Quick, Hide in the Barn!

Quick! Hide in the barn...all you useless countertop cluttering items.

Wait! Dishwasher, stay...I *NEED* you. The rest-- clear outta here...the tv crew will be here shortly.

My girls found a way to incorporate some magic

And my lady bug rock is really happy she's not being trampled by the clutter anymore. Look at her eyes, she's still recovering from her near death experiences.

And my stove is so jolly and the tea pots just ready to go

And look at this corner. So bright and friendly.

Now when the TV crew arrives to interview me I will look like a suave homeschooling Mom.

Just as long as they don't open my bedroom door where I stashed everything.

I really need to get a barn.

And just exactly how do you get a lime in the coconut, hmmm?

My daughter asked if we could buy a coconut the other day. I said, "Yes." Not really thinking through the facts that:

1. I have never bought a coconut before

2. I have never had to open one before

So there it sat on my cutting board.
Staring me down like Clint Eastwood in a cowboy gunfight.

So I stared back with a steely eyed look that said, "You will not defeat me."

See?

I grab a knife and begin the tedious job of hacking away at what is called 'the bone' (and the insides are called meat...are we still talking about fruit here?)

I hack, I saw, I grunt, I whack, I chop.

People, I followed directions ( I know, but there's always a first time for everything)

But it turns out that this coconut has more Clint Eastwood in him than I originally first thought.

I decide to bring out a machete-like big knife that you see all the fancy chefs use on Food TV.

I raise it in the air and my girls cry, "Head for the hills!"

Probably a good idea.

After twenty minutes and a good deal of saying, "Good grief" I finally manage to dislodge a large piece of coconut.

We eagerly reach in our spoons and scrape out some of the meat.

With great delight we put the spoonful in our mouth...

and then promptly spit it back out.

It seems raw, fresh coconut is not the same as shredded unsweetened coconut. I cannot coax them to have anymore.

So I tell my plans to the coconut, "I'm going to scrape your insides out and put them in my blender with some raw honey and banana."

To which Clint the Coconut says:

Noooooooo!

3 Reasons You Need To Stop Following Me

This has been a lot of fun this Ultimate Blog Party.

It has.

I have found some really fun blogs (which I will post about later) and have met some new friends (yay! Shout out to BK: great comments!)

Ummm....my readership has gone up to 40 followers.

It doubled.

In 5 days.

And I'm kinda freaking out.

Here's why:

I comment back to everyone who follows me and to those who comment my posts. (If I haven't got to you yet, don't worry, I will).

I take my blog seriously in that I want to build friendships with people. I don't do "acquaintances". I develop relationships with people.

It's why I follow Brambleberry Grace and Jesus. Women. Words. These women impact me and I want to get to know them.

Now, I know how this whole party thing works. It's like swapping business cards. We exchange cards and hope that we contact each other in the future. And many times it's just dropped into a rolodex and only glimpsed at occasionally because it happens to be hidden behind the card for the Chinese Take-Out place that is used most often.

I don't want to become that kind of card...er, blog.

And neither do you, right? (maybe not. I could be wrong, it happened to me once before)

Here's the thing. I don't follow for the sake of following.

I have only immediately followed a handful of people and that is usually because I spent a while on their blog reading other posts.

I usually wait 4 weeks before following a blog--just to see if it's something I want to invest my time into. (And if you want to know how seriously I take my time, then please read my post: A guide to staying off your blog)

Maybe I'm having a hard time believing that so many want to read what I have to say, but I mean...truly...do you???

Now you are free to do as you choose but before you follow me, you might want to consider the following:

3 Reasons You Need to Stop Following Me

1. You don't really plan on reading me. You only hit follow 'cause you were in the party mood.

It's ok. You can remove yourself. We all do crazy things at a party some time and I have done some silly things myself.

2. You are hoping I will be reciprocal and follow and boost your numbers. Won't happen. Sorry 'bout that.

3. You collect blog friends, like you collect Facebook friends. I detest Facebook (read here) and I don't want to be remotely associated with those habits!

Well, there you have it. With the complete potential that I've insulted you and your competency.

I realize this is probably counter blog culture, but I guess the truth is...I want to journey with people, not just be another name on a list. I have always desired to be set apart.

So, please don't follow me unless you really mean to.

And I mean REALLY mean to.

