips, icing colors and came really close to buying 50 animal cookie cutters, but they were plastic, so I didn't. All I really wanted was a turkey, but I can make do without it.

I'm also testing out recipes for Xmas gifts, so some of the madness is just that: testing. The rest is just an outlet for creativity. And KA Flour (Now I feel a burning need to make pumpkin scones, just because I followed my own link. Ack!) keeps sending me their version of kitchen porn: their catalog. I'm so weak! So many of their items are terribly, terribly tempting! Also, there are recipes on every 3rd page! I...I have to try out those recipes!

Good thing I don't feel the burning need to eat all that I'm making! I keep giving it away. For my own safety, of course.

I made a yummy thing for dinner that I'd been wanting to try for awhile: Mark Bittman's recipe for Sweet Potatoes with Brown Butter and Sage. I hate sweet potatoes and marshmallows (Sorry Mom!) and really loved this. Now to get Eric to try it!

Stir-Fried Sweet Potatoes With Brown Butter and Sage
Recipe adapted from The New York Times, from 2008

3-4 tablespoons olive oil
2 to 3 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and grated, 4 to 6 cups (I used a single large sweet potato, for about half the recipe)
Salt and pepper
1/2 stick butter, more to taste
4 cloves garlic, crushed
20 sage leaves (Good thing the frost didn't kill the sage plant out front! If you're allergic to sage like my friend Sierra, you could probably substitute basil, rosemary or thyme here.)
1. Put oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When hot, add sweet potatoes and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring only occasionally, until they change color and begin to brown, then stir more frequently until they are tender but not at all mushy.
2. Meanwhile, heat butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic and sage; shake pan occasionally. When butter turns brown, turn off heat.
3. Use tongs to remove sage and garlic from butter. Serve potatoes drizzled with butter and garnished with a few sage leaves. Garlic can be served alongside, though it will not be super-soft.
Yield: 4 to 6 servings.

I ditched the garlic instead of trying to eat it since it was all chewy/crisp, which isn't how I like my garlic. I must admit that I really liked the buttery, crispy sage leaves! Mmmm! I'll definitely make this one again!

Well, I guess I'd better go check the chicken parts that are simmering in the crockpot. I'm making some broth for chicken soup. Should be yummy!

So...what are you cooking up this fall?

Updated to add: He liked it! He liked it! He never likes sweet potatoes! We have a winner!

My First Foray Into Cookie Decorating!

2010-11-12T08:00:00.003-07:00

My first* attempt at cookie decorating was a resounding success! Plus, the kids had fun, too!

Oh and the cookies even tasted yummy. So this was a win all the way around.

First, there was my lovely assistant, Caitlin. She missed the dough mixing portion of this process, but was happy to show up for the cutting out and decorating parts.

I made Bridget's recipe from Bake at 350 and altered it for our elevation (i.e. added 3 tbsp of AP flour for a total of 16.2 oz, removed 1 tbsp of sugar for a total of 6.6 oz, and increased the oven temperature by 15 degrees from 350 to 365.). It worked like a charm (Although next time I'm going to try the reverse creaming method that Cook's Illustrated recommends. Some of my cookies had air bubbles.). Then, I followed the directions for rolling out the dough between 2 sheets of waxed paper as taught by Cheryl at the University of Cookie. Seriously. It's like I was meant to find these bakers! After rolling the dough out, I popped it into my freezer for about 7 minutes and then called to Caitlin for her assistance in cutting out some cookies.

We baked them off while the twins slept and then it was time to mix up some icing. I admit that I just bought a box of Royal Icing mix from the store. Next time I think I'll buy some powdered egg whites as Gail from One Tough Cookie suggests. I didn't have a lot of icing to begin with, so I kinda faked it and then split it into 3 colors. Little did I realize the sheer amount of complaints I'd have over the 3 colors. Once Logan had the purple, he wasn't happy about relinquishing it to anyone else. Emma was happy as a clam to just squeeze 3/4ths of the pink onto her first cookie. Only Caitlin and I were interested in multi-colored cookies and a little artistic expression.

My decorating team.

Logan works the purple icing with a death grip.

My first cookie didn't look anything like I'd really imagined it would, but as far as a first attempt went, it was pretty yummy! I got the hang of outlining cookies, playing with dots and figured out why round toothpicks would be better than flat toothpicks (Pointier ends!). It also made me understand that having a lot of icing to play with would have been ideal because then I could have messed around with the concept of flooding. Next time!

A peace cookie to celebrate Veteran's Day. Yes, peace can be a little messy and may not look like what you'd envisioned originally, but it's a good thing in the end.

Emma wanted to squeeze out the entire contents of the pink bag all over her cookie. I helped her out by spreading it around with a small palette knife.

Also, her idea of "eating" the cookie is to lick all of the icing off with her fingers. Logan smashed his first cookie, decorated the larger portion of it, and then had to be cut off from the purple icing. He was a sticky purple fiend in the end.

Don't mind my drippy nose. I'm a little sick!

Luckily enough for Eric, he made it home in time to decorate two of his very own cookies.

Caitlin went to town and made some fun cookies.

I found that once I started making my second cookie, that I didn't want to eat anymore. The prettier they became (by my standards), the less I wanted to eat them. Instead I had to nibble on the last bits of broken cookie bits. Slathered with a little icing, of course.

Now I know what I'll be bringing to Thanksgiving dinner at my MIL's: baked cookies and a pile of icing colors for the kids to go nuts with and decorate! (I'll probably also bring a loaf of bread and maybe even a pumpkin pie. I can't totally slack off!)

* I know. You're shocked, aren't you? I've made cookies before, but I've never tried making cookies for actual decorating purposes with Royal Icing and decorating tips. I had to do a bunch of research, search out all of my existing decorating tips and even pick up a few new ones. I was overwhelmed by the talent of Bridget at Bake at 350 and followed piles of links from her site all over the place. It's winter time and I'm trapped indoors. Clearly it's time to obsess over something that isn't plant related!

Potty Training Twins, Act II

2010-11-11T10:00:00.001-07:00

I've been remiss and haven't told you about a few significant events that happened here at Chez Hatchet. My big sister, Dawn and her husband Matt, came to visit in October. I've got a few pictures of her pregnant self! Clan Hatchet went to the zoo with Grammy and I have some fun pictures of that visit (Oh, look! The lion is licking the lioness. He likes her! Oh...he really likes her....) and I'll get around to writing those up.

Any day now.

But we hit a major milestone. On October 30th, I declared Emma officially potty trained!

