My husband and I spent Christmas in Idaho with his family. No, I did not "eat a potato". This is cattle country, not potato country. And I actually spent much of my time in Washington state, because the town Marc grew up in is right on the Idaho/Washington border.
Here's a journal of each day and what I did. It's honestly pretty boring, and I'm not sure you're up to the read...
Enjoy. :)
Sunday 30 December 2012
Saturday 8 December 2012
Real Life Sucks.
At some point, after you're out of highschool, or college, you're bound to realize a few things. The things you realize will, naturally, depend on your expectations, your situation, and your previous situations, but I think these cover the basics.
A) Paying bills is hard. Having an amount of companies that demand money on a scheduled basis, well, that gets hard to keep up with. It gets harder and scarier the more that there are, but even just a few demanded payments of your hard-earned money are rough.
B) No one told you it would be this way.
C) Finding a good place to live, a good job to work, and good people to spend time with is hard. It seems so easy, right? If it was/is for you, I want to say, "Just you wait..." but maybe you're one of the lucky ones. Hold on to it.
D) Your time doesn't seem the same as it did in school. Either you have a lot more and you don't know what to do, or you never have enough hours in the day to do what you need to do, but either way, you might just feel like somebody switched up how fast the clocks go.
E) The world kind of sucks. Yep, let's just accept this one. See, the thing is, it doesn't suck less in highschool, you just know that highschool is a limited-time thing, and you can just power through to get to the end. Life isn't a limited-time thing. It just keeps going.
F) FML. You're bound to say it, feel it, think it, or just know it.
G) Sometimes, the best approach is a few hours off with a good CD on repeat and a slab of something warm and baked. Unless your problem is obesity.
So, I guess what I want to say, is this:
Yes, it sucks. It's hard. It always was, and always will be. There are people your age who know how much it sucks because they're there too. There are also older people who can connect and maybe help you out, depending on what's wrong. Biggest thing to remember: This too shall pass. Maybe not like highschool, or like a bad excrement, but it will pass, whatever it is. Whether it's as sucky as a kidney stone, or as simple as a jackass on the freeway, it will pass.
Oh, but just because it'll end, doesn't mean you don't have to work hard between now and then.
A) Paying bills is hard. Having an amount of companies that demand money on a scheduled basis, well, that gets hard to keep up with. It gets harder and scarier the more that there are, but even just a few demanded payments of your hard-earned money are rough.
B) No one told you it would be this way.
C) Finding a good place to live, a good job to work, and good people to spend time with is hard. It seems so easy, right? If it was/is for you, I want to say, "Just you wait..." but maybe you're one of the lucky ones. Hold on to it.
D) Your time doesn't seem the same as it did in school. Either you have a lot more and you don't know what to do, or you never have enough hours in the day to do what you need to do, but either way, you might just feel like somebody switched up how fast the clocks go.
E) The world kind of sucks. Yep, let's just accept this one. See, the thing is, it doesn't suck less in highschool, you just know that highschool is a limited-time thing, and you can just power through to get to the end. Life isn't a limited-time thing. It just keeps going.
F) FML. You're bound to say it, feel it, think it, or just know it.
G) Sometimes, the best approach is a few hours off with a good CD on repeat and a slab of something warm and baked. Unless your problem is obesity.
So, I guess what I want to say, is this:
Yes, it sucks. It's hard. It always was, and always will be. There are people your age who know how much it sucks because they're there too. There are also older people who can connect and maybe help you out, depending on what's wrong. Biggest thing to remember: This too shall pass. Maybe not like highschool, or like a bad excrement, but it will pass, whatever it is. Whether it's as sucky as a kidney stone, or as simple as a jackass on the freeway, it will pass.
Oh, but just because it'll end, doesn't mean you don't have to work hard between now and then.
Living Sky
If you asked me what my favourite colour was, and I answered, "The colour of Saskatchewan skies." Would you think blue? I might. My first thought would be the ocean-deep, diamond-bright, dazzling azure of a mid-day mid-summer cloudless day. But I would also remember the thick dark almost-black blue of a moonless night, as well as the soft baby blue that midnight fades to as dawn takes over. As pink, red and orange streak one horizon, the other is dappled in an almost-touchable soft shade of blue.
And to think of the sunrise, one can hardly not think about the sunset. All the colours of the sunset. There's crimson red that paints itself across the sky in wide streaks, the orange that dashes boldly closest to the sun, the deep purple that replaces blue except for where red still paints the sky, the yellow that just swallows up the entire sky for all of five minutes, and of course the pink that soft clouds are dipped in; the shade of pink unicorns and little girls' rooms should be. The sunrises have a similar pallet, but the tones are subdued, and sleepy. Who can really expect them to be as bold as their evening counterparts so early in the morning?
But when you think the colours of Saskatchewan skies, do you think of grey? The heavy, pressing, all-encompassing grey that envelopes the entire province all winter? The heavy dense clouds press low to the ground, and fade into the snow covered fields until you can't distinguish the horizon, threatening to swallow you up if you let yourself go. The ocean of grey only relinquishes its grasp as spring starts to melt the world and brown creeps back in, and then slowly all the other colours of the skies come back to life at their appropriate times.
And there's that orange; when the clouds are low and heavy so the streetlights reflect off of them and light up the whole world with an eerie orange glow. As well as the orange of the huge harvest moon that hangs so close you could probably touch it if you reach hard enough.
And the forgotten colour; white. The wispy white of thin clouds spread across a pale blue, or the plump fluffy white of perfect clouds. And the white of a winter storm, where snow is blowing so hard and thick you can't see the neighbours, or distinguish the road from the air from the house.
But when you think the colours of Saskatchewan skies, do you think of grey? The heavy, pressing, all-encompassing grey that envelopes the entire province all winter? The heavy dense clouds press low to the ground, and fade into the snow covered fields until you can't distinguish the horizon, threatening to swallow you up if you let yourself go. The ocean of grey only relinquishes its grasp as spring starts to melt the world and brown creeps back in, and then slowly all the other colours of the skies come back to life at their appropriate times.
And there's that orange; when the clouds are low and heavy so the streetlights reflect off of them and light up the whole world with an eerie orange glow. As well as the orange of the huge harvest moon that hangs so close you could probably touch it if you reach hard enough.
So what is my favourite colour? As the season, the time of day, and the level of humidity change and pass, so do my favourites. I live, love and breath the living skies. I relish in them, let myself soak in their personalities, their vibrancy, their very life. Every one of these colours and shades is truly the colour I love just as it dances its way across the skies of my home and heart.
Sunday 7 October 2012
The Chocolate Overdose Cake
I made a pretty spectacular cake for the first time in my life this weekend. Usually my mom does the stunning cakes, but I think mine was right up there. I did it a little oddly, and I'd change some things if I did it again, though.
We started with a two-layer cake that was already stacked and iced. First, we stuck pieces of Kit Kat bar to the side of the bottom layer of cake with dollops of clear corn syrup on the back. We could not have done it without that corn syrup. And since some of it oozed out between the chocolate pieces, I really suggest using the clear stuff. Also, make sure your bottom cake is slightly shorter than a Kit Kat piece, or the M&M's will not stay put.
We tied the ribbon around it right away so that the Kit Kats wouldn't fall off. The next thing we did was dump M&M's between the top cake and the top of the Kit Kat pieces. If I did this again, I would save this step for last.
After that, we actually weren't sure what we wanted on the top, so we just went to the store and looked at the candy options until we found some we liked. We bought some mini Rolos and a Hershey's Cookies and Cream chocolate bar. The Rolos went on easier than the Kit Kats did, but we still used a dollop of clear corn syrup on the back of each one.
If I did it again, the Rolos would have lined up better. Because the M&M's were already in there, and we started from the bottom, the lines aren't really straight. I would either have started from the top, or from the bottom and added the M&M's after the fact.
Lastly, we grated a bar of Hershey's Cookies and Cream. Yes, grated. Like a cheese grater. We used the big side, and it really just crumbled the chocolate, which was our desired effect. It really worked better than expected.
And then we spooned out the crumbles to the top of the cake. Some crumbles slid down to the M&Ms, or got stuck in the Rolo stacks, but we got the noticeable ones out.
We started with a two-layer cake that was already stacked and iced. First, we stuck pieces of Kit Kat bar to the side of the bottom layer of cake with dollops of clear corn syrup on the back. We could not have done it without that corn syrup. And since some of it oozed out between the chocolate pieces, I really suggest using the clear stuff. Also, make sure your bottom cake is slightly shorter than a Kit Kat piece, or the M&M's will not stay put.
We tied the ribbon around it right away so that the Kit Kats wouldn't fall off. The next thing we did was dump M&M's between the top cake and the top of the Kit Kat pieces. If I did this again, I would save this step for last.
After that, we actually weren't sure what we wanted on the top, so we just went to the store and looked at the candy options until we found some we liked. We bought some mini Rolos and a Hershey's Cookies and Cream chocolate bar. The Rolos went on easier than the Kit Kats did, but we still used a dollop of clear corn syrup on the back of each one.
If I did it again, the Rolos would have lined up better. Because the M&M's were already in there, and we started from the bottom, the lines aren't really straight. I would either have started from the top, or from the bottom and added the M&M's after the fact.
Lastly, we grated a bar of Hershey's Cookies and Cream. Yes, grated. Like a cheese grater. We used the big side, and it really just crumbled the chocolate, which was our desired effect. It really worked better than expected.
And then we spooned out the crumbles to the top of the cake. Some crumbles slid down to the M&Ms, or got stuck in the Rolo stacks, but we got the noticeable ones out.
It was a bit of a gong show to cut into, but the mess was delicious, and enjoyed by all. A true success of a cake.
