Did you ever.... ?

Did you ever have a time in your life that you pondered just how different your life might have been if you had turned right instead of left?  Took that job instead of staying with this one?  Went to this restaurant instead of the one in the next town? 

Based on any choice we make, the circumstances surrounding that choice are completely different because the world around you is different:  you see different things, you meet different people, you hear different things, and you are involved in different events.   All of these things will influence the rest of your life, they must.

Daydreaming about a different life is fun but I think it is important to remember how much I would have lost out on if I HAD turned right.  My days would certainly be different...  and dreams would be different, too.

I am happy with my life...  or should I say that I am happy with the decisions I have made thus far?Those decisions are what gave me what I know as my family, my skills, my friends, my knowledge, my courage, and to some degree, a suggestive map of my future.   There is no way to know what opportunities or lessons I would have missed had I turned right instead of left.

Daydreaming is nice... but maybe its not too late to turn right.   Of course, turning right now would not be the same as turning right back then.  Maybe right just wasn't "right" for me back then.

I have many miles of road and mile markers of decisions behind me but there is still a lot of road in front of me, too.   What is to the right?  Should I find out?  What will I miss if I go right?  What will I miss if I don't?   And one always wonders about the right turns they miss, don't they?

One wonders how they will know which way to go now?  I believe there are signs.  There are always signs....  road signs, so to speak.    Other people's words and actions give me hints and guidance, there is Karma, and there are feelings.  I must trust my gut feelings to make the right choice.  I must make the choice that is the best for me.... I must choose the road that gets me to where I want to be.

Either way, I know the decisions I make will be the correct ones.  I make will be the ones meant for me at this particular moment in my life.  The choices I make going forward will hold the lessons I still need to learn.  

I am aware there will be lessons to learn no matter what route I take, but this I know:  it won't be boring.  I will arrive at my destination wind-blown, sun burnt, and glowing because the one thing I can control, no matter my choice, is that I enjoy my travels.  I will make sure of that....  and I guess there is always an opportunity for a left a few miles up the road if I find the road to the right a bit too bumpy.  My tushy is too old to travel a bumpy road for long.

Home, Sweet Home

You always miss home, but sometimes, you miss something FROM home and there is nothing that can satisfy that yearning.

This happens because there are certain things that just can NOT be properly replicated.  And when faced with the choice of the replicated item or nothing....  I choose nothing....  at least a couple of  items.

Anderson Erickson Dairy's mascots

The first item is Anderson Erickson cottage cheese, which is manufactured in Des Moines, Iowa.   I would rather choose a salad then have another brand of cottage cheese.   Which really sucks because I really LIKE cottage cheese...  at least I like AE's cottage cheese.  And when I finally have the opportunity to get my hands on AE cottage cheese, I could literally eat a carton a day until I have had my fill.

AE dips are also amazing but I do now and then break down and try other brands.  I don't think I have actually bought another brand in the last 4-5 years though.  I spoke with a representative of AE and they assured me that the full shelf life of dip is about 45 days so it was something I could take with me and still have time to eat it before its expiration!  But don't freeze it.  (the taste and quality doesn't change with the freeze, but the consistency does)

Reames egg noodles, also manufactured in Des Moines, Iowa, is another thing that other companies can not seem to replicate.  Oh, you can get the "shelf" pasta, which we do, but the frozen egg noodles are only purchased when we find Reames.

And happy day!!  Hubster found a single bag of Reames egg noodles in our Phoenix Walmart, of all places....  he snapped it up, hurried home, and in a flash (meaning several hours), we had beef and noodles over mashed potatoes.... and all was right with our world, at least while our tummies were full.

There are a lot of other items I could list that can not be fully replicated but my need and/or taste for these items have overcome and allowed substitutes to suffice....  A partial list would most certainly include

• Graziano's Sausage
• Fareway's Tenderloins
• Grimes's sweet corn
• Aunt Hester's strawberries
• MaidRites

May you be surprised with a pleasant memory of home.

This project was long term...  It wasn't hard... or time consuming...  but patience was needed...  and it took me a LONNNNNGGG time to get it done.  

I wanted a little green around the spa (aka immovable hot tub) so I thought about what could live in that area....  since we live in the desert, it had to be drought resistant and sun tolerant.  

The area around the spa does not get full sun but it gets plenty of sun, and since its next to stucco-y cement-y stuff, I began the trial and error planting.  Not that I ever plan it to be trial and error, but all my planting attempts in the Sonoran Desert seem to be along the line of trial and error.

I also wanted plantings that would not get too tall, would not have stickers, and would not make my furbabies sick.....  a tall order.

A year ago, I pulled back the weed barrier and planted some Elephant food and a few cacti.  I would wait and see what lived successfully in the spots chosen.

I didn't trim the edging of the planting area as I was going to get back to it in a week or so after I started this project.   But I didn't....   for a whole year.....

BUT!  I did find that many of the cacti that I planted did not live through my "experiment".   As time passed, I pulled dead plantings and planted new ones, buying new or using cuttings from my yard, and in "cutting exchanges" with friends.

While the area isn't yet all filled it by the plantings, I am pretty happy with it.

And I love the rusty wagon wheel (below) and the rusty old tractor seat (mounted on a section of log in the first photo)!!!   Both were gifted by cousin Mike from the Barton family farm.  Nothing better than extra special memories placed with honor in the areas you see and love.

Enjoy your space. 

Who said "RED"?

It amazes me sometimes at just how little it takes to thrill me.

The mailman....  and Amazon.... gave me today's thrill:

Yes, that is a RED silicone key fob cover.

We (ok, he) seem to go through a lot of fobs...   Like:  musta dropped it...  or I think I drove over it.

HOW on earth do you drive over a key fob?  Anyway, while I doubt the silicone will really provide much protection, I am hoping that the cover will prevent parts from flying everywhere when it IS dropped...  and cracked...  and broke.

He wanted the manly black (perhaps to camo his fob-deficient behavior) and I struggled between pink and red...  but red won.  