It's ok to unsubscribe yourself. I haven't written down a list of names of who is following me and if I see your name disappear I won't be showing up to write mean comments on your blog.

Scouts honour.

This post feels a little bit like a mother walking in to announce that it's time to clean up the tea party and put the dolls away...but every party needs a pooper!

Consider yourself introduced to this party's pooper.

JER5x2y1lb is code for "Help! I just want to leave a comment"

***If you are joining me from the Ultimate Blog Party, click here to read my intro***

This Ultimate Blog Party thing is fun.

I am getting new comments.

I am leaving new comments.

It's all going so swell.

Except for the slight fact that blogger, wordpress and others are holding a word verification text box and have now come up with cleverly long and ridiculous word verifications for leaving comments. ( I suspect they put this in place due to the blog party, but this could be a suspicion that is as unfounded as this one)

Top 5 Codes You May Have Encountered

1. The italic disguise, also known as ' sl4gthyx'

Yes, you recognize it here.

But in the word boxes, they don't look that way.

They look like this: rammalammadingdongshadowawawa

So that's what I type in.

And then I am rejected.

But I'm not easily taken out. I go onto the next code, which looks like this:

2. An actual word, also known as victor

There is the odd time where a word verification is an actual word.

Because I have noticed that although it is called 'word verification'--the stuff they dole out to us is not really a word. At least, not in my dictionary or in this one.

Most of the time, they look this:

3. A math equation having a bad hair day, also known as 5tha4ty1

I attempt to type that code in, but I am rejected.

Apparently they didn't want the code, they wanted the answer to this riddle. I forgot the rules of BEDMAS and was therefore given this next code:

4. The almost word, also known as leg5y

Whenever I see these types of word verification I think:

a. Somebody is actually coming up with each individual code and is a lousy speller

b. Somebody is actually coming up with each individual code and is really bored

c. How much would somebody get paid for actually coming up with each individual code?

And then finally, I am confronted with the age-old:

5.Capital Letters Trickster, also known as Jfr5KYlo

I am thrown into a conundrum.

Do I or don't I use capital letters?

What if I do and they reject it?

What if I don't and they reject it?

What if I get rejected...again...by a computer. By a word verification box, no less.

So, I do what any sane blogger who is anxious to get visitors to her blog does.

I type in 'rammalammadingdongshadowawawa'

...and it works!

I am accepted by the word (but not really a 'word') verification box.

I have (potentially) made a new friend.

It can only go up from here, my friends. Right?

Please comment, and when you do, please write your word verification in your comment box to help prove my point.

S.O.S.

Welcome to my first series on my blog:

Soap Opera Sayings

Tragically, I grew up watching soap operas.

Horrible filth for the mind, I must say. It warped my brain on what real relationships looked like and horribly depicted men and women and conflict and drama for me. I didn't know there was a difference between reality and fiction for a LONG time.

Mind you, I L.O.V.E.D. the drama. LOVED it. I had the VCR record the shows while I was at school so that I could stay in the loop and scream on Friday when it was a cliffhanger ending and wonder how I would survive until Monday.

(insert hand to my forehead and fainting to the floor)

My sister bought Soap Opera Digest magazine and we were devoted to finding out what will happen next, what was going on behind the scenes and who was coming to the show soon.

I know you want to know what I watched so I will tell you.

I was a die hard Another World fan. I was all about the Jake/Vicki/Ryan triangle, the Cass/Kathleen/Frankie triangle and I dreaded the name Carl Hutchins.

I also loved All My Children--I remember Kelly Ripa when she was Hayley and had very big hair. I pretty much watched General Hospital because I loved Brenda and Sonny and the big talent show that they put on at the hospital every year.

For the record, I hated the show the Young an your d the Restless...because come on, how many weddings can you have at Catherine's house? Especially when character never even comes in contact Catherine.

How long does it take Victor to come back from the dead and reveal it to his family who are grieving in the office that he is alive (two weeks to walk down the hall, approach the door, turn the door knob and then slowly open the door to the shock and fainting antics of the bottle-blonde Nikki.) That show is the most drawn out thing ever. I also didn't like Cricket/Christine and all the airtime that she got--her pursed lip smile really made me want to change the channel. Though I never did.

Sigh.

I was thinking the other day about how much influence soap operas had on me and how much I bought into the lies it perpetuated and then how they started to show up in my life.