Thursday 27 September 2012
Nothing Gold Can Stay
Nature's first green is goldI think about it every year at this time. When the trees are golden hues, and slowly begin to shed their leaves. You see, autumn is my favorite season, once it is upon us. Three seasons a year, I dream of or delight in summer. I look forward to summer, and relish every blisteringly hot day, and then as it fades out, I declare autumn my favorite.
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sinks to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
But you see, the beauty of autumn lies in its temporary state. Autumn is a warning, a promise, a delicious taste of a terrible pie. Autumn is a slow goodbye to wonderful times, and a slow fade into dark days ahead. It is like the sign on the side of the highway that says what is coming ahead. It's a sweet sign, you appreciate it, you relish in its beauty, but that doesn't mean you want what is coming.Sure, autumn is beautiful, especially around here. Saskatchewan is the land of living skies, but also of drastic weather. We go from 40 above everyday to 40 below everyday (Celsius) in the matter of autumn. But the living skies, those bring autumn to life. Imagine. Wide open bright blue skies framed by never-ending golden brown fields of harvested wheat, and yellow and orange trees on either side. Or rolling clouds across summer skies, that you can just see through gold and green leaves. Rows of trees, lining farms, that vary from live green to yellow, gold to dead brown branches. These months are truly Saskatchewan at its finest.
Even the thermometers seem to know that it is a transition phase. You start your morning with the heat on, by lunch you have the air off and the windows open (to enjoy that crisp, fresh, grain dust seasoned air) and then by three you have A/C on and that fall sweater/jacket/coat sits on your passenger seat.For work lately, I find myself driving around the edges of town, where residential becomes industrial, and then turns into acreages (small town, much?). That is where the beauty lies. I mean, this town is old. Half of it was built a hundred years ago, when every street was tree-lined, and the trees are mature now. Driving down any of the older residential streets is a beauty in autumn. Indescribable temporary beauty. But the edges of town, where railroads, fields and dirt roads stretch into the horizon? That is where autumn comes to life. And what makes it more beautiful is this. I often drive through the same areas several days in a row, or at least a few days apart. And every time I drive through an area, I note the trees that are at perfection. The ones that drive the inner, pathetic photographer inside of me to pull out my imaginary DSLR and snap a bazillion pictures. Then I drive past that block a few days later, and that tree is dead. Previously green trees are gold, and previously gold trees are barren. It never fails to surprise me just how temporary autumn is.
Robert Frost truly says it best; Nothing gold can stay.
.
Tuesday 25 September 2012
Reasons You Should Be A Cat
I've been thinking... and I decided I want to be a cat.
No, seriously. Hear me out.
First of all, they get away with just about anything, and even though they're smart and know exactly what you're saying, you don't expect them to learn or respond, unlike dogs. They get their food in a bowl, their water dripping from a tap, and they get to poop in a box and watch you clean it out. Mind you, this is only house cats. Farm cats usually get a tray of dog food every couple of weeks, and have to chase mice and find their own water. But that doesn't seem so bad.
Next, they get pictures and videos taken of them constantly, and even when they're obese, ugly, hairless or demented, people gush about how cute they are. I mean, come on. There are popular videos on youtube that are simply a cat knocking something over and then acting like they didn't. How do that many people watch it?
If you're not sold yet, try this one! They're pregnant for nine weeks. Nine. Weeks. Even days before giving birth, a healthy cat will be able to leap, move, and chase things. Maybe not as high, or for as long, and they can't sleep comfortably, but you can tell they don't think they're a bumbling whale. So, they don't start showing for three or four weeks, which means five or six WEEKS of weight gain, along with some meanness (let's be honest, cats have hormones too), and NO cravings!
THEN, they give birth. Okay, so this might suck. Cats have on average 3-8 kittens each time, but can have nine or ten. Ouch. But labour isn't as difficult or as painful (not that my cat told me how much pain she was in, but you can tell). Then they have 3-8 blind, deaf, clumsy, needy babies to take care of. I'm sure that is overwhelming. But no word of lie, sometimes my cat would be nursing her five babies, and then just get up, and leave the box they were in and she would go somewhere else. Like, "Okay guys, I need a break. I'll be back, bye." Must be nice.
Within a few weeks, the little rats start looking like kittens, and start acting like kittens. They're out of the box, they're underfoot, they're attacking your face in your sleep... I'm sure mommy doesn't really enjoy this part, but they start eating real food around six weeks old, and by eight weeks, they don't nurse, they poop on their own in a box, and they start finding new homes.
Think about that! 17 weeks from conception to empty nest syndrome! Seriously. And those kids don't need to go to college, they never ask for money, and they never bring home awful girlfriends.
So, I want to be a cat in my next life.
No, seriously. Hear me out.
First of all, they get away with just about anything, and even though they're smart and know exactly what you're saying, you don't expect them to learn or respond, unlike dogs. They get their food in a bowl, their water dripping from a tap, and they get to poop in a box and watch you clean it out. Mind you, this is only house cats. Farm cats usually get a tray of dog food every couple of weeks, and have to chase mice and find their own water. But that doesn't seem so bad.
Next, they get pictures and videos taken of them constantly, and even when they're obese, ugly, hairless or demented, people gush about how cute they are. I mean, come on. There are popular videos on youtube that are simply a cat knocking something over and then acting like they didn't. How do that many people watch it?
If you're not sold yet, try this one! They're pregnant for nine weeks. Nine. Weeks. Even days before giving birth, a healthy cat will be able to leap, move, and chase things. Maybe not as high, or for as long, and they can't sleep comfortably, but you can tell they don't think they're a bumbling whale. So, they don't start showing for three or four weeks, which means five or six WEEKS of weight gain, along with some meanness (let's be honest, cats have hormones too), and NO cravings!
THEN, they give birth. Okay, so this might suck. Cats have on average 3-8 kittens each time, but can have nine or ten. Ouch. But labour isn't as difficult or as painful (not that my cat told me how much pain she was in, but you can tell). Then they have 3-8 blind, deaf, clumsy, needy babies to take care of. I'm sure that is overwhelming. But no word of lie, sometimes my cat would be nursing her five babies, and then just get up, and leave the box they were in and she would go somewhere else. Like, "Okay guys, I need a break. I'll be back, bye." Must be nice.
Within a few weeks, the little rats start looking like kittens, and start acting like kittens. They're out of the box, they're underfoot, they're attacking your face in your sleep... I'm sure mommy doesn't really enjoy this part, but they start eating real food around six weeks old, and by eight weeks, they don't nurse, they poop on their own in a box, and they start finding new homes.
Think about that! 17 weeks from conception to empty nest syndrome! Seriously. And those kids don't need to go to college, they never ask for money, and they never bring home awful girlfriends.
So, I want to be a cat in my next life.
Tuesday 18 September 2012
Adventurous Weekend It Is
So, this last Sunday was our first anniversary. I've been thinking on the momentousness of this day for a little while, and I had several heartfelt paragraphs bouncing through my head. I just wanted to wait until the whole day to be over first. We didn't have big plans or nothing, since it was a Sunday, we did our usual sleep in, half-hearted lunch, and then spurts of cleaning and organizing. We gave each other gifts, and then cleaned more. Eventually we both ran out of steam and settled in to game like we usually do. I know, we're a very romantic couple. But I did tell him previously that I wanted a nice date for dinner, and I wanted it to be a surprise.
Around 5:30, I said, "Babe? What are we doing for dinner?" Apparently he completely forgot. He was going to take me to "the city" an hour away so that we had more than two nice restaurant options, but instead we could just do whatever and go into the city whenever I wanted. I said, "I want to tonight. I'm not hungry yet. Let's change and go." So we did. We had a great time driving, and picked a great restaurant I hadn't been to, had great food, and were getting ready to head home again, when I decided I should see my brother. He lives there, and I haven't seen him since May. So we texted him, and stopped by the arcade he was hanging out at (I didn't just marry a geek...) and hung out for a little while before heading home.
All this while, I considered the reasons I love my husband, the things we've been through and done in the last year, how much we've changed, and what this year landmark really means for us.
We were just exiting the city, just hitting the highway, when my honey suddenly announced he couldn't breathe. He drove a bit longer, but pulled over, got out of the car, and tried to tell me to call 911. His chest felt tight, he couldn't get enough oxygen in, he felt dizzy, he felt addled and couldn't talk, and his fingertips felt tingly (!!!!!). I felt his pulse and lost count by three. It was going faster than I could keep up with. Maybe because I was freaking out, but it only made me freak out more. After spending a few minutes on the phone with 911, he started to feel a bit better, and decided it was just a panic attack, or something. I got in the driver's seat, and drove to the hospital.
So there we were, at 9pm on our first anniversary, in the emergency room an hour away from home. And we were still there, 7 hours later, at 4am, when they finally discharged us. Possibly the worst night of my life. Certainly the scariest.
He had sinus tachycardia, which may or may not mean something is really wrong with him long-term. I'm being strong for him, but I'm freaking out on the inside (and a little bit on the outside too). We spent most of Monday sleeping, but he saw a cardiologist first thing this morning, who put him on a seven-day heart monitor. Still freaking out. We're way too young to be dealing with heart issues.
So all of this distracted me from my poetic, well-written thoughts, but also made them stronger. Sitting in that chair, watching his heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen level numbers go up and down on a medical screen made my chest feel tight. Seeing him in a hospital gown with several cords strapped to his chest reminded me why I can't lose him.
All of my words from before seem kind of silly now, because my entire body knows that I can't live without him. I can't lose him. My life is meaningless without him there to share it with me. My heart beats that I love him, love him, love him. That word, with which I have a love-hate relationship, doesn't express what I'm feeling. All of the words that I can command simply cannot express what I need to say. I need him, but not in a needy way. My life means nothing without him; not that I would have nothing if I never had him, but that I have everything because I have him.
It's almost funny to me now that I was considering the hard things we've been through together in the last year, seeing as the landmark of that year was easily the hardest thing we've been through. But what really matters is that we went through it together.