Here's to safe fobbing !!

QUILT PRO QUO

Thursday, June 4, 2015

A reprint of a speech given at a conference on quilting (Quilt Canada 2010) by Allan Fradsham, a criminal court judge in Calgary, Alberta.

too funny....  and too true....

“When, some years ago, Gloria told me that she was going to build upon her years of sewing experience, and take up "quilting", I thought she was telling me that she was going to take up a new hobby or a new craft.  I was completely oblivious to the fact that what she was really announcing was that she was taking up membership in a tightly knit (if you'll pardon the expression) group of individuals whose loyalty to one another makes motorcycle gang members seem uncommitted, and whose passion for quilting activities makes members of cults look positively disinterested.  As is the case with many spouses, I was completely unaware that there existed this parallel universe called quilting.

However, to be completely unaware of a world-wide sub-culture operating right under our noses and in our homes is a bit obtuse even for husbands.  But there it is, and here you are.  And, most oddly, here I am.  You might wonder how all this came to pass; I know I certainly do.

I cannot now identify what was the first clue I detected indicating that Gloria had entered the fabric world equivalent of Harry Potter's Hogwarts.  It might have been the appearance of the fabric.  Bundles of fabric, mounds of fabric, piles of fabric, towering stacks of fabric.  Fabric on bolts, and stacks of small squares of fabric tied up in pretty ribbons (I later learned these were "fat quarters" which to this day sounds to me like a term out of Robin Hood).  The stuff just kept coming into the house as thought it were endless waves crashing onto a beach. And then, just like the waves, the most amazing thing happened: it would simply disappear.  It was as though the walls of the house simply absorbed it.  Metres and metres (or as men of my generation would say, yards and yards) of fabric would come into the house.  It would arrive in Gloria's arms when she returned from a shopping excursion.  It would arrive in the post stuffed in postal packs so full that they were only kept together by packing tape (these overstuffed Priority Packs are the equivalent of me trying to fit into pants I wore in law school).  These packages would arrive having been shipped from unheard of towns and villages in far away provinces or states or overseas countries (I am convinced the internet's primary activity is not to be found in pornography; that is just a ruse, the internet's real function is to facilitate the trafficking and distribution of fabric).  Wherever we went, be it in Canada, the U.S., Europe, wherever there was a collection of more than three houses, Gloria would find a quilt shop from which she would pluck some prize from some bin with the enthusiasm and unerring eye of an archaeologist finding a new species of dinosaur.

And of course, the reason that there are quilt shops everywhere is because there are quilters everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE.  A few years ago, Gloria had been visiting her sister-in-law in Kelowna.  While there, she found and purchased a Featherweight sewing machine.  I understand that making such a find is a matter of such joy that it may eventually attract government taxation.  When it came time to fly back to Calgary, Gloria worried about what the people at airport security would have to say when she tried to take the machine onto the plane.  She need not have been concerned.  Now, airport security takes pride in preventing me from carrying onto a plane a small squirt of toothpaste left in a rolled up toothpaste tube if the tube in which it is lodged did at some point in the distant past, contain a prohibited amount of toothpaste.  My spot of toothpaste is a national security threat.  However, when it came time for Gloria to go through security with the Featherweight, which is made of metal and has needles in secret compartments, airport security came to a standstill.  Why?  Were they about to confiscate the machine, and detain the person who dared to try to board with it?  Of course not.  They gathered around it in awe and admiration, asking Gloria questions about where she had found it, and expressing admiration for her good fortune in finding it.  And why did Gloria get such warm treatment when I am shunned for trying to maintain some degree of oral hygiene?  Well, the answer is obvious; the assembled airport security staff were all quilters, complete with the secret handshake.

Maybe I should have twigged to what was happening when the washing of all this fabric led to having to replace our washing machine, which was clearly not designed for such industrial use.  Now, let me pause here.  I understand that there is an intense debate within your world about whether or not fabrics should be washed upon purchase.  I do not wish to be caught in any cross-fire between the two camps, for all I know, as an outsider, I may not be authorized to even know of the controversy.  I do suspect that if men were making the decision, quilting would involve  lot less fabric washing and a lot more beer drinking.

I did eventually discover where all the fabric went.  It went into drawers, cupboards, shelves, and, eventually it completely filled up a closet, which took up one full wall in Gloria's newly built "sewing room".  What we now call Gloria's "sewing room", we used to call "the basement".

I have discovered that one of the art forms mastered by quilters is the ability to purchase container loads of fabric, conceal it in the house, and camouflage the purchase so that it slips right under the nose of the unsuspecting spouse.  As a loving and obedient spouse, I have on many occasions found myself in quilt stores where I serve two useful functions: I can reach bolts of fabric stored on top shelves; and I can carry numerous bolts of fabric to a cutting table.  However, I have also started to listen to what is said in quilting stores, and one day, in a little quilting shop in the heart of Alberta farming country, I heard something that made it clear to me that quilters are so clever and, dare I say, devious, that there is really no sport for them in fooling we naive husbands.  Gloria had decided to buy some fabric (which is similar to saying that Gloria had decided to breathe), and had gone to the till to pay for it.  Upon running through Gloria's charge card, the clerk quietly said, "Now, when you get your credit card statement, don't be alarmed when you see an entry for our local feed store.  We run our charges under that name so that if a husband looks at the credit card statements, he will think that the entry is just something he bought at the feed store for the farm".  That sort of financial shell game would make Goldman Sachs proud.  I knew at that moment that there had been a major and probably irrevocable shift in the world's power structure.  I concede it is basically over for the non-quilting husband.

As you have been told, I sit as a criminal law judge, and as such I often find myself sitting on drug trials, or  issuing search warrants in relation to drug investigations.  I must say that the more I learned about the quilting world, the more I started to see similarities between that world and the drug world.  It has caused me some concern.