She went to bed in her undies on the 29th and woke up once or twice to pee in the potty in her room and yelled for help to get dressed again. Then she went back to bed and woke up dry. She hasn't worn a diaper since. Woo hoooo! Half my diaper laundry load just went POOF! We were all very happy and celebrated by buying her a big, foofy girl's dress. It's dark green and black with stylized roses all over it - it's one of those Christmas-y dresses. She loves it and wore it for days and days. Hurrah!

Now Logan, on the other hand...

Well, as I said before, he's just not into it. And by "just not into it", I mean he screams like you're trying to set his butt on fire every time we try to get him to sit on the potty. Bribes still don't work. Threatening is pointless. As is begging. We've offered cars, candy, muffins and sleepovers at Grammy and Grampy's house. No dice. Apparently he was attacked by a potty in a former life or something.

I can't figure it out. He knows what to do, but absolutely refuses to do it. He can get his clothes off. He can back up to the potty. We tried the Cheerios in the potty thing; watching Daddy; offered to let him pee standing up and we've just gotten melty, screamy Logan in return.

So we're backing off. According to our pediatrician, we should just leave him entirely alone about the topic. Don't even mention it. Just keep changing diapers and take the pressure off entirely for the next couple of months. Hopefully he'll suddenly want to be potty trained. We're thinking about putting just Emma into a kid's program at the local Y for a few hours, then letting him know that he can go, too, if he uses the potty.

We'll see how that goes.

Any ideas? Any tips you'd like to offer? I can't believe how easy Caitlin was in comparison, but I've been saying that since the twins were born. We had it easy and never knew it!

Figures!

Bread for sale! (For a good cause, of course!)

2010-11-10T10:09:00.000-07:00

Today, Caitlin's school is participating in the Great American Bake Sale for its 9th year and I made a few loaves of bread for the cause.

By "few", of course, I mean seven. Mainly because every bake sale needs the Crazy Bread Lady and I got to be that mom this year. A pair of whole wheat loaves, a pair of Vermont Sourdough and 3 loaves of Five-Grain Levain (Chock full of flaxseeds, coarse cornmeal, oats, millet and whole wheat. Yum!).

Then, this morning, Eric and Caitlin dropped off the wrapped and tagged loaves to Caitlin's school. The mom/teacher/woman-with-a-badge who PROBABLY wasn't going to steal the bread made appropriate oohing and ahhing noises and then asked if we "always ate like this"? But of course!

Daily dose of external validation achieved!

Why are we doing this? Well, according to the Share Our Strength website:

14.1 million children in America live in poverty. That’s 5.5% more than a year ago. (For a four-person family, that means getting by on less than $420 a week.)
Nearly half (49.2%) of American children will receive SNAP (food stamp) benefits at some point in their life.
The weak economy has put millions of previously secure American families at risk.
Effective federal nutrition programs that provide nutritious food to families in need are still underutilized. 10 million eligible kids in this country are not receiving school breakfast. Only 1 of every 6 kids eligible for free summer meals actually gets them. That means 16.3 million kids who qualify for these meals don’t get them. Millions of Americans who are eligible for SNAP (food stamps) do not use the program.

We often hear about disasters and hunger in foreign lands, but seldom hear that we have these same problems a lot closer at hand. By participating in the bake sale, the Hatchet Family can help fight hunger right here in the States. Now I can bake and save lives. I'm a super hero!

At least for a day.

Time for a Makeover!

2010-11-09T22:04:00.000-07:00

OK, it's just a blog makeover, but that's always a good place to start!

What do you think?

Before:

After spending many hours on and off, messing about with colors and photos and widgets:

That was fun! Now maybe I should write a little something, huh?

The Story of Electronics

2010-11-09T08:45:00.001-07:00

Another good movie from the folks that brought you The Story of Stuff. This is The Story of Electronics. I'd love it if companies would take back our old electronic gear. Ask YOUR rep to co-sponsor the Responsible Electronics Recycling Act. Make your voice heard.

How to Renovate Your Front Yard

2010-10-27T17:46:00.003-06:00

Finished!

Before:

October 2, 2010

After:

October 24, 2010

You, too, can go completely bonkers and decide to tear up your existing garden and re-model it whenever you want. You just have to have the fortitude to carry it out. A plan would help, too (That would have been a good idea. Yup. Sure would've been!)*. Plus some good weather.

Oh, and a strong back, good tools (Did I mention that I snapped a spade right in half and had to get a new one?) and someone to watch over your children for you while you obsess over the garden.

I'm just sayin'....

What did I do and why did I do it? Well, the time was right and Eric was available to watch over the twins while I worked for 8 or 10 hours a day to get the garden in shape. I knew that I needed to beat the first hard frost date (It was October 25th this year.). The sprinklers needed to be shut off, all plants that were going to be moved needed to be moved and everything needed to be snug under a covering of mulch in order to survive freezing temperatures.

Four cubic yards of mulch.

I must admit that I didn't know if I'd be able to get the whole thing done before the freeze came, but October in Colorado can be amazingly beautiful. Warm, sunny, a little breezy and the perfect weather for planting perennials. This way the gardener doesn't have to roast in the sun and neither do the plants. They get a few weeks to settle in to their new locations and set down roots before it gets really cold and you don't have to deal with rain getting the soil all muddy and unworkable.

The key thing I learned is that you should never, ever, EVER use landscape fabric in a garden where you may want the plants to spread and/or naturalize. Doesn't matter how big you think that hole you slit in the fabric was, the plant is going to out grow it and then you'd be left with a half choked plant before you even realized something was wrong. That and the fact that the bark mulch you throw on top of the fabric will eventually break down and turn into what? Compost. Where all of the seeds from your plants will be happy to grow, for at least awhile, until they suddenly die off en mass because they aren't actually in the soil and can't put down a serious root structure.

Therefore, I have spent the last 4 weeks ripping up yards and yards of weed and plant encrusted landscape fabric, shaking the compost back onto the naked soil, tossing the plants I didn't want onto the compost heap and relocating the plants I did want to keep. And boy, oh boy! were there a lot of those! Yarrow reseeded itself with wild abandon all over the front yard. I ripped almost all of it out. There were at least a dozen lavender plants that had happily volunteered around the yard. I relocated most of them. There was a Russian Sage blocking the view of my pink shrub roses. It had to go.

I gave piles of plants away to the folks in my neighborhood. I composted thousands more. I threw down millions of invisible seeds everywhere when I shook the composted bark mulch back onto the soil. Yarrow will probably be springing up all over the place next year, but I'll be ready to rip it out mercilessly!

Yarrrr!

Oh yeah! And I installed 5 newly purchased Salvia greggii 'Rose' (aka Autumn Sage) plants that I'd picked up on sale from the local garden center. They're sort of magenta in color. A rosy-purple. Hummingbirds should love them!