Around 5:30, I said, "Babe? What are we doing for dinner?" Apparently he completely forgot. He was going to take me to "the city" an hour away so that we had more than two nice restaurant options, but instead we could just do whatever and go into the city whenever I wanted. I said, "I want to tonight. I'm not hungry yet. Let's change and go." So we did. We had a great time driving, and picked a great restaurant I hadn't been to, had great food, and were getting ready to head home again, when I decided I should see my brother. He lives there, and I haven't seen him since May. So we texted him, and stopped by the arcade he was hanging out at (I didn't just marry a geek...) and hung out for a little while before heading home.
All this while, I considered the reasons I love my husband, the things we've been through and done in the last year, how much we've changed, and what this year landmark really means for us.
We were just exiting the city, just hitting the highway, when my honey suddenly announced he couldn't breathe. He drove a bit longer, but pulled over, got out of the car, and tried to tell me to call 911. His chest felt tight, he couldn't get enough oxygen in, he felt dizzy, he felt addled and couldn't talk, and his fingertips felt tingly (!!!!!). I felt his pulse and lost count by three. It was going faster than I could keep up with. Maybe because I was freaking out, but it only made me freak out more. After spending a few minutes on the phone with 911, he started to feel a bit better, and decided it was just a panic attack, or something. I got in the driver's seat, and drove to the hospital.
So there we were, at 9pm on our first anniversary, in the emergency room an hour away from home. And we were still there, 7 hours later, at 4am, when they finally discharged us. Possibly the worst night of my life. Certainly the scariest.
He had sinus tachycardia, which may or may not mean something is really wrong with him long-term. I'm being strong for him, but I'm freaking out on the inside (and a little bit on the outside too). We spent most of Monday sleeping, but he saw a cardiologist first thing this morning, who put him on a seven-day heart monitor. Still freaking out. We're way too young to be dealing with heart issues.
So all of this distracted me from my poetic, well-written thoughts, but also made them stronger. Sitting in that chair, watching his heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen level numbers go up and down on a medical screen made my chest feel tight. Seeing him in a hospital gown with several cords strapped to his chest reminded me why I can't lose him.
All of my words from before seem kind of silly now, because my entire body knows that I can't live without him. I can't lose him. My life is meaningless without him there to share it with me. My heart beats that I love him, love him, love him. That word, with which I have a love-hate relationship, doesn't express what I'm feeling. All of the words that I can command simply cannot express what I need to say. I need him, but not in a needy way. My life means nothing without him; not that I would have nothing if I never had him, but that I have everything because I have him.
It's almost funny to me now that I was considering the hard things we've been through together in the last year, seeing as the landmark of that year was easily the hardest thing we've been through. But what really matters is that we went through it together.
Sunday 9 September 2012
He Found a Girl who Reads
I'll be the first to admit my marriage is not perfect. We don't just have hills and valleys, somedays we have mountains and canyons.
Our first anniversary is coming up, a week from today. Trust me, the first year is not as easy as some people will have you believe. At least, it wasn't for us. I won't delve into all of those dips and dives, but please know that we have ups as well. So basically, I'll never say my marriage is perfect, or my husband is perfect, or my life is perfect.
Only this; my husband is perfect for me.
Today was one of those days that the truth of that smacked me in the face hardcore.
I'm one of those girls that delves into books with my whole mind. I'll be reading in bed, and he'll come in to tell me something and I'll just have a look on my face and hold a finger up. He'll wait, knowing that nothing in the world matters as much as whatever it is I'm reading right then. It used to frustrate him, but he's learning that this is how I am and I'm not about to change. Today, after he heard me laugh out loud and not two minutes later, I was sobbing, he came in and commented on that. I pulled up a quote I had seen on Pinterest (where else?). It claims to be from Robert Pattinson, but I can't verify this.
He was downstairs when I finished the book, but I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and then went to the bathroom as he came back up. Then I sat in his "office" and told him all about the book. Finally, he burst out, "I want to watch this video! Just go back to your room and read! Besides, if you just go in there, you'll find something happy."
Feeling dejected, rejected, and alone, I went back to the bedroom, where I found a steaming hot mug of Earl Grey tea. I just started crying. The fact that he is so amazing... That he knew (had I not finished the book whilst he made the tea) that I needed nothing more than a glass of British tea with my British book. And that he took my quote's advice... I felt overwhelmed with how good I have it, and how good he is to me.
We may have our poor moments, and we may fight, but I know that he treasures me, for all my faults, and that in the end, he will always come through for me. He was disappointed to know that I had finished my book, and therefor his undiluted love was a little late, but I just decided to blog instead. Tea goes great with blogging too.
He has his faults, he has his fails, but I need to remember days like today. Where, without a second word, he comes through and does something amazing, and it just echoes with "I love you, I love you, I love you, you, you..."
Our first anniversary is coming up, a week from today. Trust me, the first year is not as easy as some people will have you believe. At least, it wasn't for us. I won't delve into all of those dips and dives, but please know that we have ups as well. So basically, I'll never say my marriage is perfect, or my husband is perfect, or my life is perfect.
Only this; my husband is perfect for me.
Today was one of those days that the truth of that smacked me in the face hardcore.
I'm one of those girls that delves into books with my whole mind. I'll be reading in bed, and he'll come in to tell me something and I'll just have a look on my face and hold a finger up. He'll wait, knowing that nothing in the world matters as much as whatever it is I'm reading right then. It used to frustrate him, but he's learning that this is how I am and I'm not about to change. Today, after he heard me laugh out loud and not two minutes later, I was sobbing, he came in and commented on that. I pulled up a quote I had seen on Pinterest (where else?). It claims to be from Robert Pattinson, but I can't verify this.
"If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2am clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours, but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are...You deserve a girl who can give you the most colourful life imaginable. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads."I showed him this and he told me he knows and he loves me for it, but went away to let me delve back in anyways.
He was downstairs when I finished the book, but I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and then went to the bathroom as he came back up. Then I sat in his "office" and told him all about the book. Finally, he burst out, "I want to watch this video! Just go back to your room and read! Besides, if you just go in there, you'll find something happy."
Feeling dejected, rejected, and alone, I went back to the bedroom, where I found a steaming hot mug of Earl Grey tea. I just started crying. The fact that he is so amazing... That he knew (had I not finished the book whilst he made the tea) that I needed nothing more than a glass of British tea with my British book. And that he took my quote's advice... I felt overwhelmed with how good I have it, and how good he is to me.
We may have our poor moments, and we may fight, but I know that he treasures me, for all my faults, and that in the end, he will always come through for me. He was disappointed to know that I had finished my book, and therefor his undiluted love was a little late, but I just decided to blog instead. Tea goes great with blogging too.
He has his faults, he has his fails, but I need to remember days like today. Where, without a second word, he comes through and does something amazing, and it just echoes with "I love you, I love you, I love you, you, you..."
Sunday 26 August 2012
Homemade Peanut Butter
I was very excited to discover you can make peanut butter with just peanuts. It makes sense really, I had just never thought of it.
So I went out and bought some peanuts. They were the salted kind, because I couldn't find unsalted, but I read a few other blogs, and they insisted this was okay. It's more natural with just peanuts, but it will still be peanut butter.
Basically, you just blend or process your peanuts until they turn into peanut butter. I started with two cups of peanuts, and then after a little while decided that there wasn't enough in my food processor for it to process, so I added another two cups. And then you just keep blending. I needed to stop and let my food processor cool down a lot, because it became pretty thick and hard to handle, and I don't have a real quality food processor.
Basically, you just blend or process your peanuts until they turn into peanut butter. I started with two cups of peanuts, and then after a little while decided that there wasn't enough in my food processor for it to process, so I added another two cups. And then you just keep blending. I needed to stop and let my food processor cool down a lot, because it became pretty thick and hard to handle, and I don't have a real quality food processor.
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| The first two cups of peanuts at the beginning. |
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| They quickly turn into crushed peanuts. |
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| It then releases some oil, which made it too thick for it to work right. |
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| Added more peanuts, another two cups. |
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| The crushed peanuts with the dough-like stuff |
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| It then becomes the consistency of cookie dough |
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| You'll see the oils are starting to release, but it's still very crumbly |
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| It will become smooth, but thick and chunky. At this point, it's preference. If you stop it and like the texture, then it's done. It will start chunky, and become smoother. |
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| I was very excited to discover I already had an empty peanut butter jar! |
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| The finished product |
Once you've got it the texture you like, remember that it will thicken in the fridge. It's probably a little warm from your food processor, but if you pour it into a jar and put it in the fridge, it will thicken up to the consistency of normal peanut butter. Also, you have to keep it in the fridge!
So after all of this, I really liked my final product! Mine isn't perfectly smooth, but maybe it might be with a better food processor. I had some on a sandwich, and you really can't tell though. So all in all, it's good, I figured it is cheaper than buying regular peanut butter (but not by much), however it is much cheaper than buying natural peanut butter. It's good, I like it, and it's not hard to make. I think I'll keep making it. The only downside - you have to keep it in the fridge. Which is just like any natural peanut butter, really.
Monday 20 August 2012
T-Shirt Recreation - Ode to Pippi Longstockings
I have this fantastic book on t-shirt revamping. I pick it up every couple months, and slash another t-shirt or two. So over the last few years, I've made quite a few of the designs. I decided to make another one today, that describes itself like Pippi Longstockings. Braids, mismatched colours, fun adventure... Yep, this shirt has it all.
I started with a band t-shirt I picked up awhile back. I loved the designs, but like all band t-shirts, I never wear it, because I hate the way they wear. You know what I mean; the high collar, the longer sleeves... They just aren't feminine enough for me, I guess.
So I've taken to cutting them up. But when they have a cute design, it takes some thinking to come up with the right design to work around it. Well, I finally found one that would work with this cute ducky shirt!