We all interpret events from our own perspectives using the lessons we have learned through life.  When I saw the extent to which Gloria's collection of fabric was growing, I began to worry.  In the law relating to drugs, the amount of a drug one has in one's possession is an important factor in determining the purpose for which the person has the drug.  For example, if a person is in possession of crack cocaine (to use a drug with an addictive power equivalent to fabric), one look at the amount of crack the person possessed.  If the amount exceeds the amount one would realistically possess for personal use, then one may reasonably draw the inference that the purpose of the possession is not personal use, but, rather, it is for the purpose of trafficking the drug.  So, you can imagine what I thought when I saw Gloria's collection of fabric grow to a point where she readily admitted that she could never use all that fabric in several lifetimes.  I reluctantly concluded that I was married to a very high-level fabric trafficker.  Mind you, in order to qualify as a trafficker, one does have to part with fabric, and I see very little evidence of that happening.

In fact, the more I thought about the parallels between the quilting culture and the drug culture, the clearer the similarities became.  Consider the jargon.  I have learned that this vast collection of fabric, which is stored in our house, is a "stash".  Well, drug dealers speak of their "stash" of drugs.  Gloria speaks of doing "piece" work.  In the drug world there are often people who bring together the crack cocaine dealer and the buyer; think of a real estate agent, but not as well dressed, through perhaps somewhat less annoying.  Those people speak of breaking off a "piece" of crack as payment for bringing the parties together.  Sounds to me like a type of "piece work".  Those who transport drugs are often called "mules"; I have frequently heard Gloria refer to me as her mule when I am in a quilt store carrying stacks of fabric bolts (or did she says I was stubborn as a mule?).  Well, it was something about mules.  And I should think that this whole conference is a testimony to the addictive qualities of quilting.

In my role as a Sherpa, I have accompanied Gloria on various quilting expeditions, and I have been impressed by many things.  One is, as I have mentioned, that no matter where one goes, there will be a quilt store.  The proliferation of quilt shops makes Starbucks outlets seem scarce.  One day Gloria led me into a hardware store, which seemed odd to me, that is until I discovered that, as I walked towards the back of the store, the store had become a quilt shop.  The metamorphosis was extraordinary, and very crafty (if you will pardon the pun).  At that moment, I knew how Alice felt as she followed that rabbit down the rabbit hole.  Suddenly, one was in a different universe.

Another thing I have learned is that the operators of quilt shops have great business acumen.  In one of Gloria's favourite shops, upon entry I am greeted by name and offered a cup of coffee.  If the grandson is with us, he is allowed to choose a book to take home.  It is all so friendly that I don't even notice that I cannot see over the growing pile of fabric bolts which fill my arms.  I wish that my doctor did such a good job of distracting me when it is time to do a prostate exam.

I have learned that quilting is both international in scope and generous in spirit.  I have learned that quilters are quick to assist those in need, and that they have always been prepared to stand up for what is right.  For example, I think of Civil War quilts, which often conveyed messages about the Underground railway for slaves escaping to Canada.  I think of the One Million Pillowcase Challenge, and the Quilts of Valour project.  At one point, I thought of suggesting the creation of an organization akin to "Doctors Without Borders", but decided that an organization called "Quilts Without Borders" would indeed be illogical.

And of course, there are the resultant quilts.  We have quilts throughout the house.  They adorn beds, chesterfields, the backs of chairs.  They are stacked on shelves, they are stored in drawers, they are shoved under beds, they are hung on walls.  There is even one on the ceiling of the sunroom.  They compete for any space not taken up with the fabric, which will eventually result in more quilts.  I live in a cornucopia, which disgorges quilts instead of produce.  I have decided that quilts are the zucchini of crafts.  But who can complain?  Quilt seriously, each one is a work of art, and an instant family treasure.  While family members and friends are delighted to receive them, I churlishly begrudge seeing them go out the door.

Though I tease Gloria about the all-consuming nature of her obsession, I am constantly amazed at the skill necessary to create those works of art.  I stand in awe as I watch her do the mathematics necessary to give effect to (or correct) a pattern.  When she quilts, she combines the skill of an engineer, a draughtsman, a seamstress, and an artist.  Her sewing machines require her to have, as she does, advanced computer and mechanical skills.  She knows her sewing machines as well as any Hell's Angel knows his Harley.  She uses measuring and cutting tools and grids, which would challenge the talents of the best land surveyors.

In short, I am very proud of what Gloria does, as each of you should be proud of your own skills and creations.  They are impressive and very evident at this Conference.  On behalf of those of us who wouldn't know a binding from a batting, I simply ask that when you finally and formally announce that have already taken over the world that you find some simple tasks for us to do to justify our existence.  You might call those tasks... the QUILT PRO QUO.

Gloria and I very much appreciate your warm hospitality this evening.

In closing, the hotel management has asked me to remind you that those found cutting up the table cloths for quilting fabric will have their rotary cutters confiscated and forfeited to the Crown.”

Don't go rolling around in poison ivy!!

I recently spent a wonderful afternoon with a friend just to discuss weather but ended up talking about journeys of self-discovery....  it started out as lunch but moved well into the afternoon.  We laughed, we cried, we rejoiced, we admonished, we cheered, we booed, but the one thing we didn't do was finish our conversation.  We talked about her journey, my journey, and everything around it...  but we didn't finish...  just like our journeys in life...  can we ever really come to the end? 

If you get to the end of your journey, what is it the end of?  your life?  your soul?  and would you know if you reached the end?

I am getting off track a bit....  (really unusual for me, right?)

I have conversations with friends that go on for hours and we never seem to finish with the topic that started the conversation....  the conversation seems to branch out over the topic of the day, the economy, the ozone layer, and everything in between....  and while we never finish the topic of the day, we DO do what we set out to do....   working on our relationship.  And best of all, we go away sad that our time together is over, yet happy to have had it.

There is just not enough time with someone who shares your level of honesty and interest in the success of the relationship between the two of you.  And what about those relationships in which there is never a level of comfort,... never a place in the conversation when I feel totally relaxed.