It's why God's Word tells us to guard our hearts and to be careful what we look at.

Remember Lot.

He set up a camp that was facing Sodom and Gomorrah.

And the next time we see him in the Bible, he is living in the middle of it. What you set your face to you end up being engrossed in. Then it becomes the way you think, and your thoughts determine your actions and then your character.

So, in my new series of confessions, I'll be talking about how Soap Opera Sayings and Principles dominated my life and then showed up in the way I treated others...and then I'll talk about how God has put things right in my life.

Grab the toe nail polish and get ready for the drama!

But you'll have to wait until Monday...dunh,dunh,dunh!

(Insert hand to your forehead and fainting to the floor here)

Let's hear it for mistakes!!

Heaven is on my side!

Remember this?

I went to the library yesterday and was prepared to pay my fine. She pulled up the book and grimaced. (It is not good when a librarian grimaces)

"I don't want to make you pay this." she says.

(Uh-oh! $$$$$$ is all I see and so truthfully I say in my head, "I don't want you to make me pay this either")

It turns out this book is a reference book. That's library talk for a big, fat price tag book. And it's a book from the adult section. And I have not been in the adult section in months. Sad, but true. I usually order my books online and just pick them up. (On second thought, if I went upstairs to the adult section with my kids, I could have a whole lot more posts!)

Anyway, the librarian asked me if I remembered what it looked like. I said I had no clue. I hadn't even read it.

Then the librarian said something that was like Pepto-bismal to my anxious wallet.

"I think this book might have gone onto your library card by mistake."

Good-looking-librarian-lady says what?

"I think this book might have gone onto your library card by mistake."

(I think so too!)

We decide to give it a week, they are going to look for it upstairs and I'm going to believe they find it...otherwise I will need to work out a payment plan for this book ...that I still haven't read!

Death to cheeky nouns sitting on my desk

*I'm at it again (responding to emails that is. Check your inbox, my friends...coming soon to a computer near you!)

*Cleaned out the cupboards, dumped everything in a bag and moved it into the garage. That can be July's problem. For now I have clean cupboards and FOCUS! (or so I like to think)

*I am (sorta) seriously contemplating learning how to make my own sour cream. My friend Marlies does this. Mind you, she has access to fresh milk from a cow, and does this thing all the time...she has to since she lives in Africa.

Hmmm...if going organic is that simple, maybe I should move to Africa. She says the bananas in Canada are beautiful to look at but taste horrible. I could eat brown bananas. She also says that they have the squatting toilets in Africa and most public places don't have bathrooms or toilet paper in them. Organic living can wait for a bit, non?

*I now have a huge laundry basket full of papers to be sorted through (thanks to cleaning out the closet). I have plans to finish this blog post and get the shredder from the office and get right to work...as soon as I'm finished this blog post.

I am now thinking of extra things to write on my blog post so as to delay production on the great epic called "Filing 2009".

The snow is melting.

A cat is thinking about stepping into my yard. I scowl at it. It thinks twice. That's right, keep walking.

Did you know that the moon has several stages? One is called waxing gibbous. I did not know that before yesterday. I am passing on these facts for your future Jeopardy contestant spot. Don't forget me when you win big.

I have a red flower pin that I never wear. It's sitting on my desk currently staring at me, saying, "You are reaching a new low by blogging about me to avoid filing."

To which I say, "True. But in all fairness, don't you want to be on my blog?"

To which it responds, "You do realize you are talking to a flower pin and making up a conversation in your own head?"

To which I respond, "OK, time for you to go to the Salvation Army."

To which it says, "I'm starting a "Save the Red Flower Pin Campaign". Readers, join the resistance!"

And then I turn my head, snap my fingers to my imaginary guard and say sinisterly, "Release the hounds."

And then dogs come and bury the red flower pin and I never see it again.

The end.

After so much excitement, clearly it is time for me to do something mundane and brain-numbing...filing.

Face Etiquette for Beginners

Now, since we are best friends and we tell each other everything--and I do mean EVERYTHING! I feel, as your best friend, that it's important to pass on these three things that I observed today while people watching.

1. Always cover your mouth when you yawn. I'm glad you had dental work, but let's keep that as your little secret, m'kay?

2. Put that dental use to work and smile at strangers, then make eye contact and nod. Connect with others.

3. It doesn't matter what you think or how sure you are...someone is always looking. So, yes, use Kleenex if you must pick in public.