The first thing I did is cut the sleeves off, just inside of the seam. I was tempted to wear it like this for a day, just to see what my husband would say.
Flip it over next, and cut straight across from the bottom of one armhole to the other, but only through the back layer. Don't cut the front half yet!
Okay, once you've got that, you can flip it back over and cut the front half. I flipped the back part up, so that I wouldn't accidentally cut it. Not that I have plans for that scrap, but never damage a scrap you might be able to use later. Anyways, you've got your shirt front-up, now? Cut a straight line from one mid-armhole to the other. I cut it a little high, because I'm a little bustier than the woman who wrote the book, and I'm usually accommodating for that. I figured I could always trim it down later anyways. I did end up trimming an inch off, but I wish I'd trimmed another inch or two. Right to the duck's head? Anyways, cut it where you want, but remember, you can always cut more; you can never uncut.
The next part was probably the most intensive. You need six 1" wide 30" long strips of fabric. They suggest you cut three of them from the bottom of the shirt, but I thought the shirt would be too short, so I cut them from the bottoms of all my other scrap shirts. It took awhile to find long enough pieces in coordinating fabrics, and then to cut them, but if you're prepared, this could be a lot easier.
I picked two whites, and then two matching reds, one orange and one darker red. The strips could all clash if you wanted, but I was trying to work with the yellow/orange of the duck. So you divy up the strips into two groups, and pin them and braid them.
Now you need two holes where you want the straps in the front. I tried on the shirt, and shoved a safety pin where I wanted the straps. They say to put them in those corners, so after I had the straps through, I made those spots the corners and trimmed some more fabric off. Whatever works for your shirt and your body.
So cut those holes, and thread the other ends of the braids through so that the straps make an X in the back.
Put it on again, and you might need a helper for this bit, pull and adjust all four strap ends until it's tight enough, not too tight, and the ends are the right lengths. Then tie a knot in each end. I started with the front two, just tying them so the dangling ends were a good length, and then get someone to pull and tie the back two ends so that the shirt sits right on you. Trust me, this is a lot easier with four arms. Take it off and trim down the ends to whatever you want. I trimmed that longer side to match the left.
I apologize, but I tend to wear a sports bra when I'm making myself a new shirt, so I can pull it on and off without bulk, or being naked in my sewing room for all the neighbours to see. When I really wear this shirt, I promise not to wear a bright blue sports bra, so just ignore it for now.
Overall, I really like the shirt. It's really summery, and I wish I'd made it earlier. If I wear a sweater, I'll hide those fun little straps, but I'll freeze as the temperature drops. Ah well, it can always wait until next summer.
I started with a band t-shirt I picked up awhile back. I loved the designs, but like all band t-shirts, I never wear it, because I hate the way they wear. You know what I mean; the high collar, the longer sleeves... They just aren't feminine enough for me, I guess.
So I've taken to cutting them up. But when they have a cute design, it takes some thinking to come up with the right design to work around it. Well, I finally found one that would work with this cute ducky shirt!
The first thing I did is cut the sleeves off, just inside of the seam. I was tempted to wear it like this for a day, just to see what my husband would say.
Flip it over next, and cut straight across from the bottom of one armhole to the other, but only through the back layer. Don't cut the front half yet!
Okay, once you've got that, you can flip it back over and cut the front half. I flipped the back part up, so that I wouldn't accidentally cut it. Not that I have plans for that scrap, but never damage a scrap you might be able to use later. Anyways, you've got your shirt front-up, now? Cut a straight line from one mid-armhole to the other. I cut it a little high, because I'm a little bustier than the woman who wrote the book, and I'm usually accommodating for that. I figured I could always trim it down later anyways. I did end up trimming an inch off, but I wish I'd trimmed another inch or two. Right to the duck's head? Anyways, cut it where you want, but remember, you can always cut more; you can never uncut.
The next part was probably the most intensive. You need six 1" wide 30" long strips of fabric. They suggest you cut three of them from the bottom of the shirt, but I thought the shirt would be too short, so I cut them from the bottoms of all my other scrap shirts. It took awhile to find long enough pieces in coordinating fabrics, and then to cut them, but if you're prepared, this could be a lot easier.
I picked two whites, and then two matching reds, one orange and one darker red. The strips could all clash if you wanted, but I was trying to work with the yellow/orange of the duck. So you divy up the strips into two groups, and pin them and braid them.
Just braid as much as you can. Some of it will unbraid later, so don't worry if the strips end up uneven, or anything like that. Just braid. I found it easiest to hold the safety pin end in my mouth, because I didn't have a helper, but I would suggest getting someone to hold one end you can make sure it all turns out right.
So flip the shirt over again, and mark two holes centered on the back, 9" from each other, and about 1" from the top. Thread one end of each braid through each hole. Don't knot it or anything just yet, just flip it back over again.
Now you need two holes where you want the straps in the front. I tried on the shirt, and shoved a safety pin where I wanted the straps. They say to put them in those corners, so after I had the straps through, I made those spots the corners and trimmed some more fabric off. Whatever works for your shirt and your body.
So cut those holes, and thread the other ends of the braids through so that the straps make an X in the back.
Put it on again, and you might need a helper for this bit, pull and adjust all four strap ends until it's tight enough, not too tight, and the ends are the right lengths. Then tie a knot in each end. I started with the front two, just tying them so the dangling ends were a good length, and then get someone to pull and tie the back two ends so that the shirt sits right on you. Trust me, this is a lot easier with four arms. Take it off and trim down the ends to whatever you want. I trimmed that longer side to match the left.
I apologize, but I tend to wear a sports bra when I'm making myself a new shirt, so I can pull it on and off without bulk, or being naked in my sewing room for all the neighbours to see. When I really wear this shirt, I promise not to wear a bright blue sports bra, so just ignore it for now.
Overall, I really like the shirt. It's really summery, and I wish I'd made it earlier. If I wear a sweater, I'll hide those fun little straps, but I'll freeze as the temperature drops. Ah well, it can always wait until next summer.
Friday 17 August 2012
Story of an Apple
So, for my birthday a few months ago, my husband bought me a dehydrator. I know, it was a very romantic birthday present, especially for the first birthday in our marriage. But he asked what I wanted a few months prior, and I said a dehydrator. I know I'm hard to shop for, and I know I'm especially picky about birthday presents. I knew I wanted one, and I knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn't let me spring for any day of the year. So, come my birthday, I unwrapped a... drum roll please, a dehydrator. Haha. I was ecstatic.
I've made several things in it since, and the first batch of anything never really turns out. It's a trial and error kind of thing. But I've made enough apples to get it down to a system now, so I thought I'd share my process, and pictures.
First of all, I also have a mandoline. We picked it up for really cheap on sale one day, and I didn't use it for awhile. But it makes dehydrating a lot of things a lot easier.
So here's what I started with. This time I'm making them with cinnamon. I don't always; they're fantastic all on their own.
So that's a pretty basic red delicious apple. I tried a few different kinds of apples, and I like red delicious. They don't seem to have as many seeds as some other kinds, and the few they do have pop out nicer. I also like the dark shade the peel turns in the end, as opposed to a yellow or green apple, which ends up looking a little sickly. So I just started with one single apple. I usually dehydrate four or more at a time, as many as my dehydrator will fit. But for the pictures, I'm only using one.
I ran the apple through my mandoline with the thin slicing blade, until I just had enough to hold. I used to slice as much as I possibly could, but I cut myself a few too many times. I find it nice to just much that top inch or so. Also, I use the thin blade, because I don't find much difference between thin and thick, once finished, but I get a lot more slices out of the the thin. So I just feel like I'm making more. Certain fruits, I slice on thick because they hold together better that way.
I pick them up, one slice at a time from the pile the mandoline makes, and check for stem or seed pieces. The mandoline will happily slice the seeds along with the apple, so I usually have several pieces, rather than a few seeds.
I arrange them on a plate, slightly overlapping so that I waste as little cinnamon as possible. If I'm not making cinnamon apples, I don't bother with a plate. I just pick them up one at a time and arrange them into the dehydrator.
I've made several things in it since, and the first batch of anything never really turns out. It's a trial and error kind of thing. But I've made enough apples to get it down to a system now, so I thought I'd share my process, and pictures.
First of all, I also have a mandoline. We picked it up for really cheap on sale one day, and I didn't use it for awhile. But it makes dehydrating a lot of things a lot easier.
So that's a pretty basic red delicious apple. I tried a few different kinds of apples, and I like red delicious. They don't seem to have as many seeds as some other kinds, and the few they do have pop out nicer. I also like the dark shade the peel turns in the end, as opposed to a yellow or green apple, which ends up looking a little sickly. So I just started with one single apple. I usually dehydrate four or more at a time, as many as my dehydrator will fit. But for the pictures, I'm only using one.
I pick them up, one slice at a time from the pile the mandoline makes, and check for stem or seed pieces. The mandoline will happily slice the seeds along with the apple, so I usually have several pieces, rather than a few seeds.
I arrange them on a plate, slightly overlapping so that I waste as little cinnamon as possible. If I'm not making cinnamon apples, I don't bother with a plate. I just pick them up one at a time and arrange them into the dehydrator.
I gently sprinkle cinnamon onto them, but only on one side. I don't see the point in sprinkling both sides. One is enough to make them taste great, and I'm kind of afraid the powder will make a mess of my dehydrator if it's facing down. Normally, I would have sliced just more than one apple to fill the plate perfectly, but I wanted to show you how much one apple makes.
Once arranged in my dehydrator, these apples fill one tray quite nicely. Other apples I've used are wider, and I can't fit more than one row of slices, except for the weird pieces in the middle. And a single apple will usually fill a tray and a half or two. But these are smaller, and I think I like that better.
You can see I have another tray underneath, and that one also has a single apple on it. I have five trays, so if I squish, I could make five and a half apples at a time, but I don't see the point. For now, I'm sticking with an even five.