Maybe that's an indictor of the strength and value of the relationship.   Lately, I have been on a personal quest to re-evaluate my relationships with others.  What is the test of a good relationship? 

We all know that some relationships are more fun, more rewarding, and more peaceful than others.  There are some that are hurtful, stressful, and boring....  And I wondered why.... is it me?  is it them?   and then I came full circle to wonder if it really matters. 

And this got me to thinking about the level and quantity of stuff we suffer.   Society has us all feeling guilty if our life isn't similar to something in a glossy magazine.   Society has us thinking that we should all have 1500 facebook friends.  Is that the litmus test of a good person? 

I have never been a 'quantity' person (ok, except when it applies to my fabric stash).  I prefer quality.  Lol...  that's why I have only 2 kids.

Do I need to worry about why I don't like the smell of pickles but some do?  Why anchovies are gross looking and tasting but do not bother some people at all?   Why I think drinking water stinks...  but most can't smell it?  does it matter?  maybe...  but is it worth worrying about?

Maybe Doris Day was right when we told us, not once but a thousand times, que sera sera.

I think both parties in a relationship, any relationship, must have equal interest in maintaining and improving it.  Both parties must bring to the "table" something...  something to add to the relationship...  something to strengthen the relationship.

I believe that a relationship, any relationship, is only as strong as the least interested person's commitment to it.   In other words, you can't make a person like you.  You can't make a person get along with you.  And most of all, one person can't make a relationship successful.

I have found that there are relationships to which  I seem to have an "allergic" reaction.  If multiple sincere attempts to desensitize myself to the "allergen" have failed and a negative reaction to the "allergen" continues, it is my responsibility to take steps to protect myself.... I avoid long term contact with the allergen.  This doesn't mean I need to kill the source (ie, I won't kill the bees or the plant) but I can avoid it.  I can stay away from the bees or the plant.... or the relationship, that causes the negative reaction in my body.

I can consider if this is a relationship that I need... but if I do not, why make myself uncomfortable?  And conversely, does the "allergen" know they induce a reaction in me?  If they are aware but do not take steps to assist in the desensitizing attempts so we can safely be in the same area together, they may be simply uninterested in having a relationship with me. Thus, no worry or risk is needed on my part...  I simply avoid the "allergen".  If they are not aware, I can surmise, again, that they are still finding themselves and I best let them continue their journey without me.

Once I determine the relationships to which I am "allergic" and I cannot avoid without being rude, I should remain calm and exit the area as soon as it is socially acceptable.  After all, a snake doesn't attack if its not feeling threatened...  or hungry....  or grumpy....  or....  what DOES a snake feel?

Then there are those relationships that cause minor irritation... like mosquitos...  we don't even know they bit us until the irritation shows up...  and they are already long gone.    I am not willing to stay in the house in the evenings so the mosquitos are ok to be around as long as I apply repellent before I am around them.

Ok, so I have a plan of action...  but then I feel guilt.   Should I feel guilty that I have identified an "allergen" and can avoid it...  or that I use repellent when needed?

To sum up; as an adult, I think I should be able to determine how much I am willing to tolerate for the sake of others.  And sometimes, my level of tolerance will be adjusted, based on the situation.

Seriously, don't we all have better things to do than to hang around with people who really don't seem interested in building a relationship with us?   or those we are not comfortable with?  or those sneaky ones that you find left a mark after they've gone?

We should hang with people that bring us up...  inspire us... encourage us...  laugh with us... empathize with us...   support us...   and share honesty with us.

We are all better than to accept anything less.

Loving Cars today!!!

Sometimes, I just can't react fast enough.


It's a wind-up toy!

I was sitting at a stop light on my way to meet a friend for a late breakfast....  Just minding my own business....  not bothering anyone.

.... and beside me, up pulls this vehicle. 

I didn't have much time so I took the photo through the tinted window...

its an altered Volkswagen.  They shorten it, narrowed it, and modified the way it sits on the frame.  The sound of the car matched its adorable look...  and the turn key (between the trunk lid and the back window and looks a bit like a wing) turned freely. Oh, and best of all, it was RED!!!

I giggled about this the rest of the day.  It truly changed by attitude for the rest of the day!!!

Speaking of cars, some of you know that I crush on Fred Flintstone.  I tell you that if he ever leaves that tramp, Wilma, he is MINE!!!

Seriously, the crushing came from a fond memory of my mom and I sitting in the evening and coloring in a HUGE (at least it seemed huge to me but then) Flintstone coloring book.

Here I am, waiting for Fred.

I have, throughout my life, collected Flintstone memorabilia.  A fave in my very small collection is Colorforms with the Flintstones.

One day around Christmas time, DH and I were out walking the neighborhood and we find the "Griswold" house.  After all, every neighborhood had at least one "Griswold" house.

... Back to story:  The "Griswolds" had all the Flintstone characters in their yard, along with the car and other props.   I sat in the car like I owned it, had DH snap a photo FAST, and we got out of there!

I totally LOVED that the car was actually made from real materials...  the wood was real wood, the top was canvas, the steering wheel was a slice of a tree trunk.  We were not sure what they used to make the tires but I lusted it anyway.

He is all mine, girls...  so back off!!

Then there is DH...  the retired Assistant Fire Chief.  He ran the Des Moines Iowa guys like he knew what he was doing !!!

But really, he is just an oversized kid (I actually think some of the guys he worked with figured this out) and he would have been in the fire truck at Chucky Cheese whether he was ever a fireman or not.   And all this at age 70(ish). 

I am sure his mother would have been proud!





On with my fascination with vehicles....  The girls at work...  what can I say?  We worked hard and when we played, we always made sure someone had bail money.

This was moving day.  While I am not remembering for sure, I will guess we were all playing musical desks. 

Smile BIG Cari C and Kathy D!!!

I suppose it was a good thing played musical desks now and then...  it was the only time I ever really cleaned out my desk.

I miss working with these girls, and the rest of them, like crazy.