By the way, there's nothing in your teeth.

You're welcome. That's what best friends are for.

pancakes, again???

Yes, pancakes again. And I'll tell you why.

day one: I pull out the pancake mix, add the egg and then realize too late I don't have 1 cup of milk. Or even 1/2 cup of milk. I improvise, but get, "These pancakes don't taste right, Mom."

day two: Out comes the pancake mix. I am determined to give some good eats this morning. Here's a little tip I learned that I'm giving you for free today. Don't put pancakes to cook in the skillet while you help your kids shower and try and get a load of laundry done. You only end up with, "These pancakes taste burnt, Mom."

day three: No distractions. No forgotten ingredients. No comments on pancakes gone wrong.

Success!

The No Wax Revolution

I've had a tenuous relationship with facial hair waxing, Dr. Psychiatrist. I believe the reasons are deeply rooted in my past.

When I was a child, I remember watching my Grandma never getting dressed until she "put her eyebrows on." She had very little eyebrow hair.

And my mom use to pluck her chin hairs and sigh heavily as though wishing one day it would all end, but knowing it wouldn't.

My Grandmother never grew leg hair. I didn't get her genes. I got my Dad's. His hairy legs and his blackish coloured hair.

When I was a teenager I was driving a little boy to school for a friend. The sun was shining through the windshield, and we were smiling at each other.

Then he looked at me and said, "How come you have a mustache?"

When I was working in television as a producer, we needed a segment with a new on-air host.

Now, I was currently growing out my eyebrows. Which means, my last experience at a beauty parlor was a 20-minute grueling session of hearing the wax eyebrow-artist say "omigod" and "wow" over 100 times as she tried to groom my eyebrows. Those words by were followed by her bringing over other hair stylists because "You've got to see her eyebrows. They are poker straight". Then she used the scissors--yes, scissors-- on my eyebrows!!!

(Ok, they were small eyebrow-sized scissors. But still.)

So needless to say, I was growing them out and avoiding getting them re-done.

At work, we decided that I should do the new 2 minute segment. In the meeting with my team I said, "Thanks. That's great."

Then a friend piped up, "But wax your eyebrows before you tape anything, ok?"

My other friend, "Defintely."

The only man in the room squinted his eyes and studied my eyebrows. And let out a slow, "yeahhhh. Do that."

Well, I have found a good wax lady now. She's my best friend for $17 every six weeks.

But lately I've decided to come up with a new solution.

A revolution, if you will...Join me, friends.

We could change the world with this, could we not?

Because we all should say 'Top of the Morning To Ya!' more often

Sometimes, just for fun, I pretend I have an accent.

There are several reasons for this:

1. I want to see if anyone will seriously consider that I'm from a different country

2. I always wanted to act, but don't have the time...or the skills

3. It's fun saying "Jolly good."

I recently went into a gas station and felt that it would be nice to mix things up and practice my Scottish accent. But I wanted to pull off an accent that sounded like I'd been in North America for awhile. A gentle lilt, if you will.

And this is what happened:

"Excuse me, pump five is not filling my tank up."

The people who just finish paying look at me. I know what they are thinking, "Where did this person come from. Ireland? No...she sounds more like Braveheart. Perhaps Scotland?" They look at me with inquisitive stares.

The clerk behind the counter gestures for me to repeat myself. (Apparently my accent is a little hard to understand, maybe?)

So I repeat myself, "Pump five is empty. I noticed stalls two and three are empty too, but they have markers. I believe pump five is empty."

The people in front of me look out the window to stall five. They nod their heads. I know what they are thinking, "She's visiting from Scotland and has come to our town and the first gesture of kindness she gets from us is an empty gas station...or do they say petrol station in Scotland?"

The clerk leans against the counter. I know, I just know, he's ready to apologize for the inconvenience seeing as I'm from out of town and all.

So he says, "O.K. Thankyouverymuch. Pull around your car and try pump seven."

He says it in an Indian accent...as in a person from India who has moved over here to start a business and make a better life for their children. Someone with a REAL accent.

Sigh.

So, much for my vague attempt at being a worldly traveler who is a mysterious stranger with a can't-quite-place-it accent. I've just been upstaged by a man with a genuine accent.

Do you see what I mean about not having the skills for acting??

