Projects

This is what I've been spending my spare time on this week.  And even some not-so-spare time.

I've been changing these fairly ugly barstools into this:

And even though I forgot to get a "before" picture, this is the "after":

We found the fabric for the bench and decided to base all the colors on that.  I'm hoping to make a throw pillow and maybe some artwork also based on that fabric, all of which makes me nervous because I have a tendency to think up cute decor in my head but I can't get my hands to do what I have envisioned in my head.

I've never painted something as big and scary as a piano before, so it took me a while to get up the nerve.  To be honest, I still haven't painted around the keys because that's the most delicate of all places to paint.  If you open the piano to play it, it looks very strange, but I'm getting there.

But what I really want to know is what you think?  Good?  Too much like an ice cream parlor?  Let me know.

Nudity, Body Bags, and Fruit Trees

I take my kids swimming in my brother's backyard pool.  I know you're thinking of a small backyard with an even smaller pool stuck in the middle of it.  Think again, my friends.  Every time I go, I'm struck again by the scope of his prodigious, theme-park-sized pool.  There are changing rooms, a dedicated pool kitchen, a high dive, rope swing, hot tub, water basketball, and three waterfalls.  He even has a twelve foot nude statue of Poseidon standing guard by the deep end to make sure every little boy gawks then giggles before drowning.  And that's not including the amenities outside of the pool area.  I would show you a picture of it, but then I'd have to track you all down and kill you, so I'll save myself the bother.

It's truly a joy and a privilege to be invited to this wonderland once a week.

However, last week came with an added perk: apricots.  You all love apricots, right?  Right?

In what used to be my father's green bean patch, (Quick side note: My father used plant his garden, then leave it to me and my sister to weed and harvest, and let me say that when we gave away bags of beans at harvest time, I'm not talking about the little grocery bags most people distribute.  We gave away big black garbage bags most people use as body bags.  Any guests that came to our house around that time couldn't leave until they agreed to carry away fifty pounds of string beans.  Visitors decreased dramatically from June to August.)  my brother now has six very productive apricot trees.  They're beauties.  So, to help him out a little, I grabbed a couple of (small) grocery bags and filled them up. Yum.

Until they're not so yum.

My youngest son and I are really the only fruit eaters in my house and we have worked our little stomaches to the breaking point trying to eat all the apricots we picked last week.  We're not much closer to finishing than we were when we began.  Why is that?  I even gave some away.  Twice!  But my big, big bowl is still overflowing.  Sigh.

Looks like I'm going to have to resort to dire measures and make fruit leather.  (Dire, because once it's fruit leather, we all eat it and eat it and eat it until our little stomaches revolt.)

If there are still apricots hanging on the trees next time I go to my brother's, I'd like to say I won't be tempted to pick more, but I probably will.  Free food isn't something I can ignore.

You Got That Right

I never put together puzzles.  In fact, I think it's safe to say I dislike them.  The biggest puzzle I've ever in my life completed was 100 pieces, and that's because my kids like it.  They ask me several times before I relent and help them.  But for some odd, odd reason, I decided I would pull the only other puzzle we own out of the cupboard and give it a go.  I mean, just because I've been bored silly and/or frustrated by every other puzzle I've ever put together, doesn't mean I will feel that way about every one I will ever try.  Right?

So, I got the box down and rattled the 750 pieces around a little.  Just to loosen them up.  I didn't want any of them stuck together prematurely.  That would be cheating.

Moving aside the table decoration, I began finding all the tiny pieces with flat edges.  Evidently, when there are 750 pieces in the whole thing, there will be a fair few with flat edges.  And a lot of flat edges that don't want to be found.

I babysit my four year-old niece five days a week, and since she's with us so much and looks just like my other children, we all kind of treat her like one of the family.  So, my niece sat next to me and talked to me for a while.  Then she said, "Mandi, can I help you put together that puzzle?"

"No."

"Oh."  She got down and wandered the house for a minute or two, then came back over to ask again if she could help me.

"No."  This was not something I was finding easy, and I didn't want any sticky little fingers gumming up my works.

Again, she got down and wandered some more.  When she came back the third time, I knew what to expect.  "Can I help you put that together?"

"Nope."