... and I consider it a sheer act of God that we were never kicked out of any place.  I mean, we played the kid's game Cooties at On The Border for heavens sake!

Another thing I miss like crazy is going to get ice cream in  DHs '54 Pickup.  It was painted in Harley Davidson colors and I intended to get a personalized license plate that read "54 IN HD". 

He sold it before we moved to AZ and we used the money to buy a swimming pool.   We see the pickup around town now and then when we are back. 

If you see it, wave and say HI!!


Cars are obviously more than just a way to get around.    Cars are FUN!

Everyone.... and everything, needs a family

The Ironbird family

I have an happy announcement!!!

Our very rare "Ironbird" (the tallest of the four) has apparently gotten a family overnight!!!

I just LOVED the original one and DH stopped at the local thrift store, picked up assorted irons and putters, and gave the Ironbird a family!

Are they stinking adorable or what? 

(fortunately for me, I noticed the addition of the family on the same day that DH made them!)

And while I was out, wandering around in the yard with the camera, I noticed the beauty all around me.  Its funny that things appear different when there is a camera in my hand.

After my walk around the yard, I sit here and wonder at it all.

It turns out that today is a day of quiet reflection.




The Texas Rose, a hibiscus, appears to still be with us. 
I was afraid it had died last summer.

 

The Tea Tree is loving its new home
and support offered by the shade structure.



The Oleanders are doing very well. 
They were nearly dead when we bought the house
 and we actually lost quite a few. 



Not sure what this is called - I think its a relative of a Wandering Jew.
I brought this plant back from the first vacation DH and I took together:
the Bahamas in 2003.

Our Bougainvillea was a stowaway
in a used pot that we purchased. 
It struggled last year but its looking wonderful this year.

Did you know that bougainvillea are rather like

poinsettia in that it does not produce flowers. 

However, it does produce brilliantly colored leaves.



This is a photo that I absolutely LOVE. 
The fallen flowers from the Palo Verde tree
 made a lovely yellowish carpet
 and the shadows from the branches
 almost make me think I am looking at another tree!

Easter means many things to many people. 

Regardless of what it means to you, I pray today brings you hope, peace, and faith.

Too Damned Many Rodeos

DH and I had some errands to run today so, while out, we stopped at a restaurant that I (on purpose) went by when I (on purpose) turned down an alternate (on purpose) road to go around the block to get to where we needed to be.  

The restaurant looked fairly new in that there wasn't a huge crowd at a normal lunch hour and that it was very clean...  very clean, save the glass shattered all over the floor, a door with no glass in it, and a guy working on the door.   

We sat down and waited for a server.   She arrived with menus, silverware, and a request for our drink order.   During the exchange, we asked about the door.   She said they had been broken into over the night, which we figured as there were 2 very large empty spaces on the walls where tvs might have fit.

It was one of these kinda fibro days where every noise seemed amplified so I asked if we could sit outside.  I risked the fumes from the parking lot and street but I took that chance - we could always move back inside.

While outside, another guy arrived and was helping the door guy.  We chatted a bit and discussed the break-in.  The new arrival was actually the insurance guy and he said that they broke the window in the door, got in, took the 2 tvs, and left....   all in 45 seconds.  


We all looked rather impressed (in a bad, go to prison, way) and the insurance guy said it wasn't their first rodeo.

But there's GOOD NEWS....  They have it all on the security camera.  

As we left, I told him I would help by looking for large tvs with a distinct restaurant smell when I was looking through craigslist :). 

And is it really any easier to do what they are doing than getting  a job and buying their own crap.   Those tvs aren't that expensive anymore and selling them used can't bring that much money.  Or is my head in the sand?

I hope this is their LAST rodeo....  OR if they get caught and go to prison, maybe there will be a whole different kind of rodeo for them.  

Is it bad that I feel that way?   I will have to do a little soul searching on that one.

In the meantime, don't buy any smelly used tvs.

Spring Cleaning....

ok, I probably do spring cleaning different than about 99.9% of the people.   But its not my fault...  I get distracted.  Its a real life process and its really kind of interesting when you break it down. 

Lemme give you an example...

Say I want to clean out a large bookshelf....  this will end up being a weekend job for me. 

1)  I would start by cleaning of one shelf...  most likely the bottom one so I can sit on the floor to do it.  As I take the stuff off the bottom, I make piles:
- to go back on the shelf.
- to go in the trash
- to recycle (which can include repurposing, selling, or actual going into the recycle bin)
- to put in its proper place (another room, another shelf, another building, another person's home - like a borrowed book)

2)  I would dust the shelf and the items getting returned to the shelf, and then place those items back on the shelf.

3) By this time, I need either a drink or to use the restroom, so I get up and, to be efficient, grab a pile that goes in the general direction of my destination.  I set these things down, do what I need to do, then have a conversation with DH...  or the cats...  or remember that I need to call someone...  so I do that.    I then return to the bookshelf.

4)  I clear off the 2nd shelf, repeating steps 1 and 2.   I am on a roll and have resolve to get this done so I can quilt!!

5) I remember the pile I set down in set 3, grab the pile from the 2nd shelf that goes in about the same area, then swing by where I left it and take both piles to their destination.

6) As I am putting piles from shelf 1 and 2 away, I see things that do not belong where this pile goes...  so I pull out the stuff that's there, dust the area and the stuff, and put the stuff that stays there AND the pile from shelf 1 and 2 away.  If anything in this area goes on the bookshelf, I grab it up and take it back to the bookshelf with me to add to the piles that are there.

7)  The doorbell rings...  I set the pile down on the dining room table and answer the door.  Its the neighbor....  thus a lengthy discussion about the woes of cleaning.   They came to see DH.  I go find him..  in the back yard.   I hook neighbor up with DH and as I walk back to house, I see weeds...  so I pull them on the way to the house and toss them in the trash can...  that stinks to high heaven.

8).  I find a trash bag, dump the contents of the trash can into it, tie the stinky bag shut, and set the trash bag aside.  I take the can out into the yard where I can hose it down.  I decide I need a brush of some kind so into the house.   