Why you shouldn't use Christmas greeting cards to send a subliminal message that says "I've got my act together"

I was going to use my old standby stamp this year for decorating the outside of the envelopes. It's pretty--a dove that says PEACE. After two years though, the bird needs a break. So, I came up with this:

It's a drawing of mistletoe (it is so!) above the name and then lipstick mark of being kissed. Underneath that it says, "Kiss ya under the mistletoe!" Fun, eh?

And this year, we had enough set backs with my hubby's injury that all thoughts of getting our family picture done went right out the window...so we did thumbprint drawings. That's me at the bottom right hand corner. My eldest did the artwork.

And then, I realized that some people can't be sent the envelope with the mistletoe kisses on it. People that are important to you, but you would rather give them something more formal. Something that makes you seem a little more dignified and put together. So you go to the fall back stamp and say: There, they will get a smile seeing that and they will thrill over how precise and amazing we are. Until...

they turn the card over and realize that I've sealed it upside down

The Late Night Book Club for Me, Myself and I

"Diva?"

"What? Who me...you talking to me?"

"Yes. I am talking to you."

"I need to stop talking to myself...especially in two voices. It creates a picture of unsteadiness."

"You are side-stepping the issue."

"Ummm...what issue?"

"You went to bed late last night...again."

Silence.

"It was for a good cause."

"Reading a whole book is a good cause?"

"Yes."

"Uh-huh."

"It is. I'm....honing my vocabulary skills. I'm..."

"staying up til one am reading a book."

"Well, that wasn't the plan. I started it at 9 pm and I just couldn't put it down. Ok, I put it down once at 11:30 pm, but every time I closed my eyes all I could see was the character in Kenya and her fight against her bizarre kidnappers."

"You were at the part where she was safely in England studying birds."

"Now you're sidestepping the issue. The point is that I couldn't rest until I finished the book. So that's what I did. I read the whole thing from start to finish."

"And finished at one am."

"Yes. True."

"And your children wake up at 6 am, correct?"

"Yes. True again."

"And you remember how well you function on five hours sleep."

"Oh, shut it."

"See?"

Silence.

"Ok."

"ok what?"

"Ok, I won't read books after 8:30 pm any more. This time I mean it."

"We'll see."

"What? You don't believe me?"

Sigh. "I think you just need to be honest with yourself."

"Ok. You're right."

"And so?"

"I've resolved: to nap today."

"Swell."

"That's what I thought, too!"

It's all in me head! It's all in me head!

Have you ever had a conversation with yourself. I did. It went like this.

"Diva, you went to bed late last night."

"Yes."

"Do you remember what you decided?"

"No more going to bed at midnight."

"That's correct. Any idea why you fell off the band wagon?"

"Old habits die hard?"

"That's an old habit from your 20's. Remember when you didn't have as many kids and you didn't know that sleep is integral to health and skin elasticity. Remember what old people look like who have lived wild? It's not pretty, Diva. You don't want that to be you."

"I don't. It's true."

"So...."

"So....?"

"So, what are you not going to do tonight?"

"I won't stay up late watching a movie. Ever again. And then I won't have a flabby face when I am 55."

"This time you mean it?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"Good. Now go have some mint tea and try not to talk to yourself today."

Saucy-Saucy-Uber-Saucy

I did not spend the majority of the day re-organizing my linen closet. No, I didn't. I wasn't even inspired when I saw this closet and thought, "I could do that too!" I don't do things because other people have done them. That's copying and I am completely original...and organized.

I did not throw stuffed animals at my children today because that would be ignoring all warning labels on toys and I always pay attention to the labels. I didn't let me 13 month old feed himself a saucy-saucy-super-saucy meal tonight because I was too lazy to do it myself. Nutrition is important and developing positive eating habits is vital to good health-I wouldn't jeopardize that.

I did not make more work for myself by letting my son feed himself an uber-saucy meal that required an immediate bath following dinner. After all, I'm organized and don't waste my time getting caught with unplanned work. (see above for proof)

And when my little family came up to me while blogging and demonstrated that they knew how digestion worked by dropping carrots from their backside, I did not roll my eyes and stifle a laugh. Digestion and all the sounds that go with it are not funny.

It's not.

Pffffffft.

***by the way, the aforementioned announcement that is supposed to happen today will be told tomorrow. My timer rang and I'm outta blog time!

I know...the suspense! Oh, the suspense...