My book says apples take 4-8 hours. When I slice them this thin, four is usually good, but it doesn't seem to hurt them to leave them in longer. So I put them in at lunch, and collect them after work, or whenever I have time that evening. They're good like that.
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| The finished product |
Sunday 15 July 2012
Fireworks, and a Wedding
Sitting on my still warm, wet car hood, in light summer rain, watching fireworks from close enough that I could hear the technicians, snuggled into my husband's arm. I kept trying to lean back and watch the light explode in the sky from a better angle, but I kept getting raindrops in my eyes. I gave up an umbrella, because my pants were so wet from the car, that the rest of me didn't see the point in staying dry. The best part, though, was the silhouette of the two newlyweds, wrapped in one blanket, under one umbrella, standing so close that they appeared to only be one person. Watching them, reminded me that we all need to just stop. Stop and remember love, family, friends, and fireworks. Stop and just enjoy. Stop worrying, stop planning, stop stressing. Enjoy the day, right until the very end, no matter what it throws at you.
So... I spent all of yesterday at a wedding of two friends of mine. It was a truly beautiful wedding, and I could not be happier for the two of them. A couple of their friends decided to put on a firework show as a wedding present, and my husband and I got to be two of the privy couple dozen people who got to go "on site" and watch from as close as the fire marshal would allow.
My husband was the sound tech, and the designated "site coordinator" which meant he had to make the ceremony-reception transition flow smoothly. Which meant we were there the night before, for the rehearsal dinner, and so he could do sound check at rehearsal. Since I was there, I helped set-up and decorate with the bridal party. Then, since I would be one of the first people there the next morning, I volunteered to usher. We were up at 8 so we could get ready, eat, and buy the last-minute things they needed from town. It all happened in a town fifteen minutes from here. So we were out there two hours before anything started, making sure everything was good-to-go, and would flow. Then I seated the guests, made sure the guest book did not go forgotten, grabbed a few things for the bridesmaids, and finally, held the doors as the bride began her aisle walk, and adjusted her train last-minute.
I snagged an empty seat, teared up a little during the ceremony, enjoyed socializing while the receiving line went on.
As soon as it emptied out, everything began again. We had to completely rearrange the church, including taking down every chair, putting up tables, and putting all the chairs out again. I stayed for a few hours, then drove back into town, picked up the meat for the barbeque reception, drove back to the wedding, and continued set-up. Mostly just arranging the food tables, and setting up drink tables. Putting out serving spoons for the dishes people brought, and making enough punch.
Then finally! The reception began. Everything from there was splendid! The food was good, the people were happy, the cake was beautiful. I fully enjoyed the reception, without doing too much work.
After it all wound down and everyone mostly left, we did one more tear-down! Everything, and I do mean everything, went away. All of the tables, chairs, leftover food, table cloths, decorations, and garbage. It took about an hour, but the entire place went back to normal. The bridal party returned, in normal clothing, with fancy hair, and we convoyed out to the firework site. After the firework show, it all was over and everyone dispersed and we went home. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful night.
Now, I've finished my play-by-play of my view of the wedding day, and now I'm going to share a few opinions. If you don't care for those, just stop reading. Haha. No, but really. I'm really going to deviate from the happy, mostly uninvolved wedding descriptions.
I realized I have a few pet peeves when it comes to weddings. Primarily, they have to do with wedding etiquette, which I'm realizing young (read: college-aged) people do not have in general.
Numero Uno: Dress like you mean it, people! I mean, come on. How hard is to put on a nice dress, brush your hair and pick a clean pair of shoes? Or, put on a pair of dress pants and a nice shirt, comb your hair, and shave your stubble? Now, I understand that maybe not everyone owns dress clothes. Why the hell not? I also understand not everyone has the money to buy nice clothes all the time, but I think that everyone can manage owning one solitary NICE outfit for the long run. I grew up pretty low-income, but we always had at least one outfit for all of us kids in a closet somewhere. Also, I understand that some people don't like wearing dresses, or refuse to wear dress pants. Suck it up. This is someone else's wedding, which they poured a lot of time, money and energy into. Just suck it up. And, I mean, work around it. You don't want to wear a dress? Have a skirt you like on hand. Or some women's dress pants. As for men, again, work around it. You can wear dress pants with a plaid collared shirt, or cargo shorts and a dress shirt. Clean jeans, short sleeved dress shirt and a tie. Seriously. So many options! You don't have to be dressed to the nines to avoid looking like you walked in off the street and bumbled upon a wedding by accident.
Pet Peeve Number Two: Complainers! If you consider my explanation of all that I helped with (which I view with a modest mind, I promise), remember that I was not asked to lift a finger ahead of time. Because I was tethered to my husband, I was there. Because I was there, I offered assistance. Perhaps because I recently had a wedding, I wanted to make everything as smooth as I could, but that's not the point... At the very end of the entire night, I heard one of the many tear-down volunteers complain about how she got "suckered in to being a wedding monkey". Yeah. Exact words. I could not believe it. A wedding monkey! She helped for maybe an hour or two, and did a few tasks. Also, she was asked, "Hey, if you're not doing anything, do you mind volunteering for a little while?" So, here's my peeve. You need to understand that you are at a wedding to make two people's day happy and memorable, and to celebrate their love. They are not going to be doing much other than enjoying their day and being happy. Sometimes, an entire wedding might be covered by hired help. Sometimes, a couple relies on their friends and family to make things work behind the scenes. Sometimes, you need to just accept that somebody needs a bit of help, and you can make something happen. And you NEED to do that WITHOUT complaining! Honestly, how hard is that? (Also, there is probably almost always someone who has done more work than you.)
And we're onto number three: People who try to take charge from those to whom it was given. Haha, that's kind of a long one, but bear with me. The bride and groom have definetly appointed someone in charge, who knows what needs to happen. That might be a wedding planner, it might be the best man or the maid-of-honor, it might be a close family member, or it might be a friend who they know will be good at that. No matter the case, there is someone who knows what is happening, what needs to happen, and who needs to make things happen. Always. That person might appoint other people, who might appoint other people. Who knows. But no matter, if you have not been appointed to do something, don't do it! There is a scheme of things, and there is a pattern, I promise. If you just reach in and muck around, chance are you'll screw things up. Don't do that! Just wait to be told, or ask if there is something you can help with, or at the very least, say, "I'm going to do this." Make sure that whoever is in charge is aware, or things may be missed, done twice, done too early, or unnecessarily done.
Okay... So, I think that's all, folks, enjoy the last month or two of wedding season!
So... I spent all of yesterday at a wedding of two friends of mine. It was a truly beautiful wedding, and I could not be happier for the two of them. A couple of their friends decided to put on a firework show as a wedding present, and my husband and I got to be two of the privy couple dozen people who got to go "on site" and watch from as close as the fire marshal would allow.
My husband was the sound tech, and the designated "site coordinator" which meant he had to make the ceremony-reception transition flow smoothly. Which meant we were there the night before, for the rehearsal dinner, and so he could do sound check at rehearsal. Since I was there, I helped set-up and decorate with the bridal party. Then, since I would be one of the first people there the next morning, I volunteered to usher. We were up at 8 so we could get ready, eat, and buy the last-minute things they needed from town. It all happened in a town fifteen minutes from here. So we were out there two hours before anything started, making sure everything was good-to-go, and would flow. Then I seated the guests, made sure the guest book did not go forgotten, grabbed a few things for the bridesmaids, and finally, held the doors as the bride began her aisle walk, and adjusted her train last-minute.
I snagged an empty seat, teared up a little during the ceremony, enjoyed socializing while the receiving line went on.
As soon as it emptied out, everything began again. We had to completely rearrange the church, including taking down every chair, putting up tables, and putting all the chairs out again. I stayed for a few hours, then drove back into town, picked up the meat for the barbeque reception, drove back to the wedding, and continued set-up. Mostly just arranging the food tables, and setting up drink tables. Putting out serving spoons for the dishes people brought, and making enough punch.
Then finally! The reception began. Everything from there was splendid! The food was good, the people were happy, the cake was beautiful. I fully enjoyed the reception, without doing too much work.
After it all wound down and everyone mostly left, we did one more tear-down! Everything, and I do mean everything, went away. All of the tables, chairs, leftover food, table cloths, decorations, and garbage. It took about an hour, but the entire place went back to normal. The bridal party returned, in normal clothing, with fancy hair, and we convoyed out to the firework site. After the firework show, it all was over and everyone dispersed and we went home. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful night.
Now, I've finished my play-by-play of my view of the wedding day, and now I'm going to share a few opinions. If you don't care for those, just stop reading. Haha. No, but really. I'm really going to deviate from the happy, mostly uninvolved wedding descriptions.
I realized I have a few pet peeves when it comes to weddings. Primarily, they have to do with wedding etiquette, which I'm realizing young (read: college-aged) people do not have in general.
Numero Uno: Dress like you mean it, people! I mean, come on. How hard is to put on a nice dress, brush your hair and pick a clean pair of shoes? Or, put on a pair of dress pants and a nice shirt, comb your hair, and shave your stubble? Now, I understand that maybe not everyone owns dress clothes. Why the hell not? I also understand not everyone has the money to buy nice clothes all the time, but I think that everyone can manage owning one solitary NICE outfit for the long run. I grew up pretty low-income, but we always had at least one outfit for all of us kids in a closet somewhere. Also, I understand that some people don't like wearing dresses, or refuse to wear dress pants. Suck it up. This is someone else's wedding, which they poured a lot of time, money and energy into. Just suck it up. And, I mean, work around it. You don't want to wear a dress? Have a skirt you like on hand. Or some women's dress pants. As for men, again, work around it. You can wear dress pants with a plaid collared shirt, or cargo shorts and a dress shirt. Clean jeans, short sleeved dress shirt and a tie. Seriously. So many options! You don't have to be dressed to the nines to avoid looking like you walked in off the street and bumbled upon a wedding by accident.