It was as I was attempting to install each of those that it struck me that I was working on one of those little puzzles made up of those little moveable tiles. You know, the ones where one little tile is missing and you have to slide all of the other tiles around and around until you correctly form the picture. (What are those things called, anyway?) In order to install one Salvia, I had to rip out 3 goldenrods, move 5 Agastache 'Apricot Sprite', rip up yards of fabric, pull off plants to keep and plants to toss, dig 6 holes, amend each hole with compost and finally plant all of my plants back in the soil again. Try that on a 50' x 25' scale and it'll take you awhile!

Yes, I did do all of this work on my own until the last 2 days when I had Eric rip out the final Russian sage, some evil weedy grass, a few more yards of fabric along the back (Where I'm going to install a path...next year.) and load compost into the wheelbarrow for me. The neighbors got to know me pretty darned well by the time it was over. I was cheered on by plenty of passersby and complimented on all of my hard work. It made me feel a real sense of community, actually, and made me proud of my work. After all, I made this garden for the hummingbirds and for me, but it pleases me that so many others also get a great sense of enjoyment out of it year after year.

Full garden: October 24, 2010. Click to enlarge.

I'm now really, really looking forward to Spring. It's gonna look AWESOME!

Edited to add: OK, now you can click on the garden photos and get the enlarged image. Then, you can click AGAIN to get the super duper sized image. You know, in case you wanted details. Turns out the new photo editor thingy in Blogspot removes your ability to click on the images if you decide to add a caption to them. Whoops!

* Mostly my "plan" involved ripping up the landscape fabric, removing weeds and then finding and relocating shorter plants to the front, removing excess yarrow and coneflower, installing the 5 new Autumn sage and then creating little vignettes with groups of plants. If all works out as I envisioned it, there should be drifts of columbines throughout the garden now, as well as 'Boulder Blue' fescue repeated in groups of 5 across the front, taller plants were removed from the first few feet nearest the sidewalk and anything over 2' tall were removed from the main spray path of the sprinklers. Next year we may switch the whole thing over to micro-drip irrigation instead of overhead rotating sprayers. It would make more sense and use less water, but there were only so many changes I could make this year. I relocated a good number of lavender in drifts throughout the middle section and added a couple near the pink roses. Next year I plan on moving 2 more butterfly bushes from the backyard and putting them in between the Zebra grasses and pulling a couple of 'Autumn Joy' sedum from their current locations and adding those near the front right corner. Assuming that the one in the pot survives the winter in the pot....

And if there's any space left, I may toss in some bright green zinnias and move some Prairie Smoke plants over from the sidewalk garden. While I foresee a great deal of hand weeding in my future, there shouldn't be near as much physical labor involved in massive renovations. Bring on the spring!

I am so CLOSE...

2010-10-21T21:07:00.000-06:00

to being almost done with re-working my front yard that I can almost conceive of tasting it.

Here's what it looked like on Oct. 2nd. You can clearly see that I've had my work cut out for me.

Tomorrow I'll take a picture of what it looks like now from the same angle. I couldn't possibly have done that before it got dark, could I?

I have a hawk in my yard. What do YOU have?

2010-10-20T19:56:00.006-06:00

That's right.

A hawk.

I think it may be a juvenile Cooper's Hawk. What do you think?

He flew into the back yard and landed on a tree while I was making tea to go with my breakfast. I squealed and sent Eric to get the camera and the long lens. I showed him to the twins and kept hushing them so he/she/it (I respect its privacy.) wouldn't fly off before I had a chance to get a couple of shots of it.

Where did all the snacks go?

All of the little songbirds scattered when it showed up and stayed gone for a least an hour. I can just imagine the bird conversation afterward:

Bird 1: Are you goin' back to that feeder now, Bob?
Bird 2: I dunno. I think it's gone, but I'm just gonna wait a little longer to be safe.
Bird 1: Yeah. Good plan.
Bird 2: Yup.
Bird 1: [Unhappy pause] Yup.
Bird 2: [Stomach growls.]
Bird 1: [Hopefully] Do you think we could get Mikey to go check?

After a few moments, it noticed me taking its picture.

Herp?

Derp?

And then he was gone.

Maybe I should just start referring to my yard as the nature preserve? Hatchet's Nature Preserve.

Of course, that makes it sound like I'm making jam out of bunnies. Maybe I shouldn't go there....

Logan says...

2010-10-17T11:00:00.003-06:00

I was outside gardening yesterday when Logan managed to sneak out the side gate and came to get me. He grabbed me around the legs and said, "Mommy!"

Me: Logan! [Hugs]
Logan: Mommy! [Leg hug, dimpled cheeks, secret grin.]
Me: Logan! [Hugs, goofy grin.]
Logan: Mommy! [Head-butting leg hug, dimpled cheeks, big grin.]
Me: Logan! [Melting in a pool of "awww", full body hug, hair ruffle.]

I think I may have to keep him.

Smell Like a Monster

2010-10-08T20:55:00.003-06:00

The cutest video since...well, the original Old Spice video. I love Grover and you need something to smile at. You're welcome!

Also, this is a fantastic song, so you need to watch this, too. Crayola Doesn't Make a Color for your Eyes, by Kristin Andreassen. Awesome sauce!

More Critters in the Garden

2010-10-07T13:29:00.005-06:00

Just the other week I was wondering why I hadn't seen any praying mantids around my yard. Apparently it wasn't time to see them yet. Now is the time to see the full adults.

How do I know? Because in the last two days I've seen two different types in my front yard! (Also, I think I squished a male a few weeks ago. It flew close to my head and freaked me out. In my defense, I was near the wasp nest, so I was primed to kill anything that came too close to me. I'm sorry little guy!)

Well, from the research I've done, it looks like they're both the European mantid, only one is green and the other brown.

Clicky to enlarge all the pics!

Tuesday's mantis was discovered while Eric was repairing the sprinklers. Yes, repairing the sprinkler line that I punched not one, not two, but four holes in with my pitchfork while ripping out plants in the front yard. This was just after we had the sprinkler guys by to fix the part that was too much for Eric, down in the junction box. We were checking to see if they worked properly and Whoops! There goes a geyser! The next morning, after Eric repaired the hole that I knew about, we turned the sprinklers on again, and Whoops! Another one!

Repeat 2x more. Eric was not amused. Sorry honey!

I discovered today's mantid on my Zebra grass. Funny thing about the giant grass in the front yard: I love the way it sounds when it sways in the wind, but it makes me jumpy. All sudden, jumping sounds make me think Mice instead of Grasshopper or Mantid.