Does anyone else here suffer from blog envy?

I do.

This isn't the first time I've written about being jealous.

Jealousy. Coveting. Envy. It's all green and I find that it's happening to me as I look at blogs lately.

It's starts with a simple..."ohhh, look what they are doing?"

And then it moves to..."I would write a blog just like this if I lived there."

And then, the ominous, "Why don't I have a house that looks like that?"

"Hey, I should take up knitting. Everybody's doing it!"

"You know what I need to do? I need to craft more. I need to buy more crafty things or junk that I can re-finish and make look crafty."

"Why is my blog only about God's grace in the midst of my embarrassing moments that I seem to collect like a bad hobby? Why aren't I showing the world how to make paper from leftover spaghetti noodles or use dryer lint to make an emergency shelter? Where are my skills???"

Ahem.

And then, you read over what you've just written and you say, "It sounds very childish to be jealous."

So, you pull your thumb out of your mouth and you go back to looking at blogs and make an imaginary list of things you want to do...one day....one day.

DISCLAIMER: I do not know how to make an emergency shelter out of lint or noodles into paper. It was joke.

The Very Curious Case of the Crumbling Cookies

I am not a baker. I've never claimed to be one.

I don't really do the whole baking thing well.

My one skill is cracking an egg with one hand. I learned this from Audrey Hepburn in the film Sabrina. She said, in a mock French accent, "It's all in the wrist(e)!" And now when I bake I pretend I'm as elegant as Audrey and I use some serious wrist action when I break the eggs open. But that's where we part ways. Where Audrey learned to make a souffle, I have never eaten one. And wear Audrey can pull off a mock French accent, I cannot.

Wait! We both can wear black like nobody's business, so maybe I'm not too upset that I can't bake like her. Take this example of today's cookie.

Folks, it's either feast or famine here--in that, I either have these flat squishy things or round, plump balls of dough that look like round, plump balls of dough. So, for the sake of my children--because we do know that a mother's cookies are the hallmark of childhood--please tell me what I need to do to make a cookie that look like these? Clearly, I need your help.

While my children are satisfied with the licking of the wooden spoon, the cookies have suffered a cruel fate. They ended up in a shapeless...

formless...

gooey...

messy...

um, chocolatey, crumbly melt in my mouth and sing to my stomach type of mess!

I guess they weren't all bad ;)

I wouldn't eat paint

This weekend, I did not forgo celebrating a traditional Thanksgiving meal for painting our kitchen. I would never do that. That sounds selfish, and there is not a selfish bone in my body.

And even if we did paint, I would never bribe a friend to join us by providing a fake Thanksgiving supermarket-roasted-chicken meal for them. You don't keep friends by bribing them. And I keep all my friends.

We did not leave my husband to do the hard work of painting the ceiling. I wouldn't do that. I stand by man. I wouldn't ever leave him to do the dirty work...even if it was for a run to get chocolate covered almonds at 8:55 pm at night.

And I most certainly did not show up at the supermarket 3 minutes to closing time. My friend and I did not run up and down the aisles playing, "Look what I can do?" and then jump in the air and click our heels. We are mature adults. Only leprechauns click their heels, and I'm not one of those, so clearly there was not of that going on this weekend. And we didn't stand and cheer for the janitor as he buffed the floor. We would never stand and applaud a stranger's work as that might embarrass him or us. Our mothers have taught us better than that.

And when we got home, we did not slack on our painting duties by re-enacting the drama that enfolded at the supermarket so that my husband could see what he missed out on. I would never rub someone's nose in the fun that they missed, it's not couth. I am always couth.

And when my friend left, I didn't pick up a paint brush and twiddle my thumbs giving a false appearance of working. I didn't shirk my part of the job and eat chocolate almonds. Not even when my hands we're covered in paint and flecks of the rubber-duck-yellow-paint-choice was on the chocolate. I would not eat paint.

Not ever.

Not even if my was my last piece of chocolate covered almond.

Hey, a girl's gotta have some standards.

Of all the things you can mess up in life, peach crisp should not be one of them

Oh, but it was!

This is the story of the crisp that started out as cookie dough but didn't have enough stickiness to be anything but crisp.

But what fruit to put on my crisp? We are all out of apples. A quick dig through my freezer reveals a bag of peaches. I look quickly--I assume it is 1 cup of peaches.