9)  I see the pile I sat down when the doorbell rang and I pick it up and set it by the bookshelf so I can organize it later....  I have to get that stinky can washed.

10)  I wash can....  kitchen can needs cleaned also.  I empty that trash and take the can outside to hose out.  Neighbors talk to me.  I go back in house.

11) I go back to bookcase and pick up another pile  Its kids books - I head to closet with kids stuff.  Its a mess...  I straighten it up so I have a place to put the pile in my hand.

12) While I am there, I go through the kids toys to pull out the ones they no longer play with.  Take photos and list for sale.  Ok, where was I?

13)  oh, kitchen trash can!   go back outside and hose and scrub it out.

14)  Go back inside while the trash cans dry.  The phone rings. 

15)  As I answer, I remember I need to make a grocery list.  Talk to friend on phone for a while.  As I am talking, I wander out to studio and figure I can hand sew while we talk.   Call ends.

16)  I finish my hand sewing and go toward house.  See hubby.  Sit down, enjoy the view, and chant for a while.   Suddenly, I realize its 5.30 pm.  

17)  I still need to finish the bookcase: 2 more shelves to go and I need to finish the kids toy closet.

Maybe tomorrow. Unless the sun shines.

And this is why I never get anything done.

Back yard activities

We have had such a challenge with the bunnies in our yard.  I love them - all cute and cuddly and hopping across the yard...  but I really wish they would find less expensive things to eat.  

With all the planting we've done in the back yard, we are staying only one hop (pun intended) ahead of the bunnies.  We have used human hair, chicken wire, etc, etc, to convince them that the plantings are not for them but they are not easily dissuaded. 

In addition to the bunny difficulties, I am still learning about sun exposure and soil issues here in the sunny southwest.

However, a few of the more hardy plantings have made it through due to, or in spite of, our attempts to keep them safe.

This trailing lilac, which is planted outside the ramada, has decided to not only grow, but bloom.  Admittedly, it looks nothing like the lilacs I know and love in the Midwest, but I do love these gracefully plants.  And it doesn't hurt that they are purple.  I haven't noticed much of a scent from these lilacs but that's ok....  I still like them.

And since they've decided to grow, I took this support down (which is leftover parts from the construction of our fence, and gave them a better support.  

Now if I can just keep those adorable little bunnies out of them!!

Additionally, Jerry put the shepherds hook up for me and I hung the hummingbird feeder out.  And we have already had a visitor!!! I couldn't get a photo of it but, again, it certainly looks different from the Midwestern version of hummingbird.

Tessa (one blue and one green eye) and Freeway (blue eyes) were out keeping me company and keeping an eye on the hummingbirds.  Tessa delicately stayed on the patio, while rough and tumble Freeway rolled in the dirt (notice her dirty face).   Kids!!!  But I sure love my little girls!!

May the animals in your life (human, the ones that think they are human, and the rest) know how blessed they are to have you in their life.



The new guest room

Finally getting to the decorating of the new guest bedroom (formerly known as "office").    I love love love the soft green paint... 

The paint is called Asparagus but that's not what I would call it as its so much softer than I would consider a color with that name.   

Yes, you can see that I went all 'trailer trash' and put aluminum foil on the window in this room.  It gets so freaking HOT in that room with the summer sun in the southwest and I have tried all other methods to keep the room cool, including sunshade on outside of window, thermal curtain, blackout curtain, thermal blackout curtain, and prayers.  Fall back option was aluminum foil and I was desperate...  and the aluminum foil works!!  Don't worry...  I covered it up :)

Status:  The walls are painted, the shades are up, the bedroom suite is in place, and now, the pivotal DECORATING part is about to occur.

Decorating is not my forte but I am hopeful.   I found this lamp and fell in love with it!   so romantic!  so even though the furniture in the room is heavy and manly, I plan on softening it up as much as possible with floral, a bit of Asian, and some vintage.   

The rocking chair was gifted to me from a dear friend and it will be part of a little reading nook in the room.  And of course, I have a few vintage quilts and photos in the room.

Stretch your wings and try something new and out of your comfort zone.



Nothing but spoiled!! and busy!!

It's amazing just how spoiled we are...  and I hate to admit it but when I say "we", I mean ME. 

The little scroll bar on the right side of the computer screen that rolls the image up or down?  well, mine doesn't work.  Seriously, I felt crippled.  How pathetic is that?  I spent ALL DAY today trying to figure out what to do about it...  however, due to my extreme technological handicap, I wasn't really able to make it work.  It won't work for my touch pad, nor my mouse.

I fiddled with the "mouse" settings...
I fiddled with the "device manager" settings....
I even spent hours downloading Windows 8.1...  just in case it might fix it....

no luck so far.

So I am stumbling around, wishing I had paid more attention in computer class and too dense to figure out how to fix it but too stubborn to just walk away.  I have found some work-arounds but (enter foot stomping here) I want my scroll bar!!!

How can this be?  I am a mature, intelligent, logical woman of the, ummm, what decade is this???  errr, a woman of the 'teens (just doesn't have the same rings as some of the other decades, does it?) and I should be able to 1) figure it out...   or B) walk away.   But noooooo. 

However, I have a few projects in the works that DID coax me away from the computer the couple times that it nearly went to visit the neighbor via the window. 

I took the legs off a solid bottom ironing board (not the mesh bottom), threw the legs in the trash, spray painted bright pink around the edges of the board, and hung it in the wall in my studio.  The walls in my studio are white so I thought the pink would help it stand out a bit.  I have a ton of magnets so I am good to go.  So far, I really like it.

I have another similar board that I will use too, but will use some pegs (pegboard type pegs) where I can. 
 
During another break, I finally finished sewing all the pieces into segments for Celtic Solstice (which will have to be renamed, based on my color choices), so that I can start assembling them into blocks.  I am so happy this part is over.  Assembling them will be hard but nothing like its been up to now.   I am very happy I started this quilt project.  The colors are joyful and I needed it this winter.   Someone said it took over 2500 pieces and over 130 hours of sewing to get to this point.  I am not surprised.   But the quilts will be beautiful and perfect for the recipient I have in mind.  I will start the assembly next week after a little break to work on a couple other projects.