When I looked closer, though, it was a mantid! Woo! Apparently all of the ones you see at this time of year are a) female and b) totally preggers. Those fat abdomens are just waiting to lay some eggs! On the bright side, now I know what all of that weird, tan, foam-insulation-type stuff is around the yard! It's the egg case for praying mantises!

Of course what I'd really like to see is one of them noshing on a grasshopper or three. I have quite a few of those, all over the backyard.

In the front yard, though, I have honey bees everywhere.

Happy little bees! I have to tell you, they really like the catmint that blooms throughout the season.

Speaking of bees, I just received a gift of locally produced honey from a neighbor as a thank you gift! As I mentioned previously, I'm in the process of ripping out plants and re-setting them, which means I have a whole lot of plants that I'm giving away in my front yard. The beekeepers dropped by to say thanks for the free plants recently (e.g. irises, strawberries, caryopteris, Keys of Heaven, and yarrow) and over the years. It was so nice, it made my whole day!

My work on the front yard has hardly begun, but I've had lots of positive reinforcement from the neighbors as they drive by. Getting the honey was just icing on the cake! I love working in the front yard for just that reason. Well, I'd better get back to work! I've got yards and yards of landscape fabric to rip up and plants to relocate.

How are things looking in your garden?

Emma says...

2010-10-04T13:36:00.002-06:00

Scene: Hatchet and Emma are in the bathroom where Emma has just gone poop. Hatchet notices a ball of hair on the floor (probably from a hairbrush) and tosses it into the potty.

Emma flushes the potty and says, "You will never find your hair now, Mommy! Hah hah hah!"

My child just gave me an evil laugh and the Threatening Bad Guy Speech. This child is destined for wonderful things, isn't she?

Ha ha haaaa!

In the Garden

2010-10-03T03:14:00.003-06:00

I don't really want it to be fall, yet I can't help but appreciate the cooler weather and the fact that it's time to get some serious gardening in without melting!

After months and months of work, I might actually be done (for the season) with the sidewalk garden bed. Fortunately, I finally remembered to take a before and after shot! Here it is in early June, covered with weeds and irises and weedy irises:

Here it is after all of the ripping, shredding, weeding, re-planting and mulching, today:

It doesn't look like much right now, does it? A little less weedy. A lot more mulchy.

I only kept the Beautyberry, Prairie Smoke, Phlox subulata, spiderwort and Basket of Gold alyssum. I brought around a whole bunch of plants that have been languishing in the shade in the back yard: agastache 'Apache Sunset', Chinese grasses, pink asters, peonies, 'Blue Hills' sage, tall garden phlox, Siberian catmint and columbines. I moved a few plants over from the xeric bed as well: a long suffering heather, a pair of Rocky Mountain penstemon that were growing among some rocks and a few winecups. The only new plants are those 3 little grasses I added on one end. I'll give that a whirl and see how it looks next year!

My xeric garden looked a lot nicer in June than it does in October.

So, of course, I'll have to start weeding, moving plants and adding new ones. I've already started here:

where the Shrub of Doom used to live. The yarrow seems to be trying to take over, so it's time it met up with The Pitchfork. I've put out signs offering all that I'm ripping out for free to the neighborhood, but anything that is left over in a day or so will be compost! Oh and while I was ripping away I found a shed snake skin. No snake came to visit, but I know it's out there some where! Maybe after I've finished messing around with all of the plants I'll see it again. I wonder if it eats voles?

The cherry tree garden looks a little bare after I weeded it and discovered vole holes:

And that they had gnawed off the bottom 6-8" of the cherry bark where it meets the soil. (Evil bastards! They will pay for this!) Also, next year, I'll be keeping a sharp look out for voles and other critters that want to take up residence in my garden beds. Hopefully I won't have the same wasp issue next year as I did this year. The columbines and bleeding hearts should fill in nicely next year, too.

The new stone steps now have two kinds of thyme happily growing in the cracks, attempting to keep the soil from washing away after every rainstorm. I can't help but like how finished they make the steps look and this is only after a couple of months! By next year I wonder if I'll have to start giving the thyme a trim? I sure hope not.

I even added some sempervivums just to see how they'd do. We'll find out next year how well they'll over winter! I hope to get more cobweb varieties in there, since they're so cute.

My containers are looking pretty good and the succulent plants were a big success this year. I totally got to forget about watering these pots for days or weeks at a time and they didn't die! That's a damned good container planting!

I couldn't help but notice that the Autumn Joy sedum is trying to take over the entire pot, so I'll probably move the three of them into the sidewalk garden. Then I'll replant the 3 pots with yet more sempervivums, since that way I'll have something to look at all winter on the front steps!

I missed out on the Botanical Garden's fall plant sale because of the twins' birthday party, but I've made up for it by getting a bunch of plants on sale at the local garden center. I even managed to talk them into cutting 20% off the sale price of a Double Delight tea rose that was looking kinda limp. It was in a 5 gallon pot, so I felt like I made out like a bandit! (It's the same rose that I had planted long ago and moved around 3 different times. This last time, I may have killed it, but in the off chance that I didn't, I planted the new rose nearby the old one. It even has a bud on it! I don't know why I'm excited about that, but there it is -- I am.) Once I watered it, it perked up immediately. I dug a lovely large hole for it and threw in a huge bucketful of compost. That sucker had better be happy next year!

I also picked up 2 weigela 'Minuet', 2 sempervivum, and 5 Salvia greggii 'Rose'.* (I'm not sure if 'Rose' is an actual variety name or just the color description.) The flowers are a lovely deep magenta/purple color and I think they'll look smashing backed up by some of my volunteer Agastache cana. I'll just have to dig them up from where they have spread themselves around the yard and in my pots.

Just in case you didn't know, fall is the best time of the year for installing new trees, shrubs and perennials. They have until the first hard frost to establish a good root system and will be a lot bigger next year in time for blooming season. Also, most garden centers are trying to get rid of their stock so that they don't have to over winter as much product, so now is a great time to save some money! Suddenly, that rose that I really wanted is a lot more appealing when it's 50% off. Plus another 20% because I asked so nicely! The magic words: "Is that price the best you can do?"

No, seriously, give that a try and see what happens.

It's amazing how messy it can look when you move plants around while re-vamping the garden, but by next season, everything will fill in and blend together. As usual, I'm looking forward to it!

* Eric tried to suggest that I might have a....problem as I was shelling out money for yet more plants. Personally, I think I can stop any time I want.

Yup.

Any day now, I'll stop gardening when I feel like it.

Any day now...

You know, like once it starts snowing.

The Twins Turned Three!