After wrestling with unthawing it for oh, I don't know, say, 2%#$#@ minutes I realize it is only 1 peach and not 1 cup of peaches.

There's a difference, folks. There's a difference.

And it all culminated in the not-so-thrilling climax of a peach crisp gone horribly wrong...because you can burn a peach crisp, my friends.

Oh, yes you can!

Which leads me to the bigger questions of life--if I am having trouble mastering a crisp, who let me get a license, allows me to vote or even dress myself. (The last one doesn't count because it's a lot like the crisp)?

I dedicate this post to a most wonderful and gracious reader. My girl, Brambleberry Grace. We don't know each other outside of blogland...but we've already decided that we need to be neighbors and have tea.

Daily.

And I'm going to go a step further and say that if we were neighbors, I think we'd be the kind where we would open the door and drop our kids off and then leave for some personal quiet time while the other did fun, crafty things that fun mothers do with children. Then we'd bring each other back some ridiculously expensive Starbuck product and talk about deep things like the truth of the Gospel, Jesus' love and why Tay*lor Swift is ridiculous when she says that she won't let her past love relationship mishaps influence her future.

Brambleberry will say, "She's naive and nineteen. They only put that stuff in print to make it sound like it's doable."

Then I will say, "How did you get to be so wise?"

And she'll say, "It's from drinking overly-priced caffeinated products with good friends like you. Well, that and I'm smart. Blondie-cake?"

Check out her post today on life. She writes what's in my head and beats me to the computer before I can blog about it.

She is all about the baking, so eat her goodies (aka my favorite posts of hers)

Daily Donut-today's post

Brownies-how I got hooked on her blog

Amen sister! Pie- she's nailed it on this one

Not so horrible Bran Thingies-this one has a lot of ...fiber!

Blondie Cake-Best way to end a blog post!

Bubblegum Cake- It'll make sense once you read the post

Oh- so-simple whipping cream-I have this on my wall. Or will, once I print it off again

Drop her a line and eat of the goodness. If you like me, YOU.WILL.LOVE.HER.

What my neighbors know about me from their window observations

I live in a little town.

When I go to the "city" for a day of errands, I need to take a lot with me because we are going to be there all day. Being prepared is of the utmost importance.

I have neighbors across the street, and if they have opportunity to look out the window yesterday here's what they learned about me:

1. That woman is going places: At 9 am I loaded my kids into the car. Lovingly, strapped them into their car seats and made sure everyone had their necessary comforts (blankets,pet dinosaurs, water, etc.) I started the car.

2. That woman has a lot on her mind:At 9:02 am I shut off the vehicle and realized that I needed my keys to open the house because I forgot to bring the lunch I packed for us. I went inside, grabbed the goods and locked the door. Informing my crew that we were now ready, I started the van.

3. That woman is forgetful: At 9:06 am, I shut off the vehicle and realized that I needed my keys to open the house to get my garage keys. I race out to the garage and grab the stroller for my not-so-baby baby boy, load it in the van and start the vehicle.

4. That woman is harming the environment: At 9:10 am, I once again shut the vehicle off fully aware of the gas-wasting going on. I realized that I needed my keys to get back in the house so that I could make a long-distance phone call that needed to be made before I spent all day away from my home phone.

5. That woman is irresponsible: My children were strapped in their seats-- unattended-- while I made the phone call inside. Hanging up, I took 3 calming breaths as I realized I was going to be late to our first appointment.

6. That woman runs around like her hair is on fire: With flourish, I slam the front door and run down the steps. In a moment of self-doubt, I run back up and check to see if the door is locked. It is. I run back down the steps and quickly panic that I have left my keys in the house. A quick pat down of the pockets reveals that once again I have had a moment of self-doubt. The keys are in my right hand coat pocket. With flourish, I wrench open the van door and start it up.

7. That woman drives like a maniac: At 9:15 am I start my van and put pedal to the medal. I only take up most of the road as I speed ( read: safely maneuvered) around the sidewalk and parked vehicles of my neighbor.

8. That woman is not to be messed with...or perhaps she's on medication: I've got the "I'm on a mission" glare in my eyes. The tunes are cranked and I've already told the crew in the van there is no talking, asking questions, wondering, or mentioning anything about going to the bathroom until we are outside city limits.

This is what my neighbors know about me.

Or would know about me if they had had their curtains open. ;)