During my break from Celtic Solstice, I will be working on an oldie, but goodie.  I love the blocks and the colors....  just have to decide on a layout. 

This one is quite a departure from the brights of Celtic Solstice.  This New Year's Day mystery will be done in a calming cream with browns, blacks, and burgundys.  This was originally going to grace our bed but I found something I think I like better for our room....  but this still needs to be finished

It's time to do it:
Pay it forward... 
Random Act of Kindness...
It feels great to be a recipient but even better to be a giver!!

It's all in what's fair.

I am Libra:  It should be fair. 

I am wife:  It should be reasonable.

I am mother:  It should be done without a fight.

When my 2 boys were small, fabric stores were like vaccines and room cleaning to them....  Evil.  Painful.  Worse than torture.  But I finally stumbled upon the perfect compromise.  

We lived a good distance from shopping and would bundle the errands and make a day of it.  As we cycling through our goals for the day, I would casually mention that I needed to stop at the fabric store.  During the inevitable eye rolling and loud and dramatic groans from them, I would assure them that it wouldn't be that bad.  Then, for some unknown reason (that only a mother and quilter would understand), we would always manage to need something in the area of a toy section in a store or 2.

Ok, so here is the carrot.  Once they found something in the toy section that attracted them like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory on crack, I would casually mention, "Guys, you know the deal.  However long you want to spend looking at these things, I get equal time in the fabric store with NO WHINING." 

Granted, the first time, I don't think they absorbed what my words meant but I was generous with the time allotments, giving them more than I got.  We gotta make sure the treatment is better than the illness, right?

Eventually, I got it turned around so that we went to the fabric store before the toy section, advising that I timed until the first whine and they would get that much time with their mecca of glassy eyed pleasure: the toy section of a store.  Everyone was happy and they kept each other in line.  And I had fabric to envision and mentally stroke in my head while they were filling up on dreams of owning every single toy in the store.

As the years progressed, sometimes they asked for time allotments at other places...  bike shops or what have you.  But it always worked...   at least for me.

Do you suppose there is a Noble Peace Prize for something like this???

May there be a workable solution to every problem in your day.

Take care of yourself, too

We love the season. We love the anticipation. We love taking cookies to friends. We love being the recipient of random acts of kindness (RAK). We love the excitement in the air.

We rush around.... shopping, cooking, cleaning, wrapping, arranging, negotiating, and managing the 12 balls we have in the air all at the same time in addition to our normal activities. And right in the middle of it, we vow to remember and retain the spirit of the reason for the season all year long. But for now, we are happy to be needed, to 'do' for the ones we love, to see the smiles and the hopeful faces of the children. And we manage to get everything done, sometimes by the skin of our teeth, and sometimes at the last minute, but we pull it off. We moved at lightning speed for weeks, and now it's over. But it's not really over.

The less fun cousin of the holidays moves in.... There is stuff to return. Decorations to put away. Family drama. Clean up.

The bright shiny feeling of anticipation has left and the adrenalin let-down has just smacked us in the face. We are tired. Retail staff seems grumpier and less competent then ever. We can't find receipts. The kids are out of school until WHEN? Who in the world gave me a Chia Pet and what am I supposed to do with it? Why on earth would Auntie Harriet give little Joey a drum set? What was she thinking and I KNOW she did it to make up for the homemade bird feeder we gave her last year. When did the lamp get broken and who spilled red wine on the white sofa? Where are we going to put all the stuff we received?

I have an idea!!! Let the chores wait just a bit.... trade play-date hosting with a friend and do something to relax and recharge YOU. The holidays are hard... We love them but they are hard!!! don't let anyone convince you otherwise. And a majority of the hustle and bustle falls on the 'womenfolk'. That's all fine and good... but give yourself the gift of a calm moment between making the holidays flow... and cleaning up the mess.

Maybe a long bath and a nap. A pedicure and lunch out with the girls. An hour or 2 reading with your feet up. An old movie and a glass of wine. Donate a few things of your old things to shelters.

Most likely, no one will tell you to go take a nap... or sit down and put your feet up... take some time to make YOU feel good.... but that doesn't mean they don't want you to do it. So just take slow deep breath before you start again. Do something for yourself. You deserve it.

Common Courtesies and a Soapbox

DH wandered off to the grocery store today and I stayed at our 'vacation house' in the midwest to keep the home fires burning, and, since I couldn't do what I should be doing, I quilted. (darn it anyway :)

Later, DH described his "odd" shopping experience... He said that people were throwing about phrases like "thank you" and "can I help you?" and even "hello". Yes, its the holidays, but its still nice to hear it. And since I know the grocery store that he visited, the behavior he experienced what most likely under strong advisement by management. So did the behavior of the retail staff affect the behavior of the customers?


I carefully considered what DH had told me and some thoughts slowly developed. I have heard (and I believe to be the truth, not specifically, but generally) that people act the way they are allowed to act. People treat others no better than the least that they can get away with. Again, not always true but consider adults and children alike acting inappropriately. The companion (parent, spouse, whomever) sees the behavior and shrugs their shoulders (in resignation maybe?), or worse, makes excuses for the behavior.

It would seem that acceptance of bad behavior is passive permission to continue the behavior. Why would one change or improve if its just fine to be ill behaved? or rude?

Any excuses made by a companion for ill behavior not only gives blatant permission to continue the bad behavior, but provides the subject with an arsenal of excuses to use at will when their bad behavior is challenged. (EX: Mother says, "Little Johnny doesn't like to share his toys." Later, Little Johnny says to a playmate, "I don't like to share my toys.")

How can we hold someone else accountable for their behavior? One hopes that a parent taught their child that they show common courtesy to everyone around them. One hopes that children grow up and teach their children manners, respect and accountability.