2010-09-28T21:05:00.007-06:00

Can you believe it?! We survived another year of parenting! More to the point: they survived another year of parenting!

Now I don't know about you, but I have a hard time coming up with themes for birthdays. To me, the theme of "Party" is good enough. Instead, I just make the food, send the invites and we all pile into my house and yard and hang out. After, of course, hours and hours of house cleaning, baking, multiple shopping trips, fretting, failed cupcakes, more shopping and more baking. Oh and woodworking. Don't forget the woodworking and the mulch.

A few weeks back I decided it was time to ditch the square foot garden and trade it out for a 6' x 6' sandbox. Reusing the same frame and same location would be key to our sandbox success. First, though, we had to rip out and/or relocate all of the plants, remove all of the soil, then rebuild the frame and fill it with play sand. Oh and don't forget the 5 cu yards of mulch that was piled on top of the now emptied frame until I could throw it around the garden, one week before The Party. So there I was at dusk on Friday throwing the final forkfuls of mulch into a wheelbarrow and unloading it around the front yard when my mom said to me, "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

I stopped, sweating and covered in dirt, dust and mulch, looked her dead in the eye and replied, "Nope." Then I continued moving mulch until it was all gone, and cleaned the yard until it was full dark, because nothing is a motivating as a birthday party.

Saturday, Eric and his dad put the frame back together and attached landscape fabric to the bottom and began dumping bag after bag of sand into it. Saturday night, the kids got a chance for a pre-party sandbox test. They instantly loved it.

Sunday, all of the kids loved it.

Seven kids, one sandbox, and no fighting. Genius!

I keep trying to keep the birthday parties small, but they keep getting away from me. Considering that the kids are just 3 and don't have any friends of their own from preschool or anything to invite, I still managed to have 26 people attend, only 7 of which were children. This birthday we had all 3 sets of grandparents, one uncle, one aunt and a passel of cousins.

Grammy and Grampy.

Grampy and Logan. Clearly, this is the best seat in the house.

Grammy, Caitlin and Aunt Jenni

Pop-Pop and Nana-Sue.

Nana-Sue got renamed to Banana-Sue by Emma. She looks OK with it.

Now that's a good lookin' bunch of babies right there!

And Grandma and Grandpa.

Just so you know, there was only one other picture of my mom and it was way worse than this one. Note that the fact that she complained while I was taking it was probably part of the problem. Next time I walk up to you with a camera, strike a pose or be prepared for the consequences! MOM!

There were cupcakes, by the dozens.

And friends to frost those cupcakes. And take pictures, change diapers, bring snacks, balloons and bags of sand.

And yet more friends to eat those cupcakes.

Why yes, I DID make coconut cupcakes and Ultimate Chocolate Cupcakes with Ganache Filling. Thanks for noticing!

But first there was the singing,

Logan is loving the singing. Emma...not so much!

and the blowing out of candles,

and the eating.

Then the present opening.

I love Emma's reaction face!

There were sand toys a-plenty!

There was one drama, though. Only one big dump truck.

"I can't believe I have to share!"

Emma fairly mowed Logan down to get this truck to the sandbox first, leaving Logan screaming and crying and left me sheepishly opening the rest of the presents.

Must be my party, now! Woo! Sheets! Total score!

He calmed down pretty quick once we opened a huge box of cars. Then he started filling his hands and pockets like squirrels do with nuts and scampered off, happily.

There was talk and laughter and general hanging about.

Look! Uncle Ian! We lured him in with promises of jam and chocolate.

Logan even got to play with the new truck...eventually!

Note the iterative dump truck action and the fist full of cars. You think I joke about the magpie thing, don't you?

"Who? Me? Pushy? No way! I'm too cute to be bossy!"

There was even time for me to be in the photographs, which only happened when I kept thrusting my camera into someone else's hands. Thanks Scott! Thanks Eric! That's right. I can delegate!

Parents of twins. Can't you just see the hearing loss?

And even though everyone thinks I'm insane* for going crazy making cupcakes and buttercream frosting from scratch and building sandboxes and gardening like a fiend (Misty said she was glad she wasn't the only one!), everyone went away happy with full hearts, hands and bellies. And my yard looked pretty good, too.

Happy birthday little monkeys! Mommy loves you.

Yes, that chin gene IS dominant. How did you know? Also note the dimples. Eeee!

And is very tired now. Good thing your birthday only comes once a year!

* It's not like they're wrong** or anything.

** Did I mention that as soon as the party was over I had a cool idea for painting the sandbox cover with chalkboard paint and turning it into a giant outdoor drawing pad? Yeah. I'mma work on that one...tomorrow!

Work, work, work!

2010-09-25T04:50:00.003-06:00

I've been a bit busy, this last week.

The day after I wrote this I received 5 cubic yards of mulch. Then the heavy lifting began. Eric started moving it all to the backyard. while I threw about .5 cu yd around the sidewalk garden. You've never seen speed weeding like a motivated Hatchet with a load of mulch headed her way! After the remainder made it into two HUGE piles in the backyard, it was time for me to throw it around the border garden in back.

You know, the garden I spent all summer ripping plants out of in order to install my new shrubs? Yeah. This is a desperate attempt to not have to weed so bloody often next year. After all, that's part of mulch's job: keepin' the weeds down! That plus water retention. I also badgered Eric into installing that new sprinkler line to keep my plants in the corner happy per The List. I haven't done 6, 12, 13,19 and 22 yet, but the year isn't over yet!

To add to the chaos, I ripped out Caitlin's square foot garden since she wasn't weeding it and I have plenty of garden to weed, without adding hers to the list. Instead we're going to turn it into a giant sandbox just in time for the twins' birthday party! This was also motivated by the fact that Caitlin and the twins are like puppies: apparently they all really need to dig! Now that I've moved the final wheelbarrow of mulch, Eric will smooth the spot out, build the frame and start unbagging bag after bag after bag of play sand.

I've also been making yet more jam, as part of the goodie bag for the kids at the party and I've started cleaning. There's an awful lot of cleaning that needs to take place since I regularly avoid it in order to weed, plant or jam.

I know, I'm bad. I'd rather spend hours making and cleaning up after my jamming mess than have to mop the floors. They're just gonna get wrecked again the moment the twins wake up, so what's the point? Besides, I'm convinced a little (OK, a lot!) of dirt is what keeps them all so healthy! Or maybe it's just the good food?

Anyway...my folks just flew into town and that is bringing up all kinds of other issues, that I'll have to talk about later. You might want to bring tissues.

At some point I'll actually take pictures of the garden and you can see what all of the hoopla has been about. It doesn't look like much now, but just you wait! In a few short years -- POW! There should be massive flowering shrub action!