Pet Peeve Number Two: Complainers! If you consider my explanation of all that I helped with (which I view with a modest mind, I promise), remember that I was not asked to lift a finger ahead of time. Because I was tethered to my husband, I was there. Because I was there, I offered assistance. Perhaps because I recently had a wedding, I wanted to make everything as smooth as I could, but that's not the point... At the very end of the entire night, I heard one of the many tear-down volunteers complain about how she got "suckered in to being a wedding monkey". Yeah. Exact words. I could not believe it. A wedding monkey! She helped for maybe an hour or two, and did a few tasks. Also, she was asked, "Hey, if you're not doing anything, do you mind volunteering for a little while?" So, here's my peeve. You need to understand that you are at a wedding to make two people's day happy and memorable, and to celebrate their love. They are not going to be doing much other than enjoying their day and being happy. Sometimes, an entire wedding might be covered by hired help. Sometimes, a couple relies on their friends and family to make things work behind the scenes. Sometimes, you need to just accept that somebody needs a bit of help, and you can make something happen. And you NEED to do that WITHOUT complaining! Honestly, how hard is that? (Also, there is probably almost always someone who has done more work than you.)
And we're onto number three: People who try to take charge from those to whom it was given. Haha, that's kind of a long one, but bear with me. The bride and groom have definetly appointed someone in charge, who knows what needs to happen. That might be a wedding planner, it might be the best man or the maid-of-honor, it might be a close family member, or it might be a friend who they know will be good at that. No matter the case, there is someone who knows what is happening, what needs to happen, and who needs to make things happen. Always. That person might appoint other people, who might appoint other people. Who knows. But no matter, if you have not been appointed to do something, don't do it! There is a scheme of things, and there is a pattern, I promise. If you just reach in and muck around, chance are you'll screw things up. Don't do that! Just wait to be told, or ask if there is something you can help with, or at the very least, say, "I'm going to do this." Make sure that whoever is in charge is aware, or things may be missed, done twice, done too early, or unnecessarily done.
Okay... So, I think that's all, folks, enjoy the last month or two of wedding season!
Tuesday 10 July 2012
Did It Myself
So... I really like DIY. In the past, I've gone through sewing, crafting, refurbishing, and cooking phases. I really like the idea of making something from scratch, especially things you don't really think you can just make. I mean, we all know we can make a cake from scratch, but how many of you consider making your own potato chips? Or your own face masks?
I've done several projects at different times. I usually get really into it, make several things, get busy, and lose steam. I must have left dozens of projects forever undone. Right now I have half of a sheet set upstairs, waiting to be hemmed and finished. Sooner or later, I usually get back into it and finish things up, but sometimes not for awhile.
Before I lost steam on that sheet set, my next project was to be DIY laundry detergent. Part of my sudden stop was that we had plenty of laundry detergent, so I never got around to it. I bought everything I needed, and then just left them on my laundry shelf.
Well, this weekend, I noticed we only had a few more loads worth of laundry detergent, so I dug all my supplies and instructions back out and got to it. I haven't washed anything with it yet, but I will update when I do to let you know how it worked.
I found the instructions on Pinterest off of a blog, but that blog referenced the Duggar family website. Makes sense to me! I'm sure they do LOTS of laundry.
It's pretty simple. All you need is:
Once you've got it all, it's easy:
It all took me about 45 minutes, including the soap-grating. The website says how much to use with each load, but my washing machine is ridiculous and I can only use a tablespoon of detergent anyways.
I spent about $12 on the supplies, but if I make it again, it will cost $2 or $3, because all you have to buy is the bar of soap. I'd like to add some essential oils, but we don't have any, and they're expensive, so maybe next time.
So all in all, this was a great project, if it works well! The only thing I'm really worried about is smell, because my washer has drain issues and tends to stink. Since this isn't scented, I'm afraid our clothes will smell. Also, I'm afraid that the soap I picked might sud, because I have an HE washer. Fels-Naptha doesn't sud, but this soap didn't have a label or instructions or anything. So who knows!
I've done several projects at different times. I usually get really into it, make several things, get busy, and lose steam. I must have left dozens of projects forever undone. Right now I have half of a sheet set upstairs, waiting to be hemmed and finished. Sooner or later, I usually get back into it and finish things up, but sometimes not for awhile.
Before I lost steam on that sheet set, my next project was to be DIY laundry detergent. Part of my sudden stop was that we had plenty of laundry detergent, so I never got around to it. I bought everything I needed, and then just left them on my laundry shelf.
Well, this weekend, I noticed we only had a few more loads worth of laundry detergent, so I dug all my supplies and instructions back out and got to it. I haven't washed anything with it yet, but I will update when I do to let you know how it worked.
I found the instructions on Pinterest off of a blog, but that blog referenced the Duggar family website. Makes sense to me! I'm sure they do LOTS of laundry.
It's pretty simple. All you need is:
- 1 Fels-Naptha bar soap
- 1 cup Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda
- 1/2 cup Borax
Once you've got it all, it's easy:
- Grate the entire bar of soap and add flakes to 4 cups warm water on the stove. Stir over medium heat until they all melt.
- Fill a 5 gallon bucket half full of hot tap water. Add melted soap, borax and washing soda.
- Stir until everything dissolves, then fill the rest of the way, cover and let sit overnight.
- Stir, then fill a clean, used laundry dispenser half way with soap, and half way with water. Shake before each use.
It all took me about 45 minutes, including the soap-grating. The website says how much to use with each load, but my washing machine is ridiculous and I can only use a tablespoon of detergent anyways.
I spent about $12 on the supplies, but if I make it again, it will cost $2 or $3, because all you have to buy is the bar of soap. I'd like to add some essential oils, but we don't have any, and they're expensive, so maybe next time.
So all in all, this was a great project, if it works well! The only thing I'm really worried about is smell, because my washer has drain issues and tends to stink. Since this isn't scented, I'm afraid our clothes will smell. Also, I'm afraid that the soap I picked might sud, because I have an HE washer. Fels-Naptha doesn't sud, but this soap didn't have a label or instructions or anything. So who knows!
Wednesday 20 June 2012
Airports.
Airports. They fascinate me. Partly because I've never flown anywhere, so half of every airport is still a mystery to me, and partly because I've only ever been to one airport, but I've been there half a dozen times or so to pick people up.
I'm also fascinated by people watching, and airports are one of the prime locations for this.
Today, my bestest best friend came home after six months, and I got to be the one who brought her home. I got there early, and waited about half an hour, studying everyone I could. There was only one expected flight between the time I got there and the next two hours, so I knew everyone waiting was waiting for Calgary. Three groups of people particularly caught my eye.
The first was hard not to notice. There were five of them all told; a middle aged-woman, two women up in their twenties or thirties, a boy about fourteen, and a two-year-old girl who could not stop running around. The women kept telling the toddler to look out the window for "uncle", and I figured out that the man they were waiting for was the son of the oldest woman, the brother of the two younger women, and the uncle of the two children. I wondered what he was like. Would he also be wearing baggy sweatpants? Would he be excited to see this toddler? Would he be a carry on-only type, or have more baggage?
Another person I studied was a boy. Seemingly alone, about twenty, twenty-two. A few visible tatooes, big headphones, punk/hipster clothes. He seemed so out of place, and I couldn't imagine who he'd be waiting for. A mother? A close friend? Maybe grandma? He too seemed to be people-watching, and I couldn't help but wonder what he thought I was there for.
The third "group" in my mind was an older woman, somewhere in her fifties or sixties. She sat alone, munching on peanuts, staring out the window. I figured husband or child. Either way, the melancholy look etched into her face made me want to keep an eye out and figure out who she was thinking about.
So a quick note of explanation; my best friend was on a six-month country-wide volunteer program. A ton of groups were posted all over the country, but all ended today, because the program was officially shut down, which is really sad. I haven't seen or talked to her since she left, except the occasional texting.
Finally, a few minutes late, the plane arrived, and people started to file down the escalator and stairs. At first, I was super excited, and then I got more and more nervous. What if she looked so different I didn't recognize her? Would we hug right away? Would she be with anyone? Would she be excited to see me?
I felt like the plane emptied twice over, so many people came down those stairs. In the mean time, I saw the large group of people meet their son/brother/uncle. He wore a business suit, hugged every woman a few times, held the toddler, kissed her forehead, and genuinely seemed happy to be with them. It warmed my heart.
I watched an airport attendant roll an elderly lady in a wheelchair to the elevator. As they were waiting for it, the lady grinned and waved and the woman with the peanuts waved back. There was a distinct resemblance; the kind that makes you realize that this one will look like that one in another twenty years. Huh, I thought. I never would have guessed she was waiting for her mother. As I watched, I longed to know their story, but I know I never will. I can only postulate.
And finally, I saw her! I recognized her instantly, and her me. We waved, and grinned, and she practically bounced down the stairs with her carry ons to hug me. We hugged a few times, and grinned, and studied each other, and finally made our way to the luggage thing. She wore a team group t-shirt thing, and I saw three other people wearing identical ones. One girl hung near us, and I learned she wouldn't be heading home for a few more hours, because no one could pick her up right away. Another girl joined a large family I hadn't seen at all, and the last one raced over to the punk/hipster boy, and hugged him for ten minutes, at least. They just stood there, in each other's arms, soaking in the missed company. It might have brought tears to my eyes if I hadn't been so excited about my own story.
The problem I find with people watching, is that I always long to know so much more. I want to know the why's, and the who's, and the how's. I want to know all about what brought those people to that moment in time, but I have to make do with what little understanding I can make up.
I'm also fascinated by people watching, and airports are one of the prime locations for this.