"But why can't I help you put the puzzle together?  Oh.  I know why.  Because you're a grumpy old woman."

After I stopped laughing, I said, "That's exactly right.  The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be to get along with me."

I never did finish the puzzle.  I never even finished the border.  I probably should have taken her up on the offer to help, since I  obviously needed it.

Delivery For A Flower Child

I walked outside to throw something away and found a big gray bin parked in my driveway.

Okaaay.  Who goes around parking big gray bins in people's driveways?

Luckily, a note accompanied the foreign bin.  A note from the city recycling company.  Wait, what?  The unknown bin is a recycle bin?  Joy races through my extremities and exits through uptilted lips.  This is truly a landmark day.

I clutch the letter to my bosom for a heart-stopping moment.  Then, lifting the gray hulk, I wheel it to its new place next to its less glorified cousin, the garbage bin. Before I'm even back in the house I'm texting my husband.

"Honey!  Guess what?  We got our recycle bin today!  Huzzah!"

While I wait for him to respond to this glorious news, I begin reading the pickup schedule attached to the Welcome! letter.  It seems we have two weeks to try and fill the gray monster, pickups coming every other Tuesday.  My smile seems a permanent new fixture.

Bing. Bing. My husband texts back.

"You're that excited about a recycle bin?  You are such a hippie."

Sigh.

With Silver Bells and Cockle Shell...

Those are my zucchini plants.  Yay!

So far, so good.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I know this little square of dirt doesn't look like much, but it has held a good portion of my attention for several days.  Every time I stand at my kitchen sink, I look out the window and see it.  I stand at the sliding door and stare at the dirt.

Six little tomato plants line the left and far sides, which I keep telling myself I will fertilize today.  Several handfuls of zucchini and peas have been planted, along with the rest of my fragrant wildflower seeds.  My daughter scattered the flower seeds towards the front, so when they come up, they'll be the thing I see out my window.

My father-in-law (bless his green thumb) came by and told me exactly what to do to make the food grow.  So, I'd really have to have a growing disability to screw this up.

Logically, I know I won't make the seeds grow faster by watching carefully, but I can't stop looking.  I'm afraid I'll miss something.  I'm afraid I'll kill something, which, considering my gardening history, is far more likely.

Killing Time

Last week was about the busiest I've ever been.  So much fun, but non-stop.

First off, we moved.  (And are still kind of moving.  Haven't cleaned the old place yet.) We are no longer shoved into a two bedroom sardine can.  Although, I'm impressed by how much we managed to squeeze into that sardine can.  Impressive amounts of food storage and junk.  Our new place is four bedrooms and even has a basement.  Sigh.  It's love.

Next, my daughter and I went to girls' camp.  Monday until Friday of 20 girls and women in a lodge.  Luckily, we had hot showers, so at least we didn't stink.  But we also didn't sleep.  At all.

One day at camp, we hiked a couple of miles down the mountain to a lake and got to paddle around it in canoes and paddle-boats.  The young woman I was with didn't want to go on the lake until a lovely sister missionary told us we should go look for the crocodile that lived on the far side of the lake by the trees.  We jumped into a paddle-boat and aimed right for where we though the critter might be.  More or less, we drove right to it.

"Oh!  Look at it!  It's so cute!"  About three feet long, floating quietly, and painted wood.

Our boat sailed right over the top.  "Blast!  Back up!"

We back peddled, but it was too late.  The croc had gotten its rope tangled in our paddles and every time we tried to move, we could hear the poor little guy thumping against the underside of our watercraft.  Then the rope got wound so tight we couldn't paddle at all.  We had to ask someone to row their boat back to shore to ask for a motorboat to tow us back to the dock.  We looked so pathetic.  It was the ultimate tow of shame.

When we got back to the dock, the lovely sister missionary said, "I told you to find the crocodile, not kill it!"  She said it with a smile, but I think she was sad anyway.

After a week of that sort of fun, we went home.  To a MESS.  My husband, in his generosity, had moved all the big things from our tiny place to our larger place, but hadn't cleaned up anything.  So, that's been my job.

To top it all off, I've been sick all week.  I have the kind of cough that gives me headaches from the force they require.  It's awesome.