I hope.

Body Issues at 9? She's Too Young for This!

2010-09-15T12:11:00.003-06:00

Getting Caitlin ready for school on a daily basis is one of the most frustrating aspects of our morning routine. As soon as the thump-thump-thumping starts up from the twins' room, we roll out of bed, already somewhat out of sorts. Logan, you see, lays on his back in front of the door and kicks it to let you know that he's awake, dammit! Come and get him!

So that's fun.

Then, somehow, the thumping that wakes me up from down the hall has no impact on Caitlin, who is right next door to the twins. Or the cats miaowing to be fed. Or the alarm going off by her face.

First thing's first: I open Logan's door and he either immediately impresses upon me his dire need of food ("Hungreeeee! Food! Beckfast! Food! Food! Food!" Repeat until your brains drizzle out of your ears.) or he goes all cute on me and reminds me why I keep him alive on a daily basis (Holds his blanket up to his face, leaving only his eyes visible and gives me the Prince Charming smile and then snuggles into my lap after I've melted into the floor from the power of his smile.). Once the beasts are freed, I then have to go and boot Caitlin into action.

Normal idealized routine:

Caitlin wakes up.
Gets out of bed.
Brushes her teeth and hair.
Gets dressed in Parent Approved clothing (e.g. appropriate for current weather conditions, cleanliness and eyestrain).
Feeds the cats.
Makes her lunch, with assistance where required (e.g. slicing bread).
Gathers up her class materials, finished homework and lunch and gets in the car.

Normal actual routine:

Eric or I ask Caitlin to wake up.
A parent returns, somewhat grumpily, in 5-10 minutes to get her out of bed.
After yet another round of Get Up, Caitlin!, Caitlin finally gets out of bed. Attitude turned On and set to Petulant.
Caitlin goes to feed the cats. Or maybe the twins have fed them with me, when Caitlin didn't appear within a few minutes of being told to wake up. Caitlin may decide to play with the cats or the twins, pet the cats or read a book.
Grumpy parent grumps at Caitlin to work on items 3, 4, 6 and 7 from the list above.
Caitlin gets dressed. Sets off Inappropriate Clothing Warning. Those capris have already been worn this week! Argument ensues.
Lunch is made with some level of grumpy parental involvement. Parent is also making breakfast for twins who are yelling 'encouragement': "Syrup! Syrup! Syrup! Syrup! I want syrup! Syrup! Syrup! Can I have Syrup? Hungreee!"
Remind Caitlin to brush her teeth. Receive attitude because asking such a thing Represses Her. Who needs good dental hygiene anyway?!
Ask Caitlin to brush hair. Also, have you brushed your teeth yet?! You're running out of time!
Throw breakfast together and hand it to her to eat while on the drive to school.

Last week, during the argument as part of step 6 from the Actual routine above, Caitlin hollered that she didn't have any pants to wear. When I checked her dresser, however, I found plenty of shorts that had been worn all summer. Suddenly Caitlin was throwing a fit because she cannot possibly wear shorts.

Mom-tuition flared up and I went into Detective Mom Mode.

Me: Why can't you wear shorts?
C: [After much wailing and attempts at dodging the question] Because my thighs jiggle in gym class when I kneel down!
Me: That's normal. You have muscles and tendons and a thin layer of fat under your skin that keeps you from dying. You are not fat. Did someone say something to you?
C: [Attempts to dodge question]
Me: YOU. ARE. NOT. FAT. Anyone that says so is INSANE. What's going on?!
C: [Crying] Bleeaaaaaargh!

It turns out that some boy at school has determined that Caitlin is neither girlish enough for him (Your hair is too short! Only boys have short hair!) or boyish enough (Your clothes are ugly! Red and blue don't go together! [Say what, white boy?!]) for him. She'd been trying to make him her friend and he was ripping her to shreds on a daily basis. She no longer wanted to wear any dresses or any shorts that showed her thighs all because of some jerk that has no clue about anything. Caitlin hasn't yet learned that not only can you not be friends with everyone, but that not everyone is worth being friends with!

So there we were, sitting on the floor of her bedroom, with our normal routine shot all to hell and it doesn't really matter, all because some brat is messing with my kid's body image. At the end of the hullabaloo, Caitlin was dressed in shorts and ready to go. However, I'm pretty certain that we haven't heard the end of the body issues. Ugh!

Nine is way too soon for body issues.

Isn't it?

The Jam Lineup

2010-09-09T12:30:00.002-06:00

They're so pretty, I needed to photograph them in the sunshine.

Top row: Australian spiced fig jam (for fig cookies!), freezer minted raspberry peach jam, and peach raspberry jam.
Bottom row: the first peach jam of the season (made in the crockpot and not very firm, but delicious!), the second peach jam (with Ball pectin and a boatload of sugar), mango raspberry jam, spiced peach jam, cherry, peach jam (with Pomona pectin and a LOT less sugar!), peach cranberry conserve (with Amaretto!), and mango jam.

This is what I've been working on for the past couple of weeks. Part of the insanity is that I'm planning on giving a jar away to each couple that attend the twins' 3rd birthday party, instead of grab bags of junk. I'll also make some peppermint bark for the kids that are coming (Because just how many little kids would appreciate jam for a gift bag?) to the party and I also have to make enough to send some home with my mom for my sisters.

That meant a lot of jamming sessions.

The fig jam is really an experiment (they all are, really) to see if I can make a yummy fig cookie of my own and the freezer jam seemed like a good idea at the time but is too sweet for me. The mango jam is my secret stash and I'm only likely to share it with one person: my mom. Unless I make another batch, that is!

The cool thing is that I ran across a different kind of pectin at the natural food store and found that I can use a lot less sugar using it than the regular Ball kind of pectin. This thrilled me to no end because the concept of 5 1/2 or 7 cups of sugar to 4 or 5 cups of fruit makes my teeth ache. On the bright side, I learn new things with every batch I make (Like the fact that I need a longer spoon to avoid getting splashed with molten hot jam!) and I have yummy presents for the folks I love.

I only stopped when I ran out of glass jars. The people I love are not so good with returning the of the glass jars. (This is a hint, y'all!) I'm sure with a little prodding, they'll remember! Also, the threat of no more jam might just do it! (HINT!)

Anyone have a favorite recipe I should try? I'm dying for some rhubarb, but it's currently out of season and I don't have any rhubarb plants of my own! Next year, however...!

We be jammin'!

2010-09-04T21:29:00.008-06:00

In case you were wondering why I've been MIA this week. I blame the peaches.

That's right: peaches.

Peaches from Morton's Orchards. I love their peaches. Love 'em!