Today, my bestest best friend came home after six months, and I got to be the one who brought her home. I got there early, and waited about half an hour, studying everyone I could. There was only one expected flight between the time I got there and the next two hours, so I knew everyone waiting was waiting for Calgary. Three groups of people particularly caught my eye.
The first was hard not to notice. There were five of them all told; a middle aged-woman, two women up in their twenties or thirties, a boy about fourteen, and a two-year-old girl who could not stop running around. The women kept telling the toddler to look out the window for "uncle", and I figured out that the man they were waiting for was the son of the oldest woman, the brother of the two younger women, and the uncle of the two children. I wondered what he was like. Would he also be wearing baggy sweatpants? Would he be excited to see this toddler? Would he be a carry on-only type, or have more baggage?
Another person I studied was a boy. Seemingly alone, about twenty, twenty-two. A few visible tatooes, big headphones, punk/hipster clothes. He seemed so out of place, and I couldn't imagine who he'd be waiting for. A mother? A close friend? Maybe grandma? He too seemed to be people-watching, and I couldn't help but wonder what he thought I was there for.
The third "group" in my mind was an older woman, somewhere in her fifties or sixties. She sat alone, munching on peanuts, staring out the window. I figured husband or child. Either way, the melancholy look etched into her face made me want to keep an eye out and figure out who she was thinking about.
So a quick note of explanation; my best friend was on a six-month country-wide volunteer program. A ton of groups were posted all over the country, but all ended today, because the program was officially shut down, which is really sad. I haven't seen or talked to her since she left, except the occasional texting.
Finally, a few minutes late, the plane arrived, and people started to file down the escalator and stairs. At first, I was super excited, and then I got more and more nervous. What if she looked so different I didn't recognize her? Would we hug right away? Would she be with anyone? Would she be excited to see me?
I felt like the plane emptied twice over, so many people came down those stairs. In the mean time, I saw the large group of people meet their son/brother/uncle. He wore a business suit, hugged every woman a few times, held the toddler, kissed her forehead, and genuinely seemed happy to be with them. It warmed my heart.
I watched an airport attendant roll an elderly lady in a wheelchair to the elevator. As they were waiting for it, the lady grinned and waved and the woman with the peanuts waved back. There was a distinct resemblance; the kind that makes you realize that this one will look like that one in another twenty years. Huh, I thought. I never would have guessed she was waiting for her mother. As I watched, I longed to know their story, but I know I never will. I can only postulate.
And finally, I saw her! I recognized her instantly, and her me. We waved, and grinned, and she practically bounced down the stairs with her carry ons to hug me. We hugged a few times, and grinned, and studied each other, and finally made our way to the luggage thing. She wore a team group t-shirt thing, and I saw three other people wearing identical ones. One girl hung near us, and I learned she wouldn't be heading home for a few more hours, because no one could pick her up right away. Another girl joined a large family I hadn't seen at all, and the last one raced over to the punk/hipster boy, and hugged him for ten minutes, at least. They just stood there, in each other's arms, soaking in the missed company. It might have brought tears to my eyes if I hadn't been so excited about my own story.
The problem I find with people watching, is that I always long to know so much more. I want to know the why's, and the who's, and the how's. I want to know all about what brought those people to that moment in time, but I have to make do with what little understanding I can make up.
Saturday 16 June 2012
A Lesson in Innocence
I truly believe that children are the essence of innocence. I believe that we could all be truly innocent, except that there is evil in the world, and as we are exposed to evil, we trade in our innocence for what we believe to be understanding.
But all babies are born perfectly innocent, and it is only the world around them that corrupts them. Some children are innocent for a lot longer than others, based upon their environments.
I witnessed a beautiful example of this pure-hearted innocence today, that warmed me to my core.
I live on a very residential street near a few elementary schools, so there are frequently children all over my block. There's one little girl who lives right next door, and two who live across the street that are almost always playing outside together. I think their parents might forbid crossing the street without an adult, because they usually stand on opposite sides and yell things at eachother.
As I got out of my car today, I noticed one of the girls across the street was holding a doll that looked distinctly African American. I thought this was really cool. Since all three girls are white, I admire their parents for that doll choice.
The girl on my side of the street yelled, "Is that doll black?" The question surprised me, but not really. Children see things in very solid, unchanging ways. What really suprised me was the answer.
A hesitant, "No..."
Now I had to see what they said next. The first girl said, "Well what color is it?"
"Skin color."
Isn't that all you need to know? We are all skin color.
Those two words floored me. That children see things so innocently, so perfectly. They only know what the world around them teaches them, and if they are taught, 'This is skin color, and so is this, and this', then what more matters?
But all babies are born perfectly innocent, and it is only the world around them that corrupts them. Some children are innocent for a lot longer than others, based upon their environments.
I witnessed a beautiful example of this pure-hearted innocence today, that warmed me to my core.
I live on a very residential street near a few elementary schools, so there are frequently children all over my block. There's one little girl who lives right next door, and two who live across the street that are almost always playing outside together. I think their parents might forbid crossing the street without an adult, because they usually stand on opposite sides and yell things at eachother.
As I got out of my car today, I noticed one of the girls across the street was holding a doll that looked distinctly African American. I thought this was really cool. Since all three girls are white, I admire their parents for that doll choice.
The girl on my side of the street yelled, "Is that doll black?" The question surprised me, but not really. Children see things in very solid, unchanging ways. What really suprised me was the answer.
A hesitant, "No..."
Now I had to see what they said next. The first girl said, "Well what color is it?"
"Skin color."
Isn't that all you need to know? We are all skin color.
Those two words floored me. That children see things so innocently, so perfectly. They only know what the world around them teaches them, and if they are taught, 'This is skin color, and so is this, and this', then what more matters?
Friday 15 June 2012
Squirrel!
So I told you yesterday all about my job and the animals I see, and today I want to talk about a different side.
Squirrels.
I have a newfound fascination with squirrels.
The neighbourhood I've been working in seems to have an abundance of them, and sometimes I just stop and watch.
A few days ago, there was a squirrel on the ground near me, and I watched it watch me for a few minutes, until it scampered up a tree. Then later down the block, there was a squirrel just chilling out on top of a little feed box, and it peered at me around the tree, but didn't scamper up. I watched one jump from tree to tree a bit yesterday, and then today was the furry icing on the squirrel cake.
I had to tag something in the middle of someone's lawn, and the second I set foot on the grass, a noise erupted. It got louder, and I realized there was a squirrel about ten feet up in a tree in the lawn. He stared at me, and followed me a little, getting as close as possible without leaving the safety of his tree. And he chattered! I felt like he was just tearing me a new one. It was actually kind of cute, but I felt like he was going to start throwing rocks at my head or something. He seemed really pissed. Once I left the lawn, he stopped and went back to business as usual.
I decided I need to raise a baby squirrel. I need to understand their personalities, the way I understand cats. I understand cats because I've raised a dozen kittens from birth. So the solution is to kidnap a baby squirrel.
They seem curious, frightened, timid, angry, bold, shy, territorial, and nomadic all at the same time. I'm sure each specific squirrel has a very specific personality, like most animals do, but they must have some basic similarities amongst each other.
They just seem so full of life and so vivacious! Something that makes me want to tame it, to understand it fully, and to love it.
Squirrels.
I have a newfound fascination with squirrels.
The neighbourhood I've been working in seems to have an abundance of them, and sometimes I just stop and watch.
A few days ago, there was a squirrel on the ground near me, and I watched it watch me for a few minutes, until it scampered up a tree. Then later down the block, there was a squirrel just chilling out on top of a little feed box, and it peered at me around the tree, but didn't scamper up. I watched one jump from tree to tree a bit yesterday, and then today was the furry icing on the squirrel cake.
I had to tag something in the middle of someone's lawn, and the second I set foot on the grass, a noise erupted. It got louder, and I realized there was a squirrel about ten feet up in a tree in the lawn. He stared at me, and followed me a little, getting as close as possible without leaving the safety of his tree. And he chattered! I felt like he was just tearing me a new one. It was actually kind of cute, but I felt like he was going to start throwing rocks at my head or something. He seemed really pissed. Once I left the lawn, he stopped and went back to business as usual.
I decided I need to raise a baby squirrel. I need to understand their personalities, the way I understand cats. I understand cats because I've raised a dozen kittens from birth. So the solution is to kidnap a baby squirrel.
They seem curious, frightened, timid, angry, bold, shy, territorial, and nomadic all at the same time. I'm sure each specific squirrel has a very specific personality, like most animals do, but they must have some basic similarities amongst each other.
They just seem so full of life and so vivacious! Something that makes me want to tame it, to understand it fully, and to love it.
Thursday 14 June 2012
Squirrels and birds and bunnies, oh my!
So, at work, I basically just walk up and down streets. That's the most basic description. I work for the city, and I tag the GPS locations of specific things in the city, and then take pictures of them. By the end of the summer, I will have covered every single street in our city.
For eight hours a day, five days a week, I just walk. I don 't get to walk at walking speed though, cause I'm looking for things. I keep my eyes trained on the ground, I keep track of the addresses, and I keep my car within at least five blocks of me at all times. It has it's perks, like solitary, a tan, exercise, and solid hours, and it's drawbacks, like solitary, heatstroke, a sunburn, and I still have to work when it rains.
The one big thing I like is that I see a lot of animals. Because I'm keeping an eye out for a lot of things, I notice squirrels, cats, bunnies, a lot of birds, bugs, worms, nests, dogs, and anything else you ever see in a city. I also notice a lot of dead animals, because I spend most of my time watching the ground. Dead things make me nauseous, especially birds.
One day, early on, I was tagging a storm drain, and there was a dead bird in it. I had to take a picture of it. I really thought I was going to throw up. Later that day, I passed two bloody bird wings on the sidewalk. I'm not sure if it was a mean cat or a vicious kid. I've seen countless whole dead birds in lawns, and a bunch of dead squirrels on the street.
