Inadequate Materials

As you may know, I like floating around the internet looking at other people's crafts, photos, recipes and writing, among all sorts of other creations. I spend more time being inspired to do things than I actually spend doing them. And please, don't even ask about the state of my house. One thing that seems to be more and more prevalent everywhere I go (including here) is the "comment" button. And of course, 99% of comments are positive and respectful. But every now and again I come across something that is obviously inappropriate. Sometimes it's downright rude and insulting, and you don't need examples of this--we're talking about those people who spend all their time roaming around cyberspace looking for someone to insult because they (mistakenly) think it makes them look smart. This junk annoys me, but since it makes the person who wrote it look dumber than a fencepost, I don't really care. The more damaging stuff is the "constructive" cri...

Yesterday was the Captain's birthday. He's not usually home for these occasions, so I wanted to make this one, you know, a little special. Since he just got home from a week away on Friday and proceeded to immediately mess up the house and encourage the children to do the same, I had a decision to make. Clean the house, or prepare an elaborate birthday meal complete with his choice of cake. Since it was his birthday, and he's happy to live in a pigsty, I went with the latter. I waited until after lunch, when the kids would be playing quietly or watching TV. The one room that did need to be cleaned for this task was the kitchen, so I went about the business of loading the already pretty full dishwasher. At our house, if we want to run the dishwasher, we have to make sure the washing machine isn't going at the same time, so we don't overtax the well pump (or something), so off to the laundry room I went to make sure I hadn't put on a load and promptly forgotten al...

The One Minute Writer has a timely prompt this morning: the irrational fear. I have recurring nightmare, usually about Rosemary's Baby (because Firstborn is more cautious and calm than his brother). I leave him alone in the bath or swimming pool, and come back to find that he's slipped underneath. I feel a sudden sense of panic and run to pull him out, but when I get there I find him sitting underwater, playing and laughing, and I'm filled with relief. I think this dream is my brain telling me that he's fine and I don't need to worry so much about him (because I do spend an awful lot of time worrying). Last night, I had a different dream, one in which he had a terminal illness. The feeling of having zero control, the terror and the grief was overwhelming, and I was more than happy to wake up to find him grinning at me as he climbed onto my bed for some pre-6AM jumping fun. I think I'm right when I say that becoming a parent is sort of a mixed blessing emotionall...

Once again, Facebook forces us to look at life's great controversies! A few days ago, a family member publicly commented on the use of profane language in other people's status updates, and it caused a fair amount of feedback from many directions, including mine. While I can't say I'm actually offended by profanity, I prefer not to use it, and seeing it pop up on my Facebook page does take me aback a little. It's probably safe to assume I'm a fuddy-duddy. There are, of course, some arguments "for": half the world talks this way these days; we live in a free society where speech and expression are constitutionally protected; it's only a big deal if we make it one; we need to be more tolerant etc etc. And I don't disagree with any of this--though the free speech defense has been severely abused by good old boys and city rednecks alike in defending their rights to call their fellow citizens racist, sexist and homophobic names, so I'd persona...

The Captain is off again, and this morning we all got into the car to drive him to the airport in Capital City. I only make it to the big city about twice a year on average, so the road trip two hours down the highway is something to look forward to. I optimistically see myself dropping him off and then blissfully shopping while my children follow along behind me, smiling and behaving themselves. This, of course, never actually happens, so I've learned to set the bar a little lower. Today's goal was to leave the airport, make one stop at the giant Superstore on the way back out of town and head home for a relaxing evening. Does that really sound like too much to ask?! We hit the road at around 9:30 AM and argued a little over which radio station to listen to. The Captain prefers what I like to call "unnecessary noise" at an ungodly hour of the morning, and I like something a little more mellow, like 80's new wave, or disco from the 70's. We compromised with c...

Another through-the-window shot of the whole family. We were under the impression that there was a mother and two babies, but as you can see here, there are actually three babies. I snuck outside afterwards and got a few shots of the mother in the grass, but I just can't get close enough for a decent shot out there. This doesn't mean I'm giving up. At this point, I'm dreaming about foxes. I'll get my shot. I may die trying, but I'll get my shot!

For days, I have been crouching in the trees out front like Farley Mowat , waiting patiently to get a really good shot of a fox for my hundredth post. But darn it if they aren't the most difficult things to photograph! Every time I get a good photo op, they either see me and head for the trees, or they hear the dogs barking inside and run for cover. It's becoming an obsession of Clark Griswold -like proportions. Here's the best shot I've gotten so far. As you may note from the backdrop, it's haying season here in Manitoba, there's a new hydro line going down in the field across the highway from us (note the big dirt piles), and the weeds on the driveway the Captain burned with his handy-dandy new yard gadget are swiftly being overtaken by newer, greener weeds. When the foxes refused to cooperate this evening, I hung around trying to get a picture of one of the many pretty birds that grace our yard in the summer, but no matter how quiet and still I tried to be, I...

I'm walking around right now looking like I took a sedative or three with a glass of wine. Last week, our latest book order arrived. Bookcloseouts.com had another of their great sales (they're fabulously discounted on a regular day, so when they have a sale, the Captain and I are pretty much clambering over each other to make sure we browse every single possible category for awesome finds), so I have about ten new books sitting by the side of my bed waiting to be devoured. I decided to start with the mother of all page-turners, The Other Boleyn Girl . After already seeing the movie (which, incidentally, was very different from the book), I expected a trashy romance novel disguised as something a little more legitimate. And that's exactly what I got. But, good lord, I could not put this book down! I read all 661 pages in 3 days. While loading the dishwasher, making lunch, throwing in loads of laundry, I had one hand permanently on the book. After the kids were in bed, I spe...

There's just something about America. Aside from a few (major) issues with the health care system, the economy, and that business in Iraq, I'd say that America is one fine and dandy place to be. When I was almost 11, we returned to North America from the UK, where I was born and partially raised. Our destination was Michigan, a state that looks like it wants to shake your hand, and at the time it felt like it too. People loved our crazy British accents, and asked adorably stupid questions about how hot it got in winter. People on TV tried to sell us watches that played songs by the Jackson Five (fifteen years too late) and the grocery stores were phenomenal--aisles and aisles of sugary, fatty, nutritionless treats. Do you remember what it's like to taste lemon Kool Aid , or a Hostess Fruit Pie for the first time? I do. And then there were the restaurants. In England, my parents got Chinese or Indian take-out on the weekends after we were in bed, but I honestly cannot rememb...

I'm a winner! Again! Sort of! This week, I took the plunge and entered a couple of my crafts at the town fair, which was held today. This is the first time I've done this, and it was a lot of fun. I will likely do it again next year. First up is a knitting pattern I created out of my own head when my little nephew decided he was interested in all things military. He got the original creation, which had a removeable soldier with arms and legs for extra "play value". For my town fair entry, I tweaked it slightly and made just the top half of the soldier and stitched him in. I did this so that there wouldn't be any issues with him getting lost, and plus I had a deadline, so there was a bit of a time crunch involved. Anyway, this is what my entry ended up looking like: As you may or may not be able to tell from the picture, my knitted LAV (I couldn't call it a tank because I continue to have trouble making tank treads that don't look weird with the button whee...