And mangoes, raspberries, cranberries and other fruit.

I'm on a canning bender.

Partly it's because after eating several pounds of peaches fresh, you've just gotta do something else with them. Partly it's because my mom is coming out for the twins 3rd birthday party and I'd better, by gosh-gum-golly, have something nummy for her to take back to NY for Dawn and Canada for Cindy. Thus, I've determined that I must can like a mad woman to be "ready" in 3 more weeks. Ready to part with 3 or 4 or 5 different versions of peach jam and mango-raspberry jam and cherry jelly and so on and so forth. Also, my nephews love me more every time I give them fresh peach jam, so I must ~~enslave~~ lure them to me with new offerings.

I don't have pictures of all of the ones I've done so far, but here's a quick look at me canning mango-raspberry jam.

I love mangoes. Have I ever told you? I mean, I really love mangoes. If there's a dessert on the menu at a restaurant that has mangoes in it, changes are extremely good that I'm going to order it. Dicing mangoes can be a lot of fun, too. First, you slide your knife down on either side of the flat pit and lop off the pieces on either side. Then you slice through the flesh, but not the skin.

Once you've cut it horizontally, turn it 90 degrees and slice it again. Then invert the mango. Suddenly you have a mango porcupine! So cute! Now you just slice off the individual pieces and you're done. Repeat x4 to get 4 cups of diced mangoes.

You'll also want 1 1/2 cups raspberries. Fresh or frozen. I went with frozen, since I was able to get 40 ounces frozen for the same price as 24 oz fresh. Defrost, then mash and measure. Throw them in the pot with the mangoes, lemon juice and pectin and stir.
Keep stirring.

Are you tired of stirring yet? You're probably not done yet. Keep stirring.

Meanwhile, you should have had your lids and jars hot and ready. You did remember those, right?

Right.

You'd better still be stirring that pot!

I learned something new this year: in order to form a gel, the boiling jam needs to read 8 degrees (Fahrenheit) above the boiling point of water at your elevation. That's key. This whole imprecise blather about a "full rolling boil" doesn't mean a thing to me. I like scientific, repeatable measurements. Also, at our elevation, the boiling point is 204 F, instead of 212F, which means I actually need to get the jam to 212F and keep it there for the 1 minute the recipes always require. Thus the need for a good thermometer. Suddenly, I now know exactly what the gelling point is and what "sheeting" looks like on a cold metal spoon!

It was a jamming revelation.

At that point, you can finally stop stirring since it's time to take the jam off the heat and start pouring it into hot jars. On go the 2 piece tops and into the canner!

Now it has to process for 20 minutes (At my elevation, we add 10 more minutes to the standard processing time. The things you learn!) at a full rolling boil in the canner.

Et voilà! Jam!

It is a beautiful and tasty one, too.

Yup. Jam.

And yes, I really did mean for you to hear this song while you read the post.

What have you been up to this week?

Hatchet's Wild Kingdom

2010-08-26T12:00:00.001-06:00

I have a yellow jacket problem and I'm not referring to clothing.

"Whatchu lookin' at, beyotch?"

I found the entrance to their underground nest in my front yard. Right where I need to be weeding, of course.

These would be the critters that are keeping us from eating anything with meat in it on the deck at breakfast, lunch or dinner. There are too many aggressive flying bombers to want to stay out there and risk being stung. Or listen to the children scream about them. Or to continually tempt fate by swatting them away. These Western yellow jackets can just keep on stinging you, if they've a mind to do so! Ack!

So we broke out the wasp attractant traps (Which we should have done in early spring and thus had fewer of them around now!) and I suddenly discovered the secondary benefit: the hummingbirds can now (mostly) feed without being chased off by Demon Insects! I thought that hummers were territorial when it came to the sugar water feeders, but they can't compete with a critter that can sting the heck out of you!

Now for a little someone I found in the front yard by the door!

The sphinx (hummingbird or hawk) moth! They're awfully cute for an insect, aren't they?

Strangely enough, they are a lot easier to photograph than an actual hummingbird. They appear to move slower and stay at a single flower longer. Or maybe I was just lucky. So if you run into any weird looking chrysalises in the ground under your bleeding heart plants, chances are it's these guys. My advice: Don't freak out about weird brown wiggling chrysalises.

I was lurking about in the hammock, laying in wait for a hummingbird to photograph when I thought that I should really plant some more butterfly friendly flowers on the deck. Then this guy came flying along and obligingly landed on the same agastache that the sphinx and hummers like.

Tiger swallowtail.

As much as I love butterflies, I'm always reminded that they're insects! every time I look at them a little too closely. (Eek! Long spindly buggy legs!) Then I get squicked out.

Not enough to stop loving them or photographing them, though.

Another big fan of my backyard is the common squirrel.

Squirrel! Point!

They like to help the finches clean up the hulless sunflower seeds the finches fling all over the deck. Squirrels are helpful like that. They also like to steal my neighbor's ripe apricots (as does Caitlin, but she's just not agile enough) and unripe peaches (When you hear squeaky crunching noises coming from the trees, there's a squirrel up there, desperately attempting to eat rock hard, green peaches.) and any old pecans we may have tossed out the door.

The squirrels like to tease the cats, too. They come right up to the door, where Domino watches the finches...plotting. Kaboom will occasionally jump at the squirrels and clonk himself on the glass.

Of course I still have mice roaming in my raised beds and trying to nibble on my tomatoes. I'm up to 5 kills so far this summer. Unfortunately one of those kills was a lot more up close and personal than I liked. Now I have mouse murdering sadness. I want them dead, yes, but quickly and as painlessly as possible. When you find an injured one, you have a decision to make: let it go and let it die on its own somewhere else or put it out of its misery. Poor little mouse.

On the bright side, I found that I have snakes in the front yard.

Maybe just the one I almost stepped on, but I feel pretty certain that where there's one, there's likely more! I may yet turn Eric into "Bob" from Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom series (Clearly dating myself here.). Bob was the guy that the announcer always made stick a critter they wanted to examine into a bag.

"Now Bob will place the juvenile alligator in a bag for tagging." [Gator wrassling noises ensue.]

"Now Bob will put this deadly King Cobra into the bag for venom milking." Bob glares at the announcer but stoically gets his snake grabbing stick ready. "Be careful, Bob! That thing's deadly!"

If I could get Eric to find that snake and relocate it to the tomato bed...Well! Wouldn't that be awesome?!

Note that I don't have any photos of the snake, since it hissed at me and I leaped about 3 feet into the air and then ran to get Eric and my camera. However, when I got back, all you could see of it was the tip of its orange-striped tail. It was probably a common Western garter snake. Probably.