If they don't, what happens? What about the person that steals - not food, but video games. What about the person that promises to deliver food to you while you are ill - but they don't. What about the person that wants to sell you oceanfront property in Arizona? Where is the accountability? Where does one learn to be a caring compassionate person?

I think one of the big sticking points is that you can't expect a parent to teach something they don't do, use, or understand. Maybe, as adults, we need a tiny lesson on basic and common courtesies. I found this list of courtesies to be taught to children at http://inthesesmallmoments.wordpress.com/2010/07/20/how-rude-ten-basic-courtesies-for-children/.
1.Always say please, thank you, and you’re welcome.
2.When someone is speaking to you, make eye contact and acknowledge that you are being spoken to.
3.When someone sneezes, acknowledge it. We say, bless you, but you could also say gesundheit or salud, which basically means good health.
4.When a guest comes to our home, greet them properly. (A simple hi will suffice while they’re still little.)
5.When someone compliments you, accept the compliment by saying thank you. Don’t negate the compliment in any way.
6.Hold the door for others. Never let the door close in someone else’s face. When the door is held for you, don’t just walk through it– thank the person who held it.
7.When waiting to get on an elevator, always allow those who are already on to exit before you enter. This holds true for entering a building as well.
8.When walking down a hallway, corridor, or sidewalk, don’t walk in a group that blocks others. Also, don’t stop and converse—step to the side to allow others to pass easily.
9.Respect others. You may not always agree with their ideas, but you can disagree respectfully.
10.Have a general awareness of others. If you bump into someone, apologize. If they drop something, pick it up for them. If someone in a car stops to let you cross the street, wave to them in thanks.

Perhaps, just for a day, we could hold ourselves to a slightly higher standard. Every one of us has the power to influence, good or bad, the people around us. If we change, even slightly, it will cause a domino affect and someone's day could be altered.


Make someone's day: Smile at them. Open a door for them. Wish them to have a pleasant evening. Its a start, right? Try it. I promise it won't hurt.

That naughty rabbit again

You have to understand that my DH is not late for anything.... unless I make him late. If we were to go on a vacation, he would want everything packed and ready to go 2 days BEFORE we leave. I am NOT kidding. And that concept is completely beyond me. I would forget what I packed, need something already packed, or put the packed suitcase someplace and not be able to find it.

Then you have me... the procrastinator!!! I say I am lazy and want to do everything in the most efficient manner so I only have to do it once. My oldest DS says I am overly efficient. I can admit to my Libran self that I CAN be efficient to the point of idiocy sometimes.



For example: Let's say I have to meet a friend for lunch at noon. I might want to take the trash out since I am going toward the trash can anyway. Oh, and since I will be in the neighborhood, I wanted to stop at "X" store and pick up "Y"... where ARE those coupons? And I had something for her kids... I think its in the studio. No, I put it in the garage near the car so I would remember it next time I saw her. DH, did we need anything from the store while I am out? ok, I need a list. On my way to the car (finally) with trash, coupons, and grocery list, I remember that a load of clothes needs to be moved from washer to dryer. I set everything down, switch the clothes, pick everything up and head to trash and car... but I forgot my drink... back in the house... back out to the car. On the road... but forgot the thing for the kids... STOP... Back up, get gift... and back on the road.

You see why I am always late. All this would be perfect if I started 3 hours before I needed to be someplace... but I don't. And even if I did, would I just think of more to squeeze in on my way? My DH makes a valiant effort of herding me toward the car well before we need to leave... but as explained in yesterday's post, it doesn't always work.

Today, we needed to leave the house by 7am. We actually left at 7:30am and not all necessarily my fault but I will (and rightly so) accept a vast portion of the 30 minute delay. BUT!! We are not 5 minutes from the house and the alarm company calls. We turn around, go back to the house, and get that all straightened out.

It's not always my fault. Sometimes, it's IDA KNOE's fault. or Maybe HEA DIDET?? Or ...it could even be that rabbit's fault!!!

But the trash is out, the laundry is done, I have the list, coupons, and gifts, and the alarm is set. Is it really that bad that we are a little late?? We are not attending a wedding, or anything else that can't wait until we get there. Is it worth the stress?

There are times we shouldn't be late. I accept and respect the need to be punctual to certain things. But if its a picnic... or a day at the fair, calm down and smell the heavenly scented roses... or take them to the trash can if they smell bad. The earth will continue to rotate if you miss the first 5 minutes of your neighbor's grandkids' football game.

I thought I was done with this...

After we purchased this house 3 years ago, my DS did some repairs, replaced all baseboard trim, build custom shelves, and painted the inside of the house. I even (lol) let DH pick the paint color for his office (with a fake smile plastered on my face - you will see why in a minute). While I love painting, I thought the job would be too big for me. I did paint the kitchen, laundry room, and the inside of all closets. I always paint the inside of my closets a gloss white: it helps reflect the light and I never have to repaint them no matter how many times I change the paint in the room.

Anyway, I really thought the painting was done for a while.... but nooooooo. We had built an addition for a sewing studio for me, a Saloon for him, and eventually, another bathroom. Moving into the studio left the room I was using to sew empty... and it was painted a really nice shade of yellow... I dislike yellow but this color, Macadamia, was actually rather likable. DH decided to move his office into my ex-sewing room.



His move left me with a future spare bedroom painted a hideous yellow and brown. That left me with a future spare bedroom painted a hideous yellow and brown. I wasted no time in picking out a more appropriate color. Is that paint hideous or what? I spend an entire day moving some furniture we had stuck in there during the switching of rooms, taping off things that shouldn't be painted, and finding all the things I needed TO paint. I am ready!!

Our guest en suite is manly... big heavy furniture, cowboys and Indians, and a darker palette. So my plan for this room is a softer feminine feel... floral, light, feel-good. The first coat is on... its called Asparagus...



I hope to get the 2nd coat on tomorrow as we will be getting the bedroom set soon. Wish me luck!!!