The one day, I had to step onto someone's lawn, and I noticed something, like a little pile of dead grass. I saw there were a few blue candy easter eggs around it, and then I clued it. It was a robin's nest and there were four, uncracked robin eggs still in it. I almost cried.
Then the other day, I saw four or five teeny tiny dead baby birds, right on the edge of the sidewalk under a tree. I actually had to tag something just on the other side of them, but I just skipped it. It upset me so much, I wanted to go back to the office early.
I've been thinking about this all, trying to figure out if I'm a wimp when it comes to things like that, or what. I do know that I tend to be on the sensitive side, especially in contrast to my husband, who excitedly described the death of pigeon he witnessed a few weeks ago. But is it silly to be upset like things like this?
I think perhaps I have a hard time dealing with death in general. I've never been close to anyone who passed away. My kitten once died, and I cried for a very long time, but she was only four weeks old.
But I also think I have a special something going on with the birds. They really fascinate me. I could just watch all the different birds fly all day long. I witnessed a crow and a hawk fighting earlier this week, and I was excited. I love the way they build nests, the way they fly, how they eat. I am especially fascinated by hawks, owls, eagles, doves (the usual favorites), and most of all, robins. I've always kind of connected with robins, what with sharing a name with them and all, but I also the love the briallant red of their chests, and the fantastic blue speckled shade of their eggs. Robin's egg blue is my favorite shade of blue.
So perhaps I felt extremely upset by the robin's nest, because I connect with them. Perhaps it is some mothering instinct buried within me that repulses at any unborn or newly born child of any creature facing the end of their life far too early. And maybe it's the child-centered heart I have, that believes all children should thrive. Even pigeons, which may be the ugliest baby birds ever.
No matter what it is, I have decided that it is not silly and I shouldn't kick myself for feeling sad when I notice those kinds of things. I should perhaps feel more sad for the adult birds and the squirrels, but maybe I'm too used to it. You don't see dead babies as often as dead adults.
Well, the point is... Oh shoot, I don't know that I had a real point. I guess just to confirm I am not the only person whose heart strings are pulled at the sight of such things.
For eight hours a day, five days a week, I just walk. I don 't get to walk at walking speed though, cause I'm looking for things. I keep my eyes trained on the ground, I keep track of the addresses, and I keep my car within at least five blocks of me at all times. It has it's perks, like solitary, a tan, exercise, and solid hours, and it's drawbacks, like solitary, heatstroke, a sunburn, and I still have to work when it rains.
The one big thing I like is that I see a lot of animals. Because I'm keeping an eye out for a lot of things, I notice squirrels, cats, bunnies, a lot of birds, bugs, worms, nests, dogs, and anything else you ever see in a city. I also notice a lot of dead animals, because I spend most of my time watching the ground. Dead things make me nauseous, especially birds.
One day, early on, I was tagging a storm drain, and there was a dead bird in it. I had to take a picture of it. I really thought I was going to throw up. Later that day, I passed two bloody bird wings on the sidewalk. I'm not sure if it was a mean cat or a vicious kid. I've seen countless whole dead birds in lawns, and a bunch of dead squirrels on the street.
The one day, I had to step onto someone's lawn, and I noticed something, like a little pile of dead grass. I saw there were a few blue candy easter eggs around it, and then I clued it. It was a robin's nest and there were four, uncracked robin eggs still in it. I almost cried.
Then the other day, I saw four or five teeny tiny dead baby birds, right on the edge of the sidewalk under a tree. I actually had to tag something just on the other side of them, but I just skipped it. It upset me so much, I wanted to go back to the office early.
I've been thinking about this all, trying to figure out if I'm a wimp when it comes to things like that, or what. I do know that I tend to be on the sensitive side, especially in contrast to my husband, who excitedly described the death of pigeon he witnessed a few weeks ago. But is it silly to be upset like things like this?
I think perhaps I have a hard time dealing with death in general. I've never been close to anyone who passed away. My kitten once died, and I cried for a very long time, but she was only four weeks old.
But I also think I have a special something going on with the birds. They really fascinate me. I could just watch all the different birds fly all day long. I witnessed a crow and a hawk fighting earlier this week, and I was excited. I love the way they build nests, the way they fly, how they eat. I am especially fascinated by hawks, owls, eagles, doves (the usual favorites), and most of all, robins. I've always kind of connected with robins, what with sharing a name with them and all, but I also the love the briallant red of their chests, and the fantastic blue speckled shade of their eggs. Robin's egg blue is my favorite shade of blue.
So perhaps I felt extremely upset by the robin's nest, because I connect with them. Perhaps it is some mothering instinct buried within me that repulses at any unborn or newly born child of any creature facing the end of their life far too early. And maybe it's the child-centered heart I have, that believes all children should thrive. Even pigeons, which may be the ugliest baby birds ever.
No matter what it is, I have decided that it is not silly and I shouldn't kick myself for feeling sad when I notice those kinds of things. I should perhaps feel more sad for the adult birds and the squirrels, but maybe I'm too used to it. You don't see dead babies as often as dead adults.
Well, the point is... Oh shoot, I don't know that I had a real point. I guess just to confirm I am not the only person whose heart strings are pulled at the sight of such things.
Monday 11 June 2012
Computer Problems
Ah! I finally have my computer again. Wanna know a great story about it?
Well, that day that I first blogged was actually the first day my husband and I bought a brand new laptop just for me. He's a computer guy, so he went through and set it all up, but didn't burn any re-install discs, and rather saved them to the computer and was going to do it later so that I could have access to my laptop right away, the sweet man.
So I went through and customized my background and my theme and set a password, and then logged into my facebook and such, and started a new blog (which is actually the reason we got me my own computer).
Then I shut it all down and went to bed. The next day at lunch time I was overwhelmed with the urge to blog, so I booted it up and... forgot my password.
Here's the catch! I chose a brand new word I've never used before, and thought, "This word is SO easy, I don't even need a hint!" Yeah. No clue what it was. I tried every word I could think of, and had Marc and some friends do the same. No luck. I was so upset. I've always had a bad memory, but this is the pinnacle of anything.
The only thing to do was take it to the computer to a computer shop, and they could either bypass the password, or wipe the computer. A wipe wouldn't bother me, because it was a brand new computer. We just didn't want to pay money and wait around for that. So Marc called up his computer-y friend who dug up some discs that would do the same thing.
They didn't work. At this point, it had been over a week. I just wanted to return it and start over.
Well, I guess Marc wiped the computer, or the computer wiped itself. Something happened. It got wiped. But of course, we didn't have reinstall discs. Marc used his magic computer geinus and made it all work, but it's been two weeks! I'm so grateful for him, and so mad at myself!
So... Let the lesson be... MAKE A HINT! Seriously. I still can't believe I didn't think to make a hint!
Well, that day that I first blogged was actually the first day my husband and I bought a brand new laptop just for me. He's a computer guy, so he went through and set it all up, but didn't burn any re-install discs, and rather saved them to the computer and was going to do it later so that I could have access to my laptop right away, the sweet man.
So I went through and customized my background and my theme and set a password, and then logged into my facebook and such, and started a new blog (which is actually the reason we got me my own computer).
Then I shut it all down and went to bed. The next day at lunch time I was overwhelmed with the urge to blog, so I booted it up and... forgot my password.
Here's the catch! I chose a brand new word I've never used before, and thought, "This word is SO easy, I don't even need a hint!" Yeah. No clue what it was. I tried every word I could think of, and had Marc and some friends do the same. No luck. I was so upset. I've always had a bad memory, but this is the pinnacle of anything.
The only thing to do was take it to the computer to a computer shop, and they could either bypass the password, or wipe the computer. A wipe wouldn't bother me, because it was a brand new computer. We just didn't want to pay money and wait around for that. So Marc called up his computer-y friend who dug up some discs that would do the same thing.
They didn't work. At this point, it had been over a week. I just wanted to return it and start over.
Well, I guess Marc wiped the computer, or the computer wiped itself. Something happened. It got wiped. But of course, we didn't have reinstall discs. Marc used his magic computer geinus and made it all work, but it's been two weeks! I'm so grateful for him, and so mad at myself!
So... Let the lesson be... MAKE A HINT! Seriously. I still can't believe I didn't think to make a hint!
Monday 28 May 2012
What's Up With This?
So, what is up with this? This is my little blog. I often have an irresistible urge to blog, but it's always about random, unsorted things, so my fear of unorganized items prevents me from typing all my thoughts out. Well, today I thought, "What the heck? Why do I need an organization system for my thoughts?" So here goes! I'm just going to blog about whatever comes to mind.
As an explanation... I often say "right meow" instead of "right now". Most people hear "now" anyways, so it's just kind of funny. Sometimes overdone, sure, but I still like saying it. (Also... I really like kitty cats. They're so fluffy! I would probably be a crazy cat lady if I could...)
Anyways, so this blog will just be about whatever I'm thinking right now, or "meow". Also, the url is "ThinkingAboutRightMeow" because that's something most of us could do a little more. I, for one, need to spend more time thinking about now, and the present, and less time dwelling on the past or obsessing over the future.
So, I guess that's all for now... I'm sure I'll be writing again soon. I've been busy lately, but that just means I have more thoughts just racing through my brainpan.
As an explanation... I often say "right meow" instead of "right now". Most people hear "now" anyways, so it's just kind of funny. Sometimes overdone, sure, but I still like saying it. (Also... I really like kitty cats. They're so fluffy! I would probably be a crazy cat lady if I could...)
Anyways, so this blog will just be about whatever I'm thinking right now, or "meow". Also, the url is "ThinkingAboutRightMeow" because that's something most of us could do a little more. I, for one, need to spend more time thinking about now, and the present, and less time dwelling on the past or obsessing over the future.
So, I guess that's all for now... I'm sure I'll be writing again soon. I've been busy lately, but that just means I have more thoughts just racing through my brainpan.
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