So...yeah. I have entire food chains happening in my own backyard. Exactly as planned!*

After spending a few days trying to ~~shoot~~ photograph hummingbirds in my yard, and being continually thwarted by excited and loud ~3 year old twins, I got a few good pictures.

Are you lookin' at ME?

I'm pretty certain that these are female broadtailed hummingbirds. Rarely do I ever see the males, although I have heard them and have watched them chase others off from the feeders. At least, I think it's a male. Could be a tough old girl!

Who? Me? Never!

Seeing the hummingbirds every summer lifts my heart and continually reinforces that what I'm doing in my yard is the right thing. The right mix of plants and water and trees and space for us and the wildlife around us.

It's also got me thinking that next year I'll put a whole lot more red flowered plants in pots on the deck! Texas sage? Check! Cardinal vine? Check! Scarlet zinnias? Check! Also, more agastache.

Maybe a new kind of fuchsia, too. Since it took me until just this year to realize that there's no way that this beak

My schnozz is so tiny and delicate!

can reach the nectary in this flower.

Yup. Just kinda figured that out one day while wondering why I never saw any hummers sipping at this hummingbird "friendly" plant.

Oh and this video from PBS "Magic in the Air" certainly helped me come to that conclusion. It struck me that this is a plant that is probably meant for a different hummingbird. One with a longer bill. Watch the video, it's beautiful!

If you want to lure hummers to your yard, get a feeder and put out nectar. You don't need to buy special mixes from the store, either. Just remember that it's a 4:1 ratio of water to sugar. So if you have 1 cup of water, you only need 1/4 cup of sugar. Boil for a minute, let cool and then fill your feeder. You do NOT need to add any color to the nectar. You should never add anything other than sugar and water. (I don't care how much you think they "like" it...Mom.) Just be certain to clean out the feeders twice a week in the heat of the summer since the nectar will spoil. You don't want to make your hummingbirds sick!

Also, the comment that they "live on the edge of survival" motivated me to pick up a new feeder with bee guards to keep the yellow jackets away. I parked it right next to my garden window next to the kitchen sink. Now I get to gawk at them up close while doing dishes!

There you have it. Hatchet's Wild Kingdom. Just as I'd planned, years ago when I first started my garden. I think it's working out beautifully!

*Except for the yellow jackets. Who eats those, anyway? I need to invite those predators to my yard!

The First Day of Fourth Grade

2010-08-21T20:30:00.003-06:00

It was the first day of 4th grade and we were running late as usual.*

Already.

We did the back to school shopping in record time. Eric took Caitlin out the day before classes started and bought piles of supplies. We never actually went clothes shopping, but considering that it's the middle of August, it's not like she needs fall weather clothes. Instead, she just jumped into a tee shirt and a pair of holey gauchos and was ready to go.

But I said, "No. Not on your first day of school."

So I made her change her clothes. Two more times.

With that issue mostly settled, and breakfast in everyone's belly but mine, we rounded up the twins, my camera and tea and toast and drove up to the walking-up-the-hill point. Whereupon the twins took it to mean that it was time to whine and scream about being picked up and carried up the hill. While we were lugging an enormous bag of school supplies, a camera, a coffee mug, toast and unwilling twins.

They slowed us down, to put it mildly.

Eric started getting antsy that the bell would ring at any moment and was going to send Caitlin on ahead without us, but I insisted that we would all make it. So we hoisted the Dramatic Duo and hurried ahead. Made it into line with plenty of time to spare, but not enough for good photos. Instead, we'll all have to make do with these.

Bye Caitlin! See you after school!

She was excited and looking forward to getting back to school and learning new things. Hopefully it will be a better year for her than last year. Less sneak reading and more homework completion. More after school programs and, hopefully, new friends.

Welcome to 4th grade!**

* The first day was the 17th of August. Whatever happened to the week before Labor Day?!
** When did she get old enough to be in 4th grade, anyway?!

Hatchet: 3, Mice: 2

2010-08-18T12:24:00.003-06:00

It's that time of year again.

The tomatoes are swelling on the vine and looking almost ready to pick when I notice chew marks. Little tiny chew marks in the soft flesh of my lovely pineapple tomato.

And now...something must die!

So I rustle up the 2 mouse traps that were over wintering in the basement, taking out those that dared to come inside and attempt to escape the weather, and return them to the raised bed. One on either side of that mysterious hole that wasn't there a few weeks back.

That was last night.

This morning, I found 2 dead mice who will gnaw on my tomatoes no more. However, with last year as my first foray into Mouse Murder 101, I know that those will not be the last of them, so I reset the traps. I checked once more before lunch and there was another dead Mickey.

It makes me sad to have to kill them. However, I have a line drawn in the soil and that line is this: I am willing to kill for fresh tomatoes. Like I said last year, I'm not willing to poison them because of the unknown consequences downstream, but I am willing to give them a swift, sharp death to keep them away from my food.

The compost heap and sunflower seeds the birds throw around should be enough for them. Anything else is stepping over the line.

Last year, I closed the season out at 17 mice. Apparently I didn't kill off all of the stupid ones.

Yet.

P.S. Next year I swear that I will only plant 5 tomato plants in a single bed and will plant nothing else in there to compete. I'll even cage them up. Ugh!

Finger Painting

2010-08-16T13:53:00.005-06:00

Since the twins like to make a mess, I've always been leery of letting them have access to paint. Pencils, pens and markers are an automatic guaranteed mess and will likely result in my walls becoming even more "decorated" than they currently are. Paint just seemed like a horrible, horrible idea.

Except that it was really nice out and I didn't have any other pressing matters (i.e. bread baking or weeding. House cleaning just isn't on my summer list of Things To Do.), I thought we'd give it a whirl.

First we had to get mostly naked, though, because I know what will happen to their clothes otherwise. Then I put down a large piece of paper and a small amount of red and blue paint. Then I went away for a little while, just to let them get into it all on their own. This is the aftermath of the creative process.

Emma looks slightly guilty while Logan is cheerfully showing me his purple hands.

"Is OK to be messy?"

"Logan, you got a little paint on you tummy. I hep you wif dat."

Smoochies!

Emma: "Do you think this is messy enough?"
Logan: "I don't think so."

Logan's hands.

The squiggles on his nose please me.

Show me your hands!

I love Emma's curl here and Logan's soulful eyes.

"That was fun!"

"I'm painting!"

Of course, all good things must come to an end. When their painting day was over, they happily ended up in the bath.

Red + blue = purple!

The purple bath.

That was so much fun that I may yet let them do it again! Maybe next time we'll do yellow and blue....